This is fine. It's fine. We're fine.

[sharpasanarrow]

[Well that was.

Something.

Underneath everyone’s door they’ll find a slip of paper, in shaky calligraphy, that reads:

INVITATION

Meet in the Dining Room.

Do not bring alcohol of any sort.

Upon arrival into the Dining Room it’s clear that this is very much...not a party.

The center of the room is cleared of all tables, and instead has all the chairs arranged in a circle, facing inwards. On the tables pushed to the side are jugs of water, cups, plates of saltines, and several hastily-made pamplets that read on the front ”How to cope with Child homicide” that contains an advisory list:

1. Try not to think about it.
2. Do not get hysterical.
3. Crying is permitted, but keep it within a reasonable volume. (For the consideration of fellow mourners)
4. Maintain civility
5. Do not plunder the belongings of the deceased.
6. No drinking or gambling your sorrows away. Set an example.

Standing in front of one of the chairs already is Mr.Arrow. He clears his throat as people start to slowly come in.]

I gathered you all here because I believed it would be conductive to group morale if we all worked through our feelings regarding recent events. Talk about your feelings with one another, but not with me.

[He steps back a little, out of the circle of chairs, in what seems to be an invitation for people to sit down and discuss with one another.]

Comments

[not_over_yet]

...

What is a "blimp"? [ Is that anything like an airship or dirigible.



....and yeah, his only comment on any of that. ]

[hallotween]

It's a big flying air-filled balloon.

Like your ego.

[not_over_yet]

...That is the worst insult I have ever heard.

How in god's name do you even know who Ratigan is?

[hallotween]

I had him in a mayo jar, but then it turns out that's actually a lot less convenient when it's a sentient being and not, y'know, a butterfly.

[not_over_yet]

[ he's Concerned and he hasn't quite decided why yet ]

What?

[hallotween]

WELL, first he got executed, after singing a song, but then he came back to life with Preston, who was in a tank but he was in the blimp, which said "GAY" on it which I thought was pretty cool, and then we did battle with them and stole the tank but everything was already on fire so we came to this place and Donald saved my eels which was really great, and we have to keep an eye on Preston and Ratigan because they sold their souls to the devil or something like that and are working against us, but mayo jars aren't very convenient, as I said before, so I think we're just sorta letting them be free-range jerks because, I mean, we're also pretty trapped here, so it's not like they're going anywhere.

[said entirely in one breath]

[not_over_yet]

...I.

So. Ratigan is there.

[ That's what he managed to parse.

But given the whole.... ok, fact-checking time. ]

Is he also an animate corpse or did he survive the fall somehow...?

[hallotween]

He's fine. People come back from the dead here completely normally, most of the time-- that guy you had for your first host is probably the exception.

He's... someplace. He either doesn't care or is halfway through planning a dramatic entrance. Who knows.

[not_over_yet]

So.
He is dead, in London.

Or...?

[ ...Fuck it, magic, everything's magic, who even cares anymore. ]

Did you have a reason to speak with me? If the sole purpose was to insult me, Ratigan's far better at that--I'd advise letting me know if he decides to participate. I'm rather in the middle of figuring out how to do an exorcism at the moment.

[hallotween]

[cheerfully] Nah, that's it. I just wanted to have fun, too.

[not_over_yet]

[ You're very strange, Marnie. ]

...Right.

[ Leaves, because what are goodbyes.



Aaaand the instant he's out of the mirror's range, to Moana: ] Call me back if a rat shows up, nevermind if anyone mentions me.

[truecalling]

[well.

that was strange.]

...okay, I'll remember that.