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?

↑ back to top ↑


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!

↑ back to top ↑


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 ◀
COMMS logs | network | ooc | memes
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
thepsyingnun: (tumblr_92b6c52deadf6bfa4aa958797db0418f_)

[personal profile] thepsyingnun 2020-12-16 07:05 pm (UTC)(link)
I am a nun. And you have issues with authoritative women.

[Creepy is one of the least insulting things she's been called...and is pretty accurate, so no insult there.]

At least those marginally older than yourself.
ribticklers: (126)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-16 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)
I was gonna drive slow anyway. [His last foray into driving with any real speed was painful.] You wanna come with, or are you gonna stick around and help with more trees?

[Sans can probably get Papyrus to help him get the tree into his house.]
ribticklers: (130)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-16 07:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Uh--according to this place, I guess, yeah, but I'm not really. [Sans doesn't have any problem with Lorna, but he doesn't like the idea of just being randomly assigned a wife, or really randomly assigned family in general.] They should really warn a guy before they do that kind of thing, y'know?
freeflight: (107)

[personal profile] freeflight 2020-12-16 08:26 pm (UTC)(link)
That ‘Santa’s little village’ of his. Made sure we knew he’s the one that could toss us wherever he wanted. [ That’d seemed like the implication to him, at least. It’s not much, but maybe they could attribute the surprise magic door shit to a person instead of the whole creepy-ass place. ]
fwizz: (pic#13933601)

[personal profile] fwizz 2020-12-16 09:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[ miguel gestures vaguely behind the two of them, back towards the hallway where some of the admittedly really very discomforting photos of him and the — whoever this is — adorn the walls. ]

I'm in the photos— [ is what he starts to say, but then okuyasu says something about a josuke (what?) and then he swipes at the air, vainly, and as far as miguel can see, with utter futility and mild ineptitude. (was he trying to hit miguel?).

he visibly pauses, just for a second, stilling a touch in an attempt to process one, what okuyasu had tried to do; and two, how he should answer the question. what emerges as his first, immediate answer, then, is a short— ]
Uh. [ beat; a loose hand wave at okuyasu. ] You are standing. [ u alright pal. ] And ... whatever's supposed to come out, you can keep it.

Look, I just woke up here. [ it's not meant as a platitude so much as a vague 'this isn't what I was expecting either', although miguel's not convinced it's going to win okuyasu over. ] And if I was a smart criminal, [ he emphasises the words slowly, a little testily, ] I wouldn't be loitering in a house where I could be easily identified.
righthandstand: (think think think)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-16 09:28 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, or we can check out the trees when we get home and smash 'em." How they are going to do it discretely, he doesn't know, but thinking is for other people. "I mean, there's gotta be a reason why only some of us think this is weird. Like...maybe it's some kinda reality TV show."
righthandstand: (sure jan)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-16 09:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh. Why didn't you just say that? [He rolls his eyes.] It's not like I can read your mind. [You need to be BFFs with him before you can even hold conversations without talking.]

Besides, why'd they poison some food everyone's eating? Sounds like a real waste of cake.
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (6)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-16 10:22 pm (UTC)(link)
"What luck that you have found a guide."

Wrathion wobbles along the outside of the rink and heads to retrieve his shoes back in return for the skates. The cold is starting to get to him, and the leather jacket isn't doing enough to keep it out even with the red scarf wound tightly around his neck.

Shoes back on, Wrathion stands up and finds his legs feel strange. This was, very clearly, all a mistake.

"Come, let us find somewhere warmer."

He gestures ahead of himself expansively, then Wrathion shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and begins to head out away from the holiday village. Somewhere, hopefully, where it will be quiet enough for them to talk.
fanoperator: (hmmm)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-16 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"What did you have in mind instead? Since you're... pretty much a kid." Huaisang looks him over skeptically. He's all for new friends, but ... children? He's not ready to be the responsible adult in any situation.

Never mind that Huaisang only looks a couple of years older than Okuyasu. He's an adult!! Just not a responsible one.
undiagnosed: (pic#14468773)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-16 11:32 pm (UTC)(link)
I have issues with creepy old nuns pointing knives at me. [god that's not even close to a can of fucked up dynamite worms he wants to open with a bunch of thermite.] Which, yes, I understand I kind of brought the situation on myself but...





...Oh! Ew, are you hitting on me?!
undiagnosed: (tactleneck)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-16 11:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[archer stops in his about-turn from huaisang, looking back with interested, narrowed eyes.]

I'm listening.
hoshikiri: (guren.)

[personal profile] hoshikiri 2020-12-16 11:46 pm (UTC)(link)
'Tis normal to value one's privacy. [Takame didn't blame him for that or for not letting his guard down. Takame was sizing him up, after all but it made him think this guy was hiding something.

Wait, no, he had to be a good neighbor!!]


You may stay, if you wish. But it is also safe for you to take your leave.
righthandstand: (I feel you not so deeply)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-17 04:05 am (UTC)(link)
Okuyasu stuffs his hands into his pockets and growls. "I'm 16." He stops himself from adding "idiot" at the end of his sentence, but the sentiment is there. He's a responsible teenager who can fight adults in magic ghost fights.

"I'm old enough to go wherever I want so long as I don't need an ID."
handycapable: (but you don't hear me not complaining)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-17 06:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ray looks Crowley over with a sharply raised skeptical eyebrow, very dubious before he gives a smug little smirk and just says: ]

Sure you're not.

