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Portalocity Office | 13 Griffin Way | Thursday

There was an extremely large bug somewhere in the office, and frankly, Sam was freaking out a little bit.

Look, she had no issue with bugs when they were a normal size. But this thing seemed easily the size of her fist, and to be honest, Sam wasn't completely sure that it didn't have the ability to murder her. She was allergic to a lot of things. She could easily be allergic to this enlarged wasp-looking thing.

So she had a plan. A plan formed half out of panic, granted, but it was still a plan. She needed to draw in the sort of brave people who might be persuaded to kill this bug for her, and to do that, she needed to make a quick sign...

20% OFF TRIPS TO PLANETS WITH (INACTIVE) VOLCANOS
30% OFF TRIPS TO PLANETS FAMOUS FOR THEIR TREACHEROUS CLIFFS
HALF OFF TRIPS TO PLACES THAT HAVE BOTH

Please let this work.

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. . . it was habit by now, okay, and Éponine took her usual several minutes out of her mail route to watch from across the street.

Sigh, 'Ponine.

And maybe kill this bug for her?

But oh, look, instead of just lurking outside like the creeper she could be and then wandering off, Éponine actually went inside this time. Granted, it was because a sign like the one in the window held a certain appeal for Miss Self-Destructive-Tendencies, but arguably it had done what it was meant to do.

"What's all this, are you trying to get rid of bothersome people?" she asked, indicating the sign.

You could say that description could apply to her. It was entirely possible she knew that.

"Quite the opposite, actually," Sam replied, eyes flicking over to Éponine before settling back on the freakishly giant wasp a few inches from the door. "But before I explain the sign, I should warn you that there's a terribly nasty-looking bug just there."

She pointed.

Éponine looked over toward the wasp.

And promptly burst out laughing.

"Good lord, is that all?" Sorry, Sam. "It's an ugly thing, but not so hard to get rid of."

Sam looked desperate, but hopeful.

"Would you do it?" she entreated.

"All right, then, I don't see why not," Éponine decided with a reckless shrug. She pulled a thick magazine out of her mailbag, not particularly caring if it was supposed to be delivered to someone (much less who the recipient was), set the bag on the floor, and rolled up the magazine to wield like a short club.

"Come on now, my sharp-pointed friend," she called in a singsong as if she were trying to lure the wasp into a trap. Which, in a way, she was. "It isn't very polite of you to make an appearance at parties where you haven't been invited, you know."

She missed, with the first swing, which only had the wasp trying to divebomb her face. The second made contact (aided by the sheer size of the thing, undoubtedly), and knocked it to the floor stunned.

"That's what you get for being rude," Éponine informed it, and stepped on it emphatically.

Sam stared. Look, that was badass.

"You're a lifesaver," she told Éponine vehemently. "Thank you."

You should've seen what she did outside a garden gate on the Rue Plumet one night, Sam. Or not, since she hadn't been her most mentally stable that night.

"No need to think anything of it," Éponine said, and made a face when the now ex-wasp squelched under her shoe. That was a lot of ex-wasp. "I don't like bugs like that. What earthly good do they do? None, that's what, except to frighten and inconvenience people."

"And now it's my turn to offer you a tissue," Sam said, hurrying around from behind the desk with a wad of Kleenex in her hand. Without thinking anything of it, she knelt down and retrieved the dead wasp in the tissue, making a disgusted face all the while. "I can't think of anything they contribute, to be honest. I can't think of an animal that would voluntarily eat them, either."

"Hmph -- I certainly wouldn't," Éponine declared, standing on one foot as she inspected the sole of her shoe. "Now, caterpillars -- they aren't very pleasant-looking, but at least they turn into butterflies, and they're pretty then."

She sounded vaguely jealous.

"Mosquitos are no picnic either," Sam shared. "Biting us and making us itch for no good reason. I'd gladly be rid of those."

Edited 2013-06-27 19:47 (UTC)

Éponine pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and fastidiously wiped the sole of her shoe off.

"Lord, if it's biting pests we want to get rid of, I can think of so many," she said, folding the paper up and going to throw it away. "But so long as we're wishing for the impossible --"

She paused, then huffed a skeptical laugh.

