NCIS ficlets, Tim-centric gen
Title: Cybercrimes Department of Horrors
Words: 235
Fandom: NCIS
Notes: The title is totally supposed to be a Little Shop of Horrors joke. Spoilers for the season finale. For fiction_stadium.
“I don’t understand,” McGee admitted.
“No, I didn’t think you would,” the suspect insisted. “You see,” he shook his finger at McGee for emphasis, but the chain of the handcuffs jerked his fist back down to the metal arm of the chair with a loud rattle. “This is what’s wrong with the system!”
“No,” McGee said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand why you decided to hack a Navy system because a guy in a Bear in the Big Blue House costume told you to.”
“Because Bear told me to!” He jerked against the cuffs and tried to slam his fist against the table for emphasis, but because of the range of motion allowed by the handcuffs, it ended up not looking threatening but rather making him look even crazier.
“And this bear is a cartoon character?” Agent Finkel asked without looking up from his notebook.
As the suspect launched into yet another frenzied explanation of what exactly a bear in a big blue house was, McGee scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “Really, Finkel? We just calmed him down from the last time someone asked him that.”
“Sorry, Agent McGee. Not all of us in cybercrimes have your esteemed interrogation experience.” He closed his notebook with a snap before exiting the room and leaving McGee alone to deal with their irate suspect.
“I hate my job,” McGee muttered.
I found some of the woobie Tim stuff I'd written, an unabashedly woobie AU of dragonessasmith's Child's Play AU. It's pretty silly, but not all of it is all that bad. It would be nice if I could write more things that are not all that bad. But we'll see.
Anyway, this is some of the woobie Tim AU. Both could be stand alone stories, but they're part of a larger universe I can't decide if I'm going to finish.
The D Word
When he woke up, Mom and Dad were fighting again. Mom's voice was all crackly and Dad's sounded like thunder. It made Tim feel sick, like bugs were crawling in his stomach which Kate promised Tony was lying about when he said they really were. So Tim crawled out from under the horses (heh, they didn't look like horses at all) holding up what Dad said was a boat but Tim wasn't so sure about. He put Chewbacca in his right arm so he could hold the railing in his left hand and ran up the stairs as fast as he could, because when he got to the top they would stop fighting and remember they love each other and it would be okay.
But before he could get to the top step, he heard Mom yell "Shannon and Kelly," which made Tim stop. His mouth hung open. "Shannon and Kelly" were bad words in their house. They didn't get your mouth washed out with soap, but they made Dad sad, and nobody liked it when Dad got sad.
Then Mom said, "Tim and I are leaving," which she never, ever said before. He knew what it meant, because he wasn't stupid and Mom told him that no matter how mad you are, you still be careful about the words you use because you can never take them back once you say them. Still, he put his ear against the door to try and hear Dad say something to make her change her mind, but all he said was "fine."
Tim sat down on the top step. It felt like the whole world fell out from under his feet. He grabbed the railing with one hand and hugged Chewbacca tight. He put his nose on Chewbacca's head and breathed a lot so he wouldn't cry. He was a big boy he wasn't going to cry.
But then the door was opening and Tim looked up, and Daddy looked so sad. Tim couldn't not cry anymore. It all poured out like a big wave he couldn't hold back anymore smashing into his sand castle and ruining everything.
Daddy picked him up like he was a little baby. Tim grabbed Dad's shirt in his fists and cried into his neck.
"I'm sorry, Tim," he thought he heard Dad say.
"Tell Mom that," Tim cried.
"Sorry won't fix this," Dad said.
"You're not even trying!"
"Oh, Tim," Mom sighed. She rubbed his back. "Come on, let's sit down."
Mommy sat at the table and Daddy sat next to her. Tim sat on his lap. Mom had Chewbacca, and Tim grabbed at him and hugged him tight.
"Tim, Daddy and I aren't happy together. We haven't been for awhile."
"Oh, come on, Roberta. He's too young."
"What, Jethro, you think we should lie to him?" Their voices were getting louder.
Tim banged on the table like his fist was a hammer. "Shut up!" he yelled.
Dad put his hand over Tim's fist. "Hey," he said. It was Tim's warning.
Mom put a hand on Tim's knee. "Your dad and me fighting all the time isn't good for anyone," Mom said quietly. "It isn't fair to you and the other kids. And it isn't fair to us."
"You're not trying hard enough," Tim said.
"Yeah, we have been," Dad said. "This isn't something we can fix anymore."
Tim buried his face in Chewbacca's head.
