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Steve hadn't noticed anything going horribly wrong today until he called back to Honolulu when Hawaii finally woke up. Chin's lazy "Howzit," reply had led to Steve unloading about how he actually was for two solid minutes before he could get himself to shut up.

So now he was working from home. In his room. With the door locked.

Very normal.

[OOC: for Danno.]

pocketpretzels

So the nice thing about living in a house that could rearrange itself on a whim was that... it could rearrange itself on a whim.

Hence why the kitchen currently had a fireplace in one wall, with a fire cheerily crackling away (and a cat happily sprawled in front of it).

Watts was at the stove, finishing up frying the last few slices of a batch of French toast. "Nearly done," he reported to Steven, though the latter could likely see as much from where he was slicing the fruit they'd be using for toppings.

[ooc: for the husband, and NFB please.]

joan_of_bark

Winter had hit Fandom hard, and Pam hadn't seen much of a reason to go back to her store during the week. She assumed everyone had been snowed in. She had work to do in Slaughter Swamp - even if it was less pressing due to the season - and, well.

Harley did always like it when she was home.

There was also the invite they'd given other Harley. While there hadn't been a set date, Pam knew enough about how Harleys worked to expect that visit at, well.

Any moment.

She sat down on their rounded corner-shaped sofa, glass of tea in hand. It was a day without classes to teach for her Harley - so Harls was still in bed, sleeping through the entire morning.

Which made it nicely quiet. Peaceful, really.

[[ expecting one ]]

imafuturist

Tony had meant to do something nice for Steve after they got back from their class and all the snow involved in it. He'd really meant to. But instead he'd immediately gotten pulled into a project after a phone call from his R&D department back in New York, needing a solution before Pepper got an ulcer from the stress.

Which meant he went straight to the lab to work it out. And then that turned into tinkering with his dozens of other Stark Industries based projects in various states of completion.

And then from there, he was working on a version of the suit. Mark... look, the number wasn't important. The important thing was that he'd forgotten the original plan. Which he'd realize at some point, right?

[for the hubbie]

deathsmajesty

Liliana was scrolling through her phone, looking at warm places. Carnival in Argentina was very late this year, not until mid-February, which meant that while they certainly could go to their Argentine villa to celebrate Ignis' birthday, they could also choose to go somewhere else and visit the villa when Carnival proper was happening.

Wherever they went, however, Liliana was demanding that it be warm. None of this snow nonsense. She'd book them a trip to the Jund, first.

deathsmajesty

Liliana woke up, looked out the window, and laughed at the very idea of going to work in this kind of weather. Absolutely not. Her existence as a shopkeep was on sufferance at the best of times, which this was not. Her job for today was to entreat Ignis to help her discover how many different warm beverages she could drink before dinner, and possibly to discover the minimum amount of clothing she could wear without being unduly bothered by the outside chill.

...Both of which she'd get to after sleeping a little while longer. Nothing about this weather made getting out of bed desirable.

Hmm, perhaps she had been too ambitious with those aforementioned jobs. A better idea might be to convince Ignis to come back to bed and stay there with her for the rest of the day...

Regardless of what she was doing, it wasn't going to involve leaving the house--unless they were portaling somewhere warmer instead.

[Establishy, but certainly open for texts, callers ridiculous enough to go out in the cold, and, of course, the gentleman so referenced!]

grenadesandohana

It wasn't entirely because Steve was a delicate hothouse flower and the East Coast was going to be cold as hell this weekend that Steve and Danny were back in Hawai'i! They had things to do in Honolulu! Family things! Yes!

Family things involving surfing and then sitting on the beach and charging up on the sun like a 6-foot plus human solar panel while Charlie worked on a sand castle.

Steve was cleaning the last of the breakfast dishes when the doorbell rang. His forehead crinkled: he wasn't expecting anyone, and the people he knew wouldn't ring the doorbell. He calmed down his hyper-vigilance by reminding his brain that serial killers wouldn't ring the doorbell, either, and sauntered to the door with a dishtowel over his shoulder...and a pocketknife in his back pocket. Just in case.

He answered the door and found a painfully earnest kid in his Navy work uniform who snapped to immediate attention.

"Commander McGarrett?"

"Yes?" Steve replied, sounding a little wary.

"Special Operator 2nd Class Junior Reigns. It's an honor to meet you, sir," the infant replied.

God, had Steve really been this young at one point? "Nice to meet you, Junior," Steve replied. "Please relax. I'm, um, I'm not on Teams anymore." And that only sort of killed him to say. Progress! "What can I do for you?"

"Uh, my Master Chief David Lange always spoke very highly of you," Junior said with a hopeful smile.

"David Lange?" Steve chuckled a little self-consciously. Lange had been at the bar in Annapolis a few weeks ago. This felt like a subtle (for SEALs) intervention, getting checked on by a younger version of himself. At least it wasn't an intervention from Dick Pic Scott. Steve would never get over that.

"He's your master chief? He was my dive buddy," Steve said with what he hoped didn't look like a slightly awkward smile.

"He mentioned that," Junior said with a much less awkward smile. "He says you're the best."

"Well, don't believe everything David Lange says," Steve said, running his hand through his hair. "When you headed back downrange?"

"Actually, sir, I just processed out," Junior said, and his earnestness increased tenfold.

Steve knew exactly what Lange was trying now, but he had to confirm it. "Well... Special Operator 2nd Class Junior Reigns, I gotta say, I'm intrigued as to why you're standing on my porch this morning."

"I heard about the task force you run and, you know," Junior said, "the type of work you do, and... well, to tell you the truth, I need a job."

Of course he did. "Ahh," Steve said, nodding and praying for Danny to come rescue him.

[OOC: For Danny, who will not rescue him.]

thatwaslucky

Fandom thought it was being funny.

Rey had gone down to the laundry room to wash her bedding. All was well. Then she came back down to take it out of the dryer, pulled out her sheets… then more sheets… a comforter that she hadn't put in there… more sheets… What had gone into the dryer was a perfectly normal amount of laundry, and what came out was a clown car's worth of bedding.

What she was left with was a ridiculous amount of things that had just appeared mixed in with her actual stuff, and it actually felt like less work to get it up to the second floor than to sort through it in the laundry room. So that's what she did. She got it to her apartment, looked at the mess and decided she really didn't want to put anything/everything away right now.

Instead, she ended up being inspired to pull her furniture together to create an extension to the dining room table, which she used to create a fort with the copies amounts of sheets and pillows and duvets she'd pulled out of the machine, until she ended up with the fluffiest, coziest pillow fort possible.

Then she took a picture and sent it to Adrian, with a text reading, If you're free tonight, dress comfortably. Sometimes you had to use the island's weirdness for good.

[For he who is named in the post!]

Fandom High RPG

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MCA #1, Wednesday afternoon

Midnight Manor Private Residence, Sunday Late Morning

Pam and Harley's Apartment, Gotham, Saturday

Tony's Workshop in the Tiniest Version of the Stark Tower, Friday Evening

Liliana's Office, Thursday

Warm and Comfortable Mansion in the Snow-Covered Woods, Monday Mid-Morning

Steve & Danny's House, Honolulu

MCA #1- Friday evening

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