sliceitwithwind

"Luckily, who you are happens to be likable." she noted, bumping her shoulder against his side slightly. She didn't mind the arm draping...

...it was actually kind of nice. Damn. The boys in the precinct would call her a sap.

"I promise that if it's ever too bad I'll swat you like I do the precinct boys."

Dilan guides her slightly sideways into the restaurant of his choice, holding up two fingers for the waitress with a grin, "It's one of my saving graces. If I weren't likeable I'd be Ienzo. I'll accept your swatting if I run over the bounds."

"Hmmm, Ienzo being another apprentice if I recall the file. Not one of the public ones though. What's so bad about him?" she asked curiously.

"And don't worry overly much about the swatting. With you I'd need a step stool, and they're rarely handy."

"Abrasive. He's got the personality of asphalt with carpet burns." Dilan says after a moment, "On a good day he's just that fake grass stuff that people who don't like lawns get put in. Astroturf."

"Ouch" she laughed. She'd hadn't forgotten about the synethesia thing, but it was really interesting to hear a person described that way. "Somehow I don't think you could pull that off even if you weren't likable. Tell me about the rest of your group?"

"Well." He thinks for a while, "Even is like my little brother. Not that I have a little brother, but you know. He's a sweet kid, loves to experiment with coffee and kool-aid, makes berry tarts every year. Al is one of my two best friends, the biggest damn human I've ever met, and even more laid back than I am. Braig is my other best friend - our moms were best friends and after mine died his took me in. I've been his responsibility, self-chosen, since I was three days old.

"Which doesn't mean he's not a self-centred asshole, just that he's my self-centred asshole and he's always dropped anything if I needed help."

"Now those first two I've seen in the public announcements." she admitted. "Even is the blond? He seems very...genuine. I'm glad that seems true. And Al...I just hope he doesn't end up bar fights." that'd be very, very bad. A human that size, well...there'd be shooting. Probably before the cops arrived.

"Oh...boy." she chuckled at the description of Braig. "Well, every self centered asshole needs someone to balance them out. I've seen the type when they don't have anyone...he's probably a far better person for having you." Madigan. Well. Madigan.

"He doesn't. He'd be too afraid of accidentally killing someone." Dilan says with a shrug, "Even is the blond human. He's not actually that much younger than me, just a lot less experienced."

Dilan grins at the last, "Yeah, probably. Certainly better fed, he can't cook anything but meat-on-a-fire."

"Thank god for...well, favors." Al just couldn't be summed as 'small' "And common sense." It meant less paperwork and happier times for all around. "Decent little brother type to adopt."

"...I know a few like that. Danny for one. I'm teaching his kid to cook so we can keep the health hazards down." she laughed.

"I just do marathon cooking sprees, and make him promise to be good." Dilan says with a laugh, "And we eat out a lot."

"Unfortunately, Danny's got enough years on me that making him behave is a little hard." she admitted easily. "Even when I do cook for him and the kid."

"So, mainly, Ben and I stick to guilt tripping him about his health and trying to make sure he doesn't order out too much..." and not to mention a cops salary wasn't well suited for such anyway.

"Braig is three years older than I am. And a foot shorter." Dilan says cheerfully, "It's the foot shorter that makes it possible. If you ever want some ideas on things easy to make and freeze just let me know. I've got Braig's mom's cookbook."

"I can swap you a traditional Japanese cookbook for a little while. It was my moms." she grinned. More recipes for freezables were good.

"But Danny's got twenty-three years on me. And a foot. The nine year old is my best options!"

"I can copy it out. Or abuse grad students and have them copy it out." Dilan says cheerfully, "Lilly is learning both Japanese and cooking, so she could use the practice."

Dilan, unlike many teachers, demands that his students live a balanced life. They may come out a little slower than other grad students, but he picks up many of their bills for the extra time, and they're saner.

"It's actually an interesting read..all hand written with journal entries in the margins." she mused. "Your student might enjoy it." Aya had. It'd been...insightful. Like a lot of things about her mother, she didn't necessarily agree with the ideas, but she understood them better after reading through.

Luckily for her embarrassment levels, the margins had run out of room before her mother met her father.

"I won't end up doing anything nearly as interesting with your book. Mainly, Ben and I will probably close our eyes and flip pages for something to try..."

"Probably. Would you mind if I had her class translate it? I can't read a character of Japanese." Dilan says. They're guided to a booth and Dilan slides in all the way against the wall, leaving plenty of room for Aya to sit next to him if she wants.

She actually thought a moment, fingers tracing the edge of the table, before she slid in next to Dilan. Why not after all? The week had been bad, the weekend was under cover...and it was nice.

It was just really nice to touch someone.

"I don't mind. The guys in class may get a little bored with a young lady's journal, but hey. Can't hurt them."

Dilan wraps his arm back around Aya, "Hey, considering that sometimes she has them translate sports scores it'll be fair. Everything on the menu is good, and I've tried it all."

He knows what he's getting by heart, however, so doesn't bother opening it.

Once she'd made a decision, Aya no longer hesitated. So, as he draped his arm around her she shifted to set her shoulder against his side comfortably and tucked her feet up on the edge of the bench at her side. More leaning, less leg dangling! "I'm tempted to get the name of this teacher, just so I can check in on class reactions." she chuckled.

Menus were nice. They informed her she could get the smallest steak with potato pancakes and coffee! "Hmmm, is there a restaurant in town you don't have the menu memorized for?"

"Suzambo Natsuki, in the Japanese style of last name first." Dilan says, "Natsuki is everyone's grandmother's age, but was wild and crazy enough as a young woman that she doesn't scare me to death. I've taken her out for coffee a couple of times." Never went farther than that. Ms. Suzambo is even more of a confirmed old maid than Dilan is a lech.

"Of course I don't have them all memorized. Just the ones I like to go to."

"I don't think my mother would have approved of her..." she chuckled. Aya actually kept a notepad in her back pocket, and with a little wiggling she could get it out to note the name. It was easier to remember if she'd actually written it down! "Scare you to death?"

"Maternal women." Dilan says without shame. "They scare me. Doesn't matter the age."

"...well. That's a new one." she noted, shifting enough to be able to look at his face comfortably. "Justified?"

"Totally phobic." Dilan says, "No reason for it at all."

He's a little embarrassed by it, but not a lot.

"Huh" yep, a new one on her. "Well, luckily for you, I really don't know any women like that?" she offered.

"Closest I have is Danny, and well, that's the opposite side of the spectrum." as far as family instinct types went at any rate!

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