route_1065 | We Survived the Snowmageddon

Entry tags:

We Survived the Snowmageddon

Who: Albert Rosenfield (

worktodo) and whoever is congregating at the Justice Farm for the Christmas holiday!
Where: El Rancho del Justicia, aka Albert's house in Saffron City
When: Anytime between Monday the 24th and Wednesday the 26th!
Summary: A lot has changed in a month, but some things never do. Losers getting together to fail their way through the holiday season is one of them.
Rating: Individual threads may vary, but let's go with G overall and warn otherwise!
Log:

Despite generally doing a very excellent Grinch impression, Albert doesn't actually hate Christmas. Granted, it's not one of his favorite holidays the way that Thanksgiving is — it's a little too overdone, a little too commercial, lacking in some of the spirit of togetherness in favor of the spirit of consumerism — but it is decidedly a holiday, and once again Johto has presented him with a situation where he is forced to make a choice. For the second time this year (by Albert's reckoning), Johto appears to have done everything in its power to prevent them from putting on a holiday, including but not limited to summoning up the actual apocalypse. The question that begs to be asked, therefore, is simply: is Albert willing to surrender Christmas in the face of all these apparent attempts to ruin it?

The answer, naturally, is: oh, hell no.

It is, however, an undeniably different atmosphere from the one that filled the house on Thanksgiving. Most of the occupants of the house are worse off now than they were then, be it emotionally or physically — some from spooky encounters, some from harsh truths, and some from going out in the apocalyptic snow like the damn fools they are — so if there's slightly less pep and enthusiasm saturating the grounds, that could certainly be why. Any decorations applied to the outside of the house have been battered at best and outright wrecked at worst. But as the slightly paraphrased song lyric goes, "Though the weather outside is frightful, by the fire it's so delightful", and the interior of the house is a thankfully different story.

On Monday, Albert will be spending the Eve of Christmas largely in the kitchen, having allotted the whole day for getting all the components of Christmas dinner prepared and readied in advance; on Thanksgiving, it's a fundamental part of the holiday tradition to run around the kitchen like a madman trying to get dinner to the table on time, but for Christmas, he'd rather everything just go smoothly. Early arrivals are welcome to hang out in the cozy parts of the house, grab some cocoa, and carefully avoid him; otherwise, they might get drafted into menial labor like shoveling out the front walk or putting the finishing touches on the interior decor before the party officially kicks off.

By Tuesday, it's all Christmas all the time; there is no victory quite so sweet as the one that comes hard-won, and as far as Albert is concerned, the most effective "screw you" to Johto's Snowmageddon is putting on an occasion that is positively bursting with holly and jolly anyway. Somewhere near the kitchen, Zack the Porygon2 is contributing by blasting from his Gear's speakers a concert of every Christmas song he knows (of which there are three: "Feliz Navidad", "Grandma Got Run Over By A ~~Stantler~~ Reindeer", and the Weather Girls' "It's Raining Men"). A stately (albeit slightly lopsided) Christmas tree that is probably the Johto equivalent of a Douglas fir is set up in a corner of the living room near the fireplace — which is burning merrily — and its branches are decorated with makeshift ornaments like Pokeballs and paper throwing stars along with the standard colored bauble variety. Stuff your presents below; there'll be time for opening them later, but for now they're part of the decor. There's holly on the piano and fake candles in the windows, and you better believe at least half of those doorways have mistletoe strategically placed near them. Don't get caught! (Or do, if that's what you're here for.)

The one new and interesting addition to the house can be found in a corner of the living room, where a little space has been carved out for a small end table topped with coasters, a chair, and a tripod apparatus just the right size for holding a standard Pokegear. Got someone to call and wish a Merry Christmas? Do it from the comfort of this corner like it's Masterpiece Theater.

But however Tuesday is spent, there's sure to be a lot of love, gifting, and good Christmas cheer. Or else.

When Wednesday comes along, it'll be the standard post-Christmas wind-down — leftovers aplenty in the kitchen, trash bags of crumpled wrapping paper tucked into the corners, and a nice low-pressure environment in which to interact, gush over gifts, and enjoy the spirit of the season a little longer before getting right back to work on Important Business. For some, that might mean playing in the snow or having a snowball fight; for others, that might mean coordinating federal agent business for the future. But either way, it's another Christmas survived, and that's what really matters, right?

