Christmas Eve with Fitz

[hazlogs]

It is currently 08:04 Pacific Time on Wed Dec 24 2014.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 47 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.87 and falling, and the relative humidity is 97 percent. The dewpoint is 46 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (18% full).

Edgewood House: Downstairs(#2007RAJh)

The front door leads into a small mudroom; coats are hanging on hooks. It opens into the spacious, well lit living room, with several battered old couches arranged into a sort of conversation pit facing the fireplace, a table in the center of them. There are a few chairs, some straight-backed, some plush and comfortable, arranged to make secondary conversation areas, with little end tables placed in strategic locations. There's a notable absence of either breakable objects, or elaborate electrical equipment such as televisions. The walls, painted an increasingly dingy white, have some sweeping dark fabric prints on them, but no paintings or posters. A steep, uncarpeted staircase leads up to the second floor. There are several doors that lead out to other sections of the house, as well. (+view for details)

Having arrived at the farmhouse early in the morning with her black Mustang packed full of groceries in the trunk, Alicia has been a busy bee working on Christmas dinner in the form of three hams, and five chickens. She has an apron tied about her waist to go along with her jeans and T-shirt, with a hat on her head that has a long dangling piece of mistletoe that hovers over her head. You want to eat? You got to kiss the cook. Her phone is playing some festive Christmas music in the form of Manheim Steamroller.

Upstairs has been the sound of the shower running and shutting off, and a pair of feet criss-crossing paths across the second floor. Eventually Reed appears, making his way down the stairs as he drags a hoodie on over his head. Music, and the smells of hearty cooking, draw a confused look when his head pops through the neckhole, and he takes a few curious steps to bring him in sight of the kitchen, once on the main floor.

Dakota is, as she always has been, assisting in the efforts. She's working on desserts. Several trays of cookies of all sorts are already cooled and stacked on trays and she's getting more wrapped dough out of the fridge, which she begins to roll out on a small card table she's got floured up. While she's not wearing anything festive under, her apron does resemble an ugly Christmas sweater with dinosaurs and robots in that geometric fashion. She glances up to Reed with his head popping in and she blinks good-naturedly at her packmate, "What? Never seen this much food before?"

Fitz wanders in wearing white t-shirt, jeans, boots, and a cheap costume santa coat and hat, the former hanging open, all of his outfit damp and muddy from the rain. He's singing in a gravelly voice, kinda flat, whatever tune he was on switching to the one Alicia's got playing currently. "Laalalalala... la la laaaaa... la laaaaa."

A small red sedan pulls up in front of the house, and the sound of car doors follows. Any who peek outside, or have arrived within the right time frame to overlap the exchange, would catch sight of Emma being dropped off by a woman older than her. She opens the backdoor of the car, leans in for a moment, and then steps back out. A stop at the trunk lifts a few bags from the back, and then she's making her way in as the car drives off.

"Hey Reed." Alicia calls over to her packmate as she slips a pair of chickens into the oven and hips it shut and starts the timer. "Merry Christmas and all that jazz. I have a stack of pancakes in the fridge for breakfast if anyone is hungry." The loud noise that is Fitz would cause her ears to wilt back if they were sticking up from her head. Well, at least it's in the spirit of things. "Hey." She calls over to the Fianna, giving him a squinty look. "Morning."

"They're somewhere in there, at least. If we need more it's easy enough to cook up some. What's a bit more mess?" Dakota says as she cuts diamond-shaped cookies out of the dough, which looks like chocolate, and putting them on trays before sprinkling on crushed candy canes. "The dishes will not be fun later, unless someone has a power washer gift but eh... we'll figure that out after."

"Never seen this much food like this," Reed answers. He casts a look at Fitz, then heads into the kitchen to liberate the promised pancakes from the fridge. By way of jostling jokingly into his pack mates. "I'll help with dishes after breakfast."

Fitz grins in that asshole way of his and heads into the house, dripping and tracking mud. "Gimmie the dishes, I'll take care'a 'em." His tone is not one to give a person confidence that his version of taking care would be optimal.

Not far behind the Fianna, is Emma. She steps in, wipes her shoes off as best as she can and then fully enters the house. Her eyes track down to the muddied prints and a frown follows as she moves to take her bag toward a corner of the front room. The sound of all the people in the kitchen forces her to take a deep breath as she sets a few presents out, each tagged, onto a side table.

