TO EVERYONE

[princessvegas]

[ In her domain, Julie sits in a booth, bent over the table with a stack of paper and pen. She bites the tip of her tongue in concentration, then starts writing invitations. She intends to leave them all over the Horizon, fliers more than proper addressed invites.

Soon, all of the off-worlders are able to see writing in their vision. This writing appears to simply be written on any nearby surface: a tabletop, on the page of a book in place of the text, in a pool of water. It sparkles to summon attention to itself, just enough of a twinkle to earn a glance. ]



[ It's signed at the bottom, Julie Lawry.

Soon, other thoughts may begin appearing in your vision, sparkling until they catch your eye. Your own thoughts can be broadcast too. If you put in a little effort, you can even send them directly to a specific person, or a group.

And most of you are welcome to the party. ]

Comments

[princessvegas]

[ It takes her a minute to catch her breath, and she suddenly feels incredibly small and stupid. She hates feeling anything bad, and right now, she feels so much that's so bad. It doesn't occur to her that maybe it's because no one in her entire life has ever really cared about how she was feeling, never taught her to deal with it in any way except covering it up or lashing out. Or that maybe there is something to be said for having a man care about her without expecting something in exchange. Maybe she just forgot that there are people out there who actually can be trusted, who you don't have to approach with a shotgun and the assumption that they're going to hurt you. Who you don't have to step on just to have some leverage.

Sniffling, she wipes her eyes, rimmed in red and still watering as she looks at him. She nods and swallows hard, and her voice is still soft and weak. ]

Can I just stay here for a little bit? With you?

[falcony]

[ he can only assume what’s going through her head, at this point. can only assume what it is she’s carrying with her that doesn’t come to light. either way, sam knows he can be here for her, for this. it gives him a sudden feeling of hope that there is something he can help with. even if he’s not getting anyone home, he can at least do this.

so when she nods and wipes away at her eyes, sam smiles. it’s soft, and warm, and welcoming - everything he remembers from his mother, his parents. he doesn’t pull away, squeezes her shoulders instead. ] Absolutely. Hell, you can stay here as long as you want. Who needs a little while? [ one of his hands let’s go of her shoulder and comes up to cup the side of her face, just for a moment, before he leans forward and sets a gentle kiss to the top of her hair as he lifts to stand - a quick, gentle thing. reassuring. comforting, at least he hopes. ]

We’ve got comfy clothes and a couch with a tv full of bad movies and whatever the hell we want to pretend up in this kitchen. Who knows what we might get up to.

[princessvegas]

[ She laughs a little, looks down at herself, and it clicks that she also doesn't remember the last time she let herself be just comfortable. Captain Trips, the walk, Vegas, Abraxas -- none of it lent itself well to any kind of self-care or relaxation, and even if they did, she's the kind of person whose chosen post-apocalypse clothing choices involved a prom dress and fur jacket. And perhaps Sam hasn't noticed, but the clothing available to women in Abraxas is not... super comfy. Lots of layers and things to lace up.

Thinking for a second, she tries to come up with the last time she felt in any way as comforted as Sam has made her, and within seconds, a box manifests on the table next to her. God, she'd totally forgotten... She picks it up and shows it to him. ]

Brownies?

[falcony]

[ if she wanted, sam had rooms and closets full of every form of comfortable clothing imaginable. it doesn't even matter that she could change her own outfit on a whim. it the principle of the matter, if she wanted to head upstairs and put on sweats, she could.

still, when the box appears on the table next to her, sam's eyes go to it, curious. her offering has him smiling, one brow arched. ]

Brownies? [ and then he laugh, shrugging once and reaching for one. ] Why the hell not?

[princessvegas]

[ When he looks back at her, the shiny, sheer dress is gone, replaced by a matching set of sweats in rainbow tie-dye with little stars dotting the fabric, towering stilettos swapped for fluffy shearling slippers (she's definitely shrunk a few inches). It's not an outfit that comes from nowhere -- it's a nicer recreation of something she remembers wearing in high school, the last time she could remember wearing something meant only to feel good rather than look good, and it was mostly subconsciously manifested. Even her makeup has changed, all the obvious glitter and color gone.

Taking the box, she confidently walks over to the cabinets and begins searching for a bowl. ]

Brownie batter. Tell me your world has Breakfast Club. I might lose my damn mind if you never saw it before.