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xp_logsBackdated to December 28th. Over Christmas, Callie, Meggan, and Kyle bring it upon themselves to play Dickensian bearers of Christmas cheer and spirit to Jean-Phillipe.
"Come on Jean-Philippe," Callie tapped her foot impatiently, arms crossed. "It's Christmas, you need some sort of cheer. Think of Tiny Tim! Even Scrooge was all festive in the end." She held up a red Santa hat. "Don't make us go all Dickensonian ghost on you."
"It's against his like, code of french gay honor or something." Kyle had a truly awful hat on, bright green with zebra stripes in red, and a large bell on the end. "He can't have fun. It's just how it is." He was so going to get pelted with something, he knew it. Probably noodles or potatoes. They were in abundance.
"Merde." Jean-Phillipe scowled at Callie, Kyle, and Meggan. "I hate all of you. What is the phrase? Ah, yes. Bah. Humbug." Not that Jean-Phillipe didn't enjoy Christmas, he just objected to the prevalence of tacky outerwear.
“You could always borrow my scarf, instead of one of the fluffy, warm, Santa hats if you don’t like them. If you want to, just to have a teensy bit of cheer. The Frosty scarf doesn’t have any antlers,” Meggan wheedled, trying not to smile at his scowls. The hats were comfortable, especially the ones meant to be for Santa’s elves. Even if the little bells had fallen off somewhere along the way, she mused as she found a soup ladle.
"Could be worse, man. One of us could be trying to wrestle you into one of those sweaters with reindeers or dancing elves on 'em." Kyle said, grinning. "Man, do we need to go all like, Dickens on you? Because if we do..." He nodded in Callie's direction. "I'm making pinky here make me one of those badass wreaths for my head. You can't argue with a dude wearing plants on his head, it's a rule."
Callie nodded and very pointedly marched over to the closest poinsettia and hugged it close to her. The garland was fake, so that was out of the question entirely (somehow it didn't seem right cutting off a large chunk of the soup kitchen's decorations). But the poinsettia on the other hand, that had potential. Back to the wall, she sunk down onto the floor, examining the plant from all angles. Yes, this would work quite nicely, she decided, and set to work coaxing out enough flowers to make a decent wreath.
"Hnh." Jean-Phillipe continued to object to enforced cheer, but the sight of Callie using her powers was intriguing him despite all that. The casual use of others' powers was always fascinating to him. And the various ways in which people applied them was perhaps the most interesting part of being a mutant, in his opinion. So he was left trying to maintain a scowl while also watching Callie intently.
“Or tickle you into a smile. If we went Dickensian ghost on you, someone would have to be standing around and pointing at you with a very stern, frowny face and a cloak...maybe while checking a watch to see how much time they had left in their schedule for you. It might just annoy you, and not scare you into having a sudden Christmas love,” Meggan warned with a grin. She watched, captivated by Callie’s work on the poinsettia as each tiny leaf sprouted into more for a moment, thinking it was beautiful, before looking back to Kyle. “Which ghost was it that had the wreath? Present or Past?”
"Present." Kyle said, a little distractedly. He'd been not-quite-kidding about the wreath and now Callie was making one. "Future's the deathy one, Past is the like, angel-girl-wings-one." Of course, the last time he'd seen any version of "A Christmas Carol" it was Scrooged, with Bill Murray, and so his impressions of the plot and characters were a little... off. "And there's Jacob Marley, who's all chains and stuff, but he doesn't count. We don't have anyone to be all "Hey, 'm your dead bff, don't be a stingy grouch."
"Nah. Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-come is not really about death," Callie piped up as she wove flowers and stems together. "I mean, obviously Scrooge was going to die. Eventually. Yet-to-Come is more like 'this is what will happen at your death if you don't start playing nice with others.' There we are." She jumped to her feet and ceremoniously set the wreath upon Kyle's head. "Your crown of Christmas greenery," she curtsied, "my lord."
