A Star in the Snow

It’s a Tuesday evening at the Ostenberg-Welles house. The snow that’s been steadily piling up over the past few days continues to envelop the street in an eerie silence. The silence is broken by a passing snowplow, working overtime to keep the streets of Halcyon operable in the continued snowfall. Shortly following the snowplow a car pulls into the driveway of the house. Maggie Ostenberg steps out of the car wearing slacks, a white button down and necktie, and a heavy peacoat; having just gotten home from a meeting with the property manager of the HONOR office that herself, her child, and her associate Helga had been working to set up.

She rushes into the garage to get out of the snow and brushes ice off of her peacoat and out of her hair. After taking off her boots she steps into the warm air of her home and takes the deep breath of someone getting home after a long day out. She heads from the mudroom into the kitchen. As she crosses the threshold she immediately notices Mel at the counter. Good. She’d been meaning to talk to him.

Mel isn't sure how long he's been sitting at the counter. In theory, he'd sat down to do homework. In reality, the page was still blank and he'd spent the past however long watching the snow fall out the window and thinking himself in circles.

“Evenin’ Mel. Keepin’ warm?” she says in an attempt to initiate small talk. She heads to the pantry as she greets him and looks at it inquisitively, then pulls out a bottle of mead, an orange, and some whole spices. “I’m about to mull some mead if you’d like some, a snowy night calls for warm drinks don’t it?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin as the door opens and swivels to look at Maggie with a startled expression. "Uh, hi, Mrs. Ostenberg," he responds belatedly. At the reminder of the cold, he pulls his hands back into the sleeves of his hoodie. (Well, "his" hoodie. From the size and the West Halcyon University logo, he suspected it was originally Boon's. But it was red, so he'd laid claim to it.)

He watches her bustle around the kitchen, chewing the inside of his cheek. He can't help but feel a little awkward whenever he's alone with her. With Boon and Ernest it's easy to fall into the rhythm of living together, but around Maggie and Helen he is painfully aware that he is a guest in this house; one that was never expected to stay this long.

"Um, I don't usually drink much," he says, fiddling with his pen. "But I can… help?"

“Hm? Oh no need. This doesn’t take too much to prep.” Maggie says, grabbing a knife and cutting board and setting it down at the island. She begins slicing the orange into wedges. “I’m heading out to the grocery store tomorrow, do you need me to get you anything while I’m there? Got anything you’d like for dinner this week?”

Mel watches her cut the orange and the repetitive movements have him zoning out again so he nearly misses her question. He shakes his head to clear it, trying to refocus on the conversation. "Um, thanks, Mrs. Ostenberg, but I'm okay. I'm pretty easy, anything's good with me." He musters up a smile, then ducks his head back down to look at his homework. What subject was he even working on? He can't remember.

Maggie finishes cutting the oranges and tosses them into a saucepan with some mead, cinnamon, clove, and anise pods. The clicking of the stovetop pilot light breaks the awkward silence and a jet of flame licks at the bottom of the saucepan. Shortly after, a knob is turned and the flame recedes. Maggie gives the pot a stir and sits down across from Mel at the counter. “What subject you workin’ on? Anything interesting?”

"Um." Mel instinctively glances at Wingnut for help, who pecks the book lying by his elbow. Oh. Right. He's supposed to be… writing… something… about the book. Has he read the book? He doesn't *think* so. Maybe he tried. It's been hard to focus lately. Too much on his mind. "Uh, english," he says sheepishly, curling one arm around his notebook so Maggie won't see that it's blank. "Not really my subject, but it's… okay, I guess?"

Maggie raises an eyebrow "English… riiiight. Are you… doing okay Mel? You seem like you've been having a rough go of things lately. And judging by the empty notebook you've been staring at, I'd guess you haven't had a chance to talk to anyone about it." Maggie looks uncomfortable and scratches the back of her head. "You're family Mel, so if there's anything you need, don't hesitate."

"I'm fine," Mel says automatically.

Maggie raises an eyebrow and shoots Mel a skeptical look. "Gee, never heard that one before."

Wingnut pecks him and he winces. "Sorry," he says sheepishly. "I *am* fine, though. Just… a lot on my mind." Mel heaves a sigh and runs a hand through his hair. It's getting long, and the shaggy bangs are beginning to threaten his vision. He should cut it, re-dye it, but it was… hard to make it a priority.