[OOC: Just like last time, this is an open log for everybody coming to Albert's for Christmas! Feel free to start your own threads as you please — open them to everybody, close them to specific people, whatever works for you. Just make a note in the header of what day it's taking place on and who all's invited, and have fun, everybody! Also, for people who aren't physically present at the Farm on Christmas, feel free to use the designated Skype Thread™ to chat with them over video anyway!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Yes, sometimes you have to chuck the baby bird out, but there are times when you don't do that. You know, like when the baby bird has crippled wings. Or when it's an egg. Now you're just going to get something to go smack on the ground.

In the back of his mind, the part that is constantly analyzing and measuring and storing despite whatever he's going through, he notices how her hand stays at his wrist, like she's ready to tear it away at a moment's notice and run. It makes sense. A woman constantly on the move, having never had an interpersonal tie firm enough to keep her in one place, would value her independence above all else. It's understandable, but somewhat sad, in its own way. Like she thinks he would actually try to keep her if she wanted to go.

And while the back of his brain is doing that, the rest is mostly asdlfkjaosdfknaweroinf

WHAT IS HE SUPPOSED TO DO RIGHT NOW???

HE DOESN'T KNOW

should he

oh god

Is he going to need to apologize to Coop after this?

because this seems

vaguely like he's making a move on someone else's girlfriend

also carmen is very distracting and her mouth is warm and

and he really shouldn't be concentrating on that

CARMEN GIVE HIM DIRECTION HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DOOOOOOOOOOO]

[Months ago, it made her surprisingly (unusually) anxious, the little things about kissing and being kissed that she hadn't yet learned to distinguish from the feeling of being caught. To the unpracticed observer, there's quite a bit that reads the same — gentle touches translating as the presence of someone entirely too close for her comfort, fingers near her wrists reading as an imminent grab instead of fond appreciation. Maybe it is sad, but it's her life and her experience, all part of what once made her the best and now part of what she's had to untangle, in learning how to be something more still.

These days, it's easier to distinguish, having had plenty of practice and time to reflect on what works and what doesn't, what she likes and what still sets off that same uncomfortable anxiety of months past.

And with Reid, of course — with Reid, she already knows he's going to read her every move and learn something about her from it, so maybe it's not entirely unintentional, the assumptions he's drawing from what she's doing.

Wouldn't you try to keep her, Dr. Reid? Are you sure?

Maybe that's a question she needs answered by the people she's closest to.

...

And maybe if she gets to find that out by, y'know, kissing the daylights out of them, then so much the better, that's a fun side perk indeed.

So, once she's satisfied that he's been thoroughly kissed as per mistletoe standards (really, Reid, it wasn't that long, just a good solid smoochin'), the hand on his cheek moves to the back of his neck just long enough for her to place a follow-up kiss right around the place that her hand just vacated. Her lipstick may or may not leave a faint mark — not that it's likely to show with the hue he's blushing.]

Come to think of it, you spotted me first. I think that means you rightfully found me, doesn't it?

[She may or may not be suppressing mirth here.]

[That is a conversation they should have, but definitely not immediately after she successfully broke his brain. Congrats, Carmen. You broke Team FBI's pet. Albert will be pissed.

Reid looks like a cherry. All he needs is a stem and he'll be golden. Also he doesn't know whether it's a good or a bad thing that his eidetic memory allows him to relive that in perfect detail.]

Um... I, uh...

[Yep, definitely broken.]

Uh... Y-you-- [Brain stutters, starts to reboot itself, attempts to process. This might take a while. In the meantime, she just said something, didn't she? C'mon, Reid, respond somewhat intelligently.] I, um, I guess I did.

Edited 2012-12-25 04:55 (UTC)

[Albert's always pissed at the things she does, so it's not like that's really anything new, now is it?

Still, there's a difference between flustering someone and terrorizing them, and when it looks like Reid won't be recovering on his own anytime soon, she decides to help him along a little. It's only sporting.]

