bothfoulandfair | nine ❅ spam

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nine ❅ spam

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[It's her first wish of the flood - I wish Anna was here - that probably convinces her to get out of her room at a time when other people might actually be out and about for the first time since their visit to the other Barge. Anna's rag doll shows up on her bed, smiling at her from across the room, and she's torn between picking the thing up and hugging it and rushing out of the room and staying out until the flood's over. Maybe Dillon won't mind her staying with him, or in the infirmary until it's done.

She calms down, though, and the doll winds up tagging along with her out on her little expedition.

And things seems fine, until she makes her second one - I wish getting along with people here was easier - and she finds her head shoved through the neck of an oversized t-shirt with the words "This is Our Get Along Shirt", one arm through the left shirtsleeve and... apparently, someone else is occupying the same neckhole and other shirtsleeve.

Honestly? She can't even bring herself to be angry.

For now.]

Is this something you're familiar with, outside of the Barge?

[ooc: I'm definitely looking for this to be more fluffy than traumatic for Elsa, otherwise anything is totally fair game. c:]

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Nope. This is a first for me.

[Crichton, who just happens to be passing her in the hall at the time she makes that wish, is now stuffed into the other side of the shirt with her. He looks vaguely annoyed, but also a tad amused.]

This is one of the weirder things that's happened today, well, at least to me.

[He takes a moment to glance down at the writing on the shirt, then he turns to get a better look at the poor woman he's now sharing it with. He reaches the one hand he has free through the sleeve to her, offering a handshake.]

Since we're supposed to be getting along, according to the shirt, I may as well introduce myself: John Crichton. Hi.

[It's... nice to be back on this ship. She's uncomfortable, she's definitely not happy, but her powers aren't spiraling out of control. Things are definitely a little frosty in the t-shirt, but the fact that she doesn't feel like she's riding a tidal wave that's just getting worse the more she tries to fight it winds up keeping her calmer.

She even - extremely tentatively, bolstered by the fact that she's wearing gloves and still has Anna's doll gripped in the hand that's under the t-shirt - accepts the handshake, although she lets go very quickly and goes back to looking more uncomfortable than miserable, for a change.]

Elsa. I'm sorry this isn't happening under better circumstances.

[He has noticed it's a little chilly, which is weird considering two people stuffed into one shirt should probably make things hotter and not colder. And he's thinking that strictly in reference to the temperature, promise.]

Believe it or not, this isn't the worst first meeting I've had, and this isn't even the weirdest thing that's happened today.

[He can tell she's uncomfortable, and who wouldn't be? This situation sure is awkward, but it's no more her fault than anything is in these stupid flood. So, he's giving her his best boyish grin hoping to put her more at ease.]

Why don't we see if we can get back out of this thing? Huh?

I'm almost afraid to ask. [She definitely doesn't want to do anything more absurd than this. Being crammed into a shirt with a stranger isn't exactly how she wanted to spend her day today.

Which is probably the point.

But at least John seems friendly enough, so she isn't as desperate to get out of the shirt as she could be. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be that easy, because she can't pull her arm out of the sleeve.]

I think we're stuck.

Let's just say it's been an interesting morning.

[And it looks like it will continue to be an interesting day since, yep, they sure are stuck. He's having no luck pulling his arm out either. Finally he gives it up with a sigh.]

Figures we would be...

Think we might be able to cut it off?

[That would get him a surprised look, if there was really any room to move her head to look him right in the face without them being uncomfortably close to each other. More uncomfortably close, anyway.

Hopefully her voice conveys the appropriate amount of "how serious are you being, because seriously, why would you just have something like that on you?"

Which is probably a naive way of thinking about things, but.]

Do you have something to cut it with?

Not a knife, no. Not here.

[He has a gun, but he doesn't think that's appropriate to the situation. They aren't going to try to blast their way out of this. But, he is serious about cutting them out, make no mistake.]