"Well, not much point in doing that."

"What?" Sam asked, a little more gently than her everyday tone. "There are quite a few impossible wishes I'd rather like granted from the multiverse, personally."

"I've a neverending list of them, myself," Éponine said, staring out the window. "Only it's a waste of time, isn't it? Where's the use in it, after a while, except to remind you of what you can't have?"

She was so optimistic.

"Well, you never know when the island will start granting wishes for a day," Sam remarked wryly. "But it's unlikely. I suppose there's always a chance that something isn't quite as impossible as you thought?"

"Perhaps." She didn't sound like she believed it, though, and lapsed into singing quietly to herself, some old song in French about lamenting the end of the summer.

"I'm nineteen today," she said abruptly, still staring outside. "So perhaps there's something not quite that impossible after all."

"Are you really?" God, she was young. But Sam got what she meant. "Well, you have to celebrate somehow. I don't suppose they had birthday cakes in nineteenth-century France, did they?"

She didn't feel that young sometimes. Didn't really look it in a certain light, either.

"Oh, there are people who have them," Éponine answered, trying a little too hard to sound like she didn't care. "Me, though, not since I was a kid."

Even if her parents had cared enough to bother, they couldn't afford it anyway.

"Well, allow me to take over, then," Sam said with determination. "I hear the bakery in town isn't bad. Could I maybe take you there sometime soon?"

She felt a little embarrassed -- the wording of the question sounded a little too uncomfortably close to what it sounded like to ask someone on a date, and that wasn't her intention. But a birthday was a birthday, and if there was something she could do to help Éponine, she wanted to do it.

Oh, Sam, don't encourage her, because that was about what it sounded like to her.

It wasn't likely to help much that Éponine's first reaction was to turn and stare at her, then burst out laughing in disbelief.

"Me!" she exclaimed, incredulously. "You would actually want to do that?"

"If you've got the time," Sam said sincerely. "I'd like to. Everyone ought to have some sort of celebration on their birthday. Or for their birthday, if not tonight."

Edited 2013-06-27 22:46 (UTC)

Éponine was a little bit torn between wondering if something was playing a trick on her and deciding 'to hell with it' because she'd never turn down a free meal.

"I meant to see about having a good dinner tonight," she said, dragging the words out reluctantly; she had mixed feelings about this whole birthday thing, to be honest, but if she hadn't expected to live to see 19, she might as well commemorate it in some way, even ironically. "You really don't need to trouble yourself, but --"

To hell with it. She'd never even really had friends until she came here, so why turn that down even if she had no idea why people kept voluntarily spending time with her?

"But if you're going to insist, well, all right then."

She said it so cheerfully, it was a stark contrast from her cynicism just a minute ago.

Sam let out a chuckle. "All right then," she echoed, smiling. "And as you're the one celebrating your birthday, would you like to pick the place as well? I've honestly only got the slightest inkling of what restaurants there even are nearby, but so long as it's not curry, I should be fine with anything."

Allergies again. Sigh.

"Oh, don't worry about that; I know all of them," Éponine said, sounding fairly proud of that statement. "And I want a nice big meal, and to watch the waiters have to scurry around and do as I say -- I've enough money for that."

And she hadn't even had to steal anyone's wallet. How was that for a change?

"Entertainment as well as dinner," Sam laughed. "You certainly know what you want. Well, how's this: as soon as I close up here, I'll meet you wherever you like. We can have the waiters scurry around plenty."

"Il Pollo, then?" Éponine suggested, and of course she knew when closing time was. All that lurking was informative. "I won't be waiting for nothing, I hope."

"It's a... plan." This was Sam taking care to not use any misleading language here. See, she was just that nice a person. Or something. "I'll see you then. And in the meantime, happy birthday."

It was really sad how much more upbeat she looked now, lack of misleading language or not.

"Thank you very much," Éponine said with a laugh, sketching an exaggerated curtsey as she went to pick up her mailbag. "I'll leave you to your portals now, shall I?"

"And I'll let you get back to your mail," Sam replied, smiling as she returned the curtsy, though a bit more awkwardly. "See you in a bit."

I'M SO MAD AT MATT FRACTION YOU GUYS.

