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Ursa Major Campfire - Late Monday Afternoon

Meg had gone out by the campfire with the intention of reading for a couple of hours. Somehow reading turned into making s'mores. Then eventually making s'mores turned into catching marshmallows on fire for fun. Stanford must be so proud. In her defense, she was eating the marshmallows after she blew the fire out. Just peel off the really burnt parts and the marshmallow was still good.

[Oooopen!]

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Staying in her alcove, while seeming to be the most reasonable course of action for Adah, was just causing her to slowly become stir crazy. She decided that she could step outside and limp around the Preserve or perhaps off-island for a bit, to swallow up the expansive amounts of idle time stretching laboriously ahead of her. Perhaps there might something interesting going outside.

Like that blonde girl, Meg, who she was pretty sure lived on her floor because she was always in the common room, lighting marshmallows on fire. Adah stepped aside from the door to lean on a tree, lest she block anyone else, and tilted her head. It was a simple thing to watch, but it really grew quite entertaining if one imagined efforts to put the fire out by shaking the stick turning into catapult-like launchings of flaming marshmallows or if one pictures the stout, pillowy little things as something entirely different that tasty sugary snacks...

It didn't take Meg long to realize that she was being watched. She smiled cheerfully when she spotted Adah and offered the marshmallow she was currently roasting to her. "Hey, Adah! Want a marshmallow?"

Ignore the fact that the marshmallow she was offering was currently on fire.

Despite herself, Adah snorted a laugh, but she shook her head, and with it, as she pushed off from the tree, she shook a hand as well, refusing the currently inflamed marshmallow for one that she would eventually set to fire herself, limping over to spot out a stick (they alway seemed to magically make themselves present at campfires, didn't they?) and then nodding with a questioning glance at the bag. She would argue that it didn't make much sense to be okay with someone taking burning marshmallows but not being as accepting as them taking currently untouched ones, but she was feeling oddly congenial this afternoon. Blame the boredom.

"Oh, here you go," Meg said. She blew out the marshmallow she had on the stick before reaching out to grab the marshmallow bag and offering it to Adah. "Help yourself."

Adah nodded a bit of an...appreciative expression (she was against the idea of thankful), tucking the stick under her elbow to free up her hand to dig into the bag and pull out three marshmallows, each held between her fingers, lightly, careful not to crush them. Her elbow shifted, to move the length of the stick back enough that her forearm could reach the end to start sliding the marshmallows on, and then moved the opposite way to extend the stick out until she could grab toward the base and, viola, she had herself prepped to start roasting, entirely one handed. She grinned a bit before carefully lowering herself down on a log and starting her own eventual decent into leaving them covered in flames like a defenseless village.

Meg's grin got wider as she watched Adah out of the corner of her eye. She didn't want Adah to think she was staring. Meg took the crispy marshmallow off the end of her stick and began peeling away the really burnt parts so she could eat it. "You know, I think catching them on fire might be more fun than eating them."

Adah smirked a bit; of course, she agreed, but probably not for the same reasons that Meg found the activity so entertaining. Adah's involved a bit of imagining pained screams and the all too familiar scent of burning flesh. Still, because she had a feeling that their opinions might differ, she adopted a curious sort of expression, tilting her head and imploring Meg to elaborate if she felt like it, while she carefully turned her stick to get the marshmallows on all sides.

"It's sort of like a stress release, you know? I mean, if I caught anything else on fire I'd probably get arrested. Well, not sticks and stuff. But you know what I mean. Like chairs and shoes and beach balls," she said. She could have went on but she didn't. Meg always felt like such a chatterbox around Adah. She wouldn't be surprised if Adah up and punched her in the face for being annoying one day.

Adah blinked a bit at Meg's list, the last one in particular getting a tilt of her head. She'd actually potentially pay good, hard earned cash to see someone light a beach ball on fire, although, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it would have that awful, chemical smell of burning plastic, the kind that made you wonder if just being near it was suffocating your brain cells. And, really, she only had half of her brain cells functioning properly, so she changed her mind on the whole paying to see a flaming beach ball and just shook her head slightly, nose wrinkling.

Meg chuckled a little. "Not that I've ever had the urge to light chairs or shoes or beach balls on fire. I'm not that much of a pyromaniac."

