noteful | Laura's Room, 20 December

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Laura's Room, 20 December

It's actually a little terrifying, in Meg's opinion, how quickly Parker Lee gets things done.

One minute, they're standing down in the bar, having all just run into each other for the first time in ages.

The next, they're at the door to Laura's fairly utilitarian room in Milliways, because Parker has decided this calls for an impromptu Christmas party.

And ten minutes later, Parker has decorated that room almost past the point of recognition. She's thrown a bright red cloth over the crates against the back wall and laid out an array of Christmas cookies, a tray of sandwiches, funnel cakes ("funnel cake is totally festive," Parker tells them), pitchers of egg nog and some kind of green punch. She's got Christmas music playing on a CD player, she's spread cushions on the floor for them to sit on, and she's festooned the whole room with red and green tinsel-like garland and Christmas lights.

Given another twenty minutes, Meg is pretty sure Parker could have set up a tree, built a fireplace for marshmallow toasting, and possibly ordered up just the right amount of snow to have falling past the windows.

Actually, for all Meg knows, Parker may yet do all that.

And who knows what else.

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"We don't have to have a pillow fight," Meg says.

Really, really, don't.

"They're hardly required at slumber parties, and this is more of a holiday get together, anyway."

Parker nods in agreement.

"No, we don't have to pillow fight. I was thinking more talk, eat, open presents. And then later sing a few rounds of Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer."

She may be kidding about that last part.

Or not.

Parker smiles upon her two friends and lifts her mug of egg nog.

"So. Merry Christmas, ladies."

X opens her mouth to say 'I cannot sing' --

And then she stops.

Quite possibly this is not relevant.

And if it is, she can mention it again later.

Instead she pours herself some of the suspect green punch and mimics Parker's gesture.

"Merry Christmas."

Her tone of voice may be a little too firm, but so it goes.

"I can't sing worth a darn," Meg tells Parker, in cheerful warning.

"Merry Christmas," she adds, completing the toast.

(She has egg nog. The punch really was very suspect.)

"It's not about singing ability. It's about..." Parker waves her mug, searching for words. "Joyful expression."

"And it's Rudolf. It's hard to screw up."

Hell. Maybe they'll go door to door.

"I'm really glad we got a chance to get together."

X's continuing dubious expression may be more due to the punch than to Parker's insistence on the simplicity of certain Christmas songs.

It is, however, not likely.

"Yes," she says instead, after a moment.

"It is good to talk. And you brought funnel cake."

Possibly she's teasing. Or maybe it's just that X can, indeed, be bought.

Either way, it gets a smile.

"I think we could start a trend. Christmas funnel cake."

At home, in Parker's experience, funnel cakes are usually a summer fair kind of food. But why not shake things up?

Parker picks up an iced cookie.

"Anyone have any new and exciting plans for the holiday?"

There are odder (and much worse) holiday trends people have started.

(Dogs barking "Jingle Bells" comes to mind.)

"We're going to England, but I think I'd told you both that already."

So it might not be a new plan.

Meg is, however, cautiously excited about it.

X tilts her head, studying Meg for a second.

She also sets down the green punch. It will not get picked up again.

"You will be gone for long? Here?"

Sometimes it is better to check.

"We'll be there for about a week. I don't know if I'll be able to get here from England or not. Kim can, though. So . . . maybe?"

Meg never knows when she's going to wind up here.

"But you shouldn't worry, if you don't see me for a bit."

"We'll just assume you're living it up with Dickens and plum pudding."

"I'm heading back to Colorado, but my door seems to follow me."

Still, getting together with friends around the holidays can be hit or miss, even when everyone lives in the same dimension. Parker's glad that they have a chance for a holiday confab this evening.

"Dickens is dead. In 1988."

X also doubts he was much of a partier. Or she would if she thought about it.

"I will be in San Francisco. I do not think my access to Milliways will change."

It rarely seems to. She does not mind.

Edited 2009-12-21 01:41 (UTC)

"Either way, I'm sure we'll all see each other in the new year."

Even if it's not the same new year for all of them.

"In the meantime . . . presents."

The Meg has two small boxes with her (she has, in fact, been carrying in her bag for a three days, so that she'd be sure to have them with her when she wound up back in Milliways). They're the same size and shape, both in plain red paper, though one has a gold ribbon and the other is silver.

"Yes!"

Parker moves her two boxes out from the side into the middle of their little circle. The snowflake box goes toward Laura. The holly box toward Meg.

(She'd picked these out quite carefully, back even before Thanksgiving. With a little help from the internet. And Sophie.)

"I've been sitting on these for a while. Only not in the literal sense," she adds.

"I do not think they would be comfortable," X agrees.

Then she stands up, slipping through the mess of cushions and decorations, heading for the door.

"I will be back."

And then she's gone.

And when she returns, 4.8 minutes later, she's got two small brown-wrapped boxes in her hand.

"I did not forget. About presents."

"Of course you didn't.

"Mine first?"

The silver ribboned box goes to Laura and the gold to Parker.

They both contain silver charm bracelets, each with two charms as a start. Laura got a tropical fish, and Parker a ball of yarn stuck through with needles.

