littletonoidea | IC Inbox

"You got eggs in the fridge, kiddo?" he asks, opening it anyway to double check. "We're gonna need flour, sugar, milk and butter too. What d'you like on yours?"

Still, he'll grab what he can while he's hunkered down.

He will indeed find half a dozen eggs, along with butter and a half-full carton of milk - and if he checks the overhead cupboards that she's too small to reach, he'll find everything else he needs, too. Grown-up Root and Shaw also like making pancakes, it seems.

"With syrup, she tells him, as she watches. "And chocolate chips."

"Alright, breakfast of champions coming right up!"

He pulls down the dry ingredients for her, putting them on her reach on the bench. "Think you can get two cups of flour and half a cup of sugar all mixed up for me? And alsoooooo..."

He reaches up and grabs the baking soda. "Four teaspoons of this- that's the little spoons, make sure it's flat on the spoon or they get so fluffy they explode."

"I know what teaspoons are," she says - though she sounds matter-of-fact, not offended, as she carefully measures out exactly the amount of baking soda required. "I cook with my mom a lot. Sometimes my dad, too. He likes pancakes."

Edited 2023-12-06 04:14 (UTC)

Danny has been testing doors since he woke up swamped by a blanked on an unfamiliar couch in a profoundly strange room. He's never been in a place like it--

Except he has, or he will have been?

His thoughts on waking up are a jumble, one he starts to sort through and then very quickly does his best to ignore as the sheer volume of things filling his head overwhelms him. It all feels like nonsense. It all has to be nonsense. A dream, or...

It didn't matter. Maybe he was still dreaming, but he wasn't going to stay in a weird room he didn't remember getting taken to. Had CPS come while he was taking a nap and swept him out the door so fast he didn't even wake up? It doesn't seem possible, but they're the government. They can do things like that, and he knew they would if they ever found out how hard it was for his mother to handle things on her own.

Danny rubs his eyes fiercely and slips into the hall, looking around in confusion at the-- offices?

No, the barge. He's on the barge. He came here because--

Because he died?

He shakes his head again, determinedly not folding to anxiety as he tests one cabin door after another until he gets to Shaw's. It opens. Because flood or not, he's still on her access list.

Danny freezes in the doorway, staring with slightly wide eyes at the girl inside and--

"You're Doug Eiffel," he says, sounding sure, even though he's testing the memories he doesn't want to look at too hard.

The sound of the door opening makes Eiffel look up as he measures out the milk, and nearly spills it at the mop of brown curls that sticks his head through the door.

Why do children keep knowing who he is, who the hell does this one belong to???

"Sure am, Dodger. And this is Sammy." He gestures with one hand to little Shaw, who he's not sure will introduce herself to a stranger so let's clear that now. "We're making pancakes. You want some?"

Sammy, Eiffel says. Doug Eiffel, Sameen Shaw. They're a pair in his head, which means--

"Sameen," he says, correcting Eiffel mildly. He waves to her, then looks at him again. "You both think my name is Neal."

At the invitation to eat, though-- the invitation to cook-- he brightens up and comes inside, closing the door politely behind himself. "I'm good at making pancakes."

Edited 2023-12-07 04:30 (UTC)

"Hi," says Sameen. Flour in hand, she pulls open a lower drawer and takes out a mixing spoon, which she holds out to You-Think-My-Name-Is-Neal.

"Hi." He smiles at her, revealing a gap between his top front teeth briefly before he bites his lips together to hide it. He takes the spoon, twirling it a little in one hand like a baton. "I'm Danny."

"Okay. You can stir if you want, because I poured stuff."

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Okay, so Danny-not-Neal. That's... wild, first of all, when the hell did he change his whole-ass name, is Danny his real name? He doesn't look any older than Sammy right now.

"You want choc chips in yours, Dannyboy?" he asks, as he sticks the butter into the microwave. "Otherwise we're gonna need another bowl."

Edited 2023-12-07 21:39 (UTC)

Neal's ability to lie is, as one might expect, better in his thirties than at ten. His face squinches up very slightly and very briefly, enough to register, before he's answering with perfect good cheer, "Sure, that sounds good."

"Are you allergic?" Sameen asks - able to tell that that facial expression isn't a good thing, but unable to even begin to guess why in the world someone would make a bad expression at the idea of chocolate chips.