"I am not a stingy grouch," Jean-Phillipe said, a bit petulantly. Except for the part where he was something of a prickly personality that could rub others the wrong way. And he was rather frugal with money, even after his cousin had begun subsidizing his university education. "Merde. Perhaps I am, but I make it work."
“Wreath looks great on you, Kyle,” Meggan chuckled. “All you need to complete the Ghost of Christmas Present is to find a bathrobe and a sash. Or maybe just an overly large coat that almost swallows you.” She had only seen A Muppet Christmas Carol once, and it wasn’t recent enough—but she wouldn’t forget a robe was involved somewhere. If only they could get Jean-Phillipe to wear something like a Christmas stocking on his head.
Kyle kinda dug the wreath, even if one of the flowers was sort of tickling his ear. He was badass, he could totally own wearing a floral poinsettia wreath on his head. "Pretty sure I'm stuck with my hoodie." It was dark grey though, and might work as a Ghost of deathy Christmas Future, so he shrugged it off and handed it over. "We'll just go all post-modern with it and I can just rock the awesome plants on my head."
"You know, I have a hunch that you weren't always this grumpy," Callie said as she shrugged on the hoodie. "I vote we call your cousin; she can probably she some light on this conundrum. What do you think, Past?"
“I think you might be right,” Meggan agreed happily, as she stuck a found sprig of holly in her hair. If she was going to be Past, she wasn’t going to stick a candle or light in it, out of a very sane aversion to being singed. That, and holly was prettier. “Maybe it’s something little like…someone stuck an adult sized wildly patterned Christmas sweater on him when he was tiny, and boom! Grinch mode for patterns of snow, elves, and reindeer forever after.”
"I am certain my cousin will tell you that I have always been this much of a pain," Jean-Phillipe declared. They got along reasonably well these days, but he was sure there was still part of Marie-Ange that would never let him live down his 'too much eyeliner' phase, which was the nicest way she might describe it. "Oh very well," he finally said, dropping the cranky demeanor. "Someone find me something that is at least not completely tacky and unfashionable."
"Come on Jean-Philippe," Callie tapped her foot impatiently, arms crossed. "It's Christmas, you need some sort of cheer. Think of Tiny Tim! Even Scrooge was all festive in the end." She held up a red Santa hat. "Don't make us go all Dickensonian ghost on you."
"It's against his like, code of french gay honor or something." Kyle had a truly awful hat on, bright green with zebra stripes in red, and a large bell on the end. "He can't have fun. It's just how it is." He was so going to get pelted with something, he knew it. Probably noodles or potatoes. They were in abundance.
"Merde." Jean-Phillipe scowled at Callie, Kyle, and Meggan. "I hate all of you. What is the phrase? Ah, yes. Bah. Humbug." Not that Jean-Phillipe didn't enjoy Christmas, he just objected to the prevalence of tacky outerwear.
“You could always borrow my scarf, instead of one of the fluffy, warm, Santa hats if you don’t like them. If you want to, just to have a teensy bit of cheer. The Frosty scarf doesn’t have any antlers,” Meggan wheedled, trying not to smile at his scowls. The hats were comfortable, especially the ones meant to be for Santa’s elves. Even if the little bells had fallen off somewhere along the way, she mused as she found a soup ladle.
"Could be worse, man. One of us could be trying to wrestle you into one of those sweaters with reindeers or dancing elves on 'em." Kyle said, grinning. "Man, do we need to go all like, Dickens on you? Because if we do..." He nodded in Callie's direction. "I'm making pinky here make me one of those badass wreaths for my head. You can't argue with a dude wearing plants on his head, it's a rule."
Callie nodded and very pointedly marched over to the closest poinsettia and hugged it close to her. The garland was fake, so that was out of the question entirely (somehow it didn't seem right cutting off a large chunk of the soup kitchen's decorations). But the poinsettia on the other hand, that had potential. Back to the wall, she sunk down onto the floor, examining the plant from all angles. Yes, this would work quite nicely, she decided, and set to work coaxing out enough flowers to make a decent wreath.
