4th floor common room, Sunday afternoon
Tip wasn't much into Christmas, as a general rule. She used to be. She used to love the holiday.
That was before she'd watched her mother get abducted by aliens on Christmas Eve, Tip's stocking halfway up her arm.
So she resented the hell out of the island's daily efforts to force holiday cheer on everyone. She was especially not into the particular way it was doing that today.
The fact that all she could find on TV were various film interpretations of Charles Dickens wasn't helping. "Ooo, a money-lender who hates Christmas. Wonder what that's code for." Bill danced around in the air to the catchy happy music from the TV, making little bubble stars around Tip's head. "Knock that off. Your culture doesn't celebrate Christmas, either."
Bill blew the bubble version of a raspberry.
[Tip is a grump. Open!]
That was before she'd watched her mother get abducted by aliens on Christmas Eve, Tip's stocking halfway up her arm.
So she resented the hell out of the island's daily efforts to force holiday cheer on everyone. She was especially not into the particular way it was doing that today.
The fact that all she could find on TV were various film interpretations of Charles Dickens wasn't helping. "Ooo, a money-lender who hates Christmas. Wonder what that's code for." Bill danced around in the air to the catchy happy music from the TV, making little bubble stars around Tip's head. "Knock that off. Your culture doesn't celebrate Christmas, either."
Bill blew the bubble version of a raspberry.
[Tip is a grump. Open!]