Log: Jim and Eddie - Closed
Who: Jim Profit and Edward Nygma
When: Two days after Thanksgiving
What: DRUNKEN THANKSGIVING LULZ!
Where: Jim's room
Warnings: Drunkenness, silliness, potential for schmoop, but probably with a layer of TERRIBLENESS.
Jim had insisted upon having Thanksgiving. It was a holiday which he'd relished as a child for the interruption from the normal viewing schedule. It was a strange thing, a small thing, but thanksgiving opened up a window to a completely different world, where the figures on the television weren't just being funny, or exciting, or emotional, they were behaving like families. No matter what the show, or what the theme, at Thanksgiving, all the characters would gather around a big table, in a room that seemed impossibly clean and bright, and they'd serve up types of food that Jim had never seen before, and they'd talk about how thankful they were for each other.
As a little boy who could barely speak or read, whose world never expanded beyond the four walls of a cardboard box? Jim had been transfixed. After he'd run away from home, every year he'd found some way to celebrate it, usually alone, even if that thing was nothing more exciting than coming up with one thing he was thankful for. This year Edward's illness had forced him to postpone celebrations for a few days, but he hadn't let the detective delay it indefinitely, and two days after Thanksgiving had officially ended, Jim insisted on cooking them a modest but full thanksgiving dinner, and bringing out a bottle of wine which they'd picked up in Paris.
Then another bottle.
Then another.
Jim... didn't tend to put away enough alcohol of any kind to get drunk. He'd made a few critical mistakes in his teenage years, which led to him avoiding the substance in any kind of quantities, and being overly careful when working on getting other people drunk. What this had led too, was his being in possession of an unusually low alcohol tolerance, and for what was probably the second time since he came onto the Barge, Jim... was drunk. In fact, Jim was very drunk.
Slowly mushing his pumpkin pie into a fine paste at the bottom of a ceramic bowl, he smiled unsteadily at Edward, "Okay, so now-- now you say what you're thankful for?"
When: Two days after Thanksgiving
What: DRUNKEN THANKSGIVING LULZ!
Where: Jim's room
Warnings: Drunkenness, silliness, potential for schmoop, but probably with a layer of TERRIBLENESS.
Jim had insisted upon having Thanksgiving. It was a holiday which he'd relished as a child for the interruption from the normal viewing schedule. It was a strange thing, a small thing, but thanksgiving opened up a window to a completely different world, where the figures on the television weren't just being funny, or exciting, or emotional, they were behaving like families. No matter what the show, or what the theme, at Thanksgiving, all the characters would gather around a big table, in a room that seemed impossibly clean and bright, and they'd serve up types of food that Jim had never seen before, and they'd talk about how thankful they were for each other.
As a little boy who could barely speak or read, whose world never expanded beyond the four walls of a cardboard box? Jim had been transfixed. After he'd run away from home, every year he'd found some way to celebrate it, usually alone, even if that thing was nothing more exciting than coming up with one thing he was thankful for. This year Edward's illness had forced him to postpone celebrations for a few days, but he hadn't let the detective delay it indefinitely, and two days after Thanksgiving had officially ended, Jim insisted on cooking them a modest but full thanksgiving dinner, and bringing out a bottle of wine which they'd picked up in Paris.
Then another bottle.
Then another.
Jim... didn't tend to put away enough alcohol of any kind to get drunk. He'd made a few critical mistakes in his teenage years, which led to him avoiding the substance in any kind of quantities, and being overly careful when working on getting other people drunk. What this had led too, was his being in possession of an unusually low alcohol tolerance, and for what was probably the second time since he came onto the Barge, Jim... was drunk. In fact, Jim was very drunk.
Slowly mushing his pumpkin pie into a fine paste at the bottom of a ceramic bowl, he smiled unsteadily at Edward, "Okay, so now-- now you say what you're thankful for?"