robbies: (Default)
TRANQUILIZERS ([personal profile] robbies) wrote in [community profile] logsville2020-12-01 06:00 pm

DECEMBER 2020 EVENT - PART 1


CHAPTER ONE, PART 1: A HOLLY JOLLY HOLIDAY

Do you hear what I hear?


DECEMBER 5th | A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE | THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...

DECEMBER 5th

Don’t you hate to be the last to know?

Out of the windows of your brand new homes, you spot families trotting along in their happy, nuclear units. Stores and restaurants have closed early—on main street, where jingle bells hang from every door, the only souls to be seen are heading toward the town hall, where wreaths hang around the stone lions’ necks. A stage, awash in string lighting, has been erected with three chairs sitting empty behind a podium. Policemen with their smiles and baby-blues stand guard before it; they too are not allowed beyond the velvet ropes. Twenty feet tall—near to reaching the tip-top of the clock tower—a mass is hidden by black tarps. This is the most guarded of all, ringed by no less than twelve junior policemen standing vigil around the clock.

At sundown, you start to see what’s to come.

As the crowd swells, bundled in their coats and scarves, the ladies with silk scarves drawn around their perfectly coiffed hairstyles, three figures take to the stage:
Chief of Police, Dale Harding, who must constantly slip away and bend his ear to listen to one of his boys, giving orders with long sighs, firm words, and grumbles as he takes his seat again. Occasionally one sees a flash of silver moving from his lapel up to his lips, but surely that must only be his policeman’s badge that he kisses, because he loves his town so very, very much!

The Happy Homes Association—or at least, their junior representative. Her bright and shining pin of office sits hidden behind the tremendous fruit basket poised upon her lap, where green and scarlet cellophane cannot quite hide the fruitcake inside the way it does her name. How does she keep her teeth so white and her lipstick so clean and red? Subscribe to their newsletter and read Cathy’s Cosmetic Can-Dos! column to find out!
Mayor Phillip Clarke—well, Phil to his friends. He takes his place at the podium, his top hat inky black, leather gloves oiled and bright, and draws all the town’s breathless attention. He taps the microphone. Once—the crowd inhales—twice—their eyes shine as they look up—three times

“Gooooood evening, Santa Rosita!”

The crowd goes wild as Clarke bellows. Eventually, he raises both arms and gestures for them to quiet down.

“I want to thank each and every one of you for coming out, especially on a school night!” Like the admonishing parent, he wags a knowing finger at several teens in the crowd. “Believe you me, on a night like this, I know how tempting it is to stay home and curl up on the couch with a good book. And,” he adds with a wink to a woman in the front of the crowd, “maybe some of Margie's famous hot chocolate.”

Laughter ripples through the crowd. Again, Clarke patiently waits until they’re finished before continuing, “But that's exactly what makes our little town so special. No matter the time, every day of the week there's always someone out there who will sacrifice something for the better of the community. Be it the energy to get this terrific tree set up—” he gestures to the tree, “—the patience to string twenty yards of lights up—which, I might add, have been generously donated by our pals at Honeybees—or even just time.”

Clarke’s tone turns solemn, but his face remains fixed in a winning smile. “Santa Rosita isn't just a town. It's a family. Each and every one of you out here tonight is a valued member. Even all you new faces out there!” He points to several newcomers in the crowd in what might almost be an accusatory manner if not for the smile on his face. “Don't think I can't see you! Tonight, you have become part of that family. Santa Rosita is your home now. It's through our traditions that we endure, and it's my sincerest wish that you, all of you, will join together with us and help us keep them alive for years to come.”

The crowd applauds, everyone turning to face the new families. As Harding takes a swig from a flask he pulls out of his pocket and the HHA representative continues to beam at the audience with her too-white smile, Clarke fully turns to the tree and pumps his fist in the air, riling the crowd back up.

“And now, without further ado, let's RING. IN. THE HOLIDAYS!”
As his words come to a close, at last the tarp is pulled away—revealing twenty feet of pure, polished, brilliant...

...aluminium christmas tree.

Quick as the busy bees they are, the Happy Homes Association is there to announce that you can buy both table-sized and home-use duplicates for your own homes! The cost is $8 for the little ones and $18.50 for the big trees—get your wallets ready!

