The midway is lined with games of skill and chance - ring toss, dart games, guessing games - all offering fabulous prizes if you win. The fae's idea of "fabulous" prizes may differ from your own.
The games are interspersed with stalls offering food - all free, and mostly guaranteed not to turn you into anything strange if you eat it. Not for long, anyway.
Georgia stumbles as she steps out of the trailer, and she takes a half-second to curse the damn heels - if there was the slightest chance they'd let her past security wearing any kind of sane footwear...
The curse dies on her lips just a moment later, as the lights and chaos of the midway hit her like a brick. Almost literally - even behind her sunglasses, the sudden change in light levels is enough to make her wince and duck her head, blinking hard. She reaches out one hand instinctively to steady herself on a nearby railing, and yanks it back with a hiss as the thorns snag her hand.
This time, she does curse. Loudly.
There was definitely not a carnival outside her trailer a minute ago. It would have been hard to miss, and carnivals are not exactly common sight in the post-Rising world. More like a loud, colorful, very cheerful death trap, except no one here seems to know it. For a moment, all she can do is stand still and stare in disbelief and utter confusion.
Some ways away, though not in George's line of sight, an FBI profiler and a blogger are walking down the midway. Shaun's still not sure if he wants to punch Emily or strangle her, but he has to admit, in the back of his mind, that coming to such a pretty shiny death trap has gotten his mind off of the fact that he's probably doomed this place to a zombie apocaplyse.
That is, until he sees a certain dark-haired woman with sunglasses, in a very familiar dress, with a very familiar haircut, standing not far away from where he and Emily are meandering. He stops, hoping that Emily will notice, shakes his head, trying to get the image to go away.
"Yeah, real funny, George," he mutters, so quiet he can hardly hear himself in the noise of the carnival.
I'm still in here, dumbass, George informs him from the back of his head. Shaun blinks, and then something clicks in his head.
All of his hallucinations of George have been of her in her normal clothes, but without her sunglasses. Why would he suddenly not only hallucinate her in her
( ... )
Emily had kept walking for a step or two after Shaun stopped, but she'd been keeping him in the corner of her eye, just to make sure he doesn't spontaneously combust from nerves or something. She spins back toward him when she notices he's stopped, and tries to follow his gaze, but in this crowd it's not exactly easy.
Given a few hints, though, she can manage. Not many people wear sunglasses at night, after all. "...in the black dress? Yeah...?"
Nothing really changes about Shaun's expression or bearing. He just nods shortly. "Cool. Back in a sec."
Then he starts towards George as quickly as he can, which is... not all that quick with the crowd. He's pretty sure he's going to scoop her up and never let her go when he gets to her, and he doesn't fancy getting shot or anything, so he shouts as he gets closer.
Georgia starts to turn the first time she hears Shaun's voice - even over the noise of the crowd and the carnival, that gets her attention. The fact that he's using her full name does not reassure her, but hey, she's scared too. Unexpected carnivals full of people and with no visible security are a good reason to be alarmed, and whatever this is... at least Shaun is here.
She considers moving to meet him, but she's just slightly out of the way of the press of the crowd where she is, in the small gap between a ring toss game and a stand handing out fried something. Probably best that she stick where she is and let Shaun come to her, though she calls as he gets close, "Tell me you have an explanation for this, because I'm starting to wonder if someone slipped me something and this is some bizarre drug trip."
Well, George, if he has some sort of explanation, you're going to have to wait to hear it, because instead of coming to a halt just in arm's reach, like he normally would, he practically plows into her, hugging her so tightly her feet come just a little bit off the ground.
"Don't you fucking dare tell me to not do this in public, by the way," he says in her ear, and she might notice that his voice is shaking. She might also feel the scratchiness of his scruffy beard - Shaun's usually pretty clean-shaven, because she doesn't like the scratchiness, and yet.
She lets out a soft sound of protest as he reaches her, but he manages to knock the breath out of her enough that she can't actually argue right away. And by the time she catches her breath...