"We're going to live somewhere else, but you'll still see your dad and your brother and sisters. Right?"
"Of course," Dad said. He hugged Tim tight.
"It'll be different, but it will make things better. Daddy and I won't be so angry all the time."
Mommy packed their clothes while he and Dad sat on the swings in the backyard. Then they went to Jenny Sheppard's house where the carpet and the walls were white. It made his hands feel all sweaty, because he knew if he spilled something she would get so mad like when he spilled his juice on Mrs. Mallard's rug at Uncle Ducky's and she didn't make him a bag of cookies at Christmas.
"Thanks for letting us stay here," Mom said.
"It's my pleasure."
Tim took off his shoes--very carefully first untying one and slipping it off so it stayed in one place then the other. He climbed across the room to the white couch and pressed his nose against the back window while they were still talking.
Miss Sheppard didn't have a backyard. They were up really high. The only thing below them was an empty pool.
"There's a park down the street," Miss Sheppard said loud enough that Tim figured she was talking to him. "Maybe we can all walk down there after dinner."
"That sounds like fun," Mom said. She smoothed back Tim's hair. Tim looked up at her, and she smiled but he didn't smile back. He didn't feel like going to the park, he didn't feel like talking to them, he didn't feel like eating dinner. He didn't feel like doing anything but going home.
He looked back out the window, like maybe he was looking for Dad's van in the street. He wasn't a baby though, so he didn't really think he'd see it.
Later, when Jimmy moves in next door with Uncle Donald (heh). dragonessasmith had his parents as circus performers, but I think I'd been watching Stargate SG-1 again when I wrote this, so I have them as archaeologists. Heh. Circus performers definitely works better.
When they were putting the last of his clothes in the drawer, Dr. Mallard said, "There are many other children your age in the neighborhood. There's Emily, but she's much younger than you. Tony, Ron, and Kate are a little older than you, but not much. Tim and Abby are just your age. In fact," he said when the last drawer was securely shut--unpacking didn't take long and there was still plenty of space in the dresser, which Mrs. Mallard tsked from the chair next to it, "In fact, Tim should be home now. I'm afraid the other children are visiting their mothers for the weekend, but you will meet them soon enough. It may even be for the best. I believe you and he will get along very well. You'll be starting fourth grade together as well. Perhaps we should even introduce the two of you now."
Jimmy looked up at him, feeling completely lost and trying manfully to not show it.
"Donald," Mrs. Mallard scolded. "Really now. Let the boy eat lunch at the very least before throwing him in to that hornet's nest. He's had a long journey."
"Ah, quite right, Mother. You must be famished from the train ride, Jimmy." He led the way out of the room and Jimmy followed on his heels, to the right then left down the stairs. Mrs. Mallard creaked along more slowly behind them. "To be frank," Dr. Mallard continued left from the stairs and straight into the kitchen, "I had been under the impression that your parents would accompany you on the journey."
"Oh--well--they. That is, they got the opportunity to start a week early," Jimmy said brightly, proud. "Someone in the magistrate's office was so impressed with their work and the team they assembled that they pushed the permits through faster, which is pretty rare. A great opportunity." Jimmy was beaming, but Dr. Mallard looked at him strangely. Jimmy blushed. "Well, I, uh." Jimmy pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out what was the right thing to say.
Dr. Mallard smiled kindly and patted Jimmy's shoulder. "What would you like for lunch?" he asked. "We have sandwich meat--"
"A sandwich would be great," Jimmy interrupted. "Do you have peanut butter?"
"Of course. That is, if you don't mind the sort with pieces of peanut in it. It's my personal weakness."
"I love that kind!" Jimmy said brightly.
Dr. Mallard smiled back. "Wonderful! Have a seat." He gestured to the kitchen table, which was next to the window that faced the empty backyard. "Would you like it toasted or plain?"
"Plain, please." Jimmy watched Dr. Mallard take the bread from the refrigerator, the peanut butter from the cabinet next to the stove, a plate from the cabinet next to that, and a knife from the drawer on the right side of the sink. It was important to orient yourself to the set up of an unfamiliar room.
Dr. Mallard put two slices of bread on the plate and began to spread the peanut butter on the left side when Mrs. Mallard sat next to Jimmy at the table.
"Really, Donald. That's not nearly enough of a lunch for a growing boy."
Dr. Mallard smiled. "If he's still hungry he can have something else to go with it. An apple, perhaps."
"Hm. At the very least you should have a glass of milk, so you grow good and tall." She tapped his shin too hard with her cane. "Go get yourself a glass."
