Magic Box | Thursday

[dishesonthetoprack]

This week's offering to Jeff: a little maple leaf-decorated cupcake.

Look, Jeff was clearly an American skeleton (correction: no, he was just dressed like one), but apparently tomorrow was Canada Day, and apparently this was an island that seemed to observe it in some capacity even though Canada was like, hundreds of miles from here.

Whatever. Maple was delicious. And Scott was also kinda into these fairy lights Wanda had strung up, and by the end of his shift, he was going to have them rigged so they actually fed into each other and could be turned on with a single switch.

That master's degree. Look at all the use he was getting out of it.

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[pun_king]

Graham had been meaning to check out this shop for a while now, and today he seemed to have just the right amount of restless boredom to finally do it.

And while there were likely many things at the Magic Box to capture an active imagination like his, there was one thing in particular that snagged him right away.

"Zoooounds!" he gushed, once he spotted a certain skeleton and the treat presumably? in his hand, with the awe of someone meeting a celebrity, eyes wide as they turned toward Scott for confirmation. "Is this Jeff?"

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"That's what Wanda calls him," Scott noted, amused at Graham's reaction. "He's never given me his name, like, formally."

He wasn't even sure what Jeff was short for. Presumably Jeffrey, but maybe Jefferson! Jeffer...ton. Jeffbert. The options were endless, truly.

[pun_king]

If you asked Graham, he would totally agreed that he looked like a Jeffbert if he'd ever seen one.

(Which he, sadly, hadn't).

"Wooooow." Graham took this information in with stars in his eyes as he gazed on Jeff with appreciation. "I read about this guy on the radio every week! So that must mean..."

His finger rested on his chin a moment before it went swinging out toward Scott with confidence. "You're Scott! Right?"

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"Got it in one, dude!" Scott even gave Graham a thumbs up -- that was some kind of cute deductive reasoning to watch in action, there. (And honestly, until Graham had said the word 'radio,' Scott had been trying to place the kid's voice, so thank you for doing it for him!) "So you're...Graham? Am I remembering that right?"

Graham was one of the few radio people whose name Scott actually could remember, and wasn't just referred to exclusively by nickname in his head. (There was Kind of Mean Girl, British Guy, British Girl, Maybe Australian Guy, Clint Barton, Graham -- who was also Enthusiasm Kid -- and Renfest-Sounding Guy.)

[pun_king]

And that kind of name recognition was exactly why Graham always started out with a greeting and identification. Sometimes, half a knight's power came from good branding!

So excuse him a moment while he marveled with delight that it had been working!

"That's right!" he gushed, and then, clearing his throat, he pulled himself up importantly, gave his cloak a dramatic toss over his shoulder, and deepened his voice as his hands settled on his hips. "Graham Cracker, future Knight of Daventry, current Voice of Squirrels every Friday on your local squirrel radio station! Always pleased to meet a fan!"

Well. Or at least someone who listened enough to recognize him. Same difference.

[dishesonthetoprack]

Hey, Scott was going to eventually have a tell-all Ant-Man podcast, so. Wasn't like he didn't get it.

And he was also a dad, as well as a guy who got starstruck on the regular, so his response here was all but instinct.

"Oh, man. Can I get an autograph?" he asked, taking care to make sure he didn't come across as mocking as he grabbed a slip of scrap paper and a pen from by the register.

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Oh, no, even if he had been mocking Graham, that kind of sarcasm would have gone flying right over Graham's feathered cap. And even as it was, he'd suspected it would be years before he'd managed to establish that kind of prestige, and so his jaw just dropped at the question.

"Really?" he gawked, as if he could scarcely believe it.

And then promptly shook his head, snapped back into it, and cleared his throat again.

"I mean," he said, voice gone even deeper as he puffed out what little chest he had and reached out for the pen and paper. "Why, of course you can! It's the least I can do for....a fan...."

Yeah, all bravado and posturing faded away back into completely stunned awe with that last part.

He had a fan!

