shatterverse | It's been way too long.

It's been way too long.

Driving slowly up the road to the Cooper farm is a dark-haired vampire Slayer in a shiny red sportscar. It's been a long time, and she's older, tireder, and a little more scarred than she was the last time she was here, but she's still Faith, and she'll be glad to see people again.

Especially if you're a friend. She could do with more of those.

(OOC: I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!)

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There aren't a whole whole lot of people on the farm right now, but there's Dinah. There's often Dinah.

She's in her fishnets right now, coming back to the farmhouse from the training field, and heading straight for the kitchen.

Food please!

New friends are also good!

Faith gets out of her car and heads for the house, wearing a sword on her belt - where she got that, it might be safer not to ask.

Dinah gets a friendly wave.

Armed people around here are in fact the majority. The only reason Dinah isn't one of them is that she really doesn't need weapons.

"Hey," she says, returning the wave with a smile just as friendly. "How's it going?"

Faith doesn't -need- them, but she likes them perhaps a little more than is entirely healthy. It's a Slayer thing.

"Apocalyptic," she says wryly. "Been a while since I popped in, thought I'd come by for a visit. I'm Faith."

"Dinah," says that worthy, offering a hand. It's still in her fingerless gloves, with yellow Kevlar details on the back. "I don't technically live here, but they have fresh food."

"An important resource," Faith agrees, shaking Dinah's hand - and being careful not to break anything. "I haven't had fresh food in a while. Been doing a lot of scavenging."

And a lot of eating things that a human digestive system probably wouldn't be able to deal with. Better not to ask, really.

Oh, Dinah can relate. She was on that diet Lady Shiva put her on. It was terrible.

"Not something I'd recommend," says the blonde, continuing towards the kitchen, and the fresh pineapples therein. "There can't be many processed foods left out there."

"Not many, no. I've been scraping the barrel a lot lately."

Faith closes her eyes and inhales happily at the smell of fresh food. "Oh, yeah. Oh, I missed that."

One pineapple is tossed over Dinah's shoulder in the direction of the newcomer. It's totally not a test, really. She's just used to people with reflexes.

"I could probably find a meal to nuke, but don't ask me to cook you anything."

Faith grabs the pineapple and cracks it open, bare-handed.

"Wouldn't dream of it. I can do for myself, thanks."

"Good," Dinah says, leaning on the counter as she slices her own fruit clean in half with a convenient knife. "Because that's one thing I've never been able to do."

"Haven't generally had much choice."

Faith, traditionally a messy eater, digs in to the pineapple - literally - with her fingers.

"About cooking?"

It's tempting to throw her a knife, but Dinah declines, keeping it for herself.

"My mother was usually too drunk, when I was a kid. And I haven't lived with anyone since."

"That's why god invented take-outs," Dinah says, though her brow furrows at the upfront admission of the domestic situation. "The answer to all my problems, living alone."

"I am fond of the take-out, don't get me wrong," Faith agrees. "Saved my butt many a time when I was a teenager. But they don't exactly have drive-thrus around here anymore, so...I adapt."

"I just gravitated to the first populated place with decent restaurants," Dinah says cheerfully. "Finding a decent Thai in the middle of the apocalypse is my greatest skill."

"Definitely challenging. They don't exactly make a Zagat's for dining in the Apocalypse."

"More's the shame," says Dinah. "I'm waiting for a sushi chef to turn up here. Then I'll be really happy."

"Sushi."

Faith is almost purring at the thought.

"Oooh, I want that."

Dinah almost laughs.

"Can't do sushi, but there's a nice Japanese noodle place starting up in Metropolois."

"Noodles, seriously? God, it's been ages. I used to live in L.A., there were noodles all over the place, but, well. Y'know. Apocalypse."

Faith licks her lips.

"I have a car. I think a road trip may be in order."

"I have a plane."

For this is totally a game of one-upmanship. However, Dinah then changes her mind.

"Except that'll involve inviting my pilot along, and she'll just drink their entire beer cellar and harrass the waiters. Let's take the car."

Faith snorts softly. "Sounds safer, yeah. No time like the present?"

"Sure," Dinah says, sticking her pineapple in the fridge. Someone will eat it. "Give me a minute to grab my civvies."

A body and fishnets might not be the best outfit for a meal in a restaurant.

There is a half naked Clark in the side yard, splitting wood for the fireplace. He doesn't have an ax, nope, he's just placing the chunk of wood on a stump, and then hitting it with the side of his hand, slicing clean through.

He heard the car coming a ways away, and had already taken a good look at it to make sure everything was alright, but now that she's here, he'll look up from his work to offer a smile.

Faith's immediate, instinctive reaction to Clark, when she sees him, is somewhat predictable.

Mmmm. Eye candy.

This is immediately followed by the knowledge that, judging by his looks, he's way too young for her, so she refrains from hitting on him...okay, she probably won't, but she won't mean anything by it, really.

"Hello, the farm," she says, getting out of the car. "Did you draw the short straw to get saddled with that?"

(OOC: Ack, I totally missed this! Better late than never?)

He's probably about nineteen, maybe twenty at the latest. The boy has grown.

Clark turns towards her, the very clear superman symbol scarred into his chest becoming apparent. "I try to make myself useful. Hi."

Faith is definitely noticing the scarring.

"Hey. I don't remember seeing you before, and I've been by a few times. I'm Faith."

"I'm Clark." He sets the wood down and ambles over, offering her his hand. "Clark Kent."

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It's been way too long.

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