At the command, Jimmy jumped out of his chair and headed for the fridge. They only had skim milk, which Jimmy really didn't like, but he didn't want to know how hard she would poke him with her cane if he got a glass of the grape juice he saw in there instead. When he turned around with the carton of milk in hand, he saw the plate with his sandwich on it and a glass next to it. He didn't see where Dr. Mallard had gotten the glass from, which might be a problem in the future. But he tried not to worry about it. He filled half of the glass with the milk and started in on his sandwich. "Thank you...Uncle Donald," he said around his mouthful. He felt awkward addressing Dr. Mallard as such, but it's what his mother told Jimmy to call him.
"Please, call me Ducky."
"I would prefer the name I gave you," Mrs. Mallard said with her nose up oddly high.
"Yes, Mother," Dr. Mallard said with a smile. Jimmy wanted to ask why he liked to be called 'Ducky,' but he figured it would be better to ask when Mrs. Mallard wasn't around watching him.
When his finished his sandwich and a lot more milk than he would have if Mrs. Mallard hadn't been watching him, Dr. Mallard took him to the house next door in the middle of what Dr. Mallard said was a cul-de-sac.
As he knocked on the door he called, "Jethro," which made Jimmy laugh before he could stop himself. Dr. Mallard didn't wait to be let in, he just opened the door up himself. Jimmy was surprised by it, but he followed anyway. It made him laugh a little when he thought it, but he wondered what Mrs. Mallard would say if she had come with them instead of taken a nap.
Dr. Mallard stopped when the hallway emptied into the kitchen, so suddenly that Jimmy almost ran into him. "Ah, Jethro. I would like to introduce Jimmy. Now where is he?" Dr. Mallard looked to his sides before looking over his shoulder. "Ah, there you are. Don't be shy, now." He ushered Jimmy forward to see an old guy sitting at the table with a coffee mug. "Jimmy, this is Leroy Jethro Gibbs." Jimmy had to try very hard to not laugh, because those were some weird names, but the Mr. Gibbs didn't look like he would like it if Jimmy did. "Jethro, this is James Palmer."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Gibbs," Jimmy said very quietly. Something about him was...creepy.
Mr. Gibbs nodded to him.
"Is Timothy home? I think he and Jimmy will get along very well."
"Tim!" Mr. Gibbs hollered. "Get down here."
"In a minute!" was the response, quieter from upstairs.
"Now, Tim," Mr. Gibbs said back. If it had been Jimmy, he would have come down stairs right away, so he wasn't surprised when he heard a thumping from above.
Tim, assuming the other boy who jumped the last three steps was Tim, said "hi Uncle Ducky" right when he came into the kitchen.
"Hello. Are you enjoying your peace and quiet?"
Tim shrugged. He was a chubby boy wearing long khaki shorts and a worn out blue shirt, making Jimmy feel a little less dorky in the khakis his mom told him to wear even if they had the hole big enough that it made his pointy knee stick out. "Yeah, I guess."
"Excellent. If we may interrupt it." He gestured to Jimmy as if he was presenting him. "This is the boy I was telling you about. Jimmy, this is Tim."
"Hi," Jimmy said. Tim waved. When he did, Jimmy caught sight of something on his palm that had gold print on a two colored brown background and-- "Is that a Magic card?" Jimmy asked, his eyes going wide. He really hoped he was.
"Yeah, do you play?"
"Yeah!"
"Do you have a deck?"
"Um, well. When our apartment burned down, they..."
"Really? That sucks. If you want to play you can borrow my sister's deck."
"Really? Cool!"
"Not now," Mr. Gibbs said. "Go do something outside."
Tim made a face, but he turned around and led Jimmy out of the kitchen. "If you want, we can probably play after dinner. Wanna ride bikes to the park?"
"I. Um. I don't have a bike."
Tim looked at him like he had two heads. "You don't have a bike? That sucks. I guess we can walk. There's nothing to do, kinda. It's boring outside." Tim made another face, and Jimmy had to agree. "More fun playing Magic."
"Yeah," Jimmy agreed completely. It was hot out, and he wasn't looking forward to staying out until dinner. "I had this one card that beat like everything. It was a __________. Any time any ______ came up against it, it would like smash it all down." He stomped on the grass three times moving slow and awkward like he was a giant.
"That's nothing," Tim said back. "I have a _______ that's all like." He swooped his arms like he had claws attached while he roared at the air in front of them as he led the way to sit under the trees next to the swing set in his backyard. The shade was pretty long, and it was better than being out in the sun.
