#ALREADY OBSESSED with Alfred it takes me A TOTAL OF FIVE SECONDS to fall in love with your muses

[redrobinfection]

Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 20

<< Part 19

This is the “conclusion” to the Coffee, Coffee Everywhere series (for real, this time, but stick around for the epilogue and an announcement about future additions to the ‘verse next week). Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged any part of the series!!!

~*~

Jason strode into the kitchen, looking to snag some breakfast before he passed out for a few hours, and stopped when he saw Tim at the table in the breakfast nook, nursing something in Bruce's infamous mega mug.

"Hey, there Timbo, what'cha got? Already falling off the wagon?"

Tim turned his bleary, dark-shadowed eyes up at him and instantly Jason knew that whatever was in that mug, it was definitely not coffee, decaf or otherwise. "It's tea. Herbal tea. Mint," he responded tersely. He looked about five seconds away from falling asleep on the spot.

"I'm thinking about making myself some chocolate chip pancakes; you want some? You look like you could use the sugar."

To his surprise, Tim shook his head vehemently. "No. Can't have chocolate. Has caffeine in it."

"Oh yeah, that's right. What about blueberry? Blueberry sound good?" Jason backpedaled quickly, feeling bad for the thoughtless suggestion.

Tim hummed and took a long draw of his mint tea. "Yeah, that'd be nice. Thanks, Jay," he replied drowsily, the words echoing strangely in the mug.

"So, uh, how much longer before you'll start letting yourself have small amounts of caffeine again, Timbo?" he asked, attempting casual conversation as a means to keep the kid conscious.

Tim set down the mug and sagged back, immediately sliding low into the seat. "It's been what… two weeks now? So... at least another six."

"Ouch. Two months total?" he asked incredulously as he assembled the ingredients for pancakes, scrambled eggs and fruit. He'd been planning to ask Tim to slice the fruit, but at this point he didn't feel confident Tim wouldn't accidentally slice a finger off or stab himself in his current state.

"Yeah. At least two months," Tim answered, his words trailing off into a large yawn. He finally gave up on keeping himself upright in the chair and plonked his head down on the table instead, arms hanging limply underneath.

"What is this I hear about you going back to caffeine, Drake?" Damian demanded loudly as he walked through the kitchen door. Dick filed in behind him. They had a full house at the manor this morning, so it wouldn’t be long before nearly the entire Batclan filled the large kitchen.

"Not f'r anudder six weeks, Dami'n," Tim mumbled into the wood, not even bothering to turn his head.

"Good," Damian replied haughtily. "Otherwise my threat to keep you away from caffeine at the pain of stabbing still stands."

"No one is stabbing anyone," Bruce sighed as he stepped into the kitchen a moment later. Tim raised his head at the sound of B's voice, blinking rapidly at the newcomers as they abruptly filled the kitchen with noise and movement.

"You're cooking this morning, Jason?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped up beside the stove.

"Yeah. I ran into Alfie and asked if it'd be okay. He said it was fine by him. That fine by you?" he asked lightly, keeping his attention fixed on the pancake mix he was assembling from scratch. He tried not to let the tension of being questioned show in his posture. B gave a low grunt of assent and patted Jason lightly on the shoulder before moving off towards the fridge. Jason let out a low sigh of relief. That was about as cordial as things got between them these days, but things were better than they had been; it was a start.

"So what are we having," Dick asked as he poured an obscene amount of Crocky Crunch into a salad bowl. Alfred would have a conniption when he came downstairs and saw that.

"We are having blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fruit. I dunno what you're having, you cereal-obsessed monster," Jason replied, giving Dick plenty of side-eye as he stirred the wet ingredients into the batter.

He laughed out loud and ambled over to grab the milk from Bruce. "Don't worry, I'll have plenty of room left over for your pancakes, Little Wing."

"You'd better go easy on the pancakes, Grayson. We wouldn't want your posterior to become anymore pronounced or noticeable than it already is. It is already something of an exposure risk at this point," Damian deadpanned smoothly. All motion in the kitchen stopped and every set of eyes turned to stare at him.