Edited 2023-12-07 21:57 (UTC)

Eiffel might not be able to place the exact expression, but he does see it - and it only occurs to him then that despite all of the sweets and high-sugar-yes-sugar-Douglas-not-that-high-fructose-crap snacks Neal's made him before, he rarely actually partook of them himself.

"Alright, well." He leans to grab another bowl. "Sammy, you put half of that in this one, alright? I wanna make my pancakes with whipped cream, and that does not go well with choc chips."

Which is a blatant lie, but maybe they're too young to know that right now.

"You can have your chocolate cakes, and I'll have my nice vanilla ones, and then Ne-Danny can pick whichever ones he likes!"

"Okay."

And then, as proof that she's been paying attention even though she hasn't been openly reacting--

"Why did everybody change their names when they grew up?"

Okay, so two people technically isn't everybody. But she's only met three people so far, so two of them having aliases feels notable.

~~Neal~~ Danny gives Eiffel a suspicious look, because he's pretty sure that 90% of everyone in the world who isn't him would say that whipped cream and chocolate chips do go together. It's a very adult 'they won't get it because they're little' move, like spelling out a three letter word, but Danny isn't going to argue.

He looks at Sameen and shrugs a shoulder. He's not nearly a good enough liar to hide his reaction: worry sends little strangle-y bits out of its constant knot between his stomach and chest to squeeze his gut and his throat.

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone I guess. Which is probably why they didn't tell me."

God, he has so many concerns about baby Neal.

"So, wait." His voice is low, but it's gentle and concerned, as he puts the liquids bowl down on the bench, and squats down to be more on his babiest brother's level. "How come you're not supposed to tell people your name?"

Lie, he thinks. Lie, lie, lie, there are a thousand ways he could lie about this, the only safe secret is the one you don't share. But that look on Eiffel's face is so familiar. Danny blinks a couple of times, too quickly. He hesitates, and then takes a breath and--

"I'm in witness protection." It doesn't have capital letters in the way he says it, and it's clearly recitation of a phrase he doesn't know the meaning of. "Because my dad isn't actually dead, and he's not a hero either. Even though I'm not the one who witnessed anything. And my aunt's not even my aunt. I'm going to find out when I turn eighteen I guess. Only I already know now."

Witness. Protection. Sameen knows what those words mean individually, and she can guess at what they mean shoved together like that, but it's still not a concept that she's heard of before. She glances at Eiffel first, wondering at his reaction, before guessing, "You're a kid. Maybe your parents are trying to protect you from witnessing something bad, and so--"

And that's where it falls apart for her. Why would protecting him mean changing his name?

"I think my aunt witnessed things already, but she's not my aunt and I don't remember if she ever tells me if she saw things. I know my dad... My dad was a dirty cop, and he's not with us, so that's probably why. He did something."

An idea which is extremely troubling.

Witness protection.

Eiffel can't school his expression for the life of him, but somehow all his reaction is, is a widening of his eyes as he goes a shade paler.

Jesus Christ. Poor Neal.

"Well. Uh." God, this was so much to try and manage. "I know for a fact that your dad's not here, so... you don't have to be scared of him finding you here. Alright?" He smiles, a little nervous but very genuine. "I'm gonna take care of you. Both of you," he adds with a quick grin back at Sammy. "I guess this week we're gonna be playing One Big Family with your new uncle Doug." He flicks his gaze between both of them. "Sound good to you guys?"

"Okay," Sameen says, followed immediately by, "What's a dirty cop?"

She may grow up to be an elite spec-ops government assassin, but right now? Normal military brat childhood, folks. Teach her things.

Danny gives Eiffel a bleak look. "I'm not worried about now. I meet him later."

At Sameen's question, Danny looks down.

Somehow he feels like he owes Neal after this.

"A dirty cop means they do... you know, naughty things. Like take bribes and- I dunno, help people draw graffiti, smash windows, give people really stupid tickets 'cos they're in a bad mood and wanna take it out on the little guy."

He's not going to straight-up just say 'Oh yeah, and he almost definitely killed someone' to a couple of preschoolers even if it's probably true.

"So Danny's not-really-his-aunt saw him do something naughty, so the government decided 'hey, this guy's a real jerk, we're gonna make sure he doesn't bother you anymore' and gave them somewhere nice and safe to live."

Okay, she's pretty sure she can put two and two together: the government took Danny away and put him with another family because his dad hurt him, or wanted to hurt him. Sameen flicks her gaze between the two of them, mulling this over.

"Can we keep him safe here?"

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