Georgia knows her brother. She knows the little cues no one else can ever see, when something's wrong, when he's scared or sad or anything... and it couldn't be more screamingly obvious that there's something wrong now.
"...Shaun, what's going on?" she asks finally, returning the hug as hard as she can.
Shaun doesn't answer right away. He's a little too busy focusing on George, on the feeling of her breathing, the smell of bleach and citrus and a little bit of sweat lingering on her neck, the fact that she solid and warm and here, and it's all he can do not to literally break down sobbing.
It's his sister. Alive.
Eventually, though, the voice in his head very quietly tells him, Say something, Shaun. It's a hell of a thing, hearing George in his head while he holds her in his arms.
"It's... kind of a long story," he says after a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat, and losing the battle against a few of his tears. "Here is probably not the best place to go into it."
"Okay..." She eases back a little without letting go, buying just enough room to get a good look at him. He's crying, and he was definitely not that scruffy when he left for the reception a couple hours ago, and none of this makes the least bit of sense. Maybe she was drugged and is having a hallucination after all.
"Can we go into it somewhere else? Somewhere less crowded? I'd drag you back to the trailer, but uh..." Yeah. Wherever they are, however they got here... if this is actually real, she's pretty sure the trailer is nowhere in easy reach. Come to think of it, neither is the Senator, probably. Her eyes widen as she realizes it. "Crap. Better yet, explain later - please tell me you know a way I can get in contact with Ryman. Right now."
She's already reaching to pull her PDA out of the pocket at her waist, on the off chance she'll get a signal. Georgia has her priorities. Weird carnivals can be explained later - she has a conspiracy to uncover, and no time to waste.
"Nnnot so much," Shaun says with a grimace. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, though. We should get... not here. Come on, I'll explain later."
He grabs the hand that doesn't have a PDA in it and tugs Georgia after him back towards Emily. "Emily! Um..." He shifts, awkwardly, and jerks his head toward Georgia. "This is George. So, um... maybe the not-being-a-hermit thing can wait until later?"
He looks so adorable and hopeful and happier, dragging poor confused-and-probably-irritated George with him by a hand that's probably starting to ache from how hard he's clutching it. No hard feelings for ditching you, Emily, right?
Emily looks Georgia up and down, surprise evident in her expression, but reasonably restrained. "George your sister," she says slowly. "Your..."
Your dead sister does not seem the most tactful thing to say at this moment. And if Hotch and Reid and JJ all came in knowing things about her life she didn't, it's not unreasonable to assume Shaun's sister's in the same position.
Georgia tucks her PDA away - she's not exactly surprised there's no signal, but definitely annoyed - and raises her eyes behind her sunglasses with a sardonic smile. "Hey," she says mildly. After a pause, she adds, "Shaun, I kind of need the bones in my hand in one piece..."
"Hi," Emily says with a quick, slightly uncertain smile for Georgia, and then glances back to Shaun. He looks like he's desperate to get his dead sister back to some kind of safety, and even more desperate to cling to her and not let go. She can't blame him. "Go ahead. Be careful on the way back, okay?"
Yes. Cling. That is exactly what they'll be doing tonight once George has been satisfied that Shaun's cabin is as safe as it's going to get.
All the clinging. Except for the bone-crushing clinging to George's hand, which he loosens his grip on instantly with a brief look of apology.
Shaun is visibly relieved that Emily seems to understand, and flashes her a grateful smile. "Got my guns, my crossbow, and my stun baton. Left the grenade behind, figured there probably wasn't going to be a safe way to use it even if something did happen. We'll be okay, though." He flashes Emily a thumbs-up and tugs on George's hand. It's been so long since he played the fearless, devil-may-care Irwin, but he doesn't want to let on how much has changed just yet, so he forces a grin. "Hey, George, have you ever wanted to walk through a forest in the dark?"