"Was that…? Was that a butt joke? From you? Am I awake? Did I hear that right?" Tim asked in awe, scrubbing at his eyes, which were finally fully open, and open wide, at that.

"Damian…" Bruce began in a growl, but Dick laughed and steered him over to the table.

"I'll keep that in mind, Dames," he responded amiably, rolling his eyes at the displeased expression on B's face. "Drink your milk and let him be, Bruce. Do you know how long I've been working to teach Damian to have a sense of humor?"

"Hey, Damian, could you help me slice the fruit?" Jason asked, tearing the youngest's attention away from the table and whatever argument he planned to start over his supposed 'sufficient' sense of humor. Damian nodded and turned to begin washing the fruit off in the sink.

Jason glanced back toward the table and considered what a strange thing it was to not see a single drop of coffee anywhere. Bruce had apparently taken to drinking milk or tea or juice whenever Tim was around, partially as a show of solidarity but also to reduce the burden of temptation, or so he had said. Jason shook his head in wonder. To think Bruce of all people would - or could - give up coffee, at least partially, to help one of them.

Actually, he mused, almost everyone was doing something support Tim's decision to lay off the caffeine for a while; Bruce giving up coffee in the mornings, Alfred providing alternative drink and food, Cass sharing her herbal tea, Dick checking in on him during patrols, Damian stealing all the coffee out of his safehouses and bugging the pantries to deter him from sneaking into the locked-down coffee beans. Okay, that last one was a little messed up, but so was Damian, so in a own way it was kind of touching how far he had gone to keep Tim away from the coffee.

Jason himself made a point to check in with him now and then to make sure he kept up eating well even without all his "coffee creations" to keep him motivated and to make sure he didn't try stay out on patrol or stay up working too much later than the rest of them. With varying success, of course.

Steph and Cass entered the kitchen next, both making a beeline for the tea and coffee section of the counter. Cass went right to work heating up water in the electric kettle and pulling the green tea out of the cabinet while Steph pulled a sachet of something for herself from her pocket.

"The fruit has been sufficiently sliced, Todd. How else may I be of assistance?" Damian asked, rinsing and wiping down the knife briskly.

"Awesome," Jason replied distractedly, briefly glancing over the meticulously cut fruit and nodding approval. "Uhhh… could you take the bowl over and then start setting the table?"

"You need some help, Dames?" Stephanie asked brightly, turning away from the hot water kettle holding a steaming mug. Cass also turned and nodded toward him to offer her aid.

Damian grimaced at the nickname, but continued in an even tone. "If you would set out the plates, Brown, and if you would set out napkins, Cassandra, then I will follow with the cutlery." They nodded assent, and wandered over to set their mugs down at the table; Steph set hers down at the seat next to Tim, Cass set hers across from them, and then they both turned to their tasks.

A few seconds later a loud moan disrupted the bustling tranquility that had fallen over the kitchen. He turned along with everyone else to see Tim leaning away from Steph's mug dramatically, eyeing the steaming mug as if it held a poisonous snake. His face paled and he swallowed convulsively.

"Tim…?"

"Steph, what did I tell you last week?" Tim croaked unhappily, pushing back his chair and sliding over into another seat unsteadily.

Everyone's eyes whipped over to Stephanie, who rolled hers. "Jeez, stop being such a drama queen. Do you remember what I told you? I don't care if you've ruined coffee for yourself; I need my morning fix, I'm going to have my morning fix, and if you're around when I make it, then you're just gonna have to deal with it."

Tim clamped a hand his mouth as he stared, transfixed, at the mug and shook his head. She sighed. "Besides, it's not going to jump out and bite you, or worse, jump down your throat. You're a big, strong Red Robin, I know you can handle a little temptation here and there."

