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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?

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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
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (5)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-13 06:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh! We're openly referring to it as kidnapping! Fascinating. This is a different approach to the people who had hissed at Wrathion and told him him to have caution and play along. ]

There must be some purpose to it, to expend all this energy.

[ Surely it took a great deal of effort to draw them all here? Actually, there's a point -- ]

How many of us would you say are... new?

[ Still trying for delicacy. ]
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: LIGHTBULB)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-13 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh my god, never?

[Okay, hearing that, he suddenly has a newfound appreciation for the level of technology that is available in this town. Imagine never seeing a single movie or show. All entertainment in the form of books, and comics, and theatre, and spoken word... A life without CGI. Tragic.]

Well, that's the one. They're called movies because they move...vee. And the TV is the box that shows them.

[That is almost certainly not the etymology of the word, but the movie for movement part is close enough.]
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SLEEPY)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-13 06:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Some exploring, here and there... But I don't remember it all. And it might not be the same...

[After all, if which exact house and which exact street and even who the people in the house are can all change, who's to say the things around the edges of the town are still the same? Certainly not Papyrus.]
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (13)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-13 06:34 pm (UTC)(link)
"Festive," he repeats, as if it might be the name of a sworn enemy or virulent disease. "Winter Veil celebrations have never been something I have... held an interest in."

Or Christmas, as the locals call it. All the same, he's always been rather too busy to take part -- aside from the odd celebration staged by Chromie and the Bronze dragons. Sometimes, that's worth attending for the party atmosphere.
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: CUSTOMER SERVICE)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-13 06:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Hmmm... Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Convince someone else to go in... and follow along, at a safe distance. [You know, use somebody else as a distraction, and/or laugh at them when they're the ones getting spooked instead. But that doesn't sound like the cool, confident, helpful skeleton he strives to be, so he rushes to clarify:] That way! We're on hand in case they need rescuing.

[Don't call him on his bullshit, Sans.]
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: ALIENS)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-13 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
I guess you could write it in code... Or. Have you considered: a mask.

[You know, like a ski mask or something. Entering homes by the window in one of those could never be taken the wrong way. And a mask would bring with it an anonymity that everyone would respect.]

Moving about under the cover of night... Maybe traveling by underground tunnel...

[Or maybe just take some pages from your favorite comic book characters.]
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (11)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-13 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
"Easy for you to say," he grumbles, and tries to stop himself as he nears the exit. Stopping while leaning against the side, of course, is easy. Keeping his feet under him as he tries to get out, a little harder. He wobbles, grabs for Anduin's hand and avoids making eye contact as he guides himself off the ice.

"I am not a frost wyrm," he complains, "ice is not my element."
hoshikiri: (kaiten.)

[personal profile] hoshikiri 2020-12-13 06:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Chet. [One must assess the threat before stabbing. Unless he's ordered to stab, then he'll stab without warning. But what Takame saw right now was an unarmed man, and he wouldn't stab that even though he seemed extremely sus.

That wouldn't make him a good neighbor! you know, just disregard the fact that archer threatened to stab him earlier it's fine.]


My name is Takame. Should you require assistance in the future, please feel welcome to call upon me. [A pause as he turns an ear (that he still isn't fond of) towards the door, listening for voices.] 'Twould seem your pursuers have left us, at any rate.
thepsyingnun: (tumblr_11956a03d24830b639590756a2a9e8b2_)

[personal profile] thepsyingnun 2020-12-13 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[She frowns at that, shaking her head.]

The impact on the wildlife alone...regardless. I am Agatha Van Helsing, your new cellmate in this land.
thepsyingnun: (tumblr_333e1b658a8f1b4b13ea55a133ffc1a3_)

[personal profile] thepsyingnun 2020-12-13 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Remember..?

[It takes her a moment to realize he's talking about introductions. She is so very far away in trying to figure this out that little things like that have left her mind entirely. But she stops pacing and pushes back some of hair with a rueful smile as it hits her.]

Sister Agatha Van Helsing- though, from looking at this house, here they will apparently know me as Agatha vis Lornlit.
thepsyingnun: (tumblr_bcbb534ec018a6e758b613bfc7bb8d69_)

[personal profile] thepsyingnun 2020-12-13 07:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Lack courage, or the ability? Some of these people...I have seen men and women lose themselves in the glory of God, all thoughts wiped away in fervor. But the faces of some of these people? The utter blankness is startling.

[Possessed, maybe? Or false creatures? She'd need to experiment to tell.]
righthandstand: (will you look at that...)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-13 07:02 pm (UTC)(link)
It could be anywhere in this town. [He rubs his hand against this coat to warm it up.] But at least it's not a murder mystery we're solvin', right? And there's a ton of us here, so how long can it take?
thepsyingnun: (tumblr_3d36e3168224cc5800026c4c7b734222_)

[personal profile] thepsyingnun 2020-12-13 07:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Man's dominion on Earth has been reduced to a triangle? What waits on the other side?

