kitchen_maid | Christmas Party! Millitimed Vaguely to "Sometime Around Christmas"

Christmas Party! Millitimed Vaguely to "Sometime Around Christmas"

Anne and Amy have been very very busy over the last week or so, transforming their usually simple white room into the perfect place for a Christmas party.

There are garlands of holly and balsam strung around the room, leading away from the wreath between the windows (and there's a grumpy looking crow, perched in the middle of the wreath, trying to figure out how to get the red ribbon from around his neck). A Christmas tree, candles ablaze, stands in one corner, with presents tucked under its branches.

Welcome, dear friend, to Anne and Amy's Christmas party.

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"I see. Well then, it's lucky for you that there are none in sight. You may eat your cookies without fear of raisins defiling them."

She beams, "That's me, although you're flattering me, I think."

"Raisins are okay," Logan says, grinning. "Oatmeal is all right. It's the combination that's an abomination."

"Me? Flatter? I scoff at such a notion," Logan says. "I'd be surprised if anyone here could out-pretty you."

He hasn't seen Helen, so perhaps that's why he's so confident. It's hard to look better than Helen of Troy.

Phil blushes prettily. "On some days, perhaps. There are times when I can be quite outshined, though," she laughs, "depending on who's there."

She may protest, but not too strongly. She doesn't mind the flattery at all.

Very few people do mind flattery.

"Today you're looking radiant, though," Logan says gallantly. "We'll leave those other days to themselves, shall we?"

"Well, thank you, Logan," she says with a grin, "I believe we shall."

She laughs, "So how have you been since I saw you last?"

"Pretty good," he says. "I'm Bound again, but since home sort of sucks right now, I'm okay with that. How about you?"

"Oh," she replies, "well, that's too bad. About your home anyway. If you prefer being bound then perhaps someone is looking out for you."

She smiles, "I'm doing very well, myself. Bolingbroke is an especially pleasant place to be this time of year."

"Bar definitely has maternal instincts," he says, laughing. "Though they're not exactly easy to understand sometimes."

"Oh? Why is that?" Logan's got no idea, really. He's never been to the Island, just to Toronto once, and he has no idea why it would be so pleasant.

"Why, because it's Christmas, of course!" says Phil with her usual enthusiasm.

"Bolingbroke is full of parties and dances and Christmas jubilees. Why, only last week I was at Alice Greene's annual holiday shindig having a simply marvelous time. Besides," she beams, "Christmas is just a happy time to be around everyone you care about."

"I always did like Christmas parties," Logan says. "I pretended I didn't, but they just sort of make things feel right, don't they? It's not festive enough without them."

"Oh, yes, I completely agree. Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without all of this. Not really."

She looks confused, "But why would you pretend you don't like them?"

"Because my mother threw them, and she loved them so much."

Logan says this like it makes sense.

"I'm a contrary sort of person, when it comes to that sort of thing."

"Ah," she says with a nod, "I'm not much for doing what my mother tells me to either, but once she gets it into her head that I ought to be doing something there's little stopping her."

She sighs, "She's gotten it into her head that it's high time for me to be thinking about getting married, and I have to listen to it every single day."

Logan winces. "Ouch. How's that working for you?"

"Well, it's gotten me fairly convinced that next year I'll be leaving for college instead of staying home to be married, that's for sure."

She smiles, "I'm actually looking forward to it far more than I thought I would. It turns out Anne and Gilbert will be there as well!"

"College definitely sounds like a better choice than getting married," Logan agrees fervently. "Do you know what you'll study?"

"Oh, I haven't the faintest idea." She shrugs, "Or rather, I have many ideas, but I can't seem to make up my mind between them. I'm quite fond of mathematics, though I can't see how that will get me anywhere, and sometimes I imagine that classics might be good for my soul, or perhaps history. I really haven't a clue."

She grins, "Besides, college can't be all about studying now, can it?"

Logan laughs. "Must be nice to be brainy," he teases. "And it's terribly attractive, you know. Most of the college kids I know do much more partying than studying, really."

She smirks, "Oh, I've got heaps of brains. It used to make the boys at school frightfully jealous that I was better than they were at mathematics, poor dears. Not so jealous that they wouldn't walk me home, mind you, but stil, they had the green air of envy about them."

She shrugs, "But I'm not much for studying really. I'd far rather go out, or have company. I'm afraid I shall never really hunker down and study like some do. What would be the point? Eventually I will get married, and I shall have no use for mathematics at all."

"So, you don't want to go off and be a famous mathematician or engineer?" he teased. "Just marriage and babies?"

"Mathematician or engineer? Honey, I haven't ever done a day of hard work in my entire life, and I don't imagine I'll start any time soon. I simply wasn't made for that kind of life."

She's ever so practical, you know. And at least she's honest.

"So, yes, it must be marriage for me one of these days. And as for babies, well, I suppose they're a part of the bargain, though I'm quite terrible with small children. I haven't the faintest of ideas how to manage them."

Logan laughs. "I'm right with you on the work and the babies. Don't suppose I can convince you to marry me so we can live in idle, childless splendor for the rest of our days?"

Phil laughs back, "That depends? Are you fabulously wealthy? That's one thing I absolutely insist upon."

Her eyes sparkle.

"Oh, and you're also not allowed to write bad poetry. I'm afraid bad poets have recently been taken off my list of acceptable marriage candidates. I've received one wretched sonnet too many."

"Fabulously wealthy? I think that covers it. Homeless at the moment, due to some...unexpected fire problems, but that'll be fixed sooner or later."

Beat.

"I'm kind of famous, too, if that helps. The only poetry I've written in my life has been in English class, and it's all awful, but I'd offer it to you if it would amuse you."

"Well well, rich and famous. I suppose you fit all of the criteria then!" she says with a laugh. "And you're welcome to keep your poetry to yourself. I think if I heard another sonnet written to the beauty of my eyelashes I might just scream."

Christmas Party! Millitimed Vaguely to "Sometime Around Christmas"

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