Howard Bassem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trans_92011-12-30 06:57 am
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in trans_92011-12-30 06:57 am
And We're Gonna Pull Through [Bendytimed to After System Shock]
It's probably a solid two weeks before Christmas is due, assuming that their Thanksgiving dinner was on schedule which, given the nature of the ship, it presumably wasn't. But the robot attack was terrifying and disheartening and exhausting, and Howard wants a holiday, so according to him, it's Christmas. A nice, relaxing break from things trying to kill them.
Aside from this strand of Christmas lights doing its damnedest to strangle him, that is. Howard's managed to get it around his neck, and if it weren't for the fact that finding light strands is hard enough on Stacy, would be cutting it off with scissors.
He's still a bit beat-up, bandages around his head and his knees and one looping around his torso, under his shirt, but thanks to the healers and medical technology on Stacy he's not in much pain. His foot being in a brace is the worst of it.
He's managed to salvage an old plastic tree from a run-down building. A few packets of hot cocoa from the Warehouse sit on the table. Flossy Raptor is downstairs and dressed in a Santa hat and bizarrely, a feather boa in a shade of green too lime-ish to be Christmassy. A clunky-looking dog-sized gift for Zouichi is by the couch, wrapped in tin foil and newsprint, and another is on the table for Karis, although it's unwrapped. No one else quite makes Howard's list this year.
He pulls his way out of the tangle of lights. Christmas numero dos sans his family. Christmas numero uno on Stacy. He finds he's less okay with the former than he was last year, but more okay with the latter than he'd presumed.
Anyone who walks into the kitchen of the Susono Inn will be greeted by the rare and unusual sound of Howard humming. Go Tell It On the Mountain, actually. He even sings the section of the first verse that he vaguely remembers under his breath.
"Go tell it on the mountain, up over the hills and everywhere, go tell it on the mountain, tell them something, I don't care."
Aside from this strand of Christmas lights doing its damnedest to strangle him, that is. Howard's managed to get it around his neck, and if it weren't for the fact that finding light strands is hard enough on Stacy, would be cutting it off with scissors.
He's still a bit beat-up, bandages around his head and his knees and one looping around his torso, under his shirt, but thanks to the healers and medical technology on Stacy he's not in much pain. His foot being in a brace is the worst of it.
He's managed to salvage an old plastic tree from a run-down building. A few packets of hot cocoa from the Warehouse sit on the table. Flossy Raptor is downstairs and dressed in a Santa hat and bizarrely, a feather boa in a shade of green too lime-ish to be Christmassy. A clunky-looking dog-sized gift for Zouichi is by the couch, wrapped in tin foil and newsprint, and another is on the table for Karis, although it's unwrapped. No one else quite makes Howard's list this year.
He pulls his way out of the tangle of lights. Christmas numero dos sans his family. Christmas numero uno on Stacy. He finds he's less okay with the former than he was last year, but more okay with the latter than he'd presumed.
Anyone who walks into the kitchen of the Susono Inn will be greeted by the rare and unusual sound of Howard humming. Go Tell It On the Mountain, actually. He even sings the section of the first verse that he vaguely remembers under his breath.
"Go tell it on the mountain, up over the hills and everywhere, go tell it on the mountain, tell them something, I don't care."
no subject
no subject
"Uh, no, dummy, I mean Christmas. God."
no subject
She shrugged and turned back to him, "Just robots. This time."
no subject
Howard makes a melodramatic sigh. "Damn, and here I was hoping you'd accidentally off racist Spider-Man or something."
no subject
"No. But I could always find a way to do it for you. Wouldn't be hard to try and arrange an accident or something. Merry Winter's Veil."
no subject
no subject
"A book? On what?"
Goodness knows she doesn't do that much reading these days.
no subject
no subject
"Thanks, Howie."
And for a moment, she actually sounded touched. And then it was back to steel and cold disdain. "I usually just make jerky. But hey, might as well try something new..."
no subject