Christmas in Columbia

[beunbroken]

Who: The BioShocks and Pavel Chekov!
What: Christmas the Columbia way.
When: December 24th
Where: Elizabeth & Booker's Suite
Why: Because in 1776, General Washington lead his troops across the Delaware to defeat the British in the Battle of Trenton.
...You mean there's another reason behind Christmas?

Elizabeth had always had strange Christmases. Trees and presents were always set up in her tower, by forces she didn't know. Songbird would always arrive, a basket filled with gifts for her. And she would celebrate by herself, humming along to Christmas Carols. Some were the traditional ones of her time. Others were exclusive to Columbia, about General Washington and the other Founders. Because for the people of Columbia, Christmas was more about Washington than Jesus.

So this year, she was determined to do Christmas right. She'd prepared a roast ham, fixed hot cocoa, and made presents for all of her friends- knit sweaters and scarves. Well, not for Booker. Booker, she'd actually purchased a gift. A beautiful guitar that she had commissioned specifically for him. She'd heard him play once, and figured tonight, of all nights, he should play again.

[ooc: Mingle log, whatever, do what you want, give gifts, give kisses, load shotguns, do science.]

Comments

It's a Christmas grab-bag!!!

[washitaway]

[FOR ELIZABETH]

[What do you get the girl who has become the most important person in your life? Especially when you get her gifts like all the time anyway? A girl who has spent most of her life locked in a tower, away from other people?

This is the first time in a long time that Booker has been at all concerned about Christmas, or giving gifts to someone, but he thinks he did okay with his ultimate choice - a pretty silver charm bracelet from a local kedan jeweler with a couple of cut blue stones on it, and a few new books to add to her collection. He wrapped it in some red paper he found, and now that it's time for the gift exchange, he offers the package to her almost hesitantly.]

Ah, Merry Christmas, Elizabeth.

[FOR CHEKOV]

[At some point during their festivities, Booker will track down Chekov for a private chat. No, he doesn't have his guns on him, but the stern look on his face might be enough on its own to make the poor kid shake in his Christmas boots.

He doesn't mean to scare him - much - he's just concerned. Chekov is the only person not from their world that Elizabeth invited today, and Booker has seen the two of them together. Dancing. Looking at each other, the way that young people do - or at least, he's seen the way Elizabeth looks at the Russian boy, and it concerns him.]

You got a minute?

[FOR ANYONE!]

[Booker has eaten as much of Elizabeth's cooking as he can hold, and now he just might be strumming quietly on the beautiful guitar she got him for Christmas. He can't help it - it's practically begging to be played.]

[beunbroken]

[Elizabeth turns, wide-eyed to see Booker with his gift. Smiling brightly, she accepts the gift from him. Happily, she takes a seat on the couch to unwrap the gift. And she does so very messily, wrapping paper everywhere because she'll take care of it later.

Her jaw drops as she opens the gift, running her hands over the bright silver.] Oh... Booker... [The books aren't forgotten, and she looks at them, beaming, her eyes watery.]

You shouldn't have. Thank you. Thank you so much. [She fastens the bracelet on, before standing up and wrapping her arms around him.] I love it. All of it.

[Hesitantly, she leans forward and kisses his cheek chastely.] I brought you a gift, too. Uhm... Here.

[She moves to the tree and picks up a large box, before handing it to him.] I hope you like it. I just thought... It seemed appropriate.

[washitaway]

[He accepts the embrace and the kiss with a kind of longstanding resignation that she is just that kind of demonstrative and it's okay, he'll allow it because it's her and she's special and important to him.]

It was nothin'.

[Her gift is very large, and it makes Booker raise his eyebrows. Okay, yeah, his first thought is that she got him a gun, because it's roughly the right length for a sniper rifle or something, but of course she wouldn't do that, this is Elizabeth.]

You didn't have to get me anything so... big...

[He unwraps it a little more methodically than Elizabeth had hers, and when he sees the case, his eyes widen a little. On opening it, to find the beautiful guitar inside, his jaw drops.]

I...

[beunbroken]

[Elizabeth hovers, watching him unwrap the gift. When his jaw drops, she starts to panic.]

It's okay if you hate it. I just thought... Because you played that one time, and this is a place to start over, but... If you hate it I can return it, I won't be upset.

[She'd had it commissioned just for him, evident by the bird and cage motif along the neck, the initials 'AD' carefully worked in, along with other symbols of their time together.]

[washitaway]

I don't - I don't hate it.

[He says that quickly, to reassure her. That's not it at all. Frankly, this is the most beautiful instrument he's ever seen.]

It's - nobody's ever - this is too - [He has a hard time putting it into words, really. Especially in a way that wouldn't upset her. Things like 'this is way too nice for me' are running through his head. He's not worth this, not by a long shot.

Finally, he settles on:] Nobody's ever given me anything this nice before, is all.

[beunbroken]

[She smiles softly at him.]

Well, you deserve it, Booker. I ordered it a while back... It's made just for you. No one else will ever have another guitar like it.

It's really the least I could do. For someone who means so much to me.

[washitaway]

I don't deserve anything like this, but. Thank you.

