The bunnies were interesting and frightening all at once, but the game was a lot of fun. Sameth is grinning as he grabs a beer and heads over to the party to say hello to people.
His cricket whites aren't quite as clean as before, it turns out demon bunnies explode, but he doesn't look as bad as he did after the last cricket game he played in.
The captain of the Enigmas is sitting off at bit by himself, at the top of one of the sets of bleachers.
Not that Castiel is actively avoiding people. It's just his habit to stay on the fringes of large social gatherings. He's not good at mingling. And this is not like the team meeting or the game itself, where he'd had responsibilities.
In the absence of responsibility, he has, for the moment, fallen back into his usual role. Observer.
But he is happy. Demon bunnies aside, the game was a success. And he is already mentally making a list of repairs that will need to be made to the field. Like replacing second base.
Crowley, though magnanimous in victory, still refuses to believe that Kool-Aid is anything but a cruel joke perpetrated by Bar on those who don't know any better. Nothing is supposed to be that colour. Nothing.
That's alright, though; he's managed to locate that other most traditional of sporting beverages, an ice-cold beer, and thus supplied has staked out a spot in the bleachers from which to lounge benevolently at passers-by.
His legs are stretched out in front of him, his red Enigma cap is tipped jauntily back in his hair, and although he's miracled away the worst of the wear and tear from his face and clothes, he's still picking at a good deal of the dust that remains caked beneath his fingernails.
"Nope," Crowley says, just a little prideful. "I do have an innate talent for hitting things with other things and then running away, though, which I've always thought was one of those transferable life skills."
Awkward pause, as Crowley eyes the man's attire. Are those cricket whites? Was this guy on the field and Crowley just didn't notice? Should he be congratulating him in turn? Dilemma!
"Thank you very much! I had a fantastic time. Thanks to the umpire, naturally," Carlisle replies in a smooth tone. "I never would have organized something so large by myself."
Comments 1064
But a good one.
Meg Ford, still in umpire blue, has a seat on the bleachers over looking first base, a Molson, and no intention of moving any time soon.
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He takes a moment to look out over the field again.
"Good game."
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"I don't think I'm going to dump my plans for medical school, and embark on a career calling baseball games, but it was fun.
"Did you have a good time?"
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"Yes. I did."
"I work well within a team."
Just exchange the baseball caps for halos.
It is what he knows how to do. And the first time he has gotten to experience it in Milliways.
"Did you? Have a good time?"
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His cricket whites aren't quite as clean as before, it turns out demon bunnies explode, but he doesn't look as bad as he did after the last cricket game he played in.
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"What did you think of baseball?"
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"What would that have let you do?"
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Not that Castiel is actively avoiding people. It's just his habit to stay on the fringes of large social gatherings. He's not good at mingling. And this is not like the team meeting or the game itself, where he'd had responsibilities.
In the absence of responsibility, he has, for the moment, fallen back into his usual role. Observer.
But he is happy. Demon bunnies aside, the game was a success. And he is already mentally making a list of repairs that will need to be made to the field. Like replacing second base.
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"Congratulations."
Carlisle manages to be completely sincere and choking on disappointment simultaneously.
It's a talent.
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He may be smiling, ever so faintly.
"Thank you."
"Both of our teams played well."
It had been a close game.
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Carlisle can be genuinely curious about this, at least.
Baseball wasn't new to Carlisle.
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That's alright, though; he's managed to locate that other most traditional of sporting beverages, an ice-cold beer, and thus supplied has staked out a spot in the bleachers from which to lounge benevolently at passers-by.
His legs are stretched out in front of him, his red Enigma cap is tipped jauntily back in his hair, and although he's miracled away the worst of the wear and tear from his face and clothes, he's still picking at a good deal of the dust that remains caked beneath his fingernails.
The dust of glory.
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"You're quite good. Have you played before?"
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Awkward pause, as Crowley eyes the man's attire. Are those cricket whites? Was this guy on the field and Crowley just didn't notice? Should he be congratulating him in turn? Dilemma!
Eventually, he just goes with, "Thanks, though."
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"Very important talents to have. I wish I'd been able to sign up since I'm really good at the hitting things part."
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The fact the game actually happened and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves is the important part.
Carlisle's smiling at the players and spectators he passes.
[ooc: very sporadically here this evening, but wanted to get in!]
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"I'm not entire certain how we pulled this off, if I'm being honest, but I'm really glad that we did.
"Everyone seemed to have a good time."
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