[It's about half an hour before Nero arrives home with a paper sack from the grocery store. He's sort of hoping Dante figured it out before he got here but also, brought supplies just in case he didn't.]
Dante, I'm back. [He sets the sack on the counter.] Didn't get your other hand stuck too, did you?
He rounds the corner to make his way into the kitchen and, like he'd said, his hand is there in the pickle jar, covered in pickle juice and seasonings. Yum. A tip of his head back, he waves with the hand stuck in the jar and raises a brow. )
What took ya so long? Did you remember the pickles?
He gives the pickle jar a quick, withering look before he retorts.] Buying your damn pickles took me so long. First store was out of dills completely.
[He pulls a bottle of olive oil out of the sack and gestures for Dante to come over.] Come here, let's get your hand out... [Said with the true, knowing patience of a man who has small children living at his apartment back home.]
You mean you're not gonna whip Red Queen out and cut my hand off? Alright, I'll take it.
( Playful shrug, he moseys his way on over and, rather loudly, taps his jarred hand down on the counter, his free hand on his hip, smiling to the kid. )
[Nero takes a cursory glance at the situation.] How does a grown-ass man get his hand stuck in a pickle jar? Should've got you tongs for Christmas.
[Yep... it's really on there. Might even be a vacuum problem at this point. To start with, he'll lube up what parts of Dante's hand he can with the olive oil.]
( Spoiler: it didn't actually hurt. But sure, ok. He wiggles his hand around a little in the jar, stirring up the juice and seasonings floating around. )
My fingers are probably lookin' like raisins by now.
[Right. Clearly, this is a vacuum problem.] Okay. Plan B. One sec.
[He heads for the silverware drawer and digs until he finds a butter knife, nice and dull. Then he returns to grab Dante by the wrist, stilling his hand so he can slide the knife in alongside his hand.]
Smash it, without shattering it into a million pieces into your hand.
[He holds Dante's hand over the sink, then with a flash of blue one wing appears on his shoulders. The claws reach out and fasten over the jar with a strong, solid grip. It takes a moment for him to get the pressure and positioning he needs, but then with a little twitch of his lip, he clamps down.
The sharp claws shatter the jar into two clean pieces, which come apart in a gush of pickle juice like an expertly-cracked eggshell. The pickles fall into the sink as he pulls away the glass.]
Bracing for the worst, he blinks in mild surprise when his hand isn't filled with shards of glass and blood. Sure, he's had much worse before and yeah, he'll heal, but. Doesn't mean he enjoys it. So, with hand free, he wiggles his fingers, giving a curious little hum then before he smiles over to the kid. )
Wow. Thanks, kid.
( To which he claps his pickle soaked hand down on Nero's shoulder there... then ruffles his hair with that same pickle juice hand. )
[Nero does not look completely surprised that his plan worked. But there is a decisively confident, pleased grin on his face when it does. His wing deposits the broken jar on the counter, and he folds his arms cockily.]
Easy. Should've started with that, huh?
[And he's so enamored by the praise and Dante patting him on the shoulder, he doesn't notice until he smells the vinegar and dill that he's getting pickle juice rubbed in his hair.]
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Dante, I'm back. [He sets the sack on the counter.] Didn't get your other hand stuck too, did you?
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He rounds the corner to make his way into the kitchen and, like he'd said, his hand is there in the pickle jar, covered in pickle juice and seasonings. Yum. A tip of his head back, he waves with the hand stuck in the jar and raises a brow. )
What took ya so long? Did you remember the pickles?
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He gives the pickle jar a quick, withering look before he retorts.] Buying your damn pickles took me so long. First store was out of dills completely.
[He pulls a bottle of olive oil out of the sack and gestures for Dante to come over.] Come here, let's get your hand out... [Said with the true, knowing patience of a man who has small children living at his apartment back home.]
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( Playful shrug, he moseys his way on over and, rather loudly, taps his jarred hand down on the counter, his free hand on his hip, smiling to the kid. )
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[Nero takes a cursory glance at the situation.] How does a grown-ass man get his hand stuck in a pickle jar? Should've got you tongs for Christmas.
[Yep... it's really on there. Might even be a vacuum problem at this point. To start with, he'll lube up what parts of Dante's hand he can with the olive oil.]
Too embarrassed to ask Dad for help, huh?
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( Vergil's a nerd but he's not that kind of nerd. )
I figured you'd respond quicker than me shouting across the skies in hopes he might catch my voice on the wind somewhere.
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[He grips the jar and holds it down to the counter.] Can you wiggle at all?
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( To which he wiggles his body, damn well knowing that's not what the kid meant. )
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[For that, he flicks Dante in the side of the head.]
Your hand, dumbass!
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( Spoiler: it didn't actually hurt. But sure, ok. He wiggles his hand around a little in the jar, stirring up the juice and seasonings floating around. )
My fingers are probably lookin' like raisins by now.
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[Right. Clearly, this is a vacuum problem.] Okay. Plan B. One sec.
[He heads for the silverware drawer and digs until he finds a butter knife, nice and dull. Then he returns to grab Dante by the wrist, stilling his hand so he can slide the knife in alongside his hand.]
Hold still.
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( He knows he's not, he's just being his usual self when... in a pickle. )
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[It's actually to break any vacuum seal by pushing some air between Dante's hand and the side of the jar, which ought to at least loosen it up a bit.]
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( That's when he starts to lean away, cringing and whining and waving his other hand around. )
Look out for the blood!
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[He reaches up and flicks him in the head again.] Quit dicking around and pull your hand out.
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( A few little twists here and there and his hand still remains in the pickle juice. )
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[Now he grabs Dante by the wrist and tugs him over to the sink, turning on the cold water to run it over his wrist and the jar.]
You still can't budge it at all?
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( But there he goes, following the kid along, dragging his feet some as he does. )
Why don't I just smash it on the edge of the counter and call it a day?
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[When the cold water still doesn't work, Nero finally huffs and lets go.]
Okay, fuck it. Put your hand out over here.
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What are you gonna do?
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[He holds Dante's hand over the sink, then with a flash of blue one wing appears on his shoulders. The claws reach out and fasten over the jar with a strong, solid grip. It takes a moment for him to get the pressure and positioning he needs, but then with a little twitch of his lip, he clamps down.
The sharp claws shatter the jar into two clean pieces, which come apart in a gush of pickle juice like an expertly-cracked eggshell. The pickles fall into the sink as he pulls away the glass.]
Ta-daaa...
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Bracing for the worst, he blinks in mild surprise when his hand isn't filled with shards of glass and blood. Sure, he's had much worse before and yeah, he'll heal, but. Doesn't mean he enjoys it. So, with hand free, he wiggles his fingers, giving a curious little hum then before he smiles over to the kid. )
Wow. Thanks, kid.
( To which he claps his pickle soaked hand down on Nero's shoulder there... then ruffles his hair with that same pickle juice hand. )
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Easy. Should've started with that, huh?
[And he's so enamored by the praise and Dante patting him on the shoulder, he doesn't notice until he smells the vinegar and dill that he's getting pickle juice rubbed in his hair.]
Hey!! I don't want to smell like pickles too!
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( Said as he ruffles the kid's hair even harder — pats his cheek with some pickle juice fingers, too! )
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God, you're such a child!
[Once he wrestles away from Dante's pickle-grip he retracts his wing, then returns to the sack on the counter.]
Here's your other pickles. Maybe I ought to pour them out in a bowl for you this time?
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