Brows lifted, Adah's widened her eyes a little, above a slight, amused smirk. That much...?

"I mean, I'm not clinically a pyromaniac," Meg said quickly. "I was just exaggerating."

Adah maintained her dubious expression, and even increased it a little with a further tilt of her head and the utmost of interest in the facet of Meg's personality. After all, there was a difference between a clinical pyromaniac and perhaps one that simply didn't have the documented psychiatric proof, and an exaggeration always had a base of truth to build from, didn't it?

"You probably think I'm crazy right now, don't you?" Meg asked sheepishly.

Adah grinned a little crookedly, and then, congenially, closed her eyes and she shook her head lightly in a dismissal. On the scale of crazy tendencies, pyromania actually registered rather low for Adah, so Meg had nothing to worry about. Not until she took the obsession beyond the limits of small little sugary snacks, anyway.

Luke came stomping up to the campfire, face red with embarrassment. "Stupid gremlins."

"What happened?" Meg asked sympathetically. She held out the bag of marshmallows towards him. Everyone knew marshmallows made everything better.

Luke took a handful and stuffed them onto a stick. "I spent the last few hours thinking I was a singing nun," he whined.

Meg had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing out loud. She was so glad she's avoided the gremlins so far. "I take it this happened in a public spot where people could gawk?"

Luke nodded. "The park," he moaned. "Artoo has footage."

"Ouch," Meg said. "Were you at least a good singer?"

"Not trying to sing soprano."

Meg couldn't help but laugh at that. "Oh, I'm so sorry. That's awful."

"It's not dark enough yet," Luke said, "so I can hide my face forever."

Drama queens ran in the family.

"I think you'll survive, Luke," Meg said. "From what I've heard there have been worse results from gremlin bites. You didn't end up a gay cowboy like Johnny and Chris. That's something, right?"

"That was last year," Luke said. "But then I was a gay German magician who thought Artoo was a tiger."

Meg laughed again. "Wow, if I didn't know any better I'd say the gremlins have a little crush on you."

"Just what I wanted to hear," Luke whined. "That would be worse than squirrels."

Dawn plopped down on the ground near Meg, with a marshmallow stick already in hand. "I thought I was the only one who did that."

Meg grinned. "I thought I was the only one too. Glad to see there's another person out there who enjoys catching innocent marshmallows on fire."

"I think it's the blue flamey part I like best," she said, reaching for a marshmallow. "Or maybe blowing them out."

"Oh I like eating them the best," Meg said. "I've found it's an acquired taste though. Some people don't enjoy burnt marshmallows."

"But they get all crispy," Dawn argued, sticking a marshmallow onto the stick and then the stick into the fire. "Plus, you can use them as a torch if you get attacked in the middle of the night by zombies or something."

"Zombies have a fear of fiery sugar, huh?" Meg joked.

"Fiery everything, I think," Dawn grinned back. "We should do flaming shots at Caritas sometime to test the theory."

"Ooo! We could get drunk and scare the crap out of the band?" Meg said. "I'm so in."

"Plus, there's the whole body shot thing, which made Sam go pretty much catatonic when I mentioned it."

Meg laughed. "I'm surprised he didn't have a heart attack."

She snickered. "I think it was pretty close. The teenage boy part of his brain definitely took over."

"That's too good," Meg said gleefully. "Hey, if you want to make him flail with the body shots I'll totally do it."

"Really?" Dawn wasn't bouncing, but that was mostly because her marshmallow had ignited and she didn't want to set herself on fire. "That would be awesome."

"Sure. I would never pass up the chance to make someone that tall flail," Meg said, grinning.

"He's really good at it. I think it's because his arms are so long."

"It really is a shame that Dean is pretty much unflailable," Meg said, shaking her head. "That would be something to see."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Dean doesn't flail over much, and that just seems unfair. There must be something, though, right?"

Maybe Sam or Alec had some ideas.

"I don't know," Meg said, chewing her lower lip in thought. "If there was something it must be one of the world's best kept secrets."

"Either that, or Sam got all the family flail."

"I think that might be case," she said. "The poor, poor boy."

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Ursa Major Campfire - Late Monday Afternoon

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