Damian made a sound like an angry cat and stalked over to her. "Brown, I swear upon my blade, if you ruin our efforts to break Drake of his appalling hab-"

"It's not temptation," Tim cut in loudly, standing up and starting to back away from the table slowly. From where Jason was standing, he looked a tad green around the gills. "It's the smell."

They each frowned. "The smell?" Dick parroted in confusion.

Tim grimaced. "Ever since the time I… yeah… the smell of coffee is just…" he trailed off, waving his hand suggestively.

Steph snorted and sauntered over to the table, snatching up her mug. "So, what? You're trying to tell us that ever since your stunt with the mac n' cheese you can't stand the smell of coffee?"

Tim glared and nodded. Steph laughed out loud. "So are you avoiding coffee because you're avoiding caffeine or because the smell makes you wanna hurl?"

Tim's glare darkened. "Both," he snapped, darting forward to grab his tea, then slowly treading in a wide arc around Steph toward the door to the rest of the manor. "I'm serious about breaking my caffeine addiction, but believe me, right now there is nothing tempting about the smell of coffee to me whatsoever."

Steph grinned wickedly. "Are you sure? I mean you put on a convincing act, but how do we know you're not sneaking off to brew a triple espresso in some secret hiding spot right this minute, huh?"

If Tim could have simultaneously set someone on fire and frozen their soul to the core with a single look, Steph would have shattered into a thousands smoldering frozen bits on the spot.

"You sure you're not tempted to sneak a sip?" she teased, darting in close and wafting the mug in his face. Tim literally gagged and dashed for the sink, leaving Steph and the rest of the family gaping in shock as he actually, real life, coughed up his tea into the sink.

Jason couldn't believe it. Trying to imagine a Tim Drake who has an aversion to coffee was like trying to imagine a Dick Grayson who suddenly one day announces he hates cereal. Impossible, or so they thought.

Before Steph, or anyone else for that matter, could recover from the shock, Damian shot forward, grabbed the mug from her slack grip, opened a door to the veranda and hurled the mug as far out onto the lawn as he could. Everyone stared. Steph blinked once then stormed out onto the veranda.

"You brat! My coffee!!!" she shrieked. "And I liked that mug!" She whirled on Damian. He crossed his arms and glared up at her darkly.

"That is what you deserve, not only for sneaking contraband into this house while a ban of the substance - a ban we all agreed upon for the sake of one of our team - is in effect, but for also being such a jerk to Drake when he is so clearly struggling to do better."

Steph stared and shook her head. "Since when do you of all people care if someone is being a jerk to Tim? I thought that was your life's calling, Demon Brat."

"-Tt-" Damian walked back into the kitchen. Steph trailed behind. Dick and Cass had since jumped up to check on Tim and were gently coaxing him back to the table with reassuring words and gentle touches. Jason vaguely registered a burning smell before he realized with a start that he'd been so caught up in the drama that he'd forgotten about the pancakes currently on the stove.

As he cursed and threw them into the waste bin, Damian replied dryly, "I'm tired of having to explain to various people that, yes, 'Fat-girl', I do care what happens to the members of this family, our team, and, in this particular instance, Drake. I've been one of Drake's most adamant supporters. Imagine how much less pathetic and useless Drake would be if he let himself sleep now and then instead of running around Gotham like some kind of coffee-fueled zombie, instead of sticking his exhaustion-clumsy fingers into cases and situations he would be better off leaving to Father and I. Imagine if he only offered his assistance when needed, instead of trying to be everywhere and do everything all at once."

Jason shook his head slowly as he poured out a new set of pancakes. "And here, just when I was thinking the bat brat might have finally grown a heart…"

Dick nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, well, at least it's an improvement over them trying to kill each other. Can you imagine him admitting that there are situations in which Tim's 'assistance' would be 'needed' three years ago? Let's count this as progress and move on."

Jason cut off Damian's indignant growl with a wave. "Hey, Dames, come over here and help me get the eggs going. Cass, can you take care of plates? And you," he stopped and glared pointedly at Steph, "go apologize to Tim. That was a dick thing to do, and you know if I'm the one telling you that then…"

Steph rolled her eyes, but threw her hands up in surrender. "Okay, I get it, 'Alfie Jr'. Keep your eyes on the pancakes."