As the crowd stampedes toward their own tiny and/or six-foot silver replicas, the three figures on the stage are hurried away. The HHA representative presents their gift basket to the Mayor. He kisses her on both cheeks, rubbing his belly in anticipation of the deliciousness to come, and hurries on. Chief Harding takes the rear, casting back a sour look, and before you have a chance to see if the three could answer any questions, the stage is empty again.

...well, get in line! You want those trees too, don’t you?

↑ back to top ↑


A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE

The days are getting colder and the entire town seems to be getting into the holiday spirit, between the tree lighting ceremony and the decorations your neighbors are putting up. But something seems to want you to get into the Christmas spirit as well—you haven’t done anything out of the ordinary, but when you open the door, you’re met by a burst of frigid air carrying the scents of gingerbread and peppermint on it.

Stepping through the door, you are not in Santa Rosita any more.

Well, technically, you are; you’re just down by Rose Garden Park, before the Old Growth starts. But it’s not where you thought you were going, and it doesn’t resemble the normal streets of suburbia now. You’ve stepped into a charming Christmas village, packed with all sorts of fun winter activities and sights to see! The ground is covered in pure white snow that never seems to melt into slush, and the sounds of high, sweet jingle bells fill the air as a team of reindeer haul a sleigh past. Maybe that’s Santa’s sleigh they’re pulling?
As you walk into the village, a red pole demands your attention, placed in such a way that no one can miss it. A letter is attached to it:

’Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town
The people were smiling; there was nary a frown!
They entered my village, all brimming with cheer
And knew that quite soon, old St. Nick would be here
There's skating and snowmen and light shows galore
There's even a place to make wreaths for your door!
But somewhere inside there's a mailbox to find
And Santa may bring you what's most on your mind…

As the letter suggests, the village is full of hustle and bustle. Santa’s elves—Robbies decked out in red and green costumes with matching tights and jingle bell boots—are everywhere, making sure that there’s always plenty of holiday treats available for visitors to eat and drink. The nearby pond is iced over and the elf manning the ice skate exchange station seems to be able to guess your perfect size with a glance, while reindeer racing courses have been set up encircling the village. All of the buildings and many of the trees have been lined with lights, warm and bright, and there are stations set up where visitors can make garlands or wreaths to take back with them to the real world.

The real world? Yes, of course—that boring place with work and school and vacuuming! Though the door you initially walked through may have turned into a station for making gingerbread houses, you can hoof it back to your home in Shadyside at any time. The public library is just that way, past the baseball diamond! Any time you open a door, however, you run a risk of finding that it leads back to the village, where the elves are waiting to ensure you enjoy your visit. You can try to close the door and open it again, but who knows if your luck has changed?

The organizers of the village seem to be most insistent that you come and enjoy yourself—flyers are all around town, stuffed in your mailbox, and pinned on bulletin boards. Though some signs on lampposts seem as though they’ve been torn down in a huff, you still can spot them on Main Street: “Visit Santa Rosita’s Very Own Christmas Village!”

And visit it you will.

While the elves are happy to welcome visitors to their village, they also have to work. Christmas toys don’t build themselves, you know! The elves will point out Santa’s Workshop to you, where you can buy freshly made candy canes, charming ornaments for your new aluminum Christmas trees (you did buy one from the Happy Homes Association, didn’t you?), and other sundries and stocking stuffers. There’s even a German-style bar in the back serving hot chocolate and mulled wine—non-alcoholic, of course; this is a family event. Just outside of the workshop’s entrance is a mailbox, its post swirled red and white and wrapped in garlands. A small desk sits next to the mailbox with a stack of stationery, envelopes pre-addressed to Santa Claus at the North Pole, and pens on top.

At the top of the stationery, beside cutesy illustrations of hippos and children missing their front teeth, are the words, “What I want most for Christmas is…”

Why not write Santa a letter? What have you got to lose?

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THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...

...to the annual Christmas gala, beginning at 4:00 pm sharp at Santa Rosita’s stately town hall! The invitation appears in your mailbox with just enough time for you to gather all your family and go shopping, because you certainly want to look your best. You simply must. The who’s who of the town will be there, all wearing their finest velvet dresses and shined black shoes. Be warned that the dress code will be strictly enforced by the Happy Home Association—only red and green allowed, or else it simply isn’t festive. Men in bright red or green suits - women sporting taffeta skirts in complementing shades - pinned corsages and matching handbags - no detail left untouched!

You wouldn’t want to be caught standing out from the crowd, would you? In the Mayor’s presence?

