Memory Share: Simon Snow

[fuckingtragedy]

[note: this text is almost directly from the book, only small modifications were made.]

You didn't think rich people actually ate this way. At a long table covered with red and gold cloth. Thick napkins tied with poinsettias. Platters with heavy silver lids.

It wouldn't surprise you if rich people really don't live like this -- but that the Pitches do it, just to make a scene. If this is Christmas Eve, what do they have planned for tomorrow?

"Sorry we're late, Mother," Baz says, pulling out a chair.

"What a nice surprise, Mr. Snow," his dad says. He's smiling, but in a way that makes you regret your decision to come back into the house.

"Thank you, sir. I hope I'm not intruding," you say.

Baz's stepmum smiles, too. "Of course not." You can't tell if she means it or is just being polite.

"I invited him," Baz says to his father. "It's not like he has anywhere else to go at Christmas." You can't tell if Baz is actually being rude to you or doing it for show. You can't read any of their faces -- even the baby just looks bored.

You thought there might be extended family here for the holidays, miscellaneous Grimms and Pitches, but it's just Baz's parents and his siblings. There's the older girl, Mordelia, then two other little girls, maybe twins -- you're not sure how old, old enough to sit up by themselves and gnaw on turkey legs -- and a baby in a fancy carved high chair tapping a rattle onto his (her?) tray.

They all look like Baz's stepmum: dark hair, but not black like Baz's, with round cheeks and those Billie Piper mouths that don't quite close over their front teeth. They don't look dangerous enough to be Baz's siblings -- or his father's children. Penny says the Grimms are less political and less deadly than the Pitches, but Baz's dad looks like a pit viper wearing a pin-striped suit; even his snow-white hair is scary.

"Stuffing?" Baz asks, handing you a platter. It seems like their servants have the day off. (You've counted at least four since you've been here: Vera, two women cleaning, and a man out front shoveling the walks.)

You take a big scoop of chestnut stuffing and notice that there's almost nothing on Baz's plate. The platters and boats go around twice, and he just passes them to you -- you wonder if he has an eating disorder.

You eat enough for both of you. The food here is even better than at Watford.

Comments

[fuckingtragedy]

Pity we don't have any here.

[flammablepitch]

Should I find something equally as alluring?

[Yes, he is giving you 100% permission to sniff him.]

[fuckingtragedy]

You smell good without all that. But if you insist.

[flammablepitch]

So you sniff me when I'm not looking, Snow?

[switched to private]

[fuckingtragedy]

What else are you looking at when I'm ravishing you, exactly?

Re: [switched to private]

[flammablepitch]

Nothing, you're the most infuriatingly intoxicating thing in the room.

[In any room, at any time.]

[fuckingtragedy]

Afraid not, Baz. That's you entirely.

[flammablepitch]

Clearly you haven't seen yourself when we're being intimate.

[fuckingtragedy]

That'd be a feat. Are you going to record it now? Bet your dad would be dead chuffed if that were leaked.

[flammablepitch]

Crowley! He couldn't deny shit then, could he?

[fuckingtragedy]

You realize this means we have to do it.

[flammablepitch]

Not too gay for you?

[fuckingtragedy]

Just the right amount, I think.

[flammablepitch]

[He can't help laughing about that.]

Have I told you lately how damn fantastic you are, Snow?

[fuckingtragedy]

Only every morning, and thank you sincerely for that.

[flammablepitch]

Any time. It's far preferable to pretending I hate you.

[fuckingtragedy]

It is.

[There's a genuine smile in Simon's tone.]

[flammablepitch]

You seem to be enjoying it here.

[fuckingtragedy]

[Simon has to stop and think about that for a few moments.]

I am, actually. Back home, I was stuck inside unless you or Penny were around to hide my wings. Kind of put a damper on things, like--

[Like living.]

It's nice, to just be able to go out whenever I want. And to talk to people who went through things like what we went through.

[flammablepitch]

Good.

[fuckingtragedy]

And being here with you. Can't think of much better than that. I know we'll be sent back eventually, but...

It's been nice, hasn't it? I miss Penny, but just you and I?

We should take holiday when we get back. Go somewhere like... Like Majorca or Crete or something. Somewhere romantic. I can take us. I still have plenty of leprechaun gold.

[flammablepitch]

To be honest, I'd take a week on the couch watching stupidly sentimental movies.

I could throw popcorn at you when you start complaining.

[fuckingtragedy]

When have I ever complained!

[flammablepitch]

Just wait, put on Casablanca and you'll either be complaining or asleep in no time.

[Not that Baz would mind Simon drooling all over him.]

[fuckingtragedy]

Is that Tarantino?