"We've had a run of bad missions. Like, really bad. It happens. It's fine. I learned some… stuff. That I've been thinking about. Trying to decide what to do next. I haven't been sleeping great since we let some eldritch bug demon or whatever take over the dream world, which hasn't been *super* helpful." He didn't add that he'd been hearing Smoke's screams in his dreams since that night a few weeks ago already. It didn't count as lying, because they *had* gotten worse with the fall of the dream world. Now Smoke was joined by some more of his greatest hits: the horrible, twisted Prowlers he'd connected to in Mirror's dimension. Lugnut's damaged panel clanging to the ground outside the AEGIS base as Tempus Fugit disappeared with him into the future. Natalya Shelton hurling Tiago into the FutureSite. Wingnut's eyes going dark as his powers flared wildly out of control.

Mel shakes his head, scrubbing his hands over his face. Focus. He looks down to see that without noticing, he'd neatly torn the top page of his notebook into strips. "Um," he says. "And I talked to my dad, which was… weird. It wasn't… *bad*, which is already better than I was expecting. But it was weird. And confusing. So I've just… y'know. Been having some trouble focusing. It's fine. I'm managing." He gathers the strips of paper into a little pile and covers them with his hand.

Maggie places a hand on top of Mel’s. “Darlin’ I am so sorry to hear about all that. And I guess that demon bug business does explain a few things.” For the past few nights Maggie herself had had nightmares about her child, their eyes lifeless and their body dangling from marionette strings. They would fight repeatedly throughout the night. They would defeat Maggie every time.

“I’m glad talking to your Dad wasn’t… *bad*, though. Weird certainly describes how I’d imagine that conversation going. Dan is… I’ve never exactly been the closest with Dan, Eric got along with him a lot better than I did. He seems like the kind of person to treat everything like a science experiment. I can only imagine earnest attempts at parenting from him would be… awkward.”

Mel snorts and smiles wryly to himself. That was one way to describe it. Growing up, his dad's default expression always seemed vaguely annoyed and disappointed. Like an experiment that wasn't conforming to his expectations.

Maggie stands up and walks over to the stove, giving the mulled mead a stir and taking a sip from the wooden spoon. She sets the spoon back in the pot and turns around to lean on the counter, looking towards Mel and towards the scraps of paper on the island. “You know Mel, are you sure you’re managing the focus stuff okay? I could probably help clear your head a bit if you’d like, but if this is a persistent issue there’s people you can talk to about that.”

Mel blinks. "What? No, I mean, I can be pretty spacey sometimes, but I can focus. Give me a microwave to take apart and I can do that for *hours*. I just haven't had a good project to work on since I finished the watches I was making for Tay and Ellen. And I'm… tired. And have a lot on my mind. It's fine."

“So… you can hyperfocus on things that you’re interested in. But when it comes to homework-” She taps the empty notebook, “or anything else that doesn’t pique your interest you have trouble? This is starting to sound awful familiar.”

Maggie turns back around and ladles some mead into a mug and sits down across from Mel again. She blows on it and takes a sip. “Let me tell you a little story about a young girl. She looks a lot like your friend Boon. She’s me. That was gonna be real obvious so I’m getting it out of the way. When I was a kid I had a number of things that I found extremely easy to set my mind to, usually things where the structure was already in place for me, or things I enjoyed; things like roller derby, or training to be a Valkyrie, or carpentry. But homework? I mean sure I could do it, once it was the night before it was due. Chores? Forget about it. It would take so much pressure from my mother to get moving on them because I wouldn’t be able to start on my own, I’d put it off until I forgot about it, and I can’t tell you how many times I’d have to go begging to a teacher or professor to give me an extension because I got sidetracked and forgot about an assignment.”

She takes a careful sip of the mulled mead. “It’s not that I don’t have the ability to focus on things, I can focus on certain things without issue, but it’s the inability to manage my focus that gets to me. Hell, Lancelot has nearly killed me for zoning out during diplomacy meetings a dozen times over, important meetings. It’s gotten better, and I take medication for it now, but it’s still something I’ve had to learn to manage.”

Mel frowns thoughtfully. He fiddles with his pen as he mulls over what Maggie is saying. "Is that not… like, normal? I mean, homework is boring. Nobody wants to do their homework. Or chores, or whatever. Like, yeah, I… get distracted from stuff I should be paying attention to, but… there can't be something *wrong* with my *brain*." He gestures at himself. "I'm a robot! I don't even know if I *have* a brain! How would that even *work*?"

Maggie laughs just a bit too loudly. “Mel, this is going to come as a shock to you, but for most people doing things they don’t want to do isn’t a herculean effort. And it’s not just those things either. When was the last time you drank water today? Or ate for that matter.” She takes another sip of her mead. “And there’s nothing *wrong* with your brain hon, we’re just wired differently. In your case possibly literally. As to why Dan made a robot with ADHD I cannot begin to say but it’s possible he left some things up to chance, just like the rest of us.”