Georgia lets him tug her along without protest. For a couple steps anyway, at which point what he just said sinks in through the general confusion over this place and the worry about Ryman and Tate and whatever the hell's wrong with Shaun. She's got a lot on her mind. She thinks she can be forgiven for not processing statements like that immediately.
She stops in her tracks, staring at him in wide-eyed fear - not that it's exactly visible behind her glasses. "Are you serious?"
He can't be serious. There are few places she wouldn't choose over a loud, bright, crowded and unsecured carnival... but she just can't see a dark forest as a better option.
Shaun grimaces. "Yeah, I know, it sounds really really dumb, and it's not, y'know, entirely safe, but... there hasn't been an outbreak here, yet. It's not that far of a walk, and I'd really feel better if we were safe in my cabin. Which is still not the safest compared to home, but I've done the best I could."
He grabs her other hand and looks right at about where her eyes should be - he's good at gauging that, years of practise and all. "George, I promise, nothing's going to happen."
She's about to demand what he means by cabin, which is not a word that inspires much confidence or conjures images of safety and security, but stops when he takes her other hand and meets her eyes. Georgia tilts her head down to look at him properly over the glasses for one long moment, and then sighs.
"I swear to God, if we run into one single amplified deer, or even an overly large raccoon, I am going to beat you black and blue once we're out of the woods," she grumbles finally, tugging one hand free to shove her glasses back up her nose.
After a pause, she adds, "At least tell me you've got a camera on you. A small one, even?" If they're going to be doing something this completely suicidal, they might as well get it on film. The cameras hidden in her earrings and dress will do, but they're not exactly ideal.
The games are interspersed with stalls offering food - all free, and mostly guaranteed not to turn you into anything strange if you eat it. Not for long, anyway.
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The curse dies on her lips just a moment later, as the lights and chaos of the midway hit her like a brick. Almost literally - even behind her sunglasses, the sudden change in light levels is enough to make her wince and duck her head, blinking hard. She reaches out one hand instinctively to steady herself on a nearby railing, and yanks it back with a hiss as the thorns snag her hand.
This time, she does curse. Loudly.
There was definitely not a carnival outside her trailer a minute ago. It would have been hard to miss, and carnivals are not exactly common sight in the post-Rising world. More like a loud, colorful, very cheerful death trap, except no one here seems to know it. For a moment, all she can do is stand still and stare in disbelief and utter confusion.
"What the fuck."
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That is, until he sees a certain dark-haired woman with sunglasses, in a very familiar dress, with a very familiar haircut, standing not far away from where he and Emily are meandering. He stops, hoping that Emily will notice, shakes his head, trying to get the image to go away.
"Yeah, real funny, George," he mutters, so quiet he can hardly hear himself in the noise of the carnival.
I'm still in here, dumbass, George informs him from the back of his head. Shaun blinks, and then something clicks in his head.
All of his hallucinations of George have been of her in her normal clothes, but without her sunglasses. Why would he suddenly not only hallucinate her in her ( ... )
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Given a few hints, though, she can manage. Not many people wear sunglasses at night, after all. "...in the black dress? Yeah...?"
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Then he starts towards George as quickly as he can, which is... not all that quick with the crowd. He's pretty sure he's going to scoop her up and never let her go when he gets to her, and he doesn't fancy getting shot or anything, so he shouts as he gets closer.
"George! Georgia!"
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She considers moving to meet him, but she's just slightly out of the way of the press of the crowd where she is, in the small gap between a ring toss game and a stand handing out fried something. Probably best that she stick where she is and let Shaun come to her, though she calls as he gets close, "Tell me you have an explanation for this, because I'm starting to wonder if someone slipped me something and this is some bizarre drug trip."
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"Don't you fucking dare tell me to not do this in public, by the way," he says in her ear, and she might notice that his voice is shaking. She might also feel the scratchiness of his scruffy beard - Shaun's usually pretty clean-shaven, because she doesn't like the scratchiness, and yet.
