(log) It's Thanksgiving Time!

[forethinking]

Who: Ren and You
When: Thanksgiving Day
Where: ADI's cafeteria
Summary: A little thanksgiving party for everyone.
Warnings: Alcohol, but other than that, none!



(It's finally the day! Ren's spent the day in the canteen, from the early hours of the morning with the help of Kate, until just close enough to the arranged time.

Several tables in the cafeteria are taken by the food, but there's still plenty of room to sit and spend time with your fellow ADI employees. After the previous month everyone has had, it feels much needed. Available is the following menu:

Deep-fried Turkey + Stuffing;
Ranch-Seasoned Roast Turkey + Stuffing;
Mashed Potatoes + Gravy;
Green Bean Casserole;
Cranberry Sauce;
Pasta alla Norma;
Sicilian Rice Balls;
S'mores Cupcakes
Pumpkin Pie;
Apple Pie;
Sweet Baked Potato;
Pecan Pie;
Roasted Vegetables;
Stuffed Mushrooms;
Squash Soup;
Garlicky Green Beans with Crispy Onions;
A selection of alcohol;

Ren's tried his best to recreate what the Internet and other folks have told him, and without him tasting the original flavors, some of the dishes might have an unexpected twist of spice. Kate has also helped with putting things together, and at the previously arranged time, Ren opens the doors with a smile from ear-to-ear.

Once everyone's settled, he'll ask for a moment to, gasp, speak:)

I'd like to thank everyone for coming today. I know it's been tough, but I'm still thankful we can spend good moments like these together. I hope you enjoy the food.

(And just like so, he'll bow, and hand plates to those ready to eat. Time to dig in!)

Comments

[ployboy]

Harassing? Strong word. Tim kind of likes it, but the satisfaction can wait. You learn to compartmentalize, if you're serious about surviving the day as a vigilante. Feelings get pushed aside and to the back as soon as they come up, never really having time to surface.

"I didn't tell anyone," he says, and there's a sliver of defensiveness if only because Tim doesn't see himself as a gossip.

How dare.

Focus, Drake, this is, honestly, pretty serious. More so with Arroyo on his tail.

Jesus, was talking to Arroyo a bad idea.

Focus.

Tim stabs at his pie and considers. "I do keep a list of who I know is powered or not. But that stays in my room and you're the first person I tell about it."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm presses his lips together and nods.

"I believed you until you suggested you tell me anything first," he says matter-of-factly. But he doesn't press it. "Don't get yourself hurt," is all he adds.

[ployboy]

That stabbing hurt? Tim's not conceited enough to imagine it's not kin to whatever Damian- the brat- must have professed to have felt back when he uncovered the Hit List. The first one.

Tim narrows his eyes, recovering from the fleeting, benign breathlessness of being, again, the butt of someone's total disbelief. "Right, because you're always second to know about what I do or don't do," he notes. He didn't mean for the defensiveness to rise, not this sharply.

Something, something. Emotions.

Trauma?

Nah.

He wonders about drinking his water. But his throat feels all sorts of wrong.

He's overthinking.

If he squares his jaw-- that's obvious.

But it's-- unrelated. This isn't... like, what? He's not supposed to ever tell anybody anything?

He can do that.

Tim grimaces, morose and

oh fuck it

he didn't want to come here today, anyway.

"...yeah, you too."

Don't get hurt. He makes to stand.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm doesn't understand why that just happened, but he sees it happen.

He reaches for his arm or his shirt, whatever he can gently grab.

"Tim. Wait. Please."

[ployboy]

He sighs, defeated, because there's no way he'll be the one causing a scene. It's Thanksgiving. That crap would be obscenely cliche.

It doesn't mean he's looking to stick around long. There's a burning under his skin. He's really not gonna stick around long. "Look," he tries. Because he can be civil. "I'll be back at the apartment. You can keep an eye on Meredith."

And Ren.

"I'll probably be asleep but call me if you need any help. Cool?"

Just.

Let it go.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm shakes his head.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "I only want to help. I guess..." He hesitates. "I'm just. A little hurt that you've been shutting me out lately. I thought..." He trails off. "Anyway, I didn't mean... I didn't mean anything, okay?"

[ployboy]

He's sorry, too.

"It's fine," Tim says. And he almost thinks he can make it through this by being a bigger person. Or whatever that phrase is supposed to be.

When he first was learning-- when he was a student of Lady Shiva, she knocked it into his thick skull many times: Tim Drake will never stand a chance in a fair fight. He's had to get dirty and get comfortable with it. It's fine.

"I don't do the Happy Holidays thing. I shut people out. It's a bad habit. I know. But I don't need help with anything. Okay? I feel like an idiot having come here at all. So can you just make sure Meredith doesn't hit her head on anything? You're staying here anyway, right?"

[abrightboy]

"You're not an idiot for coming," Malcolm tells him. "Stay." He pats the floor beside him where Tim had been sitting. "Just for a bit. You're supposed to be with your family on the holidays. And fight with them a bit, but we've gotten that part out of the way already." He pats the floor again. "Stay a bit. She's messy. Meredith needs all eyes on deck."

[ployboy]

Twist of the (figurative) knife.

Tim recalls-- a lot of shouting, actually. Angry voices echoing down long, lonesome halls.

He looks at Malcolm and he's supposed to see family? And that's not supposed to be something frightening?

He shakes his head. "I'll leave the door unlocked."

[abrightboy]

“Well, don’t leave the door unlocked; we have keys,” Malcolm points out. He wouldn’t want Tim to get stolen or something. “You’re sure you don’t want a doughnut first? Meredith brought them.”

[ployboy]

Tim doesn't quip about Malcolm having his hands full, especially with how messy their third roommate is working up to being. He doesn't point out he's already helped himself to a couple, always with a fiendish sweet tooth.

His eyes flick over to a security camera in the cafeteria, one of many throughout all of ADI.

If there's a... problem, he figures, he can find his way back to lend a hand. Tim, all in all,

feels like an idiot. Standing there.

It's time to go.

"It's fine. I'll leave the lights on for you guys, then."

And that's... that. God, he's sorry. He tries for a smile, flat and dry as hell but at least it allows him a tiny, odd fraction of that satisfaction of before when he says, "Have fun."

Cw: mild self harm

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nods and watches him go. It doesn’t occur to him that Tim might ever look at the security feed and, once he’s gone, Malcolm closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the wall behind him. Then lifts it and lets it fall back a little harder. Then once more, a little harder. He takes a breath. Holds it a moment. Lets it out slowly.

Then he opens his eyes, scanning the room until he spots Meredith again. He keeps an eye out until Winter scoops her up. Then he escapes into the cool air of the evening.