I have something in my room. It's not that far.

Alright. [She doesn't love the idea, honestly, but it's not as though she really has a better alternative.]

Lead the way.

[He doesn't figure she'll be too happy about getting dragged off to some strange man's room, but he's not seeing any other options. So, he'll just start shuffling that way, trying to keep pace with her as they go.]

Okay, steady as she goes. Down the hall this way, I'm on level Five.

[Elsa shuffles along after him. It's sort of like a three legged race, except maybe a little more mobile. They're definitely in less danger of falling flat on their faces, so.

She bites her lip, tries to think of something to say on the way over there.]

Are you affected by the flood?

No, I think I got out of it this time.

[A quick look down.]

Mostly.

Do you mind me asking what triggered this?

[Well, there's no use in lying, really. She probably at least owes him that much, considering the enormous inconvenience she's posing.]

I wished it was easier to get along with people, here. I'm sorry.

Having some trouble making friends?

[He says it sympathetically.]

I guess this is one way to do it.

I wouldn't have minded a simpler way.

Sure, so would I.

But, you know, you seem like a nice enough girl. You didn't immediately try to stab me or claw my eyes out with your free hand. [And here, that's saying something.]

You've been nothing but polite this whole time. So, I don't see why people wouldn't get along with you.

I haven't had a lot of experience meeting new people.

No time like the present.

[Thankfully they have finally come to his door. He quickly opens it and leads her, at a shuffle, inside. There's a knife sitting out on his desk that he can use to try cutting into the fabric. He edges them towards it.]

Hopefully this'll work. Afterwards, we can try continue this conversation a little more comfortably.

In the mean time, I'll do my best not to wish for anything else.

[It even sounds a tiny bit like a joke!]

[He rewards her with a smile at it.]

Okay, just hold still here.

[He pokes the knife into the fabric and begins to saw at it, slowly downward.]

[Elsa pulls the fabric taut to make it easier to cut, and when the threads do actually part, she lets out a soft sigh.]

That's a relief.

Whew, yeah.

[He sighs in relief when he finally has the whole thing split and is able to shrug out of his half.]

That's a lot better.

Listen, you're welcome to stick around a little if you want.

[But his feelings won't be hurt if she just wants to book it now that's she's free.]

[That other someone? Has eyes wide enough to almost fall out of his head when he realizes he's sitting out in the open, trapped in some manner of restraints with a girl he doesn't even know.

Or actually he does know her. Of her. And Slevin realizes what, exactly, they're caught in the moment right before he rips it apart in panic. Instead he goes very, very still because honestly, causing a scene is only going to draw more attention, right? And attention is the opposite of what he wants.]

Um.

Only in theory. Never in practice. Hi.

[Yeah, it's definitely for the best that you don't freak out here, because her powers might be in way better check here, but you still might wind up stuck in a minor snowstorm indoors. Instead, things are just a little frosty. Literally, frosty, as in cold.

Elsa herself just seems mildly uncomfortable and a little embarrassed.]

Hi. I'm sorry, I didn't... intend on this happening.

[He'd probably be okay in a minor snowstorm. Inconvenient for him, but also obscuring, probably. Maybe it'd even be enough.

He nods, tightly.]

I can tell.

You must've wished. Which makes you either very lonely, or very childish.

[Well, when you put it that way.]

I suppose lonely sounds better. [And is also true.] I'm sorry for the cold.

If I remember right, you don't exactly intend on that happening, either.

[They've never spoken, but it's hard to miss or forget someone that turns the entirety of the deck into a blizzard; he's pretty sure if she meant to do that, she would have done it already here.

Thus, his conclusion, as much a test as it is an educated guess on his part.]

[She's actually somehow been able to avoid talking about it much. Either people hadn't noticed, or they hadn't cared, or maybe they just didn't know who was responsible for it.

Or she's been doing a good job at isolating herself, and avoiding dealing with the repercussions of what she'd done.]

