fridgetothefire | 061 ☣ and the fog rolls in

[Hallway spam]

[Ben appears first, in full black cape, domino mask, and bandito hat with silly ball fringe, carrying a billowing, humming fog machine. As the mist starts to fill the corridor, Anya, Cassel, and Cass sneak around the corner, similarly decked out. Anya and Cassel are clearly tipsy, in full dramatic pantomime, first holding their capes in front of them and then flaring them out dramatically, almost losing their balance and revealing large baskets of baked goods. Cass is actually sneaking, despite the glaringly obvious costume, and quite innocuous in contrast to the others. Between them, they are picking locks, nibbling cookies, drinking champange from the bottle, and humming their own theme songs.]

[Your room!]

[They are breaking into any room they can, including several doors previously secure against them, thanks to Cassel's new far-future electronic skeleton key. They have every intention of sneaking in, rearranging any ugly knickknacks you may possess, and hiding delicious cookies, brownies, and cupcakes in strange places. They may or may not contain weed, depending on how uptight the united Mystery Baking Companions think you are. If you're already in your room when they tumble into it, pastry-laden and giggling, they will probably toss their capes and pose heroically.]

Special delivery!!!

[If you catch them as they're 'sneaking' away, they will toss confetti in your face and attempt to make a daring escape.]

[OOC: if you would like to find your offerings later and make a silly stoned post, go for it!! They are very generous.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Life gets a little weird when you don't eat anything at all. Technically, there is one thing and one thing only that Simon can eat, but he's mostly chosen not to partake since his awakening. His days of needing to be fucked up to get through the day are long since past.

PDS is an odd syndrome, and while Simon doesn't eat, he does sleep. It's not quite yet bedtime, but he's reading on the couch, and it's late in the evening enough that the quiet and the stuffiness of the book are just starting to make him nod off when the door in the kitchen bangs open. He's awake and on his feet in a second and at the inside kitchen door in the next, wary. It's either an angry mob or Kieren, he figures. He's not expecting what he actually sees.]

What the hell?

[He blinks, peering at them, then down at their baskets.]

I think you may have the wrong room.

[True to form, Cassel is in the process of tossing his cape dramatically when Simon speaks. The prospect of the wrong room - gasp - has him drooping slightly, his hat falling tipsily into his face.]

Wrong room?

[He looks to Anya, to Ben, to Cass, beseeching.]

We don't get the wrong room. Do we?

Well, I don't know any of yez, and you're holding a basket of biscuits, so...

[So yeah, that pretty much reads as wrong room to him. He'd ask if they came for Kieren, but that wouldn't explain the snacks. His brow furrows slightly.]

Who're you looking for?

Eeeveerrryyyyoonne.

Don't you like biscuits? I can give you the special zombie cookies. Even Arthas likes 'em.

[BRB putting weed/chocolate ganache cups in odd places on your stuff]

[His eyes narrow a little at the Z-word, but they're so obviously intoxicated and so young, so innocuous about it that he can't really be mad. Besides--]

Arthas likes cookies?

[That's... weirdly endearing.]

I don't eat 'em, I'm afraid.

Of course he likes cookies. Everyone likes cookies.

[A sharp frown line forms between his eyes. He Is Perplexed.]

He doesn't eat cookies, Any-- partner. [Mysterious partner.]

[Seriously, though, he didn't prep for this.]

Veeerrry spicy gingerbread. And oreos. And strong coffee. He made me -

[WAIT WAIT WAIT can't admit she was a Death Knight for a week without ~compromising her secret identity.~]

- anyway he totally does.

...what DO you eat?

[Because this is A Challenge and he is Getting Holiday Treats even if they are belated!!!]

Nothing. I don't.

[Well, brains, but saying so tends to make the living uncomfortable, and it's not as though he has to as long as he's on his medication. He glances over the baskets again, stifling his increasing amusement.]

Food and drink makes us sick.

He doesn't eat anything.

[Cassel looks in the baskets.]

We've got a lot of something, but no nothing in here. We seem to have forgotten it.

I can't believe we forgot nothing. We never forget.

That is soooo saaad.

[She is going to come hug Simon if he doesn't stop her.]

...wait wait wait! If we finish the champagne, he can have a very nice bottle of French Nothing.

[She is A Genius.]

[As befuddled as he is by all of this, as a ~~cultist~~ disciple he's sort of been trained up to be warm and touchy-feely and never turn down a hug, which means that Anya gets a slightly awkward one in return and a pat on the back. On the one hand, Simon is something like twice her size and very strong, and he's wearing a thick layer of fluffy sweater; on the other hand, he's cool to the touch. It's up to Anya how much she likes it.]

It's, uh-- I appreciate the thought.

[Okay, backing away from the hug now. He frowns thoughtfully at the sweets.]

I could keep one or two behind to give to other people.

A Mystery Baking Companion distributor.

[He gives this some drunken, careful thought, watching the hug occur in a foggy kind of way.]

It's good. A good idea. Very tactical.

[Arthas is her high-water-mark for physical discomfort versus personal affection in hugs, and he's literally a block of ice encased in metal spikes, so Simon seems to her perfectly cuddly. She nuzzles her face into the sweater a little and pats his cheek, then breaks away when he gets increasingly stilted to take a deep swig of the champagne, for charity, to polish it off.]

Yes. Very good. I shall deputize you.

[Cape toss; hand on hip.]

Kneel, noble interdiamrary - interary - distributor. Yes. Good one, partner.

[This really is all kind of... well, cute. Simon doesn't have a lot of good times to look back on in his life, but he remembers a few nights like this back in secondary, in university, full of chemicals and glee and able to think of that as happiness for a while. He doesn't know if they'll wake up tomorrow feeling like he usually would have; he doesn't know them, but unusually, he finds himself hoping they don't. He doesn't usually have that much compassion for the living. Maybe he's getting soft.

There's a small part of him that misses it enough that he's tempted to tell them what they could find for him to eat, but he refrains. Sheeps-brain highs were more Amy's thing than his. Instead, he just smiles and feigns a bit of a bow for Anya in lieu of actually kneeling, his right fist pressed to where his heart still lies still and silent.]

I'll make sure they all go to good homes.

[Cassel beams, just removed enough from this ceremony that he can cross his arms and lean unsteadily against the wall, fog billowing around him. He's pleased, incongruously proud of Anya, too, for having figured out how to get around the unconscionable mistake of not having something for someone. It doesn't matter how much he has to drink, he knows why they do this. For fun. For everybody's fun. Skipping anyone will not be tolerated.]

[He inclines his head, a little bow of his own to the both of them, and sets down an empty bottle with a clink.]

Do us proud.

[She taps his shoulders with the champagne bottle with great solemnity.]

I dub thee Mystery Deputy.

[She blows a handful of glitter into his hair, sets the empty bottle on the table, and does her best to vanish out the door in a stumbling swirl of cape. It is a little too far for her to actually pull this off.]

[...okay, he wasn't expecting the glitter. He pulls back and blinks, wrinkling his nose.]

Hey there, now.

[He runs a hand through his hair and pulls it away, looking at the glimmer that covers it distastefully.]

[Nope, he is absolutely not taking responsibility for this. He whisks himself away out the door after Anya, swirling his cape to create an ~optical illusion~ and disguise their retreat!!]

Happy New Yeeeaarr!

[Trailing off into the distance as they flee.]

061 ☣ and the fog rolls in

cw implications of drug addiction

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