[The idea is enough to make her claustrophobic just thinking of it. Kind of like how thinking of how she may be stuck in this city forever does, as well.]
thepsyingnun: (tumblr_7883060fa6dce135faf1bd452c5fe1d9_)

[personal profile] thepsyingnun 2020-12-13 07:07 pm (UTC)(link)
It is better than sitting in an convent tending needlework, I assure you. As is this, I suppose.

[This place gets that much: it's better than being a 1800s nun in seclusion. It's not saying much, but it's something.]

You are familiar with all the technological items here, I take it?
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SPARKLE)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-13 07:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[Between the shared laughter and the suggestion, Papyrus gets an impression less of someone instigating the sibling rivalry, so much of someone who's been pranked by Sans and is now interested in a little payback. He nods in appreciation of this maybe-not-accurate characterization, and considers the suggestion.]

More decorations for the tree... That's a great idea! And great for looking on the bright side, of winding up here. The tree could use a few more lights... And maybe a string or three for the fence.

[There's the slightest punning emphasis with those italics, there. If there aren't a lot of closed curtains on Loomis Drive yet, it's surely only a matter of time.]
thepsyingnun: (tumblr_b9340ffc2fe4b93a049f56ce5bc62cfe_)

[personal profile] thepsyingnun 2020-12-13 07:09 pm (UTC)(link)
A wrong against God and his son, whose birth this holiday celebrates.

[He isn't the first one that didn't know Christmas she's met, but he is the first one in the Christmas village.]

Or it used to.
thepsyingnun: (tumblr_c80f5b4609672cf1171b73aad2df8d3c_)

[personal profile] thepsyingnun 2020-12-13 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Please, make yourself at home.

[She'll take a seat on the sofa as he gets to it, back straight even in the ridiculous night outfit.]

What would make you say that? I'm as recently arrived as you. And interested in getting to know my neighbors. Just a little less dramatically.
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SWEAT)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-13 07:18 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm... sure they are. They're probably just in other houses now!

[They wouldn't have just disappeared completely, that would be too much to handle. Maybe it's just that too much Papyrus is too much for anyone to handle, so they had to get shuffled into other houses... Or, maybe, everyone deserves the chance to live with Papyrus so much that they're all going to keep rearranging at regular intervals. He nods decisively with that interpretation of events, and settles on that as the thing to think unless something drastically contradicts it.]

So you didn't see any notes, or anything else of note. I guess that would be too easy.

[It would be more polite if they at least gave a hint. But turning over every document in an entire building seems time-intensive, and he wants to find out if Sans is really here, or anyone else he knows.]

Maybe the answers are... outside.

[He squints through his shades at the nearest of the windows, the brightness of the sunlight outside brighter than nearly any light source he's encountered in his life. The existence of sunglasses makes so much more sense now.]
ribticklers: (132)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-13 07:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[Sans won't, because the last thing he needs is for Papyrus to try doubling down and running off into the forest or something.] You can do the rescuing, I'll just keep an eye on the food supply. [So he's going to eat the whole time and do nothing helpful. But see, Sans is the unhelpful one.]
ribticklers: (130)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-13 07:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[Sans shrugs.] Ain't like there was a survey. Or if there was, nobody told me. [And also Sans wouldn't fill it out seriously.] Like--twenty, twenty-five, maybe? [Sans is extrapolating based on Loomis Drive, but he's not sure how many streets have people in their situation.]
ribticklers: (128)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-13 07:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Sans. [He holds his hand out for a handshake, if she wants.] I'll try to keep the birds out of my tree. [And whatever else is here, he guesses? He's seen birds by now, at least.]
thotsandprayers: (kidding when they called me a witch)

[personal profile] thotsandprayers 2020-12-13 08:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[Okay, she'll definitely laugh at that one.]

My, how devious. I'll certainly have to be careful talking to you, otherwise who knows what sort of trap I might walk in to?
ribticklers: (129)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-13 08:44 pm (UTC)(link)
I like to think of it as gettin' the ideas out to the right person. [The right person to actually do things is never him.]
thotsandprayers: (poor souls with no one else to turn to)

[personal profile] thotsandprayers 2020-12-13 09:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[She'll be watching the whole time, keeping an eye on the apparent negotiations. When Daylight returns, she'll smile and take the large tree, stepping out of this line that has surely been the longest, slowest line she has ever been in.]

Ah, thank you so much. I'm sure it's perfect, even with any flaws.

[Not really like she has a lot of idea what to look for unless it was something completely obvious, like half the tree's missing.]

I'll have to return the favor someday.

[Especially if it does turn out to come in handy later in the month.]
righthandstand: (will you look at that...)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-13 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
The strawberries are okay. [These people are sane enough to leave out fruit platters, Granted, the fruit is carved into bizarre shapes and arranged with unappealing fruit and vegetable crafted into rough animal statues, held together only by toothpicks.]

Stick away from the meat if you're not a fan of meatloaf.