That might be a bad idea.

But the holidays do get the better of us sometimes, don’t they? The HHA understands, and if on the day of the party you have found yourself without a red or green garment, they have some loaners to wear. If you’ll simply follow Mrs. Jones down to the coat room, she can show you some options.

  • For the ladies (and female-presenting), they offer up beautiful green or red dresses as loaner. ”It matches the metal trees!” the coat clerk brightly tells you, her own dress as shimmery as they come.

  • For the gentlemen(ly presenting among you), fresh off the rack at the local Sears Roebuck department store, these fetching blazers are available, complete with matching trousers.

In front of you in line is someone who very clearly does not have the Christmas spirit flowing through them, judging by how they wish to argue with the HHA about these “loaner garments.” How rude! But don’t worry—when you see the once-irascible individual later by the punch bowl, there’s a glassy smile on their face and they’re decked out in jolly green and poppy red, happy as—well, a kid on Christmas morning.

Tables are laid out with food and drink aplenty. Even the sandwich loaf has made its effort to match the decor, as red poinsettias and holly berries dot the windows (careful children—they’re poisonous) and rich green pines occupy every corner. Move outside of the room and you’ll find nothing more than locked and darkened offices, with the occasional policemen and night guards shaking their fingers at you to go back and enjoy the party. This is a night to be merry and drink some mocktails, not to go through the filing!

Up by the fine wood paneling and brilliant metal tree stands the mayor himself. Looking dashing as Santa Claus, a cluster of parents flock nearby beaming as their child gets their photo taken with Mayor Clarke! That’s certainly going in the Christmas newsletter! Each of them has a little present—perfectly wrapped, just see Grandma’s Gift Wrapping Guide in this month’s HHA newsletter—to give to the Mayor for all his hard work this year.

You didn’t think that stack of presents by Santa’s chair was for him to pass out, did you?

Between music sets (graciously played by the Frederick Loren High School marching band), the Mayor stands—the hall falls silent, all the little cups and plates still in jolly hands. He has a speech to give you all, you fine citizens, faces old and new:

“Ho-ho-hi there, Santa Rosita! And how are we enjoying ourselves tonight? I see some of our new families were able to make it out tonight—is that Richard O’Reilly and the missus?” Using a hand to shade his eyes, Clarke squints into the throng of townspeople. “And Jim Astin with Lucy and little Susie! Wow. Isn’t that something?”

In the back of the room, Chief Harding pours himself a glass of punch, takes a sip, then reaches into his suit jacket for his flask.
“Now, in my house,” Clarke continues, “we have a rule not to open any presents until Christmas Day, but with all the ones I've gotten tonight, it's just too darn tempting.” Reaching down, he takes a box from the pile of gifts at his feet. “I think this one's a tackle box, and I'm pretty sure this—” he reaches down for another smaller box, “—is that electric razor I’ve had my eye on.” He shakes the box, chuckling, as the rest of the crowd joins him.

“But let's get serious for a moment.” Clarke’s expression turns thoughtful. “Although getting a truckload of Christmas presents is swell, do you want to know what the greatest gift you've given me is?” He pauses performatively, waiting for an answer from the crowd that never comes.

“The greatest gift you've all given me... is letting me serve you.”

In the back, Harding ditches the punch cup and just drinks straight from the flask.

“I'm honored to be here with you all tonight,” Clarke continues proudly, “just I am honored to be able to wake up every morning, look in the mirror and tell myself that I... am your mayor. Which is why I want to give something back to you. How many of you have already visited Santa's little village?”

There’s a round of cheering in the front of the audience from the many children in attendance with their parents. Clarke opens his arms wide.

“My idea! I decided that if I can't bring Santa Rosita to the North Pole, I'm going to bring the North Pole to Santa Rosita. Enjoy yourselves! Saint Nick's got a lot of work to do before Christmas. So be good, don’t pout, and for goodness sake—have fun!

The clapping threatens to take down the garlands hung from chandeliers. ”A fine orator!” “Reminds me of the war, when we heard Churchill over the radio. Why, Clarke gives him a run for his money, ha ha ha!”

A delightful HHA elf comes to replenish the pickle tree on the appetizer table, and the covers of Bing Crosby carry you away into the night.

Remember to stay until 9:00 pm, when the Santa Rosita Children’s Choir will start caroling!