That means I owe you a chess game.

[See? Nice, simple, easy logic to follow. And coincidentally, he better hope she doesn't manage to connect the dots between his eidetic memory and how clearly he'll be able to relive that smooch (forever), because being memorable is something she adores and, well, as far as Reid's concerned she's positively unforgettable, isn't she.]

Would you like to move out from under the mistletoe, or do you want to stay and take your chances that I might kiss you again?

[Yes. Yes, sporting. Give the boy a fighting chance.]

Oh, r-right! Yeah. I, uh, I still have the chess set.

[Yes, Carmen. As far as he's concerned, you're unforgettable. Mostly because everything's unforgettable for him, but let's gloss over that and concentrate on the fact that he'll remember that kiss forever.

And then oh wait. Yes. Mistletoe.]

Oh, right! [He scoots carefully out from underneath the sprig, although he's not entirely sure he'd mind being kissed again. Of course he pushes that thought out of his head, since nope, he's not about to fantasize about someone who is committed to someone else.

Why don't we move the thought away from what just happened to chess?] I, uh... I mean, it's, um, in my bag? We can play by the fire if you, I mean, if you like.

[The boy who is in fact two years older than she is and — oh, but that's entirely beside the point, isn't it. Strange enough getting kissed by one of your childhood icons without throwing in temporal discrepancies on top of it.]

I would like that.

[She gives him another brief measure of time to unwind before adding, somewhat deliberately:]

My first partner and I used to play chess every Christmas. Given how much you remind me of him already, I can't help but wonder if you'll play as well as him, too.

[And from the look she flashes him, it's clear she's looking forward to finding out. Especially since the nice thing about chess isn't just the game, but the occasion for a dialogue on top of it. And given how wound up Reid is at the moment, she has a sneaking suspicion it's an opportunity that they would probably do well to take advantage of.

Considering she just sort of took advantage of him, after all.]

[Exactly. Strange enough.

His brain is beginning to stutter back to life proper, so at least the conversation should be good by the time he sets up the board. Speaking of, he moves towards the fireplace, beside which he put his bag down.]

I, uh, I should warn you...

[Yep, stuttering back to life. He flashes her a smile. Yeah, he's okay.] Ever since I turned ten, there's only been one person who's ever beat me.

[She follows him over, clearing cups and bits of decorations off of the end table and pulling it around so it's more suited for a game of chess.]

I always play to win, Dr. Reid. But sometimes the real victory isn't the one dictated by the rulebook.

[She chuckles a little to herself.]

Chief once took a game from me in twelve moves. And managed to completely miss the fact that I was installing a more fine-tuned motor control program into his systems while I was at it.

[Reid pulls his bag over and flips it open, grabbing a little wooden box inside. He places it on the table and flips it open into a chessboard. Then he starts arranging the pieces that lie inside.]

You know, I'm not even surprised by that.

[HE KNOWS YOU TOO WELL, CARMEN.]

But I don't have any computers with me, so I think I'm safe. [And once his brain is completely restored, there's plenty he's been wanting to talk about.]

[~~If he thinks he's safe, he's clearly not paying enough attention to just how much mistletoe there really is strewn throughout this house I MEAN~~

She watches him work, waiting until he's gotten things mostly set up before plucking a black and white pawn from the board, moving her hands behind her back to shuffle them before holding out her closed fists for his inspection.]

Take your pick.

[And whichever he picks will determine which of them gets to make the first move — perhaps in more ways than one.]

[~~Ha expecting Reid to consider the possibility of more kissing that's cute~~

His eyes flick up briefly, then back at the board, his hands moving to put the very last pieces in place.]

Your right hand.

[She turns her hand over and unfurls the fingers, displaying the white pawn nestled in her palm for the two of them to see.]

You're first.

[She sets the two pawns back in their places and rotates the board to put the right colors in front of each of them.]

Is this a casual game, or did you want to play for some stakes while we're at it?

[Reid lightly runs his fingers along the heads of his pieces. He already knows what he's going to do, but he considers it polite to decide the terms of the game before starting. A smile flickers over his face, and despite the fact some part of him is still dwelling on what happened under the mistletoe, there's a glint of rarely-seen mischief in his eyes.]