[ Like he's one to talk, but that's never stopped him before.

He continues casually, half playing along, although also mostly kind of serious when he says:
]

And look, I can already barely walk now as it is, so what the Hell do I got to lose anymore? [ Bring it on. ] What do you think?

[ Ray pulls at a deep red tie with silvery paisley details, not the most gorgeous thing ever or the most hideous, but certainly the right color and price point. ]

With like a dark green?
handycapable: (like I'd be seen with a discover card)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-17 06:33 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ray, on the other hand, is very compelled by this new information; his eyebrows both raise, expression somewhere between surprised and endeared. He probably should have guessed, honestly, but his gaydar has always been iffy at best. ]

Aww. [ Hand to heart. ] Then that worked out pretty well for us, actually. If I can't have a husband at least we can both be each other's beards.

[ Famous last words before they inevitably come to blows over if and how to decorate the house (and probably a million other things as well), but... well, for now.

He looks back over to Archer, squinting vaguely at the wound.
]

Suit yourself. But you do know that's gonna need at least a couple'a stitches, right?

[ Not offering to help, though; he'll gladly go back to bed and leave Archer to figure that out for himself. ]
handycapable: (was there not a cock-hungry vibe?)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-17 07:03 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ray's upbringing was no picnic, certainly -- maybe even parallel in some ways to a post-apocalyptic society, thinking on the way poor rednecks in the deep South were used to living -- but at least he'd known there was a world beyond just the small one he'd been trapped in at the time, known that at some point he would even be able to leave it.

If he hadn't had that Ray has no idea where he'd be today, what kind of man he'd have grown into, if at all-- a world that bleak no matter where you go almost doesn't even seem worth it.

But of course he says none of that.
]

Er-- right. [ He sets the plate down, rubbing awkwardly at his neck. ] And it's like that everywhere? Like all over the world?
handycapable: (I am NEVER satisfied. it's a curse)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-17 07:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ Wow. Fucking rude. Ray pulls his hand back, eyes narrowing briefly, but he doesn't comment on the slight-- or act on it, tempting as it is to spitefully ignore the man right back.

He'll settle for a slightly cold, passive-aggressive reply for now:
]

It would seem I have already.

[ But he continues, because this may be a conversation still worth having. ]

Of course I come from Earth. Do you not?
handycapable: (██ 𝟘𝟝𝟚.)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-17 07:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ That catches Ray off-guard enough to surprise a laugh out of him, vaguely horrified by the mental image. ]

I was thinkin' more like colored lights. And, you know, ornaments. Maybe even a little bit of tinsel... [ Although tinsel might be pushing it, actually. ] Spray paint's just gonna look tacky and cheap.

As will flames, um, no offense.

[ A little offense meant. Sometimes it's needed. ]
undiagnosed: (pic#14468587)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-17 11:02 am (UTC)(link)
Right?! And asking about kids, like, what the fuck is that about? I swear to God, next time that happens I'm gonna break some bones.

[he shakes his head, stalking towards the main door to look out the windows briefly.]

No. Uh... I... owe you one, I guess.
petsthedog: (pic#12817795)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-17 12:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah. Not that there's exactly anything more useful we could be doin'.

[Buzzkill #1 meet buzzkill #2, honestly. Everything sucks.]
petsthedog: (pic#12817775)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-17 12:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Huh. Freaky. But I guess some kinda shared hallucination bullshit isn't the weirdest shit that's ever happened.

[Not that the rest of this kidnapping doesn't come pretty close, but, well. When he looked out the window after waking up the sky wasn't green and there wasn't blood all over the streets nor random coffins floating about in places, so, you know. It's a matter of degree.]

....Aragaki. Shinjiro.

[Look, it hasn't quite clicked that they are not in Japan anymore, and "Takame" is a passingly Japanese name.]
petsthedog: (pic#12817870)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-17 12:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[WOW.]

Don't hit your head on the doorframe on the way out, asshole!

[...wait, actually.]

Can you make it home?

[The whole window incident has him a bit concerned t b h.]
petsthedog: (pic#12716787)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-17 12:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[He thinks it'd be easier to just stock up on the latter, but honestly, he has no reason to argue with her about it.]

Right.

[Might as well go get this stuff paid for. He gestures toward his own cart, with a few basic food items in it. Bread, eggs, noodles, vegetables.]

Figure it'll go smoother if it's all in one place.
petsthedog: (pic#12827098)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-17 01:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[The only person Shinji is used to calling by his first name is his best friend of fourteen years that he grew up with in the orphanage. He's certainly rough enough around the edges that he doesn't bother with honorifics, but last names are usually a comfortable amount of distance, for Shinjiro.

Nonetheless, the matter is put out of mind by the more pressing topic of getting back indoors. Once Ray says after you, he goes ahead and gets the door, though once inside, continues to hold it open for the older man. It's just going to be easier, this way. That's all it is.

Once the door closes behind them, he rubs at his woefully underdressed arms.]


Finally, heat. Stupid bullshit magic town.
petsthedog: (pic#12817793)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-17 01:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Uh huh.

[Okay now he's being messed with. But you know what, fine. It's not his business anyway. He huffs, faintly.]

That ain't what I meant. Just--tch, just forget it. If anyone around here's goin' around pretending to be Santa, they're probably a fraud, though.

[Eh, good enough.]