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OOC INFO

Welcome to the first part of the event! You can use this entry to top-level for the event, but feel free to use the log and network communities as well.

A few things to keep in mind: Firstly, there is no return portal back into town once your character is teleported into the Christmas village. They will have to walk back on foot or get lucky and catch a ride from a helpful citizen.

Secondly, please be mindful of how your character interacts with the setting. While characters are welcome to explore the town and ask questions, Santa Rosita is still a happy little suburb in the 1960s, where appearances matter and acting too out of line from commonly accepted societal norms can come with their own unique consequences. We do not intend to punish players for their curiosity, but be aware that the townsfolk may not be so understanding of wanton disrespect for their ways!

And thirdly, the NPCs will not be available for interactions. At the party, Harding will leave early and Clarke will leave to handle other business. Santa does have a schedule to keep, after all.

Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.

Remember--Part 2 of this event is coming December 15th!

▶ NAVIGATION ◀
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OOC INFO premise | rules | faq | taken | applications | hiatus/drop/canon updates | activity check | reserves | mod contact
SETTING INFO calendar | setting | housing | npcs | death and tranquilizing | event suggestions/engagements
interdicted: (pic#)

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-10 06:58 am (UTC)(link)
You saw the man by the punch bowl.

[ He's not telling him that he has to get it all perfect—just that appearing as though he wants to fit in and become part of the town is going to keep him a lot safer than storming off. Sometimes you can't get out of hard situations. You have to learn how to suffer through them.

It's a small change, but the acidity in his voice lessens. Only by a touch, barely perceptible if you don't know him well, but it's there all the same. ]


Playing the game and playing it right are two different things. As long as we play, our hosts think they have the upper hand. Upsetting the board tells them they need to deal with us faster.
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SLEEPY)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-10 08:03 am (UTC)(link)
There are... but they're different trees. [Not like the evergreens of Snowdin, whether the very tall and nearly branchless or the shorter and more decorative... or like the forever shedding tree of the ruins.] It... I think it's called the 'Old Growth'. But I don't remember finding a New Growth...
ribticklers: (126)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-10 08:06 am (UTC)(link)
[Right, Sans remembers them now. Much more ominous than Snowdin's trees--though maybe Sans is just too used to those trees. They might be ominous to somebody.] Maybe there's new growth on the other side.
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: PUZZLING)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-10 08:11 am (UTC)(link)
[It could be he was speaking to any of the above, or even addressing the area in general in hopes someone dressed as she is would help. The elves have seemed very eager to help thus far... But this time a little less so, as Papyrus squints at her in confusion.]

A... sin......

[He drags the sound out longer than necessary, like the meaning of her comment will become clear before he finishes. But human lungs mean he has to break to breathe before long - especially since he's not practiced at holding his breath - and he's no closer to it.]

Is that a Christmas saying? And, what's a sin.
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SLEEPY)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-10 08:35 am (UTC)(link)
[It is too early in the morning for several sides of this. Papyrus isn't at his full mannerly self, and - as a former lifelong skeleton - isn't as intimately familiar with the term 'lacerations' as many might be. He doesn't recognize it, not when he's busy wrestling with the idea of trash-burrowing raccoons or the other concerning accusation.]

Drugging up... the animals...? With what?

[He's imagining a grammatically incorrect dragging, some nonsense of shovels and ropes and pulleys.]
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: COLLEGE)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-10 08:41 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, I'm very serious!

I would never tease a complete stranger, for being too embarrassed... to ask Santa for gifts.

[He is a liar, and that is exactly what he's doing. Papyrus might not know why Shinjiro's comparing him to small children, but he has caught that there's a hint of insult to the comparison, and he's cheerfully turning that on its head by offering backwards reassurances instead.]
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: COLLEGE)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-10 09:46 am (UTC)(link)
A little more color... Like green spray paint...?

[They wouldn't look very natural, especially not with a single hue of green paint solidly applied. But with a couple colors, layered appropriately, it could at least be made to pass at a distance. And nobody from the HHA is saying that they have to keep looking like aluminum...

Papyrus stays in line, but now he's gazing up at the trees more contemplatively. Why stop at mundane greens, when there's other, color color combinations available?]


Or, maybe blue. With flames.
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: I DON'T KNOW)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-10 10:12 am (UTC)(link)
Just the two of us? But I remember kids... A few of them.