Giving Fitz another look, Alicia says, "Alright, but Reed is supervising." She relents with a shrug of her shoulders upwards. "Also, wipe your feet off on the mat out front and clean up the mud you're tracking in." She says as she motions behind him. "I spent all night cleaning the house." She can hear the presence of another but from her view in the kitchen she can't see Emma yet. "Hey there!" She calls out. "Who else is out there? Got pancakes if you're hungry."

"House rules apply." Dakota says while loading cookies into the oven. "You break it, you replace it. And.. that should be the last batch of cookies." She jerks a thumb towards the sink, or where the sink normally would be at any rate. "Have fun. Ali, need anything else over there? Once we get things tidied back up, I figure we can haul in the Stuff from your car."

Fitz smirks at Alicia's instructions regarding the mud on the floor, but he does at the very least toe off his boots (they're unlaced already). In dirty, hole-y socks, he slouches into the kitchen. His santa coat smells like wet dog mixed with mothballs. He makes a grab for a handful of uncooked cookies.

Pancakes are delivered to the table, with things nudged aside as needed to make space. Reed doesn't fetch plates, but takes a cake from the top and rolls it up to eat cold while he looks at the mess and festivities of cooking again. "I'll dry and put away," he decides of the dishes.

"Just me," announces Emma in an easy voice before her making her way toward the kitchen. She looks at the activity and the inhabitants, tipping her head to the side a bit to take it all in. "Geezus this kitchen is in chaos."

"Organized chaos. This isn't Dakota and I's first rodeo. Seriously, Fitz, mop up the mud you tracked in, and.. if you can, put something new on. You smell like a moldy closet. Also, hands off the cookie dough!" She snaps quickly over to him as he reaches, using a towel to swipe at his hands. With an exhausted look to Emma, she gives her a quick smile. "Hey, Merry Christmas. I got you a present, it's in the car."

"Merry Christmas, Emma... HEY!" Dakota says before shooting Fitz a glare meant to wilt. It's a perfect Mom expression. "You want cooked ones, fine, I'll get you some but no dirty hands in the cookie dough. Other people gotta eat that."

He doesn't laugh out loud or even grin, but a glance at Reed shows amusement touching his expression. "She'll probably spank you, given a chance," he asides to Fitz before heading for the living room again. "And not in a way you'd like. Hey, Emma-rhya."

Reed is about 6'2", lean, built more like a runner with an angular face and skin darkened by the sun. He has dirty blonde hair, less shaggy but no less messy than before. His left eye is blue and his right is without pigment in the iris. Several scars tear through his flesh, leaving the skin along his neck, left shoulder and ribs, across his chest and along the right side of his back unevenly knitted together.

On any given day,he can be caught wearing t-shirts and board shorts; however he's known to layer hoodies and long sleeves and trade shorts for jeans if the weather is poor.

"Merry Christmas," the elder Get returns with noticeably less exhuberance than the Gaians. "Shouldn't have done that Alicia- the gift I mean." She gives Reed a little nod, "Hey Reed." Finally her attention lands on the newcomer getting all the scolding. "Haven't met you before. Fitz is it? When'd you get in?"

Fitz gets no uncooked cookies, but neither does he look at all repentant, to judge by the smirk. "You don't know what I'd like, Stretch," he says to Reed. He saunters backwards, picks a piece of wall to lean insolently against. Emma gets just a shrug for an answer, and that with only one shoulder. At the same time, he licks both palms and wipes them on the front thighs of his jeans.

"He's the guy that frenzied in the Park in the middle of the afternoon, killed a guy for no reason and is now stuck here until we figure out what to do with him. I had to clean the mess up and get my brother on scene to put spin in the media and contact the poor guy's next of kin. It was ridiculous." Alicia says as she points a spoon at the Fianna. "And clean up the fucking mud prints before I lose my Christmas spirit." Her voice holds a bit of edge to it before she brightens up again. "And, it's no problem, Emma. You're one of my closest friends and every year that we come out alive is good enough for me to give out gifts. Salem is getting one also. I got him a Grumpy Cat calender and a matching sweater."