Mel blinks. "Well, I mean--I have Wingnut to remind me of that stuff." He frowns and jabs a finger accusingly at the bird in question. "Did you know about this?" he demands. Wingnut cocks her head to the side and stares back at him. Mel snorts. "No, I guess you wouldn't have the context, huh?"

He reaches out to pet her while he thinks, frowning. "I guess that's another reason to keep up with his… 'physical therapy' lessons," he says, making air quotes with his free hand. "So I can ask him what the fuck he was thinking." He pauses and shoots Maggie a guilty look. "Uh, I mean, what the… heck he was thinking."

He musters up an awkward smile and rubs the back of his neck. "Um, on the bright side, though, he's… not a supervillain. Anymore? Slightly unclear on that. Uh. And I haven't talked to my mom at all, so, I dunno what's up with her, but uh, the *point* is, I… can be out of your hair soon."

Maggie giggles as Mel incorrectly decides he needs to censor himself around her. After hearing him mention leaving, however, she cocks her head in confusion. “You… want to go back to live with them? After you just told me that your dad is *maybe* not a supervillain, and you don’t know what’s up with Amy?” She blinks in confusion. “No offense and it’s your decision an’ all but are ya sure?”

Mel cocks his head in an eerie imitation of Wingnut, brow furrowing in confusion. "I… I just mean… I mean, you and Helen let me stay because my parents might be supervillains, right? And I needed a place to stay while I figured out the truth. And, okay, so it took longer than I originally thought it would, sorry about that, but as far as I can tell… they're not. They maybe might've been, but I'm pretty sure they're not anymore. So shouldn't I… go back?"

Maggie’s face conveys a mixture of shock and confusion. “Melchior Methuselah Mercury that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. We’re letting you stay here because your parents fucking suck at parenting! And because you are a trusted friend of our children and technically a family member!” Maggie places a hand on Mel’s again. “You can stay here as long as you want- and I do mean *want*. Why do you think I built a dog shed for your robot?”

Mel's eyes go wide and he exchanges a quick glance with Wingnut. She immediately takes off and perches on Maggie's shoulder. Mel's eyes dart between the two of them and he frowns. "I--I just--I mean--are you *sure*? Just, I know with all three of us we can be kind of a handful, and you don't have to… to feel bad, or whatever, if you tell us to get lost. We'll be okay." He tries for a smile.

Maggie looks thoroughly unimpressed and pinches the bridge of her nose “You really do need to relax, don’t you?” She opens her palm away from her face as she continues. “Tell you what, why don’t we do something fun together to help put you at ease a bit. Have you ever had your fortune told?”

Mel blinks at the sudden change in topic. "Uh, you mean besides by a cookie?" He shakes his head. "No. Isn't that stuff, like, fake?"

Maggie narrows her eyes at Mel. "Course it's real. And I'm real good at it. Watch, in 3 seconds Boon is going to mess something up in the basement and the house will shake." She stares at Mel for approximately 3 seconds before the house rattles faintly and Boon can be heard cursing below them. Maggie raises an eyebrow expectantly "See?"

Mel jumps at the sudden sound and comprehension dawns on his face. "*Oh*. I see. Right. Powers." He cocks his head curiously. "How far in the future can you see?"

Maggie smiles. "Well that depends, on the fly only a couple of seconds. But with assistance-" She reaches into her peacoat and pulls out a deck of tarot cards. "A whole lot further." She sets the deck gently on the table and opens up the case. She pulls out the cards and fans them across the table revealing the ornate hand painting on their surface. "Of course, reading fate is bound to be vague and open to interpretation."

Mel props himself up on his forearms and leans forward over the counter to get a better look at

the cards. "Cool! How does it, like, *work*?"

Maggie gathers up the cards and begins shuffling them. "There's a lot of ways to read the future. But I find tarot cards to be the easiest. Basically, I choose a spread and let you pick out a couple of cards. Then we'll look at them one by one and chat about what we think they mean. Simple as that."

Mel glances back up at her from the cards. "Okay. How do you choose a spread?"

"Depends on what you want to know! Or what you want advice on. See a spread is like a template for how you interpret the cards. I may have you draw three cards and decide ahead of time that they respectively represent the past, present, and future, and fate will guide your selection accordingly. But I might decide they represent something different if you want help with a decision, or romantic advice, etcetera."

Mel snorts. "Yeah, that's what I really need right now. Romantic advice." He adjusts himself to lean more comfortably on the counter, with his knees up on the stool and his chin propped on his forearms. "So what spread are you gonna use now?"

