Jefferson grins at Irish, eyes wild with thoughts that dance around his head, wondering what's too much and what's too little.
"Elegant. Simple. Something easy on the eyes." The gestures to a simple silver set, polished and nearly chrome. "Like that, but not so... boring."
Gently, he picks the teapot up, noy worried about a soul staring at him if he does. He doesnt care.
Checkered and wonderful. Playful. Perfect.
"This one. And maybe another for a more elegant tea after supper."
But, still, he is careful.
A giddy gleam brightens Jefferson's steely blue eyes, and he all but gallops into the store, past Irish, rushing the display with child-like curiosity.
He is careful not to touch, not to break it before he's bought it.
Not that he would ever do such a thing. A tea service is sacred.
-
Plastered to the window like a child looking at sweets, Jefferson hardly moves except to bend lower to see each bit included.
It better come with everything, not just cups ans teapot.
"Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...."
in all the right ways. Zany even.
Just like him.
Pulling away from Irish, he prances over to the set, inspecting it.
Jefferson leans against Irish, hugging his arm, fond of this new beau more than he thought he'd be. He's fun. He hasn't judged them for their intricacies.
"No, no. I don't think so."
He so caught up in Irish he almost forgets to look at sets, but then one catches his eye. Checkered and obsure-
Jefferson's brows raise skipping back up to Irish, taking his arm, leaning into him.
"Nothing. Yes. Lets go look."
Ohh thats beautiful.
Thank you!
You know I am.
Thank you, Bruce.
Thanks, John!
Still not as old as you.
Jefferson goes along with Irish, staying a step or two behind, watching his ass appreciatively.
"Hm?"
Jefferson slides his hand into Irish's.
"Hope you have a very good memory in that pretty head of yours."
Is he teasing? Probably.
"But we're here now. " he cants his head to the other side, blinking slowly.
Jefferson's eyes narrow on Irish, head canted a tick.
He doesn't do a lot of magic and he in no way has ever told Irish about it.
Strange.
"Yes. But however will you take notes now?"
"Oh."
Jefferson understands that perhaps better than he'll admit.
"Just a thought. I don't know where you'll find a notepad here."
"Yeah. Phone. Or whatever." Jefferson doesnt love those things, but he uses Bucky's if he must.
"To make a list."
Jefferson blinks, hands in his lap, blank stare as he thinks it through, processes all that Irish is.
"You have one of those... fancy devices, right?"
Okay.
Soul of a whore?
Jefferson's sure that Irish isn't a big fan of the tea, after the sip of water, and he's the mania and anxiety that resides in Bucky for the most part... he's overthinking it.
"Purples. Maroons. Burgendy!"
Tea isn't for everyone, and he's starting to see that.
"Sure, I'll try."
He finishes his tea, then sets the cup and saucer to the side. It's not the best anyway.
Jefferson takes note of the sip of water, poking at the food now.
"That's how you learn. I made many terrible hats before the perfect one."
"Candy is a whole different art from baking and cooking." Jefferson won't touch it. He prefers baked sweets anyway.
Petitfores were Alice's favorite, and his favorite to make for her.
"I know how." Jefferson is an expert in all things tea and tea related.
"Oh, I will." He plans on it.
He slides a plate of macaroons to Irish.
"These are nice. Raspberry."
"I will make a list." After all, Jefferson had been around as long as Charlie. They know Bucky better than anyone.
If Jefferson weren't such a stickler for manners at the tea table, he'd be in Irish's lap.
But manners.
"We'll have to. He needs to eat every few hours."
"He does. But he doesnt cook. Harvey did all that." Jefferson smiles at Irish, taking his hand.
He likes that.
"So I've been making meals and leaving them in the fridge for him."
"Someone has to be sure Bucky eats." He hums, sipping his tea and finishing his scone.
"Oh. Roasts. Big meals. Nothing special."
