Location: Ann Praxton's Kitchen
Activity: Making awkward attempts at conversation, hoarding food
John knew the kitchen couldn't stay empty for long, but that didn't quell the disappointment he felt as the others only moved closer to him. He had an admittedly small vocabulary, but had it been larger he would have described the room as claustrophobic.
He disliked feeling crowded.
Cornered.
Trapped.
He became so wrapped up in thinking about how penned in he was, that he didn't even notice Peter moving up beside him - quite an oversight on the normally observant boy's part. He jumped at the sudden touch on his shoulder, and for a moment, he worried he would choke on his food. Wouldn't that be a silly way to go? He always imagined it'd be at the hands of one of the other nursery rhymes.
"Hello, Peter." He forced out, once his coughing fit had subsided. The words came out sounding stilted, and almost as if he was copying Peter, but that was okay. They usually did. John simply hoped the others didn't view this as a sign of weakness.
"Yes. I'm always hungry."
He added, rather matter-of-factly.
"It doesn't matter how much I eat."
There was a short pause, as he pondered whether this was enough to say. Conversation was not his strong point, and he often felt he was meant to say more than he did.
"...Uh... Are you well?"
Yes.
That was perfect.
This was how a conversation was meant to go.
For a moment, a smile crossed his lips, as he basked in what he thought was surely approval on Peter's part. Of all the nursery rhymes in the nursery, he considered him the most worthy of seeking confirmation from.
And then Ann ruined it.
His head turned sharply towards her, as she spoke. He didn't like when others tried to keep things from him. It was terribly selfish.
He was no murderer, but sometimes he thought it would be alright for him to kill the others if they had something he wanted. After all, most of them were planning on killing him. He could practically feel their stares on him, as they plotted. Rather than protesting, though, he simply dispelled the thought from his mind. Better to seem clueless, anyways. They wouldn't try as hard, that way.
"Sorry." He mumbled meekly, glancing down at his feet, though he kept his gaze on her from his peripheral vision. He waited until he thought she wasn't looking, before quickly reaching out to grab another piece of food, and shove it in his pocket, ignoring the mess it made. He liked to think it was out of necessity, but even he knew it was simply stubbornness and some inkling of indignation getting the better of him.
He kept his eyes fixed on the ground for a while longer, as if waiting to see if he'd been caught, and then glanced back up just as Rosie showed a bouquet of flowers his way.
He stared for a moment, debating whether or not it was okay to take them, before reaching out and going to set them down on the table near himself.
Water lilies.
Ironic.
He wondered if it was purposeful. A jab at his nursery rhyme, perhaps? A disgusted look passed over his face, though he tried to hide it with a smile, as he nodded back in 'thanks' at Rosie.
---
Location: Ann Praxton's Kitchen
Activity: Chatting with the others
The smile plastered across Adelaide's face was beginning to make her feel sick. She wondered if any of the nursery rhymes believed in her false kindness. She imagined they must, as she perfectly executed it. As always. Adelaide had always known she was about as perfect as a person could get.
The others though, the others were not. It was painful to watch their awkward attempts at sincerity. Peter was all smiles and cheerful tones, but he was twisted, and overbearing. Not mention how grating his voice was. Ugh.
Adelaide was much more concerned with that annoying aspect of the man than the fact that he'd shoved his wife in a pumpkin. She imagined the slut was better off that way. She herself would much rather be dead than married to such a fool.
Then there was Ann. Did she really think that smiled fooled her? Or anyone, for that matter? It was absolutely pathetic!
She pretended not to notice though, and simply nodded in agreement as the woman spoke.
"Oh, i'm starved." She laughed, as she went to take a seat. "Just the smell of your food is enough to make my stomach growl."
She grabbed herself a plate, and some food, and pulled it closer - though she barely touched it. It was mostly for show.
Oh, and there was Rosie.
Adelaide was not a fan of Rosie. She disliked the constant humming and bouquets.
She grinned and nodded when the blueberries were handed to her, however.
"Lovely, simply lovely. So thoughtful, too. I can't thank you enough."
She pretended to admire them for a moment, before going to set them in her lap.
"They'll make my nest look so much nicer."
Mary Shaw was there too, of course!
Adelaide found her childish behavior quite frankly embarrassing, but she did her best to put up with it, and even tried to humor her from time to time.
"Tea is simply wonderful."
And then there was dear, sweet, baby John.
He was such a weakling, it was laughable.
Overall, she really thought Mother Goose was doing a terrible job of running the nursery.
Adelaide fancied herself as a much better choice for the job.
If she was in charge, things would be different.
Peter would learn to be seen, and not heard.
Ann would learn to either give a better fake smile, or not smile at all.
Rosie's flowers would be a thing of the past.
Mary Shaw would have to grow up, or get out.
And John would either toughen up, or die trying.
It really wasn't fair. Why should she be the one being bossed around, when she was obviously better fit to be giving the orders?