The other charm is the same on both, a small flat disc, engraved with the word friends on one side, and the letters L M P on the other.

Parker's smile softens as she rubs her thumb across the engraved initials on the disc.

"Meg, this is beautiful. And I love the little yarn."

She fastens the bracelet around her wrist, and gives the bracelet an experimental jangle.

X spends a few long moments looking at the bracelet, then reaches out and brushes across the tropical fish with her fingertips.

"I do not have one of those in my aquarium."

Beat.

"Yet."

Maybe that will be her first purchase of the new year.

Who knows?

"Thank you."

It was the prettiest of the fish charms Meg could find.

"You're welcome.

"You can add other charms as you find ones you like."

The bracelets can get really jangly.

"Okay," X says. It has the sound of a mental note in it.

X makes a lot of those.

And after another few moments and a quick sideways look at Parker, X hands over her packages.

They contain bracelets, as well. Solid steel alloy composed of interlocking Xs, one of which is just slightly heavier than the others.

This is because there is a communicator inside of it.

X believes in being prepared.

Meg unwraps things slowly and neatly, without tearing the paper.

Her smile gets very bright, once she's gotten the box open.

"Great minds think alike," she says to Laura.

It's a good Christmas for bracelets.

"We do have a collection of great minds going on," Parker says.

She goes to put this bracelet on the other wrist, but pauses for a moment to examine one of the x's of the bracelet.

"Laura? What's this?" she asks.

X leans over, head tilting for a brief moment -- just to make sure.

"It is a communicator. Touch-activated. They are useful in combat. And elsewhere."

Beat.

"It is good to be prepared."

Meg blinks a little.

It's not exactly standard technology for her world.

"Oh.

"How does it work?"

Will it work from home, or just in the bar?

"Here," X says, leaning forward to tap on the appropriate x.

"You talk. And we can hear it."

There's a tinny echo from within X's space. She taps her own belt buckle.

"It is not difficult. And there are earpieces. If stealth is necessary."

They're hidden under the cotton -- and they are remarkably small -- but they are in the boxes.

That same tinny sound is now coming out of both bracelets. It stops when X taps her buckle again.

"Oh, that is just cool. Thank you."

Really, what little girl didn't want advanced spy gear at some point in her life?

"Well, girls. My mind was not in on the collective greatness this time around. My first and final hint is that I did not get you bracelets."

Parker hands Laura and Meg their respective boxes. Both contain Everything Nice merchandise, from some of the store's more conservative lines (as conservative as it gets, anyway). Meg's is a nightie in a rich shade of green--floaty and romantic. Laura's is sleeker, leaning heavily toward black silk and purple Chinese brocade.

"Use them wisely," she grins.

"Parker!"

Parker cops a solemn expression.

Not very successfully.

"Meg?"

"Parker," X says, voice level and matter-of-fact.

"Thank you."

Beat.

Beat.

"It will be useful. For work."

It's possibly that X is joking.

But probable? Who can say.

"You're welcome. And I'll want to hear about that mission."

Parker aims a piece of popcorn at Meg's open mouth.

She misses.

"It doesn't bite. Promise."

Parker gets a look, in response to the popcorn barrage.

"It's . . . um . . .

"It's lovely, Parker, I just . . ."

have no idea what to do with it.

She certainly doesn't need it for work.

X dredges through the depths of her experience, looking for something to say.

And into one of the pauses in Meg's delivery --

"Green is a good color. For you."

It is something people say, right? About clothes.

X does not have much capability to judge.

"It is," Parker agrees. "And it should fit. Both of them for that matter. I'm good at guessing sizes."

Within half a cup size at first meeting. It's a gift. One she hadn't really realized she had until going to work for Sophie.

Parker smiles at Meg, nudging her knee with one toe.

"It's just something for you to wear and feel pretty in."

It's just good to have cloths like that.

"It's very pretty, thank you," Meg says.

"Both of you."

Parker nods.

"So. Carols?" she asks.

"Hey, maybe we could take the show on the road. Or downstairs in this case."

Meg looks hastily at the evidence all around them of just how quickly Parker goes from thought to be-tinseled.

"I think we're good here, honestly. You know, we just got settled in and everything."

X's shoulders relax fractionally when Meg speaks.

"And I do not know any carols."

Beat.

"I do not sing."

"True. We are cozy up here."

It's the candles. And the floor cushions.

"And you don't actually have to sing, or know how to sing, to sing Christmas carols. They're like Happy Birthday. Anyone can sing them."

"Or we can just listen to the CD, and talk about other things."

In non-musical ways.

"I do not know Happy Birthday, either."

She takes this time to break off a piece of funnel cake and start eating it.

Carefully.

The powdered sugar tends to make a mess.

"It is okay."

"I say we eat, drink, and be merry," Parker says.

"And, after that....I am dying to try out these communicators."

Parker looks at Laura.

"Are there any rules against playing hide and seek in the building?"

X considers that for a moment. Carefully.

Then she shakes her head.

"It is okay. As long as no one gets punched."

Or kicked. Or --

Anyway, it will be useful.

And fun.

And no one will have to sing.

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Laura's Room, 20 December

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