"Besides, we need some reasons to celebrate and enjoy ourselves. Things have been a mess lately." Dakota murmurs as she begins stacking full trays of wrapped cookies to keep them fresh, though one is taken out to the living room for those keen on snacking. While the others talk, she works on sorting dishes into more orderly piles and at least prep some sink space to actually wash them come time.

Fitz scratches his chin, putting on a thoughtful expression. He half-slouches, half-slides along the wall to where he can look at his muddy footprints, starting at the door and ending where his unlaced boots still sit in the middle of the floor. "Hmmmm."

As he finishes off his pancake, Reed looks from Emma to his pack mates, then back again. "Need extra hands for anything, Emma?"

Emma is still looking to Fitz for the time being, "As I'm completly lacking the Christmas spirit, give me your introduction this time instead of a shrug, Fitz." The tone simmers with a no-nonsense heat, and the rest of the kitchen crew is for the moment disregarded.

5'3" of proud energy packed up into a body all too willing to use it. Emma could easily look appropriate dressed for elegance, but her attitude paints her style far more brute efficiency than subtle charm.

Somewhere in her early twenties, her features are strong but decidedly feminine. High cheekbones and full lips work well to compliment her almost button nose and deepset eyes, while dark, ash blonde hair frames her face. It's mostly straight, but has that wild-style look to it that just brushes against her shoulders. Her eyes are a cool blue, reminiscent of a bright summer day - but like the weather they seem to hold an amount of unpredictability. There is a hardness to her gaze, and while her smiles can be warm and sincere, they are well guarded.

Her posture is one of confidence and boldness, and she carries herself with a stoic restraint on something that hints very strongly of being dangerous.

Rolling her eyes upwards at his antics, Alicia slips her apron off and puts it on the back of the table. Heading for the living room, she is heard muttering, "Do you remember when Cliath used to respect Adren? Pepperidge farm remembers." The door is swung open in the front, then thudded shut on her exit for the car.

Dakota leaves Emma to chat with Fitz and takes out the chocolate peppermint cookies in the oven and sliding them off onto a makeshift rack to cool. "...alright, think... that's the last of 'em. I'm out of trays to stick 'em on. Ali, any pl-- ...right." The Theurge mumbles on the tail end of what sounded like a question, letting out a slow breath. She passes a glance over her shoulder towards Fitz with a half frown before she shrugs off her own robo-dino apron and moves to follow the other Gaian. "Wanna give us a hand with unloading, Reed?"

Reed ticks a look to Fitz, then nods a little. "Yeah, sure," he answers, as he peels away to follow Dakota outside.

Fitz's assholish little grin crooks upward a bit more on one side. "Hey, I didn't say I wasn't going to. I'm just being artistic here for a sec." He backs this up by holding up his hands in a framing gesture, like a painter or filmmaker setting up a composition. "Boot and Mud by Fitz the Cliath Metis Fianna Galliard. ...Nah, too obvious. Santa's Soil? Hmmm."

Emma takes the Cliath's information with a narrowed stare and a returned introduction. "Emma Mahler. Athro, and elder of the Get of Fenris. Ahroun." She looks to the mud and nods in its direction. "Don't be a dick today. It's the goddamn holidays." She leaves it at that, moving to the fridge to root for a beer.

Having popped the trunk, Alicia takes out a few wrapped packages and places them gently on the gravel so not to get them muddy. She has a frustrated look upon her face as she moves stiffly with each movement. Her hat has been yanked off and lobbed to the side as well. No more mistletoe.

Dakota remains quiet as she plucks up stacked packages, passing several over to Reed once he's close enough and holding the rest. Finally, she does talk, "Tonight, pack night. Just us, a lot of beer, junk food, and the best stories we can think of. I was thinking of spending time in the Umbra tonight with Praeses, too, go for a good run."

"But if I can't be a dick, then it's not much of a holiday for /me/," says Fitz in a mock-whining tone. Still, he saunters over to the boots, picks them up and tosses them toward the mudroom, pulls off the smelly Santa coat, drops it over a portion of the mud, then runs upstairs, hopefully to get something to clean up with. Hopefully.

Reed opens his mouth to speak, but the packages that are passed to him keep whatever his thoughts are to himself. He shuts his mouth when Dakota speaks, and steps aside to let his pack mates lead the way back to the house, when they're ready.

