yourfavorite | (no subject)

From here

I thought the traditional worry is that it would go to your hips?

[ His poker face recovered to its usual perfection, he asks the question with his deadpan hardness. His favourite joke is that he doesn't have a sense of humour, and he amuses himself with it constantly. He may as well have asked her where she was on the night of a murder, with his tone.

Though the fact he tops it off by plucking a single Oreo from his sundae and biting it in half with a quiet 'mmm' might give him away a little. Or he's just weird.

It's both. Oreos (or their legally distinct non-copyrighted equivalent 'Choccos') are his favourite, signature food. He eats them by the crate. ]

[She laughs] Okay, well-played. I was talking about the compliments, not the sweets.

[Which he knows, otherwise the joke wouldn't have worked, Molly.]

Besides, who ever said I was traditional? [She relieves the spoon of another helping of ice cream and chocolate, then begins to use her spoon like she's carving off the Oreos from the mountain that is this dessert, munching a couple with dollop of ice cream]

Or is that in your Molly Hooper file somewhere?

[ He can't help his eyes following her Oreo mining operation. Oreos fascinate him. They are the finest product of planet Earth. Humans a narrow second. He begins a complex process, plucking a few and twisting them expertly, so that the ends come apart. Sticking them together to form a multi-layer sandwich. All the while with his flat, fearsome expression. ]

I'm an American. What do I know of tradition for the UK? For all I know there are a million Molly Hoopers here.

[ After a moment to hold up and examine the structural integrity of his confectionary construction, he adds- ]

Though I doubt it. I suspect there's only one.

[ And then he can't say anything because he's got a lot of Oreo in a human-sized mouth. ]

Holiday traditions and proper spelling are one thing. I do think that weight to one's hips and concern about it isn't necessarily limited by geographic location. Or gender, even. I've seen some men with really great hips.

[She watches his unique sandwich building, wondering if she ought to try it for herself. Or will that look like she's trying too hard to fit in/endear herself to him? She assumes the Detective, while he clearly has a softer side, wouldn't care for people doing anything that might be interpreted as sucking up to him. So she takes inspiration but adapts it for herself - she untwists one Oreo, scoops a bit of ice cream and chocolate on top of the cream, and then puts the 'cover' of the Oreo back on. It's a smooshier ice cream and Oreo sandwich. Tasty, but a tad messy. She licks at her fingers and cleans them with a napkin.

She knows her limits enough to know she can't attempt a ton of layers like he did with his construction, but maybe she should try one or two more layers of cream?]

I'm probably the only one who's exactly like me? But Molly and Hooper aren't exactly unique names - probably loads of them out there. I might be one of very few for whom Molly isn't a nickname for something else, like Mary or Margaret.

[She wonders if that's already in his file - is his file just observations and facts gleaned from personal interactions, or does he have records that are available through public access. She doesn't imagine him to be the type to abuse his position for access to other databases - that would be unjust.]

On the other hand, I'm a pretty ordinary woman besides what I do for work. Countries are full of the ordinary. Unlike your mouth right now.

[She snickers a bit, pointing at him with her spoon.]

[ He gives her a brief eyebrow raise at 'proper spelling', partially for the role and also a real reaction. Humanity is perplexing, with all its divisions, minor and major. Gender division is the most confusing, but then again he is technically an asexual lifeform who changes form and mind easier than humans change clothes.

In contrast to Molly's worries that imitating could be taken as pandering, John starts to recreate her version for himself. Quite logically, he's decided that if it looks good he should try it. And, of course, he's imitating humanity in all aspects already. Why not a little more? He starts to put together his after he swallows the Frankenoreo he'd created. ]

In my experience no one is ordinary. Humans are too chaotic for the term to ever apply.

[ He makes several of the ice cream sandwiches, lining them up on a napkin, using up the last of his ice cream. ]

It's a sliding scale that never goes below... [ He thoughtfully eats one of the creations, as if doing actual arithmetic on the subject of ordinariness. Quite possibly he is. His dad was a mathematician and philosopher who created formulae for life. ] ...Three.

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Molly - TFLN

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