I'm from Vegas. Go ahead and name your stakes.

[She catches that mischief, and it's because she does that she remarks nonchalantly:]

If you win, I won't kiss you under the mistletoe again.

[Though whether or not he'd actually consider that a prize...

(Hey, chess is as much about the mind game as it is about the physical one. No regrets.)

MOVING ON...]

If I win, you'll learn to play the Habanera on the piano for me. And if you win...well, that depends on what you want.

[...Oh damn, he doesn't know if that's incentive to win or lose. And that makes him feel really guilty. Is he going to crawl to Coop and apologize later? Absolutely. He doesn't have any kind of context to put this in.

But! But he should concentrate on the game. That will distract him from the guilt. Even if he seems mildly distracted at the moment.]

You know, I'm not a man that wants for much. [Try to think of something he wants, Carmen Sandiego. Even just you owing him something would work out for him.]

[Oho, so now he's challenging her to read him, is he? That's absolutely one she'll rise to. She can't help but take the bait when it's offered so temptingly, now can she?]

What you want and what you need aren't always the same thing, though, are they.

[She watches his hands, and not for the first time ponders that bracelet he wears, the one she can sometimes catch glimpses of.]

I could solve one of your great mysteries for you. I could put my talents to use for you. I could teach you something you don't know yet.

[She lets a beat pass, surreptitiously checking to make sure there's no one within earshot when she adds:]

I could go steal something and let you try to catch me.

[His eyebrow arches, but his lips quirk into a playful smile.] You know, I can't officially condone even offering that.

[Although if he were honest, all of those offers are incredibly tempting.

He opens his mouth to speak again, but he stops suddenly. Veiled seriousness flickers through his eyes. Reid is not unaware of the trouble that hangs over his head, something that feels like it's becoming more and more likely. It's possible that there will come a time when he will need help, and even now, he doesn't know who would continue associating with him should it turn out he inherited his mother's illness.

It'd be good to have a favor just in case.

So after that flicker in his expression, he starts to smile again, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.] Why don't we just say you owe me something and I'll pick later? Like I said, I don't really want much.

[Admittedly, Carmen is not always the best when it comes to social interaction, which is one of the reasons why she's taken such an interest in Reid — she understands the feeling of not quite getting the nuances, or of being the odd one out in a crowd; the difference is that she's taken that and turned it to her own advantage, layering on confidence and bravado to help carry her through.

But the look that crosses Reid's face? That's an expression she can read all too clearly, particularly since it's one she's seen before. She already knows how his smile will look before it even appears, and she's not surprised by how it turns out when he does.

Something's haunting him, and he's arranging things to protect himself.

It's a look she's seen Coop wear altogether too often, too, but the difference there is that Cooper does it to try to protect everyone else, instead.]

It wouldn't be the first time. A favor, if you win.

[It's a good thing she's as competitive as she is, and as honorable. After a look like that, she'd almost be tempted to let him win just for the sake of seeing his concerns assuaged.]

But that won't do you much good, since you'll have to beat me first.

Let's see if I can manage it.

[He has faith in Carmen's sense of honor. If she owes him a favor, she'll deliver, even if everyone leaves him.

And besides, even if she does manage to beat him this time, he has no doubt that there will be other games they'll play with stakes.

He makes his first move, his hand twitching to the right, instinctively reaching to press the timer that isn't there. Then he lays the hand to rest on the table. Ever since his mentor left the BAU, the only chess games he's really played have been with timers.]

[He's going to win this game. She knows he is, even as he places his first move on the board. But that's how it's supposed to be in the greater scheme of things, she muses; she sets the challenge, and the player delivers. This game, like so many others, isn't really about the game at all. It's about something more, the bigger picture — just like she'd warned him with the anecdote about the game she'd lost to Chief.

And if it makes her a touch of melancholy, the thought of this game ending up like all the others instead of a brief spot of indulgent nostalgia...well, there'll be time for other indulgences. Just like drawing Suhara out of his depression was worth sacrificing possession of the treasured gift he'd given her all those years ago — sometimes the greater end she wants to accomplish is worth the sacrifice she has to make to get it.