"I should think such an appellation would be an esteemed honor, Master Jason," Alfred intoned smoothly as he stepped into the kitchen, eyes twinkling with amusement. Jason caught his eye and grinned. Knowing Alfie, he'd probably listened to entire conversation from outside the door before choosing the most opportune moment to make his entrance. Or he'd tapped into the network of bugs that Jason was convinced Alfie hid from everyone, including B - the man had been a spy after all.

"Sure is, Alfie. I think I'll get that engraved on a plaque and hung on the wall of my kitchen, you know?"

Alfred nodded with a quiet smile, then turned toward the table. "Miss Stephanie, once you've finished apologizing to Master Tim, would you be so kind as to set out water glasses for everyone. I think it's high time we sat down to enjoy the breakfast Master Jason has so graciously prepared for us."

Steph nodded contritely and murmured another quiet 'sorry' to Tim before turning to cabinets. Alfred turned his hawkish gaze upon the table's remaining occupants, namely Bruce, Dick, Cass, and Tim.

"Was that a mug I saw someone throw into the rose garden? I don't suppose if I take a stroll down there after breakfast I'll find it crushing one of the roses the groundskeepers and I have worked so hard to maintain?"

Several wild glances passed between them, and across the kitchen Damian paled, then murmured a stumbling excuse along the lines of “need toilet" and skittered away from the stove. Jason shook his head but took over the eggs. Steph stifled a laugh and Cass shook her head. Alfred lifted one brow and swept his sharp gaze over the entire kitchen, stilling everyone. No one so much as twitched even as they all clearly saw Damian dart out of a window a few rooms over then streak across the lawn.

Bruce cleared his throat. "N-no, of course not, Alfred." The kitchen broke out in a chorus of 'no's and Alfred nodded his satisfaction.

"Very good."

~*~

Epilogue (Part 21) >>

[ralphmorgan-blog1]

O.J. Simpson’s rise and fall, from football star to prisoner

Los Angeles (CNN)O.J. Simpson spent a lifetime in the limelight -- first for his athletic prowess, charm and good looks, then as part of an American tragedy that came to symbolize much of what was controversial in America.

Prosecutors say Simpson, along with some armed associates, confronted two sports collectors that night and left the room with boxes of Simpson memorabilia. Simpson says he only wanted to reclaim family mementos.

But a Nevada jury thought otherwise, and found him guilty of kidnapping, armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon. He was sentenced to 33 years, with the possibility of parole after nine.

On Thursday, a Nevada parole board will make its recommendation, potentially opening a new chapter in a life that already includes a legacy of fame, fortune and infamy.

Early years

Born on July 9, 1947, Orenthal James Simpson grew up in the housing projects of San Francisco's tough Potrero Hill neighborhood, where he lived with his single mother, Eunice, and three siblings.

When he was 2 years old, he contracted rickets, a muscle and bone disease. The future football Hall of Famer wore leg braces for a few hours every day until he was 5.

But by high school, Simpson was a stellar football player, eventually ending up at the football juggernaut University of Southern California. As a USC Trojan running back, he set NCAA records and won the Heisman Trophy in 1968. Nicknamed "The Juice," Simpson was the No. 1 draft pick in 1969 and spent nearly his entire 11-year career with the mediocre Buffalo Bills. Despite that, Simpson set a long list of league records on his way to the NFL Hall of Fame.

Married life and transition from football

When he was 19 years old, Simpson married his 18-year-old high school sweetheart, Marguerite Whitley, in June 1967. The couple had three children: Arnelle, Jason and Aaren.

While still playing ball, Simpson began acting, most notably playing a man framed for murder by police in the movie "The Klansman."

