Case # 37: Video

[19centconstable]

[Someone is holding the communicator carelessly in one hand, as though they don't know it's on. The floor passes by slowly under the camera's lens. Whoever they are, they're walking hesitantly toward something. Bathroom tile appears, and then: the base of the toilet.]

Sweet wounded Jesus. I've died and gone to heaven.

[It's a boy speaking; his voice soft and high, his accent somewhere between Irish, British, and Pirate.

In other words: George Crabtree.]

Comments

Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

[Her childish voice replies:] It's me! Come in!

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[Twelve year old George is skinny. Not scrawny, just a bit underfed and overworked. His hair is uncombed, and he looks a little dirty. He gazes down at her.]

You're tiny!

Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

So? I can still beat you! [She holds up the nearest object- a shoe- and grips it threateningly.]

And I'm really not tiny! I'm twenty!

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[He shrinks back. He knows from his trillions of aunts just how scary women can be, regardless of size.]

I didn't mean...you talk like you're bigger!

Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

[Satisfied, she put down the shoe and wandered over to hand him the horse.]

Because I am bigger!

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[He boggles at her. It's a difficult thing to wrap one's mind around.]

Was it...did a witch do this?

Re: Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

No, the Admiral did. He might be a witch. [She thrusts the horse at him again. Insistently.]

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[He takes the horse, tapping a finger against it and frowning at the strange material. Young George doesn't have as many ideas as older George, though, so he doesn't theorize.]

I don't think you can be a man-witch.

Re: Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

Okay. [She shrugged.] Come on! [She raced for the door, the doll in her hand.]

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[He lopes after her, with the clumsy stride of all boys everywhere.]

Where are we going?

Re: Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

Outside! To play in the snow! [She took the stairs as quickly as she could, gripping the railing tightly as she did so.]

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[Now he's definitely forgotten how grown up he's supposed to be, because there's snow! And they can play in it!

He trails after her like an over-grown puppy. Some things will never change.]

Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

[She had to stop a few times, but she was able to make it to the door and pointed at it, since she couldn't reach it.]

Open it!

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[Twelve year old George isn't quite as civilized as George will be, but he's a good boy, and his aunts have him well trained. He does as she says, then follows her onto the deck.

And stops in his tracks.]

This...is no boat.

[It's a space station?]

Re: Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

[She sighed, shoving him.] No. It's a boat in space. It's...magic or something.

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[He stumbles slowly into the snow.]

The stars are so close. Can you touch them?

[George is not clear on what stars are made of.]

Re: Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

No, stupid. Don't be a dummy. [She reached out and grabbed his shirt.] Don't do that.

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[George is cowed by that, because at this age he was quite sure he was stupid. Or at least: not smart.]

Sorry.

Re: Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

It's okay. [She smiled at him, forgiving him as only small children can.] Ready to play!

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[He nods.]

I'm not sure what Indians do in the snow, though. They might sleep through it, like bears.

[Oh, Jimmy McLeod (George's Native American manfriend): George will learn one day.]

Re: Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

That's not fun. I don't want to sleep through the snow. [She pouted at him.] Oh I know! [She reached out for the horse.] I'll take your horse and you have to close your eyes, count to twenty and then find it!

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[He hands the horse over and closes his eyes.]

One...two...

Re: Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

[She giggled and ran off with it, hiding it underneath a chair and piled snow on top of it. Her eyes couldn't really see it that well, so she just assumed that George wouldn't either.

Laughing, she went to hide behind another chair to wait.]

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[He opens his eyes.]

...do I get hints?

Re: Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

No! Indians don't get hints! [Not that she knew.]