(Untitled)

[cheerychaplain]

Father Mulcahy asks the bar for the day's (as in early December 1951) New York Times. He receives the newspaper, and a note comes with it.

His eyebrows furrow as he reads. "December 21st? Really?" His next request is for a large sheet of paper and a marker, and he busily sets to work.

The final result is a new notice on the board, beside an old

Comments

[southphillysob]

One Italian Catholic kid finds his way to the sign and examines it through narrowed eyes.

"Christmas? Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas, but ain't that cuttin' it a little early?"

[cheerychaplain]

"I certainly thought so," says Father Mulcahy cheerfully enough, passing the needle through a piece of popcorn before glancing up to look at the speaker. The uniform is a familiar one; enough to make him smile. "The bar, however, let me know that it's the twenty-first here." Beat. "Of December, that is."

[southphillysob]

Bill snorts. "You're kidding me, right? It's July."

Ha ha, funny guy. And what is with that popcorn?

[cheerychaplain]

Mulcahy frowns; really looks at him this time.

"Is -- this your first time here, my son?"

[theunsmiling]

"Father?"

There's a skinny girl standing nearby, with a short cap of wild, damp hair and brilliant green eyes.

"Do you need help?"

She flicks her fingers toward the garland-makings, the gesture precise and careful.

[cheerychaplain]

The humming ("O Come, All Ye Faithful") cuts off abruptly; Father Mulcahy glances up, and he smiles.

"Certainly! An extra pair of hands would always be appreciated. Please," he gestures to an empty chair, "have a seat."

[theunsmiling]

"There's a lot to be said for the willing, I'm sure."

She doesn't smile, though the stern set to her too-pointed face does soften fractionally. For a moment.

Then she turns the chair around so she can lean forward against the back of it, and reaches for a bowl and some thread.

"I've been far busier doing even stranger things, so."

The look she casts Mulcahy is solemn and sidelong.

"I'm Michael."

[cheerychaplain]

The look that she receives in return is not any less cheerful. "Father Mulcahy," he says (and maybe he blinks once at the name, but it isn't that peculiar; he does, after all, work with a doctor named Hawkeye). "It's a pleasure, Michael. Thank you very much for your help."

[blumekinde]

The humming has drawn a curious one hundred and twelve year old over to his corner of the Bar.

She watches him silently, but her wariness of strangers prevents her from coming any closer.

[cheerychaplain]

It's a moment or two before Mulcahy realizes that he has an audience, but when he does, he glances up.

He smiles at the girl, gentle and encouraging.

"Hello there," he says.

[blumekinde]

"Hello, Father," she replies.

Curiosity getting the better of her she asks, "What are you doing?"

[cheerychaplain]

"I'm making popcorn chains," he informs her, and he picks up both ends of what he has accomplished so far, allowing the chain to droop. Hopefully, she'll get the general idea. "To hang on the unit's Christmas tree in a few weeks. Would you like to give it a try?"

It's an activity that the children at Sister Theresa's orphanage seem to take some enjoyment out of, after all!

[isaysimplewords]

Cal was an indiscriminate TV watcher during the height of M*A*S*H's popularity on his world.

He was also generally a very stoned TV watcher, and he has, this weekend, stumbled across a running theme of people who look vaguely familiar for no immediately apparent reason. So he doesn't make the connection. He just glances up now and then from his book, like he'll suddenly figure it out if he just sneaks up on it, and tries to avoid actually staring.

[cheerychaplain]

Father Mulcahy is intent on his task, but that doesn't mean that he is entirely unobservant, or that he doesn't glance up at the bar from time to time.

After the third or fourth time that he catches a man quickly looking back at his book, Mulcahy smiles at him and tips the brim of his hat.

[isaysimplewords]

Caught again. Cal is not really the stealthy sort.

"Evening, Father," he says with a slightly sheepish smile. He spotted the roman collar on the second look. He's not religious, but there are some symbols of dress that automatically invite certain titles.

[cheerychaplain]

"Good evening," says Father Mulcahy, and there's an amused twinkle in his eye that suggests he's not going to hold this against Cal. "Almost-Merry Christmas."