[Even with the sunglasses, his eyebrows scrunch together almost comedically obviously. Looking around living room, kitchen, and so forth, all the photographs available are of the two of them. Over and over, different poses and expressions from a life he has no memory of, not even scattered dream memories.]

I guess... I don't seen them in any pictures, now.

[If the people he remembers in those dreams aren't here... What if that means nobody he knows is here? Not the kids or "wives" he remembers admitting things to, not even his brother...?]
feudalladyshandmaid: (Fumble)

[personal profile] feudalladyshandmaid 2020-12-10 11:12 am (UTC)(link)
[Oh this is entirely too much.]

Ah, op-op-op. That's enough!

[About... let's say three quarters of the way through Kipo's long-winded exposition, Cass very quickly clamps her hands around the kid's mouth.]

I, uh, didn't really understand most of what you said, but... you should probably keep it brief. [Her voice dips into a conspiratory whisper.] And think carefully about who can hear you.

[Considering they are. out in the open right now.]
feudalladyshandmaid: (Tired)

[personal profile] feudalladyshandmaid 2020-12-10 11:16 am (UTC)(link)
[How could you do this. This grievous offence. You have made an enemy today, person she doesn't know.



Actually, Cass doesn't care terribly much. But hey, people not listening to her is a thing she's used to. Plus, he's not dying.



...Gonna watch him for a bit, check to see if he's not dying.
]
feudalladyshandmaid: (Stare)

[personal profile] feudalladyshandmaid 2020-12-10 11:25 am (UTC)(link)
I know!

[...Wait. Right. They were doing a thing here. He was breaking into her house, and she was questioning whether or not to brain him in the face with a frying pan.

...Hold that thought.
]

Corona, formerly. I was just on my way out of the kingdom before I woke up here.
sunborne: (373. - 🧭 - FIRST CONTACT.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-10 11:42 am (UTC)(link)
Excellent! [ he grins, pleased, from how he talks so fondly and casually of his brother, they sound pretty close so he's happy for them. ] Glad to know we have a fellow food fender in our fold.

An actually serious question now, sorry, but- Er, in advance, I hope this isn't too forward but can I ask where you live? I'm over someplace called Loomis Drive and, if you're open to it, I can swing by to your place. Check on you now and then.

[ and they could also hang out. daylight isn't outright saying it, not wanting to pressure the guy, but hey you know the implication is there and yeah.

he also throws in, as a bonus: ]
I'll help with the tinsel cleaning if you need it.
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (8)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-10 01:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Ah.

Wrathion watches Anduin skate easily to the exit, brow furrowing. He's doing this on purpose, he must be. Wrathion dislikes the feeling of being bad at anything, and feels heat flush through his features immediately. He pushes away from the siding slowly, trying to keep himself upright and balanced while still holding on.

"I see you have experience with this," he points out a little archly. Once he gets himself moving, gliding in a straight line right beside the edge is fine. He can pull himself along easily enough with one hand. There's... some concern about stopping and having to clamber off the ice, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.
blackscales: (28)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-10 01:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Not in this way. I have been bound before, but it took several agents and they were nearby. The restrictions were visible, I could both see and sense them. Here it is...

[ He hesitates, thinking, and the unease is openly visible on his features for a second before he squashes it. ]

More complete, in a way I had not thought was possible.

[ It almost feels as if he's simply had all his power removed, but that's simply not possible. A dragon could not simply be rendered nothing more than human. ]
petsthedog: (pic#12716683)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-10 02:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[Shinji rolls his eyes briefly. Does this guy think he's gonna cheat him of 5 cents? Whatever. He digs around in his pockets and finds a nickel to put in Sans' hand.]
sunborne: (386. - 🧭 - TESTING WATERS.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-10 02:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ daylight watches her pace back and forth, trying to keep track of her movement and her expression to get an idea. ]

Not really. Had a nasty concussion at the time so the most I can describe it is like... like a plea? That's the best way for me to word it.

[ then it takes him a second to realise something that was also important, at long last: ] Oh- Fuck- One of these days I'm going to remember doing it first- [ he clears his throat and flashes her a smile, trying to be warm and friendly as possible because hey. they're in this weird situation together. ]

I'm Daylight, by the way. Daylight vis Lornlit.
petsthedog: (pic#12824108)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-10 02:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[Shinji just shrugs.]

I don't really care if you are or not. Your business is your business.