Words: 235
Fandom: NCIS
Notes: The title is totally supposed to be a Little Shop of Horrors joke. Spoilers for the season finale. For fiction_stadium.
“I don’t understand,” McGee admitted.
“No, I didn’t think you would,” the suspect insisted. “You see,” he shook his finger at McGee for emphasis, but the chain of the handcuffs jerked his fist back down to the metal arm of the chair with a loud rattle. “This is what’s wrong with the system!”
“No,” McGee said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand why you decided to hack a Navy system because a guy in a Bear in the Big Blue House costume told you to.”
“Because Bear told me to!” He jerked against the cuffs and tried to slam his fist against the table for emphasis, but because of the range of motion allowed by the handcuffs, it ended up not looking threatening but rather making him look even crazier.
“And this bear is a cartoon character?” Agent Finkel asked without looking up from his notebook.
As the suspect launched into yet another frenzied explanation of what exactly a bear in a big blue house was, McGee scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “Really, Finkel? We just calmed him down from the last time someone asked him that.”
“Sorry, Agent McGee. Not all of us in cybercrimes have your esteemed interrogation experience.” He closed his notebook with a snap before exiting the room and leaving McGee alone to deal with their irate suspect.
“I hate my job,” McGee muttered.
I found some of the woobie Tim stuff I'd written, an unabashedly woobie AU of dragonessasmith's Child's Play AU. It's pretty silly, but not all of it is all that bad. It would be nice if I could write more things that are not all that bad. But we'll see.
Anyway, this is some of the woobie Tim AU. Both could be stand alone stories, but they're part of a larger universe I can't decide if I'm going to finish.
The D Word
When he woke up, Mom and Dad were fighting again. Mom's voice was all crackly and Dad's sounded like thunder. It made Tim feel sick, like bugs were crawling in his stomach which Kate promised Tony was lying about when he said they really were. So Tim crawled out from under the horses (heh, they didn't look like horses at all) holding up what Dad said was a boat but Tim wasn't so sure about. He put Chewbacca in his right arm so he could hold the railing in his left hand and ran up the stairs as fast as he could, because when he got to the top they would stop fighting and remember they love each other and it would be okay.
But before he could get to the top step, he heard Mom yell "Shannon and Kelly," which made Tim stop. His mouth hung open. "Shannon and Kelly" were bad words in their house. They didn't get your mouth washed out with soap, but they made Dad sad, and nobody liked it when Dad got sad.
Then Mom said, "Tim and I are leaving," which she never, ever said before. He knew what it meant, because he wasn't stupid and Mom told him that no matter how mad you are, you still be careful about the words you use because you can never take them back once you say them. Still, he put his ear against the door to try and hear Dad say something to make her change her mind, but all he said was "fine."
Tim sat down on the top step. It felt like the whole world fell out from under his feet. He grabbed the railing with one hand and hugged Chewbacca tight. He put his nose on Chewbacca's head and breathed a lot so he wouldn't cry. He was a big boy he wasn't going to cry.
But then the door was opening and Tim looked up, and Daddy looked so sad. Tim couldn't not cry anymore. It all poured out like a big wave he couldn't hold back anymore smashing into his sand castle and ruining everything.
Daddy picked him up like he was a little baby. Tim grabbed Dad's shirt in his fists and cried into his neck.
"I'm sorry, Tim," he thought he heard Dad say.
"Tell Mom that," Tim cried.
"Sorry won't fix this," Dad said.
"You're not even trying!"
"Oh, Tim," Mom sighed. She rubbed his back. "Come on, let's sit down."
Mommy sat at the table and Daddy sat next to her. Tim sat on his lap. Mom had Chewbacca, and Tim grabbed at him and hugged him tight.
"Tim, Daddy and I aren't happy together. We haven't been for awhile."
"Oh, come on, Roberta. He's too young."
"What, Jethro, you think we should lie to him?" Their voices were getting louder.
Tim banged on the table like his fist was a hammer. "Shut up!" he yelled.
Dad put his hand over Tim's fist. "Hey," he said. It was Tim's warning.
Mom put a hand on Tim's knee. "Your dad and me fighting all the time isn't good for anyone," Mom said quietly. "It isn't fair to you and the other kids. And it isn't fair to us."
"You're not trying hard enough," Tim said.
"Yeah, we have been," Dad said. "This isn't something we can fix anymore."
Tim buried his face in Chewbacca's head.
"We're going to live somewhere else, but you'll still see your dad and your brother and sisters. Right?"
