route_1065 | We Survived the Snowmageddon

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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!]

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[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.

So that could mean she thinks of you as an older brother. Or it could mean you're older, male, and someone she looks up to. If it's the latter, I really don't blame her.

[She shifts her queen and taps the mug.]

In the times when you're given the choice about saying no to her, is it because she thinks she needs to ask your permission to do something? Rather than saying yes or no, the real answer might be that she doesn't need to ask in the first place.

And as for you, we'll work on getting you comfortable with the idea of saying no. Practice makes perfect.

I'm not the kind of guy who teenage girls swoon over. [~~If only he knew.~~] I think it's about being a brother. Speaking of... what do people call little sisters in Japan? [He's not sure if he's ready to call her that out loud, but he wants to know.

He makes his move and then taps the mug.] I think we've settled that she doesn't need my permission for... well, I'm not sure she needs it for much of anything. It's usually stuff like wanting me to do something, like play in the snow with her or letting her help me with my research. Nothing serious--I mean, she doesn't ask for much. [Except, you know, for his love and attention. She might get jealous if he spends too much time with other people.]

How do you practice saying no without just saying no superfluously?

I'd swoon over you. Are you saying a teenage girl has better taste than I do?

[Assuming she were the type to swoon in general, that is. MOVING ON. EDUCATION TIME.]

The word for a younger sister is imouto, but culturally, I think it's equally likely to just use the girl's name. Younger siblings generally use Niisan and Neesan for their older brothers and sisters, while the elders just use their younger siblings' names. And you wouldn't attach an honorific like -chan to it unless you intended to come off babying or condescending, which I don't think you do.

[She glances back at the board, considers, and then makes her move, followed up by a touch to her mug.]

It sounds like she needs other sources of attention, and you need practice at diverting her onto them. And at pinpointing what it is that makes it hard for you to say no in the first place. Are you afraid of disappointing her if you turn her down?

[Oh God, Carmen, it's your goal to make him as flustered as possible, isn't it?

He blushes, but he doesn't really know what to say to that. Is she serious? Is that just a tease? Is it--oh, just move along, Reid, and try not to think too hard about it.]

S-so, uh, right. Just the name unless I'm trying to be condescending, which... okay, yeah, just the name. Got it.

[He clears his throat, making his move a little slower than normal, then taps the mug.]

Well... yeah. It's difficult to be somewhere without any friends or family, especially when you're fifteen. [And it's also difficult to be traumatized the way she is, but he's glossing over that.] I just want her to be happy. And spending a lot of time with me seems to do that, so... [He knows he shouldn't let her be dependent on him, but what else is there to do? She doesn't have many friends, and none that are as close as he is to her. And to be honest, he'd be lying if he said he didn't like spending time with her too--after all, while he's very close to her, she's very close to him. The only difference is that she depends on it and Reid doesn't have to.] Like I said, I really don't know what I'm doing.

[Yes it is. Sure, part of it is that she's a flirt, but hey, he'll never get better at dealing with that kind of attention if he isn't given opportunities to practice how to handle it. Also it's kind of fun. And it's not like it's entirely untrue, either.]

It's difficult when you're younger than fifteen, too.

[Which she knows altogether too well (ah, the old days, when she threw herself into her work because it was all she had; they didn't give her the Chief as a partner until she was sixteen), and mitigates by making her next move. When she taps the cup, her fingers linger, and she drums the tips on the base for a moment.]

What if you disappeared tomorrow? You know we'd take care of her, that much is a given. But if you let her get too tangled up in you, then someday she might be in for a terrible awakening with no resilience to compensate.

[Thus speaks the woman who lost a surrogate daughter and carved a hundred-foot rune into a mountain as a coping mechanism.]

Find an activity to do together, where there'll be other people around. Maybe meeting new people together will give her the chance to work on those skills and form some attachments of her own. Assuming you're careful not to let her rely too much on you when you do.

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We Survived the Snowmageddon

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