She makes her move and regards the board, amusing herself at trying to predict what his next one will be before he makes it.]

Where did you learn to play, maestro?

[He can take that with regards to he chess or the piano she'd mentioned earlier, however he likes.]

[If it makes you feel better, Carmen, he actually played through every permutation of the game in a fit of grief years ago, so he'd probably beat anyone at this point. Just try to surprise him and that'll be your advantage. Try something like poker next time.

He makes his move lightning-fast, not needing the time to think that other people do. Of course his hand makes that same twitching motion from before--that's a habit he's going to need to break.]

To be honest, I have no idea. I can really only remember as far back as when I was five, and I was already beating adults in the park by then. I think my parents taught me? [Weirdly enough, despite his eidetic memory, he doesn't remember too much before his father abandoned him and his mother when he was ten. He blocked the memories out.

He's already mapping out the game in his head. Judging Carmen's moves just from the way he's seen her operate. He's predicting all the different roads she may take, and narrowing them down to the few she, as Carmen Sandiego, is most likely to take.] I, uh... Carmen? Do you mind if I ask you for advice?

[She watches him a moment, taking this in, and then gets up from her chair long enough to retrieve a pair of decorative coffee mugs from the fireplace mantel; after emptying the arrangements of pine branches and berries onto the nearest end table, she overturns the mugs and places them upside-down on the table at the edge of the board without explanation — one on her side and one on his.]

I never mind if you ask me for advice.

[She regards the pawns, then moves a knight — and once it's in place, she reaches over and taps her mug, now a makeshift stand-in for the timer that isn't there.]

[He watches curiously as she gets up, but when he sees her tap the mug, his face breaks into a big smile. Carmen, you are a wonderful person.

He makes his move, then taps his overturned mug.]

It's about Mio. It... sort of occurred to me that I'm her only caretaker for as long as we're here, and that's turning out to be longer than I expected. [And you're the only grown woman he trusts who isn't a wide-eyed ex-pony. And thus far, he doesn't think he knows anyone who has a teenage daughter/sister/ward, so he's forced to turn to someone who actually was once a teenage girl.] I don't really know what I'm doing.

[She's making her moves slightly slower than he is, which admittedly irks her a little bit — not everything is a competition, Carmen, and there's no actual timer here anyway — but she's also deliberately keeping her choices quick and within a second or two of his, as though they really were playing with a time limit. It's the principle of the thing, and besides, it's fun.

She takes his bishop. Taps the mug.]

At raising a teenage girl, or at raising one who's entertaining a crush on you?

[CARMEN, STOP SHIPPING THE TEENAGERS, JESUS. But really, this is actually a pretty good conversation for her to have anyway, given her relationship with Hiccup and the fact that she's basically becoming his adopted mom anyway.]

Don't spoil her. It'll be tempting to, because you're close and you like the companionship as much as she does. But she needs to have the space to pursue her own goals and someone telling her that she can get them herself. She needs to fall down and get back up on her own merits. And she needs to have chances to solve her own problems without always looking to you for confirmation that she's right. Sometimes you'll have to let her be wrong.

[She taps her lip thoughtfully; she's not going to deny she was a rather unusual fifteen-year-old, so not all of her experiences are going to translate. After all, when she was sixteen, she found the Titanic about six days before Dr. Robert Ballard did.]

Has she challenged any of the gyms yet?

[Her comment makes him glance up, making him take a second or two longer than usual.]

She doesn't have a crush on me. She's taken to calling me Niisan.

[And he thinks that that somehow means she doesn't have a crush.

He looks back down, swipes her knight, and taps the mug.]

I, uh, I have issues saying no to her. And when I see her doing something wrong, the correction just sort of... comes out. [He flushes a little, since he's reminding himself of his own mother. He was nagging her about bundling up just the other day. And she somehow convinced him to go have a snowball fight with puppy eyes. HOW DO YOU COMBAT THAT.] I'm not sure how to curb any of that.

She challenged Falkner and won. She challenged him before I did, actually. She won, too.

We Survived the Snowmageddon

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)