"Of course," Dad said. He hugged Tim tight.
"It'll be different, but it will make things better. Daddy and I won't be so angry all the time."
Mommy packed their clothes while he and Dad sat on the swings in the backyard. Then they went to Jenny Sheppard's house where the carpet and the walls were white. It made his hands feel all sweaty, because he knew if he spilled something she would get so mad like when he spilled his juice on Mrs. Mallard's rug at Uncle Ducky's and she didn't make him a bag of cookies at Christmas.
"Thanks for letting us stay here," Mom said.
"It's my pleasure."
Tim took off his shoes--very carefully first untying one and slipping it off so it stayed in one place then the other. He climbed across the room to the white couch and pressed his nose against the back window while they were still talking.
Miss Sheppard didn't have a backyard. They were up really high. The only thing below them was an empty pool.
"There's a park down the street," Miss Sheppard said loud enough that Tim figured she was talking to him. "Maybe we can all walk down there after dinner."
"That sounds like fun," Mom said. She smoothed back Tim's hair. Tim looked up at her, and she smiled but he didn't smile back. He didn't feel like going to the park, he didn't feel like talking to them, he didn't feel like eating dinner. He didn't feel like doing anything but going home.
He looked back out the window, like maybe he was looking for Dad's van in the street. He wasn't a baby though, so he didn't really think he'd see it.
Later, when Jimmy moves in next door with Uncle Donald (heh). dragonessasmith had his parents as circus performers, but I think I'd been watching Stargate SG-1 again when I wrote this, so I have them as archaeologists. Heh. Circus performers definitely works better.
When they were putting the last of his clothes in the drawer, Dr. Mallard said, "There are many other children your age in the neighborhood. There's Emily, but she's much younger than you. Tony, Ron, and Kate are a little older than you, but not much. Tim and Abby are just your age. In fact," he said when the last drawer was securely shut--unpacking didn't take long and there was still plenty of space in the dresser, which Mrs. Mallard tsked from the chair next to it, "In fact, Tim should be home now. I'm afraid the other children are visiting their mothers for the weekend, but you will meet them soon enough. It may even be for the best. I believe you and he will get along very well. You'll be starting fourth grade together as well. Perhaps we should even introduce the two of you now."
Jimmy looked up at him, feeling completely lost and trying manfully to not show it.
"Donald," Mrs. Mallard scolded. "Really now. Let the boy eat lunch at the very least before throwing him in to that hornet's nest. He's had a long journey."
"Ah, quite right, Mother. You must be famished from the train ride, Jimmy." He led the way out of the room and Jimmy followed on his heels, to the right then left down the stairs. Mrs. Mallard creaked along more slowly behind them. "To be frank," Dr. Mallard continued left from the stairs and straight into the kitchen, "I had been under the impression that your parents would accompany you on the journey."
"Oh--well--they. That is, they got the opportunity to start a week early," Jimmy said brightly, proud. "Someone in the magistrate's office was so impressed with their work and the team they assembled that they pushed the permits through faster, which is pretty rare. A great opportunity." Jimmy was beaming, but Dr. Mallard looked at him strangely. Jimmy blushed. "Well, I, uh." Jimmy pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out what was the right thing to say.
Dr. Mallard smiled kindly and patted Jimmy's shoulder. "What would you like for lunch?" he asked. "We have sandwich meat--"
"A sandwich would be great," Jimmy interrupted. "Do you have peanut butter?"
"Of course. That is, if you don't mind the sort with pieces of peanut in it. It's my personal weakness."
"I love that kind!" Jimmy said brightly.
Dr. Mallard smiled back. "Wonderful! Have a seat." He gestured to the kitchen table, which was next to the window that faced the empty backyard. "Would you like it toasted or plain?"
"Plain, please." Jimmy watched Dr. Mallard take the bread from the refrigerator, the peanut butter from the cabinet next to the stove, a plate from the cabinet next to that, and a knife from the drawer on the right side of the sink. It was important to orient yourself to the set up of an unfamiliar room.
Dr. Mallard put two slices of bread on the plate and began to spread the peanut butter on the left side when Mrs. Mallard sat next to Jimmy at the table.
"Really, Donald. That's not nearly enough of a lunch for a growing boy."
Dr. Mallard smiled. "If he's still hungry he can have something else to go with it. An apple, perhaps."
"Hm. At the very least you should have a glass of milk, so you grow good and tall." She tapped his shin too hard with her cane. "Go get yourself a glass."