Emma seems satisfied with the current effort from the cliath, and so returns to the living room to finish setting out her couple of wrapped gifts. As she spots the others making their way back inside, she offers a half-hearted smile. "Sorry guys. Uh, Merry Christmas. Behave tonight. Don't get too off your rockers. And don't forget to spend some time with our better halves. Moons small enough. And it's rare we get it to work out that way. I'll clean up the kitchen. Consider it my Christmas treat."

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Time passes. Fitz cleans up the mud.

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Later:

Viv's present to Alicia is not a Thunderwyrm head; when unwrapped, it proves to be a large, irregular, obviously hand-made, and not unappetizing slab of toffee, with some rather crude glyphs stamped into it. Viv reaches down for two more similar-seeming packages for Dakota and Reed. "I know it ain't pretty, but it tastes good. Full of energy too. Chew some in the middle of a fight," she says, seeming a little flustered and even, unusually, embarrassed.

"Oh," Duke says, not sounding entirely convinced, and stares at the tree for a few seconds more. He turns to observe the handing out of presents, eyes narrowing slightly, and then moves to flop down in one of the overstuffed chairs. "Okay."

The gifts are taken with a mumbled thanks, but not immediately opened. Reed digs into his pack after setting the presents aside and pulls out some envelopes and wrapped parcels. The two Gaians each get an envelope, while Viv is given one of the small boxes.

"Sweet, thanks Viv. I love toffee." Alicia says wide grin as she wraps it back up so not to let it melt or get sticky all about her fingers. She leans in and gives her a firm hug before reaching out to take the envelope from Reed. She peeks inside it, then giggles. "And how'd you afford this?"

Fitz wanders downstairs. He's cleaned up tracked-in mud, taken a shower, availed himself of the hand-me-down clothes -- meaning he's dressed in sweats with a faded SCCU logo down one leg and a plain white t-shirt. The musty-smelling Santa coat's gone, but he still has the hat, pulled down low over his forehead, the dingy 'fur' brim half-covering his eyes. A large plastic WalMart bag hangs from one hand, dragging down the steps alongside bare feet, making crinkling noises.

"Battle candy? Awesome!" Dakota says, collecting up the one offered to her and quite gleefully inspecting it like a kid with a new toy. "Sugar makes anything better." She carefully rewraps it and sets it in her lap in time to take up the envelope. It's opened and there's a card, glitter and all, and she cracks a wide grin as she looks inside. "Hah, Reed that's awesome! I can't remember when the last time was I went to a spa. Thanks, both of you! Ah, speaking of..." She sets the gifts down next to her to collect up a few of the bundles. They are indeed large banana leaves wrapped with the membranes of another leaf. Each has a glyph dyed onto the leaf and has the subtle hum of something with spiritual power. To Viv goes one marked Courage. To Reed, Perseverance. To Alicia, Love. "A loose tea," She cautions, to avoid undue opening - and passes a glance towards Fitz before turning back to her pack. "But not just any tea. Steep it and drink it before you sleep. It took me forever to find just the right stories and spirits who knew them best, but they'll let you live - in lucid dreams anyway - a legendary story of your tribe."

"That's my secret," Reed states as he looks up at Alicia. He leans forward to add several other gifts to the pile under the tree. Those gifts he'd been given are tucked away into his backpack. "Thank you," he says to his pack mates, as he stands. "I'll be back down in a minute." He doesn't explain further, but jogs up the stairs a couple at a time.

Viv looks rather ill at ease as she catches Duke's look, having evidently not bought anything for those outside her pack. Rather than open her remaining presents how she tucks them inside the big pocket of her leather jacket. Looking after the departing Reed, she sees Fitz instead, and frowns slightly. "Hey, do we know you?" she asks him, fairly bluntly. Same old Viv.

Duke looks up at the addition of the crinkling sound from the stairs, and as Fitz comes into view, he squirms his way back up from the chair. "Duke," he says of himself, whether in response to Viv, or the habit instilled by his teachers. "Wayawa. Or Three Steps. I'm a Get a Fenris cub. And I got a moon job, now. A rotgut ragabag thing."

