maskormenacelogs | (semi-open) could be there’s nothing else in our lives

WHO: Danger, Cassandra Igarashi, & Martin (OPEN TO MF#4)
WHERE: The Gremlin Family Home
WHEN: Early February
WHAT: It's Gremlin Day.
WARNINGS: None right now!

[ Danger's last cake may not have gone over particularly well with Martin's ImPort family last time. Apparently celebrating a person's reluctant return from the dead isn't something that they do in this household. Fortunately, this time, Martin's mechanical friend has an entirely different sort of occasion to celebrate. At their last meeting, she'd noticed something about Martin — a brief moment of contact, sweat and other skin secretions detected by the microscopic sensors in her hands, then a quick summated analysis of several aging biomarkers led to her a curious conclusion.

The age of a living organism is a difficult thing to determine with utter certainty, but she was reasonably sure of the conclusion she'd reached — with an acceptable margin for statistical error, of course. Either way, it was close enough to warrant another cake. So, she shows up on their doorstep unannounced with said cake balanced one one hand — impeccably baked, frosted with precision, and decorated with icing letters that read, simply:

"You are 15." ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What the fuck is this.

[ Cassandra doesn't know Danger very well, but she knows she doesn't like her. Getting Martin in jail, even unintentionally, doesn't exactly give her positive feelings. Of course, it could be worse- at least Danger seems to give a shit about the kid's well-being, despite everything.

So maybe it's that association of her with Martin that allows Cassandra to figure out exactly what's going on, after a moment of frustrated confusion, staring at Danger in the doorway. But- no way. Come on. ]

That's- no. He's not that old yet, is he? He doesn't know! How would you?

[ Is she panicking? Maybe a little bit. ]

[ Fortunately Danger has a general lack of concern for what most humans consider to be social norms, so it's fine if Cassandra doesn't like her — that doesn't bother her much — just so long as she still takes the birthday cake.

A prompt and almost curt response to Cassandra's question: ]

Science.

[ She takes a step closer to the threshold, tall and imperious as ever. ]

May I come in.

[ Danger isn't getting a true response, as Cassandra's distracted now- she walks back into the house, basically making room for Danger to come in. She smacks the palms of her hands into her temples. ]

Christ, are you serious? You could have given us some forewarning! We could have gotten gifts! He'll have a cake and no fucking gifts. What are we going to do, hide the cake?

[ This has clearly, instantaneously, become her priority. She's way more stressed than she needs to be. ]

[ Danger will take that as permission enough. She steps inside as Cassandra drifts away from the entryway, careful to push the door shut behind her and lock it. Cake still held aloft, she follows. ]

What purpose would it serve to hide the cake?

[ It doesn't take Danger's advanced array of sensors to detect Cassandra's high level of stress. ]

Martin has no expectations.
As far as I am aware, he has never celebrated a birthday — particularly not with the traditions you are likely accustomed to.

That's the point! It's basically his first real birthday. That means it should be good. He deserves something good.

[ Okay, okay. She pulls herself together enough to take out her communicator. ]

I'm telling people to get...cheese. He likes cheese. And something nice for him. Seriously, can you get more specific about how you found this out? Can you age-scan people?

"Good" is subjective.
There are not definitive parameters for what constitutes a "good" first birthday.
To be quite frank, I suspect Martin would find a traditional celebrate somewhat overwhelming.

[ Danger promptly carries the cake into the kitchen and slides it safely into the fridge, somewhere between Andy's beer bottles and whatever leftovers are inside. ]

Are you genuinely interested in the technical details?
Or are you asking simply because you don't trust me?

Good fucking Lord, can we not get into shit like that right now? He needs to be happy on his birthday, and it’s his birthday. Simple! Actually simple. For once.

[ She starts texting Rex as they’re speaking. This child needs his important dairy products. ]

And, look, it would be nice to know, but at least I agree with you on the fact that it’s not the priority right now. Third- yes, of course I feel a little fucking suspicious of someone who’s gotten Martin into prison before, yes!

It, uh...it wasn't her fault.

[says Martin, who has slunk down from upstairs at the sound of the commotion to find...Danger yet again presenting the house with a cake. rather, him? it's for him? that's who they're talking about, right? he's pretty sure...

he shrinks a little once noticed, but ultimately straightens back up to the usual slouch and draws closer.]

What happened? Hello, Danger. Why did you bring another cake?

[ It was maybe... A little her fault. ]

Hello, Martin.
At our last meeting, I determined with some statistical confidence that you are fifteen years old.
It is my understanding that humans traditionally celebrate each year of their life with cake.
Your family is predominantly human, so it seemed appropriate.

[ More appropriate than her "Congratulations on not being dead" cake for Andy, anyway. ]

Though at least one of your guardians seems discontent with my timing.

Shiiit.

[ Did a part of her want this to be a surprise for Martin? Yeah, actually, though the better part of her knows he should have been told in advance. Then again, this was a surprise for everyone. She runs her hand back through her hair, glaring at Danger. ]

You really could have called. [ As for Martin: ] Look- I'm sorry there's nothing here. If I'd have known we would have actually done something. At least everyone would've come over.

[Martin misses out on actually reacting to Cassandra's wincing apology, because he's still processing what Danger said in his head.]

Year of my life... [fifteen of them.

he blinks.

surprised:] I...I have a birthday? I real one? [MORE surprised:] I'm fifteen?

[ Rex had been on his way home when he'd gotten a hurried emergency text from Cassandra, swore, and immediately turned back around to wander aimlessly around the mall until he found something suitable. He seems to do that more and more these days and, he's discovered, it's one of his least favourite parts of life here.

Martin doesn't need anything else, except it's his birthday, which means apparently he does. After going to a general goods store without anything but pleas for some poor worker to help him, he arrives at the door looking harried, a couple of bags in tow. ]

We really need to stop doing this.

[ At the very least, Danger is a very polite houseguest. She's never celebrated her own birthday, of course — which seems to be a thing in this household — so she isn't necessarily so helpful with arranging for the various birthday traditions, but she isn't getting in the way either. If anything, she seems to find it all... Curious. If not amusing. To see all these organics frantically running around to fetch cheese and setup decorations.

When Rex arrives, his favorite droid is there, waiting. She comes to the door and unceremoniously puts her hands out for his bags. ]

Stop doing what, precisely?

Arranging for celebrations at the last minute.

[ It keeps happening! It's bizarre. Rex had never celebrated so much in his life prior to coming here. Now, it seems there's a new celebration every month. ]

A little prep time would be appreciated. [ He does, however, hand over the bags. Like it or not, Danger's in his life now. There've been weirder things. Not many, but weirder. ]

How'd you know it's his birthday? He didn't know it was his birthday.

(semi-open) could be there’s nothing else in our lives

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