Simpson divorced his wife in March 1979. Tragedy struck five months later, when Aaren drowned in the family swimming pool just before her second birthday. By then, Simpson was already dating an attractive 18-year-old blond waitress, Nicole Brown. Less than a year later they were living together.

The year 1979 was a transitional one for Simpson. Along with his divorce, the death of his daughter and moving in with Brown, Simpson also quit playing football.

Now that he was off the gridiron, Simpson found continued success on camera. With his charisma and good looks, many hailed Simpson as a personality who transcended sports, class and race.

He worked as a sportscaster for NBC, appeared in a variety of movies -- including as the dimwitted Officer Nordberg in the "Naked Gun" series -- and as a pitchman, most memorably in Hertz commercials where he leaps over luggage and dodges passengers in a race to get to his flight. At the time, he was one of the few African-American men who could boast such popularity.

Simpson and Brown married in 1985, and had two children, daughter Sydney and son Justin.

A troubled marriage

By all accounts, the marriage was a tumultuous one. Police showed up at the couple's residence on several occasions, including after a New Year's Eve party in 1989, multiple news outlets reported at the time. Police records said Simpson beat his wife so badly she needed hospital treatment. "He's going to kill me! He's going to kill me!" she cried while running toward officers that night.

Photographs taken from that time and later used at Simpson's murder trial show Brown-Simpson's badly bruised face. According to an arrest report, Simpson told responding officers, "The police have been out here eight times before, and now you're going to arrest me for this?"

Simpson pleaded no contest to spousal battery. Simpson later wrote, "I did not plead no contest for any other reason but to protect our privacy, and was advised it would end the press hype."

Brown's sister Denise later testified it wasn't the first time or the last time Nicole had been attacked by her husband.

The couple divorced in 1992 after seven years of marriage. An attempted reconciliation failed, but the two remained in contact. The relationship remained a turbulent one. In a deposition during the civil trial in 1997, Simpson acknowledged there were instances when he hurt Nicole, saying, "I take total responsibility."

Two killings in Brentwood

A little before midnight on June 12, 1994, Nicole Brown Simpson's dog led a neighbor to the bloodied bodies of Brown Simpson and her friend, Ron Goldman. The two had been stabbed and slashed and left on the walkway to Nicole Brown Simpson's Brentwood condo.

Four hours later, Simpson checked into a hotel near Chicago's airport -- he'd flown there just before midnight for a promotional engagement. He flew back to LA after being contacted by local police.

Believing him to be a suspect, police handcuffed him upon his return to Los Angeles. He was questioned and then released. Five days later Simpson agreed to surrender to face murder charges, but he didn't show up. He was declared a fugitive. His friend Robert Kardashian appeared at a news conference and read what he called a suicide letter. Not long after, Simpson was spotted being driven in his white Ford Bronco. Police said he was holding a gun to his head.

Simpson's childhood friend and former teammate, A.C. Cowlings, was at the wheel, leading a phalanx of squad cars on a 60-mile low-speed chase across Southern California.

In car-chase obsessed Los Angeles, the spectacle was televised and hundreds of people came out to cheer as the Bronco passed. Simpson eventually surrendered to police at his home.

The trial of the century

Simpson pleaded "100% not guilty" and assembled a "dream team" of famous local and national lawyers, including civil rights attorney Johnnie Cochran, star defense attorneys F. Lee Bailey and Alan Dershowitz, and DNA expert Barry Scheck. Also on the team was Simpson's friend Kardashian, father of the Kardashian sisters.

Lead prosecutors Marcia Clark and Chris Darden focused on the timeline, domestic abuse and the DNA evidence found on the bloody glove discovered at the crime scene and another one at O.J. Simpson's property.

But the "dream team" raised doubts about the police handling of the evidence and accused one of the lead detectives, Mark Fuhrman, of racial bias. Although Simpson never testified, among the most riveting moments was when prosecutor Darden asked Simpson to put on the infamous gloves -- one of which police said was found at the murder scene, the other at Simpson's property.