*CRIES*

Did you see the way he was answering questions on tumblr? HE CALLED CLINT A TERRIBLE DOG OWNER I CAN'T EVEN. AND HE TOLD KATIE CLINT WON'T BE GETTING HIM BACK ANYTIME SOON WHICH JUST NO. *sobs*

YES. THERE WAS CAPSLOCKING BECAUSE I WAS REALLY REALLY MAD LAST NIGHT.

BECAUSE YOU CAN'T GIVE US THAT IMAGE UP THERE AND THEN BE ALL "OH CLINT SUCKS, HE'S BETTER OFF" OVER SOMETHING THAT KIND OF MAKES KATE A TERRIBLE PERSON. AND IF IT WAS JUST THE FANS SAYING THAT, WHATEVER, IT'S TUMBLR SO I ASSUME THEY'RE 15 ANYWAY, BUT WHEN IT'S THE WRITER SAYING IT? RAGE.

Ahem.

LIKE THIS WHOLE TIME I'VE REALLY BEEN REALLY EXCITED BY HOW MUCH HE JUST GETS CLINT, AS A PERSON, BUT SUDDENLY IT'S LIKE "OH LOL HE SUCKS AS A DOG PARENT AND I'M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU GUYS WHY." AND SUDDENLY KATE GETS HIS DOG IN THE DIVORCE? AND CLINT CLEARLY OBJECTED BUT HE'S TOO CLINT TO SAY ANYTHING? NO. UNACCEPTABLE.

Basically I highly doubt that any amount of filling in the gaps will clear this up but HE HAD STILL BETTER FUCKING FILL IN THE GAPS.

YES. YES YES YES YES. AND LIKE, I DON'T THINK CLINT PROBABLY EVEN GOT A CHANCE TO OBJECT REALLY. BUT DUDE, THIS ISN'T LIKE HIM TAKING LUCKY FROM IVAN AFTER LUCKY GOT THROWN INTO TRAFFIC. WHAT DID CLINT DO THAT WAS BAD? FEED HIM PIZZA? BECAUSE 1. HE PROBABLY DIDN'T KNOW AT FIRST THAT DOGS SHOULDN'T EAT IT, 2. IF LUCKY COULDN'T EAT IT, CLINT WOULD DEFINITELY KNOW BY NOW, 3. ONE OF THE IMAGES IN THIS VERY ISSUE HAS THE PIZZA LINKED TO KATE WHO'S SUPPOSEDLY BETTER SO GUESS THAT, STUPID PIZZA ARGUMENT IS INVALID. AND YOU CAN'T GIVE US CLINT AND LUCKY BEING ADORABLE HERE AND THEN SAY "OH HE'S A SHITTY PET OWNER" WHEN WE'VE NEVER EVER SEEN ANYTHING BUT AWESOME FROM THOSE TWO. AND EVEN IF KATE WAS SO MUCH BETTER EVEN THOUGH WE'VE NEVER ACTUALLY SEEN HER INTERACT WITH LUCKY, YOU DON'T FUCKING TAKE A GUY'S DOG.

CLINT HAS NO ONE NOW. LITERALLY NO ONE. BECAUSE BARNEY IS SCUM AND NOT A VALUABLE MEMBER OF ANYONE'S SUPPORT SYSTEM. AND NOW CLINT HAS TO DEAL WITH THIS CRAP ALL BY HIMSELF WITH LITERALLY NO SIDEKICK AND NO FRIENDS. AND AS FAR AS I CAN TELL FROM THE LACK OF DIALOGUE IN THIS ISSUE AND FROM HER FACIAL EXPRESSIONS, KATE WASN'T DOING IT FOR LUCKY'S OWN GOOD AT ALL, BECAUSE NOTHING THAT BAD HAPPENED TO HIM HERE THAT SHE COULD SEE. SHE'S PUNISHING CLINT FOR WHATEVER HE DID AND/OR SAID, AND SHE HAS TO KNOW HE'S NOT GONG TO BE OKAY AFTER THIS. SO, YEAH, NOT FORGIVING HER ANYTIME SOON.

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Portalocity Office | 13 Griffin Way | Thursday

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