"It is really good to see you."
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Georgia knows her brother. She knows the little cues no one else can ever see, when something's wrong, when he's scared or sad or anything... and it couldn't be more screamingly obvious that there's something wrong now.
"...Shaun, what's going on?" she asks finally, returning the hug as hard as she can.
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It's his sister. Alive.
Eventually, though, the voice in his head very quietly tells him, Say something, Shaun. It's a hell of a thing, hearing George in his head while he holds her in his arms.
"It's... kind of a long story," he says after a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat, and losing the battle against a few of his tears. "Here is probably not the best place to go into it."
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"Can we go into it somewhere else? Somewhere less crowded? I'd drag you back to the trailer, but uh..." Yeah. Wherever they are, however they got here... if this is actually real, she's pretty sure the trailer is nowhere in easy reach. Come to think of it, neither is the Senator, probably. Her eyes widen as she realizes it. "Crap. Better yet, explain later - please tell me you know a way I can get in contact with Ryman. Right now."
She's already reaching to pull her PDA out of the pocket at her waist, on the off chance she'll get a signal. Georgia has her priorities. Weird carnivals can be explained later - she has a conspiracy to uncover, and no time to waste.
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He grabs the hand that doesn't have a PDA in it and tugs Georgia after him back towards Emily. "Emily! Um..." He shifts, awkwardly, and jerks his head toward Georgia. "This is George. So, um... maybe the not-being-a-hermit thing can wait until later?"
He looks so adorable and hopeful and happier, dragging poor confused-and-probably-irritated George with him by a hand that's probably starting to ache from how hard he's clutching it. No hard feelings for ditching you, Emily, right?
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Your dead sister does not seem the most tactful thing to say at this moment. And if Hotch and Reid and JJ all came in knowing things about her life she didn't, it's not unreasonable to assume Shaun's sister's in the same position.
Georgia tucks her PDA away - she's not exactly surprised there's no signal, but definitely annoyed - and raises her eyes behind her sunglasses with a sardonic smile. "Hey," she says mildly. After a pause, she adds, "Shaun, I kind of need the bones in my hand in one piece..."
"Hi," Emily says with a quick, slightly uncertain smile for Georgia, and then glances back to Shaun. He looks like he's desperate to get his dead sister back to some kind of safety, and even more desperate to cling to her and not let go. She can't blame him. "Go ahead. Be careful on the way back, okay?"
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All the clinging. Except for the bone-crushing clinging to George's hand, which he loosens his grip on instantly with a brief look of apology.
Shaun is visibly relieved that Emily seems to understand, and flashes her a grateful smile. "Got my guns, my crossbow, and my stun baton. Left the grenade behind, figured there probably wasn't going to be a safe way to use it even if something did happen. We'll be okay, though." He flashes Emily a thumbs-up and tugs on George's hand. It's been so long since he played the fearless, devil-may-care Irwin, but he doesn't want to let on how much has changed just yet, so he forces a grin. "Hey, George, have you ever wanted to walk through a forest in the dark?"
You are such an idiot.
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She stops in her tracks, staring at him in wide-eyed fear - not that it's exactly visible behind her glasses. "Are you serious?"
He can't be serious. There are few places she wouldn't choose over a loud, bright, crowded and unsecured carnival... but she just can't see a dark forest as a better option.
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He grabs her other hand and looks right at about where her eyes should be - he's good at gauging that, years of practise and all. "George, I promise, nothing's going to happen."
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"I swear to God, if we run into one single amplified deer, or even an overly large raccoon, I am going to beat you black and blue once we're out of the woods," she grumbles finally, tugging one hand free to shove her glasses back up her nose.
After a pause, she adds, "At least tell me you've got a camera on you. A small one, even?" If they're going to be doing something this completely suicidal, they might as well get it on film. The cameras hidden in her earrings and dress will do, but they're not exactly ideal.
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