[Certainly he doesn't deserve a custom-made guitar, Jesus. He gently takes it out of the case, cradling it as though it might disappear - or break - at any moment.

After a while, he starts tuning it, tightening the knobs carefully.] This must've cost a fortune.

[beunbroken]

Yes, Mr. DeWitt, you do.

[She won't address how much it costs. He was worth all of that and more.]

You really like it?

[washitaway]

I, uh. I'll have to see how it sounds. But it's easily the nicest guitar I've ever laid eyes on.

[He gives her a small smile.]

[beunbroken]

[You have just made her day, Booker. She throws her arms around him again.] Oh I'm so glad! Nothing the but the best for you, Mr. DeWitt!

You have to play something.

[washitaway]

[He laughs, maybe somewhat awkwardly, and pats her back one-handed, his other still firmly gripping the guitar.]

I'd have to get it tuned first. Warm it up a bit.

[It's not a no.]

[beunbroken]

Good! [She grins.] I'll sing, too, if you want me to.

[starcharter]

[Fortunately (or unfortunately), Chekov isn't scared by a simple glare. He's curious, wondering what he'd done to make Booker seem so serious. Well, serious about something specific.]

[When Booker catches him, Chekov is sitting on a sofa, sipping one of Elizabeth's hot chocolates.]

Of course.

[He slides over a bit so Booker can sit if he wants.]

[washitaway]

[Booker sits, but keeps a certain amount of distance between them. Part of him really wishes this was something he could solve just by waving a gun at it - he's good at that, knows his way around a gun easily, and has gotten himself out of a lot of sticky situations that way.

But talking has never been his strong suit.]

So, uh. You and Elizabeth, you're gettin' pretty close.

[starcharter]

[Luckily for Booker, realization crosses Chekov's face. He has an idea of where this is going.]

I... yes, I think we are.

[washitaway]

You danced with her. At that bonfire party.

[He saw. Yep, Booker definitely saw it - he didn't interfere at the time because dancing can be harmless, and he knows how much she enjoys dancing and he didn't want to ruin that happy look on her face.

But she talks about this kid more and more, so he has to know -]

Are you courting her?

[starcharter]

[Chekov looks flat-out confused. He knows what courting is, it's just nobody really does it in Human society in the future.]

How do you define "courting?"

[washitaway]

[Booker's eyes narrow a little. How the hell doesn't he know what the word 'courting' means?]

Seeing her with romantic intentions. Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes, son, I was your age once. I just want you to be honest with me, now.

[starcharter]

I have no intention to mislead. The term "courting" has different meanings depending upon culture and era.

[He's definitely a bit nervous now. Admitting it aloud makes it seem... so final. Tangible. Real.]

Yes, I... I do really like her. As more than a friend.

[washitaway]

[His jaw maybe tightens just a little at the thought - he's not sure what it is about the idea of Elizabeth being romantically involved with someone - it's not that he's jealous, really. He doesn't feel those things for her, that's for sure.

He just doesn't want anybody feeling that way about her. As though she's a child he has to protect, rather than a grown woman who doesn't need him telling her what to do.]

She - she doesn't have much experience, of the world. [He's not exactly sure how much this kid knows about her - what she's told him, so he's still being somewhat circumspect about it.] For a girl her age, I mean, she's - she's been sheltered. That might make some think they could take advantage, if you know what I mean.

[starcharter]

She told me about her life. Her home. [And judging my Chekov's expression, he understands that her life wasn't exactly wonderful.]

[When Booker says 'take advantage,' Chekov looks mortified.]

No. No, no, no, I have no intentions like-- like that!

[washitaway]

[Booker studies the younger man for a moment, as though trying to figure out if he's really telling the truth - as though if he looks hard enough, he could figure that out and go from there.]

She's been - watched, and studied, and used all her life. I'll be damned if that ever happens again. So you'd best be telling me the truth.

[starcharter]

[That... he didn't know. The expression on his face becomes mixed-- anger and sadness.]

How could anyone do that to her?

[He knows how, of course. When people see you as a means to an end and not a person. But it's the first thought that came to him, and it tumbled out.]

[dotsanddashes]

[He wouldn't hear Rosalind approach - did he ever? - but then suddenly there was a soft humming along with what he was playing. She didn't dare sing above that, but it was still there. This goes on for a minute or two before she speaks, her tone...relaxed, for once.]

You play beautifully, Mister Dewitt.

[washitaway]

[Of all the things he expects to hear from the mouth of a Lutece - sarcasm, incomprehensible mutterings about physics, insults, riddles - a compliment is about the last thing on that list.

It's enough to make him stop what he's doing and look up at the woman in surprise. He doesn't even bother to hide it, either. He's just baldly shocked.

Still, there's no need to be rude in response.]

I - Thanks. Though I'm more like to place the responsibility on the instrument in this case. [He's still stunned by it, frankly. By how beautiful it is, and the fact that Elizabeth had it custom-made for him, that she'd thought enough about what he'd like to come up with this idea and plan it all out. And it is a good instrument - not just a pretty one. The sound is crisp and clear and lovely. Just what a guitar ought to sound like.]