Taking the tea from Dakota, Alicia leans in and gives her a firm hug as well before passing a gift to her. "Thank you, Kotabutt. I figured you'd do something with the spirits. I can't wait to have an epic dream tonight. Hopefully it won't be about pink unicorns dancing on rainbows." She drawls out in a joking manner.

"Course I did, kinda my thing." Dakota says with a chuckle to her cousin. "And I made doubly sure it wasn't one you already knew. Which, I might add, is hard. Luckily I've heard all /your/ stories a million times." She teases with a wide grin before looking over to Duke. "Oh yah? Well that's good news! I take it that you meant to say Rotagar, or Ragabash in the non-Get terminology."

Fitz is about to answer Viv when Duke speaks up; he cocks his head at the cub, chin tipped up so he can look at him from underneath his grungy Santa hat. "Whoa, holy shit, holy /shit/, are you serious? /Rotgut/, fuck a reindeer up the ass with a pine tree, I'm gonna have to remember that one." And then he turns back and flips a crappy salute to Viv. "Fitz, Cliath, Metis, Fianna, Galliard AND--" He lifts the bag. "I have prezzies."

"I know /you/, Duke, it was this bloke I was wondering about. Viv Smitt, Adren, full moon, Get of Fenris... Homid," she adds, an eye scanning Fitz, quite plainly in search of any visible deformity. "Nice to meet ya. Merry Christmas, and all like that. You new in this sept?"

Duke glances over to Dakota and squints, one eye actually closing and lips twisting as he thinks about what she's said. "Yeah. That," he says, expression clearing as he returns to include the others. "We saw what the sky was like when I was born, and the moon was dark. So. That's what I am. I was almost a Fianna," he adds for Fitz, gaze dropping to the bag just briefly.

"Presents?" Dakota says with a glance over to Fitz. "Oh! ..introductions. I don't think I introduced myself before, was distracted with cookies. Dakota Winters, Heart's-Blood is the short version. Fostern Theurge of the Children of Gaia, Master of Rites, and.. like these two.." With appropriate thumb jerks to Viv and Alicia. "...and Reed who left, among others, members of the war pack Excelsior under Black Unicorn."

Fitz has no visible deformities, nothing to mark him, by the eye, as a filthy sterile halfbreed. "Still looking for someone to give my chimmy-dimmy to," he says in answer to Viv. The bag's lowered, opened, upturned. Dozens of unopened packages of Marshmallow Peeps tumble out. They're in the shape of white ghosts, their packaging marked with Halloween decorations. "Merry Christmas!" He tosses the bag up in the air. It kind of pathetically flutters to the floor, gaining no real air.

Viv looks from Fitz to the Peeps now littering the place, and back to Fitz. "O... kay," she says, seeming nonplussed, and picks a couple up. "You fresh into town, then, I guess?"

Duke looks from one to the next and makes his way toward the pile of peeps. He picks up one of the packages and pokes at it, experimentally.

Glancing down at the peeps, Alicia leans over and plucks up a box and carries it into the kitchen to retrieve her phone which is now playing some sort of Christian rock song.

Dakota takes up a box of her own with a bit of a shrug and a quiet chuckle. "Close enough. So still no chiminage?" The Theurge says towards Fitz with a faint, pensive frown. "Only ranked Fianna I know is Morgan, but I can't say I see her often. You've been here awhile, we'll need to get that sorted out. Got any gifts or rites you'd be willing or able to teach others? And that's... mostly not just me talking and liking to make sure people are spreading the wealth. Things can go extinct too easy these days, even the little things."

Fitz slouches over to a chair and drops himself into it, sprawling. He pushes the brim of his Santa hat up a very small bit. "Oh, I got a thing. Rescued it from Lone Oak before the shitstorm dropped. And by shitstorm, I mean of course a fucking giant horde of Wyrm." Not that it sounds like he cares.

Duke lifts his package of peeps and holds it out toward Fitz. "What're they for?" He's already squished one pretty well within the package. "They don't stay springy."

"It ain't up to me," Viv drawls, "but I suspect a bagfull of leftover Peeps isn't gonna quite cut it chimmy-wise. Not with Jacinta and company." She fixes her eye on Fitz again. "A thing," she repeats.

