fandomtownies | Around town, Thursday afternoon

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Around town, Thursday afternoon

Something had sent Eliot's morning coffee careening off the counter, and sent Val into fits, both of which had Eliot's adrenaline running on high.

Since, you know, he'd met this island and all.

So his usual run had extended by more than few hours, as he made sure to run past or through as much of the town and the preserve as possible, Val panting along at his heel the whole way, letting out occasional whimpers and barks.

At this point, she was honestly about as worried about her person as she was about the island. This run was going on forever!

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Parker was waiting on one corner, perched on a bench. With popcorn.

Hey, watching Eliot run was entertainment!

"Snack?"

"Dammit, Parker," Eliot grumbled, slowing to a stop. Shit, his knees hurt. "Did you at least eat some protein for breakfast?"

"Cheese is protein." Which didn't always mean she'd eaten some, but in this case, yes. She threw a piece toward Val, and asked, "Find anything creepy?... Creepier than usual?"

"Not yet." Eliot batted the popcorn out of the air before Val could snatch it up. She gave him a little sad look, but he ignored it. "Stop feedin' my dog junk."

"But Megabyte loves it. And it's not like chocolate." That was a sad day, finding out that Val couldn't share Parker's love for the bean. "It could just be a little tremor. Maybe. Right?"

"That don't mean it's good for her," Eliot pointed out. "And her name is Val."

Oh yeah. He was definitely in a Mood.

"Since when has anything around here ever actually turned out to be little?"

"Since..." Yeah, never. Parker ate another mouthful of popcorn, looking worried. Last year at this time, it was zombie-weirdness. Sorta-zombies. And a terrifyingly sad hobo Eliot, as well as DeadParker and DeaderHardison.

"It's going to be Christmas soon." CHRISTMAS! "Maybe Santa will save us."

"Santa? 'Round here, he'd probably turn out to eat children." Sorry, Parker.

Parker inhaled on a piece of popcorn and nearly choked.

Damnit, Eliot! That deserved a handful of popcorn thrown en mass at you.

Shit.

"Don't -- Parker, there isn't even a --" Yeah, telling her 'there is no Santa' wouldn't be an improvement, would it. "Look, I'm on guard, okay? We'll be fine."

If there was one thing that past trauma was good for, it was keeping you on your toes!

Heathen. Santa loved them. He was a guy who broke in and left presents for people! He was not a person who would harm anyone! Ever!

A small cough, and Parker took a breath. "We will. Yes. We always are." She examined a bite of popcorn suspiciously. "Even if you get coal for saying that."

"You're going to give me coal for insulting Santa?"

"Santa is going to give you coal for accusing him of cannibalism," Parker said sternly. Then she looked thoughtful. "What do people taste like?"

Because if anyone knew, it would be Eliot.

Or, you know, judging by the appalled look on his face, not Eliot.

"Why the hell would you think I'd know that?!"

"You're Chef Jefe'," which might or might not be something she'd heard someone call him. "You know all things food. We're not nutritious, right?"

"People aren't food!" Why did people have trouble with that concept?

"Good to know." Parker pointed at him. "And that is why Santa would never eat little kids. Okay? OKAY."

So there. Also, now she was slightly less worried about being eaten by people at some point. Which might not be a valid bit of reassurance.

"We should build an earthquake shelter."

"I'm not saying that --" He hadn't had this much trouble following a conversation with Parker in ages. "The house is already earthquake proofed. I rebuilt the damn thing myself."

"Then how did we feel that shaking this morning?" Granted it wasn't much, but. "Stupid Island." She hopped off the bench and patted the ground. "I didn't mean that."

"I do," Eliot grumbled. "Earthquake proof means it doesn't fall down, Parker, not that you don't feel anything at all."

"So. We're good? And we're prepared." Of course they were. Eliot was just being Eliot about it. "And we're not buying anything or trading anything or insulting anything that can curse us. Christmas and all other holidays on schedule!"

They hadn't bought, traded, or insulted anything last year, either. And Eliot hadn't done any of that when he got possessed by a serial killer, either.

He twitched faintly.

"We'll be fine," he said again. "I'm on guard."

Maybe they should be thanking the Island for the warning? Maybe give it a gift basket? Parker would work on that. Hmm.

"You're always on guard." When he was on guard against too many things, or nothing-in-particular, he started to get Crazy Eyes after too long. "You should find something or someone to punch. Or you can make me a real breakfast."

Something to punch sounded really nice, actually. Eliot's hands balled into fists just thinking about it. Making her breakfast, though. . . .

"It's afternoon, Parker!"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Really, Eliot. Time was an illusion, wasn't it?

"Please tell me you've eaten something other than popcorn since breakfast."

"...there was parmesan on the popcorn. Maybe some cheddar."

"Oh my god."

Okay, so one way to distract Eliot from obsessively patrolling the island was to get him to force some vegetables and fiber into his girlfriend instead. Well done, Parker.

"How are you even still alive?"

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Around town, Thursday afternoon

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