Simpson struggled to do so in front of the jurors, making a show of how the gloves didn't fit. In his summation, Cochran uttered the now famous line, "If it doesn't fit you must acquit."

The case became a cable news sensation and a nationwide obsession, as tens of millions of viewers tuned in at home and at work. In a time before social media, it was a topic of worldwide conversation. Viewers dissected every witness, every legal nuance, every sidebar conversation and every change in Clark's hairstyle.

The trial lasted just over eight months, from opening statements to the verdict. After all that time, the jury of nine African-Americans, one Hispanic, and one Caucasian deliberated for four hours before reaching the verdict.

The verdict is in

It almost seemed like the world stood still at 10 a.m. Pacific Time on October 3, 1995. Nielsen reported that 53 million people were watching and listening to the verdict.

As the "not guilty to all counts" verdict was read, Cochran turned and yelled, "Yes!" Kardashian looked stunned. Simpson finally broke into a smile, sighed deeply and mouthed "thank you, thank you" to the jury. Goldman's sister, Kim, bent over, loudly sobbing. Outside the courthouse, hundreds of supporters and critics of Simpson lined the sidewalk. Reaction there, like throughout much of the United States, heavily split along racial lines, with many black Americans celebrating the verdict and many white Americans in shock. In ESPN's 2017 documentary, "O.J.: Made In America," Clark talks about the disparate responses to the not guilty verdict, saying "it was all so much bigger than we were."

Civil trial

Simpson wasn't off the hook after the not guilty verdict; the families of Ron Goldman and Nicole Brown filed suit for wrongful death. With no camera in the Santa Monica courtroom, a new set of lawyers and a lower threshold for guilt, Simpson was found liable for the deaths. In February 1997, Simpson was ordered to pay $33.5 million in damages, more money than he had. He moved to Florida, where state law prevented his pension and home from being seized to pay the damages. Simpson's Heisman Trophy was ordered sold and brought in $230,000.

The incident in Vegas

Thirteen years to the day after Simpson was acquitted of double murder, a jury in Las Vegas found him guilty of armed robbery, kidnapping and 10 other charges.

He said he was simply trying to reclaim his stolen property from two sports memorabilia dealers, Bruce Fromong and Alfred Beardsley. While Simpson wasn't armed when he confronted the men, at least two of his associates were. Another secretly recorded the planning, the raid and the police response. Simpson is heard yelling, "Don't let nobody out of here." The audio also caught responding officers saying that if California couldn't "get" Simpson, Nevada would. All this was played during Simpson's Nevada criminal trial.

Simpson's lawyer, Yale Galanter, was concerned the jurors might be tempted to be harsher in their decision making, as a kind of payback for the not guilty verdict in Simpson's criminal murder trial. The jury in the Nevada case deliberated for 13 hours before finding Simpson guilty on 12 charges. In sentencing Simpson, Judge Jackie Glass said it was not "retribution or any payback for anything else." But some believe the sentence was unusually harsh.

"I think there was a large measure of payback in the Nevada case," said Jeffrey Toobin, a senior legal analyst for CNN who wrote "The Run of His Life" and covered the Simpson trials. "It was dubiously a crime in the first place and to see the very long sentence ... (it) seemed to me that he was being punished for the murder even though the judge said he wasn't," Toobin said.

Parole hearing

At a parole hearing in 2013, a physically heavier Simpson shuffled into the hearing and told commissioners he regretted what he'd done. "I just wish I had never gone to that room. I wish I had just said keep it and not worry about it." Simpson was denied parole and sent back to the Lovelock Correctional Center Facility, a medium-security prison in the remote desert town of Lovelock. He's been there since 2008.

A four member parole panel in Carson City will decide Simpson's fate on Thursday. Simpson will appear through a video feed from prison.

Who are the parole board members deciding O.J.'s fate?

The commissioners will take into account Simpson's conduct in prison, the severity of his crime and his age. Ron Goldman's father, Fred, told CNN he would not be surprised if Simpson was granted parole. And if that comes true, "The Juice" could be loose in October.

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