At the command, Jimmy jumped out of his chair and headed for the fridge. They only had skim milk, which Jimmy really didn't like, but he didn't want to know how hard she would poke him with her cane if he got a glass of the grape juice he saw in there instead. When he turned around with the carton of milk in hand, he saw the plate with his sandwich on it and a glass next to it. He didn't see where Dr. Mallard had gotten the glass from, which might be a problem in the future. But he tried not to worry about it. He filled half of the glass with the milk and started in on his sandwich. "Thank you...Uncle Donald," he said around his mouthful. He felt awkward addressing Dr. Mallard as such, but it's what his mother told Jimmy to call him.
"Please, call me Ducky."
"I would prefer the name I gave you," Mrs. Mallard said with her nose up oddly high.
"Yes, Mother," Dr. Mallard said with a smile. Jimmy wanted to ask why he liked to be called 'Ducky,' but he figured it would be better to ask when Mrs. Mallard wasn't around watching him.
When his finished his sandwich and a lot more milk than he would have if Mrs. Mallard hadn't been watching him, Dr. Mallard took him to the house next door in the middle of what Dr. Mallard said was a cul-de-sac.
As he knocked on the door he called, "Jethro," which made Jimmy laugh before he could stop himself. Dr. Mallard didn't wait to be let in, he just opened the door up himself. Jimmy was surprised by it, but he followed anyway. It made him laugh a little when he thought it, but he wondered what Mrs. Mallard would say if she had come with them instead of taken a nap.
Dr. Mallard stopped when the hallway emptied into the kitchen, so suddenly that Jimmy almost ran into him. "Ah, Jethro. I would like to introduce Jimmy. Now where is he?" Dr. Mallard looked to his sides before looking over his shoulder. "Ah, there you are. Don't be shy, now." He ushered Jimmy forward to see an old guy sitting at the table with a coffee mug. "Jimmy, this is Leroy Jethro Gibbs." Jimmy had to try very hard to not laugh, because those were some weird names, but the Mr. Gibbs didn't look like he would like it if Jimmy did. "Jethro, this is James Palmer."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Gibbs," Jimmy said very quietly. Something about him was...creepy.
Mr. Gibbs nodded to him.
"Is Timothy home? I think he and Jimmy will get along very well."
"Tim!" Mr. Gibbs hollered. "Get down here."
"In a minute!" was the response, quieter from upstairs.
"Now, Tim," Mr. Gibbs said back. If it had been Jimmy, he would have come down stairs right away, so he wasn't surprised when he heard a thumping from above.
Tim, assuming the other boy who jumped the last three steps was Tim, said "hi Uncle Ducky" right when he came into the kitchen.
"Hello. Are you enjoying your peace and quiet?"
Tim shrugged. He was a chubby boy wearing long khaki shorts and a worn out blue shirt, making Jimmy feel a little less dorky in the khakis his mom told him to wear even if they had the hole big enough that it made his pointy knee stick out. "Yeah, I guess."
"Excellent. If we may interrupt it." He gestured to Jimmy as if he was presenting him. "This is the boy I was telling you about. Jimmy, this is Tim."
"Hi," Jimmy said. Tim waved. When he did, Jimmy caught sight of something on his palm that had gold print on a two colored brown background and-- "Is that a Magic card?" Jimmy asked, his eyes going wide. He really hoped he was.
"Yeah, do you play?"
"Yeah!"
"Do you have a deck?"
"Um, well. When our apartment burned down, they..."
"Really? That sucks. If you want to play you can borrow my sister's deck."
"Really? Cool!"
"Not now," Mr. Gibbs said. "Go do something outside."
Tim made a face, but he turned around and led Jimmy out of the kitchen. "If you want, we can probably play after dinner. Wanna ride bikes to the park?"
"I. Um. I don't have a bike."
Tim looked at him like he had two heads. "You don't have a bike? That sucks. I guess we can walk. There's nothing to do, kinda. It's boring outside." Tim made another face, and Jimmy had to agree. "More fun playing Magic."
"Yeah," Jimmy agreed completely. It was hot out, and he wasn't looking forward to staying out until dinner. "I had this one card that beat like everything. It was a __________. Any time any ______ came up against it, it would like smash it all down." He stomped on the grass three times moving slow and awkward like he was a giant.
"That's nothing," Tim said back. "I have a _______ that's all like." He swooped his arms like he had claws attached while he roared at the air in front of them as he led the way to sit under the trees next to the swing set in his backyard. The shade was pretty long, and it was better than being out in the sun.