"They're peeps. Marshmallow candy, kinda. You eat them." Dakota says sidelong to Duke. "Or.. microwave one, if you're bored." And back to Fitz she looks, raising a brow questioning. She too seems intrigued by the Thing.

"What is he, a lupus?" Fitz doesn't seem inclined to talk about the Thing and is focussed on Duke now.

"He's a cub," Viv says bluntly, "who didn't get much in the way of upbringing. What about this thing?" she repeats.

Duke spends a moment more focused on the strange peeps before letting his hand fall to his side, the package still in his grasp. "I'm not a wolf," he tells Fitz. "And I got taught lots," he notes to Viv, a hint of anger in his voice. "Just not stuff I didn't need to know. Stupid stuff about wavecooking things. I learned more important stuff about fighting the monsters."

"A specialized education." Dakota remarks quietly, "But Fitz, knowing what you brought for chiminage /would/ be nice. This way we can actually see about you not hanging around in limbo until the last battle."

Fitz's eyes linger on Duke for a few more seconds; his smirk is unpleasant and knowing. Then he drops his head back against the arm of the easy chair and rolls a look over to Dakota. "Do I look like I'm in rush? I mean, and feel free to correct me if I'm /wrong/ 'cause you people do shit /different/ at this Sept or something, but if you're not Fianna elder and you're not the Sept Alpha, you don't have shit to say about whether what I've brought for chiminage is acceptable or not. Need to know and all that shit."

"An unbalanced education, then," says Viv. "As for you, Fianna, I don't give a roo's poo what you do about chiminage, but if you have something that a fucking giant horde of wyrm is after, I should say that keeping it to yourself is not doing this sept you've come to any favours."

Duke tosses the package of peeps back on the pile. Fitz gets a glare in response to that smirk, but the young ragabash turns his scowl to Viv when she speaks.

"Different has kept us alive." Dakota says with a weary sounding sigh. "In addition to Viv's concerns, I was going to help at least carry a message so they knew what to expect and where to find you, but, have it your way. Viv, I'm going to go." She says while collecting up gifts given. "I have a long trip and a lot of back roads to take to visit my family. With the moon low on a holiday, I'm taking full advantage of it."

Fitz, still hyper-slouched in the easy chair, spreads his arms. "It's not like I'm hard to find." The arms drop, though not before he uses a hand to tug down the brim of his Santa hat, covering his eyes completely. "Ho ho ho."

"I give up," Viv sighs. "Come on, Dakota, I'm gonna head out too. Before I lose my temper. Thank god Christmas falls on a thin moon this year."

Still frowning, Duke turns from the others as they start to leave, heading over to the fire place, instead. He glances at the Fianna, hat over his eyes, but for a moment focuses on building up the fire, adding logs already chopped and set by the wall.

Fitz hums something that roughly sounds like the tune to Jingle Bells.

Duke adds another log to the fire, glancing over his shoulder to the man in the chair. "They're always like that," he says, rising to his feet and dusting his hands off on his oversized jeans.

Fitz stops humming. "Like what, Rotgut?" He's got a new name for Duke.

If it's meant to be offensive, the cub doesn't seem to notice. "Like that. Asking questions even after you tell them the answer. Getting mad when they don't like the answer."

Fitz, the hat still over his eyes, grins crookedly, lazily. "Only to certain types. Types like us." He hooks a thumb under the brim of the hat and lifts it enough to fix Duke with a hard blue eye. "You mighta not been born it, but you're a fucking mule. I could tell like--" He snaps his fingers. "--that."

Duke brushes the hair back from his face, confusion showing briefly in his expression. His expression solidifies to something harder and he rubs at the back of his neck. "Because we're not like them? Because we don't know all the things they know?"

An unruly mop of rough-cut, dirty blond hair frames a face dotted with freckles, and both hair and skin show signs of long exposure to wind and sun. There's an openness to his expression that lends him an air of naivete. It often appears in the curve of his lips, in the pale green of his eyes, or in the slight cant of his head as he takes in the world.

A youth in the throes of adolescence, Duke is no longer a boy and yet not nearly a man. Having passed five and a half feet several inches ago, he verges on tall for his age, but he lacks the gawky appearance that often comes at this stage. His musculature is well developed, giving his form a harder edge than the rounded softness his features might lead one to expect.