"Well, since this is your first time getting your tarot read and since it seems like you have too many problems to choose from at the moment, a simple 'past - present - future' should do the trick just fine." She fans a number of cards in front of Mel on the table "Just go ahead and pick 3 of these. Whichever feel right."

Mel's eyes automatically flick up to Wingnut, and she alights from Maggie's shoulder to perch on his and starts preening his hair. With her familiar weight back in its place, he turns his attention back to the cards. He reaches out a hand, suddenly self-conscious, and taps three cards.

Maggie takes the cards that Mel tapped and lays them out carefully in front of herself. She starts from the left and flips it over carefully revealing art of a woman kneeling by a body of water and holding a pair of jugs, a star shines in the sky behind her. “Ah, The Star. The Star offers a relief from turmoil, a glimpse into the inner self, and a chance to heal. This card is in your past, which means there’s a few things it could be touching on. The most obvious one would be that after a period of distress related to the motives of your parents you came to a new understanding about yourself and about your family. And while these revelations were earth shattering, knowing the truth about your situation offered a type of stability, or a form of certainty that you were able to find comfort in. You may not have liked the answers you found, but they were nonetheless genuine. And knowing more about yourself and your… robotiness… has only strengthened you.” She takes a sip of mead and continues. “The other interpretation of this, and they can both apply, but this one is more up to you, is that there’s something you’ve been taking for granted. You’ve found respite and been given the space you’ve needed to recover from turmoil, but you may not have trusted the stability it offers.” Maggie grins smugly at Mel. “Ringin’ any bells hon?”

Mel turns red and splutters. "It's not that I don't--*trust* you, it's--*I'm* the problem!" He sits up and gestures at himself. "You've all been so nice to me, with--with letting me stay here, and the *dog house*, I just… don't want to… take advantage." He wilts and hides his face in his arms, embarrassed. "What's the next card?" He asks in a muffled voice.

Maggie stifles laughter. “Gods above this is gonna be fun.” She takes another sip of mead and sets the mug down with a light thud. “Hon’ before we move on to the next card I want to give you a word of advice. Stability can be hard to find, but there are so many people in your life who are willing and able to offer it to you. You should get in the habit of letting yourself lean on others when you can, you never know when things will come crashing down.”

Mel lifts his head again and opens his mouth to protest, but Wingnut interrupts him with a sharp peck on his temple. He winces and scowls, rubbing the side of his head, and sheepishly recites, "Yes, Mrs. Ostenberg."

Maggie smiles, warmly but knowingly. “Let’s move on to the present.” Maggie flips over the middle card revealing a drawing of a realistic human heart being pierced by three different swords and dripping blood into a pool of water. An intricate pattern of storm clouds and rain can be seen behind it. “Hmm. That tracks, frankly. The Three of Swords. Now, despite the grim depiction on the card, drawn by yours truly-” she winks, “this card's more about emotional pain. And If the start of our conversation tonight was anything to go by you’ve got that in droves. Your heart may be made of metal… I think… but you-” She points at Mel, “Melchior Mercury are not invincible. Nobody is. The words and deeds of others can cut deep. And it’s important for you to recognize those wounds and tend to them the way we tend to wounds of the heart best, through grief. Steep yourself in those painful emotions and bear them, only then can the clouds part. Barring that-” Maggie chuckles and takes another swig of mead. “Drinkin’ helps.” There’s an awkward pause. “Okay it’s important to me that you understand that that was a joke. Mel, do not drink to solve your problems, please.”

"No, I'm--I'm not gonna *drink* to solve my problems, alcohol is gross." Mel makes a face. Whether it's in reference to the alcohol or the directive to face his problems is unclear. "Not that I like any *other* solution any better," he mutters under his breath. "'Oh, just feel bad, Mel, that'll solve your problems.' Dumb cards." Realizing Maggie can probably still hear him, he immediately looks guilty. "Um, I mean, I'll take it under advisement?" he offers weakly.

Maggie bears an expression of concern. “Mel, learnin' how to deal with pain is one of the hardest things a person can learn to do throughout their life. Many adults even struggle with it. But you've experienced more pain than someone your age should ever have to go through, and you won’t be able to recover from that pain ‘less you come to understand that sadness is an important part of life. It’s the way our soul heals. And by confronting that pain you won’t just be able to move past it, you’ll be able to grow stronger.” She looks solemn for a moment. “There’s a reason this card has a storm cloud in the background, it’s to offer the hope that the storm will pass. I can’t guarantee you’ll stop feeling pain, but I can promise that you'll be able to manage it. But only if you acknowledge it.”

