>>6138018>>6138256>>6137712==== Hotel Gotham, Room S206 ====
Steam rises from a silver kettle as a stream of boiling water cascades on a small pile of brown powder that resides in the bottom of the mug. The mixture swirls and hills of cocoa powder ride the rapid tides of water as it bubbles and the deep rich scent of chocolate starts to swell in the air. Helena smiles and closes her eyes, letting the scent take her back to another time, the smile only flickers when the stream of heat rising from the mug is disrupted. Movement. Without opening her eyes she let's a well manicured hand fly out and lightly slap the back of a hand. She opens her eyes gently and smirks at 'Basshead' and wags a finger. She sets the mug to rest on a marble countertop and let's her fingers fly as she signs.
"It isn't done yet, even if it was. Too hot."
Basshead frowns and signs back in defeat.
"Okay.."
Helena opens the small fridge and pulls out a tall can with a bright red top. Passing it off to the young boy she opens a drawer and pulls a slender silver spoon that she uses to finish mixing the drink. Signing with her free hand as she goes.
"Shake that up."
"Why?"
"Makes it spray out better, if you don't shake it it'll just leak out."
"Why?"
She sighs and pulls the spoon out.
"It just does." She signs firmly before snagging the can from his hands. "Watch."
Basshead leans in close and watches with a sparkle in his eye as a firm fluffy spire of whipped cream is added to the top of the mug and Helena pushes it towards him slowly. He smiles at her widely and signs a thank you as he grasps the mug with two hands and starts working on the whipped cream.
She rests her chin in her hand and watches. She smiles and feels an unfamiliar warmth from inside her chest. Why does she enjoy this? Why does something this simple feel so satisfying?
"You're a weird kid, why the love for the cheap stuff? The hotel makes a really good cup and it doesn't even come from a bag."
"My mom makes it for me." He signs back.
Helena sighs. He doesn't bring her up on accident, she signs back.
"I'm still looking. Promise."
He nods sullenly and returns to his drink, his eyes now firmly planted on the counter. The crack of a door opening draws her eye as the scent of steam and soap creeps into the room. A faceless man stands wrapped in a towel in the doorway.