What skin is visible bears a variety of scars, some minor, some much more intense. (+details available)

Jeans made to fit someone three times his size are belted with a multi-colored bungee cord. The shirt is likewise several sizes too big, and both have seen a lot of wear and rough use. The hiking boots are the only things that seem sized to fit, though even those are on the large size for the teenager's frame. Around his neck, he wears a corded necklace, long enough that much of it is often hidden beneath his shirt. When the rest is visible, a variety of fangs and claws can be seen dangling along its length.

Fitz shrugs. One leg, draped over the other arm of the chair, starts to bob. "Fuck you, kid. I know plenty of shit. I know what fucking Christmas is, for one thing." He shoves himself up into a partial sitting-up position. "I know why I'm a mule. I was born a mule. I've got no idea why /you're/ a mule despite being a homid. That's something you're gonna have to figure out yourself. Unless you're a dumbass, then you'd better hope someone likes you enough to explain it."

"I'm not stupid," Duke says, interrupting Fitz's last sentence, anger entering his voice and posture. "Christmas is stupid. Peeps is stupid. Putting trees inside a house is stupid. How does any of that help you fight the monsters?"

Fitz sits up and leans forward in the chair, one hand propped on a knee, the Santa hat cockeyed over one eye. His smile is a sarcastic baring of teeth, without any shred of friendliness. Just cruel cheer. "Because it's /fun/, you cow-eyed moron. Getting presents is /fun/. /Giving/ presents is fun. Trees are pretty and smell nice and putting shiny shit on them is fun. And Peeps are fucking delicious."

"None of that matters!" Duke shouts, leaning forward over his toes, hands clenching into fists. "We're wasting time. Always wasting time. Putting stupid shiny things on trees instead of being out hunting the monsters. I hear things. I hear about how the monsters are winning. And we're not doing anything but sitting here having a christmas." He draws in a breath, taking a step back, pulling himself back in.

Fitz stares at Duke for a long moment, then slouches back in the easy chair, stretching his legs. "Are you always like this with people?"

"Like what?" Duke says, the anger still audible, but not quite as surface as it had been.

"Talking like you know all the fucking answers, like you're better than everyone else." Fitz isn't smiling anymore; his lips are scrunched into a scowl. "'Christmas is bad! Having fun is bad! Gotta fight! Fight! Fight!'" The last three words are barked out, because the Galliard's sitting up now, fingers gripping the arms of his chair.

Duke scowls, scuffing a boot against the floor. "I try to learn things," he says with a hitch of a shoulder. "But they act like I'm stupid for not knowing them already, or they tell me I can't learn them, because I didn't have a test yet, because I didn't know what the moon looked like when I was born."

Fitz rolls his eyes and gets back to his feet. "Okay, okay, I'll make this simple. Special Christmas present from Uncle Fitzie. Okay?" He holds his hands out toward Duke. "Are you listening carefully, Cow Eyes?"

There's a twist at Duke's lips, a scowl that accompanies his nod. "Yeah?"

Fitz's smile is tight and condescending. "Now, keeping in mind that I'm basing all'a this on, like, a few hours observation. So, you wanna tell me to go fuck myself, fine. Your business, I don't fucking care. But here it is." He takes a breath. "It's not because you don't know anything that people think you're a shithead and don't like you. It's because you act like what you know is more important than anything anybody's gotta tell you. It's because you act like you might /die/ if you let yourself enjoy a little fucking recreation. Nobody, /nobody/ fucking likes that."

Despite the presentation, Duke actually seems to be listening to Fitz's words, giving his ideas some weight. But at the end, he gives a sharp shake of his head and bares his teeth. "I might! I already did a bunch of times. I don't like it. It's /not/ fun to die. I gotta be better than the monsters. I gotta learn the magic tricks, and learn to fight better. I don't need a stupid tree with lights on it. I need to learn more about the monsters, about where they are and how to fight them. That's what I need to not die."

Fitz shrugs, takes off the grimy Santa hat from his head, tosses it onto the pile of Halloween Peeps packages. "Rotgut knows all the answers. See you at your funeral, Rotgut. I give you a year. Two if you're lucky." He turns his back on Duke and heads for the door.

Duke scowls as the Fianna heads out, hooking his thumbs in his pockets but keeping his tongue.