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Oh, thank god Graham had actually believed him -- Scott wasn't sure whether he could sell it much harder than he already had, but it seemed pretty clear to him that the request had basically made the kid's day, and that was what he was after.

"Yeah, really," he replied, grinning as he handed over the paper. "I mean, you're my favorite broadcaster. This is an honor, man. I've never actually met someone who talked about me on the news before."

Mostly because he'd been kind of imprisoned, the last time he'd been on the news. Not a lot of time to meet, like, Katie Couric.

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Making his day was a vast understatement, really.

"Well," said Graham, with the new weight of this authority and prestige in his tone despite the absolutely delirious grin splitting his face as he scribbled down his name with flourish, "you and Jeff keep doing you, and I'll keep talking about it on ~the neeeews~."

This was the first time (hopefully not the last! Although a future Graham in the early stages of carpal tunnel from signing official doctrines and ordinances and new rules and laws within Daventry's rather....extensive beurocratic system deeply envied current Graham's precious naivety) he'd ever signed an autograph, so he wanted to make it good. He felt it needed a little more, though, so he added a little doodle that looked like Triumph's adorable face like a period.

Satisfied, he now handed the paper and the pen back to Scott with a nod and his grin gone lopsided. "Hold onto that!" he suggested. "I've only just begun, you know!"

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"Oh, it's getting framed so I can sell it on eBay or something when you get really big," Scott assured him, giving the autograph the reverent, appreciative look it deserved. (Cassie's fridge artwork had received the same sort of look, historically.) "And I'll get to tell people I knew the real Graham Cracker back when."

A pause.

"Oh, man, that's a great name," he added, privately wondering how often Graham was teased about it. (Hopefully not all the time. Scott hadn't even realized until he'd heard himself say it aloud.)

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Graham had, actually, somewhat miraculously, never been made fun of because of his name.

Not to his face, at any rate.

It probably helped that the only people he really interacted with before coming here had been mostly sisters and woodland creatures, so there really wasn't anyone to make fun of him about it.

So it was still with all sincerity and genuine pride that he chirped back, "Thanks! My mom gave it to me!"

[dishesonthetoprack]

"Your mom is clearly a lady of taste," Scott replied, deferential to Graham's absent mother. "Did you say you're a future knight?"

That tracked, what with the whole Robin Hood vibe and the fact that Scott had no idea where in the hell Daventry was.

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"I did say that!" said Graham, still pleased at punch at the mere fact that people around here seemed to actually pay attention to things like what other people said. "I'm in training, of course. Even took some classes at knight school back home, but I've got a few years before I can qualify to compete in the ~Tournament of Knights~."

Giving the title all the awe and respect and sweeping gestures and waggling fingers it deserved, of course.

"But I think I've got a solid chance!" he added hopefully. "My father was a knight, and so was his father before him, and his father before him. But not his father before him, he was a dentist, but either way you look at it, I come from a long line of protecting crowns."

....never got old, that one.

[dishesonthetoprack]

"'Kay, first of all," Scott said, cocking a finger at Graham, "great joke."

Oh no.

"Man, I don't know any knights, I don't think," he continued, actually thinking about whether anyone he knew qualified as a knight in any substantive way. He knew a guy with a shield, but that was only one piece of the whole knighthood deal, it seemed. "Is it a real competitive field?"

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Why. Why do you all just keep encouraging this? Graham beamed, basking in the glow of that appreciation for a moment before he answered.

"To be a knight in general?" he started, and shook his head with a dismissive hand. "Not hard at all! But to be a Knight....of Daventry?"

The wide eyes and awed expression should say it all, but he gladly elaborated.

"The competition is some of the fiercest around! According to Doctrine 5-16-A24, only one," he thrust a finger out dramatically, "competitor may be chosen to knighthood per tournament, with consideration to exceptions via Amendment 634a, Clause 528c. Each competitor must show his skill and prowess in a Duel of Wits, a Duel of Speed, and a Duel of Strength!

