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<February 10, 2015>: After a visit to Leo Zelinsky, Vorpal gets a new set of threads.

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Sun Feb 08 18:20:35 2015 ***

It's been very nice not having to go to the University every day, but Gar has still been keeping himself busy with school-related work. He puts the laptop away, though. Sunday is Stew Day this week and he tosses some chopped celery into the pot; it's a half-hour before serving time and cooking it any longer than that will result in slimy nasty, but just long enough makes it crispy.

"I've got FAITH, in the HEARRRT," he sings for no particular reason.

"Your faith is impressive, Padawan," Keith says, poking his head into the kitchen, "is it safe to go inside or are you going to move into Don't Stop Believing?"
5rHe is grinning, people who know him might start looking for missing canaries.

"What are YOU grinning about? Been snacking at the pet shop again?" Gar asks. "Or as I think you called it, 'the never-ending buffet of chirping munchies' when I asked you about it last night when you were asleep."

Yes. Vorpal talks in his sleep, sometimes, and Gar likes to encourage it.

"Oh hush you," The redhead comes into the room with a smirk, a package under his arm. "One litle dream. One little dream. I don't tease you with some of the things you've said in your sleep… even though there was that dream a couple of nights ago where you were discussing the perfection of Kid Flash's derriere back in the old team…" two can play at that game, he grins and walks over to Gar, giving him a one-armed hug.

"I was NOT talking about Kid Flash, I was talking about Wonder Chick, who had a much nicer rear view than the Kid. He was rather, how you say, skinny at that point in time," Gar says as he returns the hug.

"I've been watching too much television… They came out with that show a few years after they sued the heck out of Space Trek Productions."

Admittedly it was a rather unloved theme song for an ill received show, made worse because it was very close to the song chosen for Space Trek 2000. Gar's only visible performing role on television or movies.

Keith Hmms, nuzzling Gar's neck, "Have you thought about going back to doing work on TV?"

He wasn't quite sure how Gar felt about his career's stopping point, so it was always good to check. He tosses the two packages onto the counter so he can put both arms around Gar's waist, for hug's sake.

"You know I'm still working. You may recall that ten hour stint I did at Mouseholt, right? I've done another twenty hours in studios since then," Gar replies. He stirs the stew, and puts the lid back on it, so it can finish. He tosses a baguette onto a rack in a warming oven.

"I'm thinking about taking a gig doing voice work on that 'mini-horses are magic' show."

"Oh, I know. But I meant in front of the cameras. I know you've got other priorities, but it'd also be a mistake to hold back on something you want to pursuit, if you really want it." he lifts the lid and takes a sniff before lowering the lid again. "That smells good! Should I whip up some dessert for dinner?"

"It's a good idea. We have a few absentees but nobody complains about extras later," Gar says. He starts setting the table.

"I don't want to act on-screen, I don't want to act in live theatre. Not unless it's anything other doctors can do it."

"It's a good idea. We have a few absentees but nobody complains about extras later," Gar says. He starts setting the table.

"I don't want to act on-screen, I don't want to act in live theatre. Not unless it's anything other actors can do. There's no Green Eggs and Hamlet, you know."

And there it was, that thing. Because of his powers and his green skin, Gar would be rejected for roles, unless he were used as a gimmick, and that wasn't recognizing him as an actor, it was recognizing him as a prop, a special effect.

"No, but nothing says Hamlet can't be green. I know most directors wouldn't cast you- but most directors are idiots anyways."

Keith goes over to get one of the cookbooks and look for something quick to whip up.

"That… that bothers me, to be honest."

"But they'll cast me as an alien, when it works, and they'll cast me in anything where other people have to be green. I've even been asked to do a show in normal-flesh makeup but it looked terrible, so we ended up not doing it."

Gar shrugs. "This is who I am. I do voice work, and I do the occasional commercial as an animal and it gets color corrected. It's fine, it's not what I really wanted to do with my life. I'm a John Carpenter fan, you know? The guy who has a Marine Biology career and is a producer and director and so on? I don't have a single one thing I love doing."

"I know, but still…" Keith fumes quietly for a few seconds, and then says. "Well… what if you were to play an 'ordinary guy', a person who maybe was born with a meta-gene, but isn't an alien, isn't out fighting crime, but is just a person living their lives and doing their own thing, regardless of what unusual features they might have? Something you could sink you dramatic teeth into, so to speak?" the redhead says, fingering the bottle of Bailey's and looking somewhat meditative. Gears are turning.

"It would either be a situation comedy or a race drama. I'm a race of one. Not something I want to do."

Gar's clearly gone through this one at least once, with agents and producers. Not particularly something he would choose to be involved with, for any length of time.

"What are you thinking of, dessertishly speaking?"

"There's not a lot of time… so maybe a cherry crisp. Y' know, crumbled shortbread cookies and toasted pecans on red cherries." They have all of the ingredients.

