A Very Marvel Thanksgiving
Growing up, Thanksgiving in the McNeil household had always been a grand affair. With ten mouths to feed - more, in fact, on the few occasions the Twoyoungmens had joined them, not to mention whatever extended family had made their way out west on any given year - Heather had assisted in the preparation of the traditional dinner since she’d been old enough to hold a spoon. And although it had been just her and Mac for these past few years, she’d never used that as an excuse to go anything less than all out, even if it meant eating leftovers until Halloween. Canadian Thanksgiving, after all, takes place in October - and on a Monday, to boot! Almost stranger to Heather than celebrating the holiday in November is that it’s on a Thursday, though she supposes the day of the week is hardly the strangest thing of all, given their presently enforced location.
Perhaps it’s of little surprise, then, that finding helping hands was easier than even she expected. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all, and with everyone so far away from home, the familiar becomes all the more enticing. Though her fellow redheaded cooks, Jean and Mary Jane, for that night’s gathering are near-strangers to her, they all share in some version of the same home, and as far as common points of interest go, that’s not something to blithely ignore. There’s history between almost every guest, whether every guest knows it or not.
Time travel really is a pesky business.
The dinner itself is largely traditional, albeit with a few idiosyncrasies unique to the island - and, courtesy of Karolina, vegetarians. Logan, meanwhile, had dutifully played his part as the manly hunter, providing the main course for the more carnivorous of the group. In the end, there are meats and potatoes, vegetables and fruits, pies and other assorted deserts, as well as some deep fried dishes that Heather has no intention of going anywhere near - plenty, really, to ensure everyone’s waistbands are a little tighter than when they arrived.
The presentation of it all is simple and practical, feeding into Heather’s own personal ethos that things needn’t be fancy to be functional. Two long tables have been set up outside of Kate’s hut, one loaded with the food, buffet style, and the other for the guests to seat themselves. Both are under a makeshift canopy in case the weather decides to take a turn for the worse. Chairs were corralled with the promise that they would be returned in the same condition as they left - a promise Heather may come to regret later, she realises, but she’s worked with the government long enough to know some promises are made simply to keep up appearances. Torches provide additional light, and though she would have liked to avoid open flame with this lot, it’s a risk she’s willing to take.
Looking around the assembled party, she takes solace in the fact that they count among their number at least one doctor that she knows of, if not more. Lord only knows they might need them before night’s end.
Perhaps it’s of little surprise, then, that finding helping hands was easier than even she expected. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all, and with everyone so far away from home, the familiar becomes all the more enticing. Though her fellow redheaded cooks, Jean and Mary Jane, for that night’s gathering are near-strangers to her, they all share in some version of the same home, and as far as common points of interest go, that’s not something to blithely ignore. There’s history between almost every guest, whether every guest knows it or not.
Time travel really is a pesky business.
The dinner itself is largely traditional, albeit with a few idiosyncrasies unique to the island - and, courtesy of Karolina, vegetarians. Logan, meanwhile, had dutifully played his part as the manly hunter, providing the main course for the more carnivorous of the group. In the end, there are meats and potatoes, vegetables and fruits, pies and other assorted deserts, as well as some deep fried dishes that Heather has no intention of going anywhere near - plenty, really, to ensure everyone’s waistbands are a little tighter than when they arrived.
The presentation of it all is simple and practical, feeding into Heather’s own personal ethos that things needn’t be fancy to be functional. Two long tables have been set up outside of Kate’s hut, one loaded with the food, buffet style, and the other for the guests to seat themselves. Both are under a makeshift canopy in case the weather decides to take a turn for the worse. Chairs were corralled with the promise that they would be returned in the same condition as they left - a promise Heather may come to regret later, she realises, but she’s worked with the government long enough to know some promises are made simply to keep up appearances. Torches provide additional light, and though she would have liked to avoid open flame with this lot, it’s a risk she’s willing to take.
Looking around the assembled party, she takes solace in the fact that they count among their number at least one doctor that she knows of, if not more. Lord only knows they might need them before night’s end.