"I think I've got the Speed and the Wits down pretty good," Graham admitted, rubbing the back of his neck a bit sheepishly in a way that emphasized the particularly string-bean nature of his limbs. "Still kind of working on the Strength."

But he'd get there! One day, a certain blacksmith might even request to do her laundry on those abs!

"There's also," Graham recited, clearly having looked into what was expected of him for this competition extensively, "a Parade of Hopefuls, a Test of Chivalry, and," he paused dramatically, because this part was the really, really good part, "~The Quest for the Eye of a Hideous Beast~! Ooo~oooh!"

So, so many waggled fingers with this one.

So, so many cyclopean creatures around Daventry through the years...

[dishesonthetoprack]

Scott digested all of that with a thoughtful nod, before contributing a couple of important thoughts. "You've got time on the strength thing," he assured Graham, as a fellow stringy guy who hadn't filled out until he'd been an adult. (A strong core was important for...crime. And there wasn't a lot else to do in prison!) "But -- okay, is it a specific hideous beast? 'Cause I've got this ex-mother-in-law...."

Bah-dum-tss.

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That pulled a broad grin out of Graham...not that that was exactly difficult.

"There have been many detailed alterations to the rules over the years," he said, because if there was one thing Daventry loved, it was amendments and addendums, "but there's always room for creative interpretation. So maybe we might have to make sure she gets an invite!"

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"Perfect, dude. Good thinking," Scott decided with a firm nod. "This sounds like way more paperwork than I figured was involved in knighthood."

He figured it was all round tables and damsels or whatever.

[pun_king]

"The Daventry Guard is easily the most structured and organized knighthood in the whole world where I'm from," sometimes to its own detriment, really, "so they take it Very Seriously."

[dishesonthetoprack]

"And they'll accept your transfer credits at knight school back home?" Scott checked, nodding vaguely towards the school. "Or a diploma from here? I mean, it sounds like the kind of thing where that might actually give you an edge."

You know, it showed he was well-rounded or something, right?

[pun_king]

"That's what I'm hoping for, anyway!" Graham said eagerly. "Even if it doesn't make any difference on the paperwork, there's no way this kind of exposure and life experience won't pay off! It guess it could make a difference based on who I'll be up against; maybe it'll be a really stacked year! But, no matter how it goes, I wanna make sure I'm as prepared as can be!"

[dishesonthetoprack]

"When I was applying for college, the big thing was having a ton of extracurriculars in addition to grades," Scott shared, thinking about this a little. "You should include stuff like -- the thing in the park every week. That's a team-building activity, if you pitch it right."

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"Oh," Graham said excitedly, "those Wednesday activities are great! I even got to work on my dramatic entrance yesterday! I didn't end up winning that one," allow for a small moment of defeat to slip through in the slouch of his shoulders, but they straightened back up almost immediately with renewed optimism, "but that just means I have to keep at it and keep trying! I've got a job here, too! Over at the ~MaaAAaagpie Emporuim~! Which, by the way, does not sell magpies or mag-pies, but that second seems more up your alley here , anyway. Although, that does make a person wonder...if the Magpie Emporuim does not, in fact, sell magpies....does the Magic Box not sell magic boxes?"

[dishesonthetoprack]

Scott held up a finger, looking around until he retrieved a small, ornate box from a shelf. "I have no idea what this does," he shared, holding the little box up to show Graham. "But I assume it's some kind of magic box.

He wrinkled his nose. "I'm not much of a magician myself," he admitted. "I only know a couple things."

And it was misleading to call himself a magician in any capacity, but okay, Scott.

[pun_king]

Graham's wide and fascinated eyes smoothly transitioned from the magical mystery box of unknown properties to the apparent magical mystery man of equally unknown talent.

"Like what?" he asked, because of course he would. "Can you turn yourself invisible? Pull a rabbit out of a hat? Talk to animals? Cast FIREBALL?? Move entire CASTLES with you MIND?"

The excitement at the prospects grew in relation to their extremeness, and it was honestly a miracle that Graham wasn't practically hanging off a shelf with his inability to contain his eagerness for the answer by the end of it.