But he walks up to Gar and gives him a tight hug from behind, "I'm sorry people are stupid. If it' worth anything, remember you've got a partner who can apply the best flesh-colored makeup in the world. Without actual makeup." Because his illusions were that good, and they were real images, so they stuck on film. "If you ever want to do it."

"I might, sometime. But not right now. It's not a deal. I am getting a lot more out of the voice work than I was out of actor's studio."

He peers at the cherries, a jar of them, canned by someone who sold them at a farmer's market. "The crisp! Just make sure it doesn't go all soggy we may have to consume it all."

"Sounds good to me," Keith mutters, and kisses the back of Gar's neck. "Forgot to tell you. I got you something. Well, I got both of us something, as weird as that phrasing goes."

"Do tell? Is it svim vare?" Gar asks, doing the ancient commercial with the Russian fashion show.

He continues setting the table, and notes, "Make enough for Jay to have some. She gets extra dessert for cleaning up after that demon."

"Oh… better than that. Here…" he grabs one of the packages, "Let me show you. Keep setting the table. I can do the crisp just before dinner."

He walks off into the bathroom, and a few minutes later he comes back wearing a bodsuit.

It is not his usual one. For one, the cut is different- it covers everything except his hands, head, and the 'feet' are heel-less and toe-less. There's also a hole in the back for a tail.

The colors are also different- the body itself is a sleek, shiny black, except for the top, which begins as a dark purple that cuts off at the shoulders and tapers off to a point above his navel, the shape changing by gradients into a dark red. Across his chest, is a simplified but more elegant version of his cheshire grin emblem, now looking like a "V" with the smile motif mixed.

"This is mine… what do you think?" He asks, putting his hands on his hips. He's changed forms, in order for the costume to look the way it was intended to look.

"NICE," Gar says, pausing his table-setting to look at the new outfit. He decides to demonstrate his approval with a simple >glomp< of the Cheshire Cat.

"You look yummy. From all angles."

Vorpal laughs and hugs back, nuzzling Gar with a grin, "What does 'yummy' mean, Mister Logan? I believe I do not speak this strange language…"

Gar demonstrates 'yummy' by nibbling on part of it, only to have to pull back when he hears other Titans moving about with vague mutterings of "dinner." Gar looks up and back down.

"You said this was YOURS… You got one for me too?"

Jay Donohue heads out to Titan's Compound.

Vorpal grins and tilts his head towards the counter, where the other package was placed. "It's just something I mentioned to Zelinsky when I went in for my fitting for this one last time. He showed it to me today when I went to pick mine up, and I thought it'd… well, go head and try it out." He leans on the counter.

Gar shrugs. He's got time to change into a new outfit before dinner, sure, while Vorpal makes the crisp. He heads for the bathroom, wiping down with a hot cloth and a towel to get the kitchen heat off before he pulls on the outfit. The same half-foot, half-hand design that leaves open access for claws.

"So, what do you think?" Vorpal calls out, as he works on the dessert. It's a cheap way to make a quick sweet thing for dinner, but he would have done something a little more elaborate if he had time.

He was eager to see how Gar would look in it… he thought the colors worked well with his skin tone, but the proof would be in the puddin'…

The shirt sleeve came to just past mid-bicep, in purple so dark it could have been black, running down to the waistline, with a vertical stripe of cream-white up to the collarbone, and the legs completely white down to the feet. It was also vacuumed up to his skin like it was skin-o-tropic.

"Without the proper undergear, this would be revealing way too much information," Gar says to the cat-boy.

Vorpal grins, setting aside the bowl with the crisp and looks at Gar. Letting out a low wolf-whistle, he walks up to the green Titan and gives him a playful nibble. "White is a good color on you. Hmmm…" he looks over his shoulder, and raises an eyebrow. "How long do you think we've got 'til dinner is called?"

"Four minutes, how's the crisp doing?"

He looks at the table, and listens to the running water sounds from upstairs. People are coming…

A smirk appears on Vorpal's face and he reaches out to tug Gar close to him. "… I propose we leave the table served… and then go upstairs. I can do with a later dinner." Eyebrow wiggle. "Everybody will be down here, after all…"

"Fine, but we have to come back to eat in a half hour. Can we do this in a half hour?" Gar says. He's not going to let his stomach growl too much yet. A half hour is manageable, though. Yes. There is much that can be done in such a time.

"Don't burn the cherry crisp."

Vorpal grins and moves the crisp off the burner. "Of course. Race you there?" he grins and pinches Gar's butt- before starting a sprint towards the stairs, "Fast as fast can be, you'll never catch me!"

Gar … does not turn into a small turtle, with fire shooting out where his legs and head should be. No, that would be cheating. He turns into a hummingbird and zips up to the balcony instead, and unless Vorpal cheats with a rabbit hole, they reach the door to their room at the same time.

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