[Meanwhile, Archer laughs at his question, and he gets a judgmental teenager eyeroll about it. This is apparently more worthy of disapproval than being a criminal.]

Look, you can go poison yourself all you want on your own time, whatever, but I'm gonna be real pissy if you end up pukin' on the floor tonight and I gotta clean it up. So maybe cool it with that shit until you can remember which house belongs to you, got it?
sunborne: (408. - 🧭 - PALS.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-10 02:29 pm (UTC)(link)
My 'wife'- [ a round of air quotes for this term. ] -and I for sure.

I know for a fact I can't go back home. Not unless this place happens to have public access to interstellar travel. [ ... which isn't out of the realm of possibility but. he's going to be taking it with a grain of salt, considering his really weird (and fleshy) circumstances. ]
petsthedog: (pic#12817846)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-10 02:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[There's a brief pause.]

I mean, yeah, but you can also get actual first aid supplies in a store like this, you know? Actual disinfectant is probably cheaper, too.

[...Well. It's actually dawning on him that she might, in fact, not know.]
handycapable: (██ 𝟘𝟞𝟝.)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-10 03:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, y'know...

[ For a moment he's prepared to be dismissive again, but then Ray lets him actually consider the question. Crowley could be right, after all, and any other gay man stuck in this town is bound to feel as lonely and frustrated as Ray himself does (assuming that man didn't also luck out into getting paired with a husband, that is).

What is Ray's type? In practice it's usually just a man who says "yes," but in theory...
]

I like a man who knows what he's doin'. He's got authority, confidence, is obviously rugged as all get out... [ Hm. ] Outdoorsy, well-traveled...

[ Ray keeps thinking of more points to add, but for now stops himself there before it starts getting too specific, or worse, too explicit. God, he's so horny these days...

He examines a line of smooth silk ties a bit wistfully, knowing he can't afford anything that nice yet but still enjoying the way it feels against his fingers.
]

Ideally single, though that's not a deal breaker.
sunborne: (388. - 🧭 - NEGOTIATIONS.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-10 03:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Long as no more politely weird fights burst out over the trees. [ no one's gotten stabbed to his knowledge so hey! it could breeze on by now.

...

he looks over at the line and winces, noting how long it'll take. maybe an hour at best? two hours, if people take their time?

unable to help himself, daylight voices these thoughts out, a little apologetic. ]
It still might take a while with how in demand they are. The families are vetting these trees like it's a life or death situation.

Unless... [ a proverbial lightbulb lights over his head and he grins, snapping his fingers as a plan begins to build up. ] Hey, can you give me a minute? I might be able to do something for you.

[ but, er, before he tries to do something: ] Are you planning for a little one or planning to get one of the big boys?
handycapable: (painkillers mixed with candy)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-10 04:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's a bit of a tough call, honestly, and the point these trees maybe being a necessary addition to any household on the block much the way the jack-o'lanterns had been is a good one, but Ray decides he can always come back if he decides it isn't worth the risk.

His expression brightens when cocoa is mentioned, nodding in agreement.
]

Sure, I could go for some cocoa. Or I dunno, hot cider, but something to keep my fingers from goin' any more numb. [ He rubs his gloved hands together, despite only having feeling in one anyway. ] Even better if we can find a place that also does food, too.
undiagnosed: (it's a-me)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-10 04:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[aziraphale has this fool read:] Uh, New York? Hence the, uh, culture shock. You understand. Presumably.
handycapable: (if I'm online I'm looking at sloths)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-10 04:43 pm (UTC)(link)
You've had some experience with alternate universes before? [ A considering pause. ] Y'mean like personal experience, or...?

[ This conversation is getting more and more interesting, and to think it only started because Ray happened to stumble into the strong arms of maybe one of the few people here -- at least of those Ray has met so far -- who might actually have useful and informed theories about what's going on here.

Ray smile back, trying to keep the flirty edge in check and probably only halfway succeeding, but hey, a discussion can lead to more than just one outcome, who's to say yet?
]

Maybe a little. [ AKA, yep, guilty as charged. ] But I think this might be a conversation we should be havin' over coffee.
13thcommander: (give your hearts to humanity)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-10 04:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Precisely.

[Erwin is glad he's not the only one who has noticed it.]

There is such a clear bias towards men, and towards families with a husband, wife, and children, and adherence to their ideas of normal. It's eerie. It makes me wonder how far they'd go to enforce their views of normality.