"Hnh." Jean-Phillipe continued to object to enforced cheer, but the sight of Callie using her powers was intriguing him despite all that. The casual use of others' powers was always fascinating to him. And the various ways in which people applied them was perhaps the most interesting part of being a mutant, in his opinion. So he was left trying to maintain a scowl while also watching Callie intently.
“Or tickle you into a smile. If we went Dickensian ghost on you, someone would have to be standing around and pointing at you with a very stern, frowny face and a cloak...maybe while checking a watch to see how much time they had left in their schedule for you. It might just annoy you, and not scare you into having a sudden Christmas love,” Meggan warned with a grin. She watched, captivated by Callie’s work on the poinsettia as each tiny leaf sprouted into more for a moment, thinking it was beautiful, before looking back to Kyle. “Which ghost was it that had the wreath? Present or Past?”
"Present." Kyle said, a little distractedly. He'd been not-quite-kidding about the wreath and now Callie was making one. "Future's the deathy one, Past is the like, angel-girl-wings-one." Of course, the last time he'd seen any version of "A Christmas Carol" it was Scrooged, with Bill Murray, and so his impressions of the plot and characters were a little... off. "And there's Jacob Marley, who's all chains and stuff, but he doesn't count. We don't have anyone to be all "Hey, 'm your dead bff, don't be a stingy grouch."
"Nah. Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-come is not really about death," Callie piped up as she wove flowers and stems together. "I mean, obviously Scrooge was going to die. Eventually. Yet-to-Come is more like 'this is what will happen at your death if you don't start playing nice with others.' There we are." She jumped to her feet and ceremoniously set the wreath upon Kyle's head. "Your crown of Christmas greenery," she curtsied, "my lord."
"I am not a stingy grouch," Jean-Phillipe said, a bit petulantly. Except for the part where he was something of a prickly personality that could rub others the wrong way. And he was rather frugal with money, even after his cousin had begun subsidizing his university education. "Merde. Perhaps I am, but I make it work."
“Wreath looks great on you, Kyle,” Meggan chuckled. “All you need to complete the Ghost of Christmas Present is to find a bathrobe and a sash. Or maybe just an overly large coat that almost swallows you.” She had only seen A Muppet Christmas Carol once, and it wasn’t recent enough—but she wouldn’t forget a robe was involved somewhere. If only they could get Jean-Phillipe to wear something like a Christmas stocking on his head.
Kyle kinda dug the wreath, even if one of the flowers was sort of tickling his ear. He was badass, he could totally own wearing a floral poinsettia wreath on his head. "Pretty sure I'm stuck with my hoodie." It was dark grey though, and might work as a Ghost of deathy Christmas Future, so he shrugged it off and handed it over. "We'll just go all post-modern with it and I can just rock the awesome plants on my head."
"You know, I have a hunch that you weren't always this grumpy," Callie said as she shrugged on the hoodie. "I vote we call your cousin; she can probably she some light on this conundrum. What do you think, Past?"
“I think you might be right,” Meggan agreed happily, as she stuck a found sprig of holly in her hair. If she was going to be Past, she wasn’t going to stick a candle or light in it, out of a very sane aversion to being singed. That, and holly was prettier. “Maybe it’s something little like…someone stuck an adult sized wildly patterned Christmas sweater on him when he was tiny, and boom! Grinch mode for patterns of snow, elves, and reindeer forever after.”
"I am certain my cousin will tell you that I have always been this much of a pain," Jean-Phillipe declared. They got along reasonably well these days, but he was sure there was still part of Marie-Ange that would never let him live down his 'too much eyeliner' phase, which was the nicest way she might describe it. "Oh very well," he finally said, dropping the cranky demeanor. "Someone find me something that is at least not completely tacky and unfashionable."
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