No, I didn't.

So no need to apologize.

We'll revisit this if I end up with frostbite, but for now don't worry about it.

[He's been holding still up until now, but at this he begins carefully testing the bonds of the fabric, frowning down at it.]

How much space do you have over there?

[That hopefully shouldn't be too much of a problem. Her powers aren't that strong, now, which again, is definitely a blessing.]

Not much. [She tests her own side of the shirt, and, well. Not much progress there too.] Are you affected by the flood?

Not the teleportation part of it.

[The Piemaker awkwardly shifts his rolling pin to his one functional hand, glancing down at Else from their place in the kitchen.]

Comfortable?

Not really. [The air around them has gone a little frosty, but Ned is someone she's more or less comfortable with, even if he's another person who has issues with touch related magic.

Actually, that's probably part of why she doesn't mind.]

I'm sorry for interrupting.

I'm sorry.

[Even though it's no one's fault, the Piemaker still feels guilty. He knows how much Elsa values her space, even if he's unclear on the reason why]

You're not interrupting. Really. I was just..You know. Piemaker things.

[It's a reason that probably won't make itself apparent right now - she really doesn't want to talk about it.

She actually doesn't even know what happened to Scorpius after she attacked him. He attacked her. She's not sure which way to look at it.]

Can I help at all?

...Can you hand me that bowl of rotten fruit over there?

[He nods his head to a small container on Elsa's side, where there is indeed a container of moldy cherries]

[Well, this is certainly a useful side of your magic she's never heard of before. The bowl gets a skeptical look before she passes it over, and she waits expectantly to see what he does with them.]

[With a smile, the Piemaker takes the bowl in hand, setting it down in front of him]

Usually I do this with one gloved hand and one ungloved, but given the circumstances..

[he plucks out the cherries, one by one, setting them from the bowl to the side in front of Elsa. As he touches each one, they go from black and shriveled to bright red and enticing]

That's incredible, Ned.

[She doesn't sound floored, or like she's about to start chattering excitedly or anything, but it's honest, and maybe a tiny bit awed. She still doesn't know how she would have coped with anything, ever if she had Ned's magic, but seeing something like this - how even something she perceives as a bad thing, or at least a difficulty - feels... good. Really good, actually.]

Do you need help putting them in the pie? [Since you know. You're currently one handed.]

[Giving a sheepish grin, the Piemaker ducks his head down, a little embarrassed]

I would. If you could.

Please.

Tell me what to do. [And then she laughs, and it sounds genuine, even if this is a little embarrassing to admit to in some ways.] I've never actually made one before.

[The Piemaker ducks his head down with a warm smile, happy to see Elsa's expression light up]

A forewarning: it's a little messy.

Start placing them in a circle around the rim of the pie, and work your way in. Please.

That's fine. I don't mind.

[Well, maybe she does a little bit, but she'll pretend like she's not for his sake. Besides, this is a new little adventure to be embarking on, she can suck it up for a while, right?

She does as instructed, careful to keep them evenly spaced.]

[The Piemaker watches with a careful eye, but there's only so far one can mess up in cherry-placement and he doesn't say much to the contrary]

So..is this the first time you've worked in a kitchen..?

Yes. We had a staff at home.

[Which is a little strange to admit to - she hasn't been super forthcoming with her situation, but enough people probably know by now that it isn't such a big deal.]

For everything food-related?

[It's a curious concept for the Piemaker, but he's not mocking; only attentive]

I don't think most societies expect their rulers to make their own food.

[She corrects herself quickly, considering it's not like she has the specifics of how things work in other worlds.]

Unless it's different, where you're from.

I'm not actually party to what the President does in the White House. Could be that he makes his own sandwiches. But probably not.

The White House? That's where he lives?

Yes. It's a big...white house.

Appropriately named, all things considered.

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nine ❅ spam

I can do fluffy

excellent 83

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