Time is all around, except inside my clock

[changingtheodds]

Ruvin has had several very startling realizations. The first, she's almost seventeen. In just under a week, she will be. She'd all but forgotten about birthdays.

The second--she's been in Chicago for a year, as of today. She's paused where she is, in the middle of crossing a street to look up at the sky in surprise.

Winny is standing in front of

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[thehighestwing]

Have a Phoebe, Tomei.

She's been helping decorate the common room and she's got tinsel in her hair. She skips her way over to him with a bright smile and her usual sunny disposition.

"Ooooh. That smells good. FEED ME, TOMEI."

[marchforthedead]

He turns and holds out a spoon full of a thick, brown stew-ish-thing he's been working on all day. It's fatty and spicy and rather rich. HE'S BEEN WAITING FOR YOU TO SHOW UP, PHOEBE.

And yes, he will feed you.

He would ruffle your hair, but his free hand is under the spoon to catch dribbles.

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe will hop onto the counter beside where he is cooking, swinging her legs and bouncing about cheerfully.

One must wonder how much sugar she consumes on a daily basis.

She wrinkles her nose in genuine curiosity at the spoon and what it contains. "Whazzat?"

[marchforthedead]

"Food," he says. How in the world can he explain it's mixed-organ stew with dumplings? He cannot. Phoebe must find that out for herself.

Poor Phoebe.

At least if she likes meat and salt it'll taste good.

[thehighestwing]

"Of course it's food. Thank ye for stating the obvious."

Phoebe pops a jelly bean into her mouth, legs still swinging about, completely unaffected and unaware.

"Is it like, food you used to eat back home?" she asks, and she genuinely wants to know where he came from and what made him who he is.

[marchforthedead]

"Home." He tests it himself and makes an appreciative noise. There's something to be said for the recipes you come up with when you need to use an animal in its entirety. Wastefulness was not something his mother or sisters encouraged.

He makes several noises, like he's going to say more, but goes for his journal instead.

mayd for all to eet in cold, big meel, famlee, frend

[thehighestwing]

"Awesome sauce!" Phoebe reads what he's written before she sniffs the spatula. She has no idea what it is but it smells good!

"You know any carols, Tomei?"

She starts humming Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. It's...surprisingly okay, tone wise. She's no Whitney Houston, but she doesn't sound like a cat that's dying!

[marchforthedead]

He's heard that song a lot over the past week or so. Enough that he can hum the tune, anyway. As long as he doesn't have to sing the words, he's fine. He takes another taste of the soup and then offers the spoon to Phoebe.

SUCH FOODS ARE MEANT TO BE SHARED, AFTER ALL.

[thehighestwing]

Oh, Tomei. Him humming the tune only makes Phoebe sing louder and with greater cheer. SHE FIRMLY BELIEVES THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT IS SOMETHING THAT SHOULD NEVER BE STIFLED. She quiets down when he offers the spoon.

"This is good!" Phoebe declares after having taken the spoon. "It is strange, though. Don't think I've ever eaten anything like this before."

A beat.

"This isn't like snake or something like that, right?"

[marchforthedead]

Snake. He knows that word! "No snake. Cow."

He pauses. "All of cow."

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe flails a little at that admission. "ALL OF COW?"

She's already swallowed her bite, but she looks a little green now.

"...I think I'm going to be sick."

[marchforthedead]

The look on her face makes Tomei flail a bit as well. He gets her a glass of water, looking like a guilty dog caught going through the trash.

"Not bad. Cook. Not..." He searches for the word, muttering frustrations in his own tongue. "Not... sick? Not for making sick?"

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe snatches the glass of water the minute it materializes, drinking it all in one lone gulp before gasping for air.

She will not answer you right away, Tomei. There is a very pertinent question she would like to make you.

"WHAT PART OF THE COW WAS IT?!"

[marchforthedead]

He winces. For someone almost seven feet tall, Tomei is unusually capable of looking like a whipped puppy. "Much part?"

He refills her cup. "Words..." He waves at his mouth, conveniently forgetting that he could just write it all out in his journal. HE DOESN'T LIKE IT WHEN PHOEBE YELLS.

[thehighestwing]

...THAT IS SO NOT FAIR.

Phoebe deflates immediately at that whipped puppy-like face and it's hard to remember she was upset. It should not work on her. Sisterthings should be immune.

Phoebe takes the glass once he's refilled it. "It's okay," she mutters. "Don't go all kinkajou on me yet."

[marchforthedead]

He relaxes, bending over so he's eye to eye with her before giving a tiny, uncertain smile. "Not must eat more, you."

Even to his own ears, that sentence sounds ridiculous. He squints through one eye and tries again. "You not must eat more?"