The Park, Friday Afternoon

[hatesmoststuff.livejournal.com]

"Get away from me," April deadpanned at a cheerful group of gremlins with tiny little gremlin microphones in hand. She was just walking her dog; she didn't feel a pressing need to be harrassed by tiny animals she wasn't attached to.

The gremlins whispered amongst themselves for a moment, then launched into a rendition of-- honestly, April couldn't even tell what it was, because her player didn't know Christmas carols it was so off-key. In any event, that was the last straw for Cliff the three-legged pit bull, and he moved forward, making a noise that might potentially sound menacing if you had really tiny ears.

The gremlins scattered.

"Good dog," April said approvingly. She sat on a bench and patted the space beside her for Cliff to sit.

Between the two of them, they could protect this park from carolers. It was a new kind of heroing.

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[one-for-vanity.livejournal.com]

Porthos walked through the park at the head of a small parade of gremlins and Frenchmen (both dish-shaped and not), all singing heartily. As they approached April, he whistled sharply to get them all to quiet down.

"Good afternoon, mademoiselle!" he greeted her with a broad grin. "And a Joyeux Noël to you! Would you care to join us in, uh..." He turned, questioning, to the gremlins. "What was that word?"

"Wasssssaaaaaiiiiiiiiil!!!" they all hissed in unison. A few of them jumped up and down excitedly. It was kind of creepy, but Porthos didn't seem to notice that.

"Ah, yes. 'Wassail'. Would a beautiful young lady such as yourself like to join us in wassailing?"

[hatesmoststuff.livejournal.com]

Creepy? April could be creepy too, was the thing, Porthos. That unimpressed, unwavering stare of hers? That was a little bit creepy.

"No."

[one-for-vanity.livejournal.com]

Bah, Porthos had seen worse. He'd dealt with Richelieu, after all. "Have you no Chrismas spirit, young lady?!" he chastised. "Why, 'tis the season to be jolly, is it not?!"

[hatesmoststuff.livejournal.com]

April eyed him like he was a particularly dim toddler. "Maybe for you," she said, one arm going around Cliff on the bench beside her. "Is there a point to this?"