Mel still looks reluctant. He sits back on his heels and, agitated, reaches for Wingnut. She hops off of his shoulder to land in front of him and he starts tracing her mechanisms with both hands without looking down. "I just…" he starts, stops, and hums. Tries again. "If I think about… all of it. Any of it. Too hard. I'm gonna *lose* it. And I won't be ready for… whatever happens *next*." He grimaces. "Plus it's just… *embarrassing*," he adds reluctantly.

Wingnut pecks his hand. "Ow," he mutters with a scowl, lightly flicking the side of her head. "Yeah, I'm well aware of your opinion already, birdbrain."

She pecks him again.

Maggie giggles at Wingnut's antics. “You should listen to your bird more, kiddo.” She sighs. “Anyway, you’ve got a lot on your plate, but you don’t have to process it all at once, take it slow. Also, you should probably cry. I don’t know if you’re capable of crying, but you should really give it a shot, it’s amazing what a good cry can accomplish.”

Mel laughs humorlessly. "Yeah, trust me, I'm capable of crying." He heaves a sigh and scrubs both hands over his face and through his hair. "Can we just… move on?" he asks weakly.

Maggie smiles sympathetically “Of course.” She reaches over to the last card and flips it over to reveal a depiction of a fatigued woman holding a hoe and overlooking a bush where seven pentacles have grown. “The Seven of Pentacles. I hope you weren’t looking for advice on the upcoming weeke- on anything grandiose and hero-y I mean.” Maggie looks sheepish for a moment as if she knows something she isn’t letting on. “The Seven of Pentacles reminds us of the importance of seeing the big picture, and of the rewards of hard work. Given the context of our past two it seems like the cards are trying to remind you that working through your problems isn’t for nothing. You have been granted the resources for you to work through your problems, but are finding processing them to be painful. But you need to keep in mind that the excruciating process of self reflection will yield fruitful results. It’s difficult work sowing the seeds of our own growth, but you’ll reap a better version of yourself, a version of yourself better equipped to handle the challenges ahead. And there are always challenges ahead, sometimes sooner than you’d think...” There’s a hint of sadness in Maggie’s voice at the last sentence and her eyes drift off to the side. “Sorry, I got distracted at the end there, ignore that.”

"Your cards are mean," Mel complains, thunking his chin back down onto his crossed forearms. "I thought this was supposed to be fun, not me getting a lecture about my feelings from a bunch of pictures. I have Ernest for that already." He frowns and gives Maggie a wary look. "He's less ominous, though. Is that you seeing the future again, or are you just messing with me?"

“Sorry Mel. I was hoping this would be a bit more light hearted but the cards have their own agenda sometimes.” She sighs. “Anyway, yeah, I’ve been trying to keep it on the down low because I didn’t want y’all gettin’ worried, but there’s- gonna be a lot happening next week. I don’t know a whole lot of the specifics but at least some of it is gonna involve the forces of Ragnarok, which is Boon and I’s *thing* so to speak, he’ll need the help of his friends, but many of them will be off fighting battles of their own, and they’ll be aided by forces with ulterior motives. After that things’ll quiet down a little, and I can only hope that that’s a good thing. But, I trust you kids, you’re strong, everything will work out okay, so you should focus on yourself for now.”

Mel lets out a long sigh that turns into a groan. "The apocalypse, huh? Why not. That sounds about right for how the past couple of months have gone for me so far." He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. "Okay. This is fine. Just gotta… hold it together long enough to get through *the apocalypse*, or whatever else is gonna be happening at the time. And then I can worry about." He waves his hand. "The everything else. It's fine. It'll be fine. Everything's fine."

“Mel! That’s the opposite takeaway! Look, things’ll turn out fine. And the only thing you can do about it right now, is make sure you’re prepared to face what’s coming. And the best way to do that is through some earnest self reflection.” She grins, “And I have spent enough time around you and all of your friends to know what ‘this is fine’ means.”

Mel makes a strangled, frustrated sound and waves a hand around. "What else am I supposed to say?! Of *course* it's not fine! My mentor almost *died* and the Jackals got really hurt because I was *useless* to save them and I've had nightmares about it since then, a company owned by a *supervillain* with a fixation on me and my friends has the technology to mass produce robots just like me and nobody has *any* idea how he got it, I chased the person I hate most in the world through multiple dimensions and took a *bullet* for her and then completely lost track of her again, I called a friend for help against a nightmare apocalypse demon without even *meaning* to and got him hurt *immediately*, and we didn't even *win*, so there's a second apocalypse we all have to worry about now, and on top of everything my dad's suddenly decided it's time to be a real dad and I don't know how to *handle* it and I know he's gonna ask me to come home again and I don't know how to tell him I don't want to."

He buries his head in his hands, pressing the heels of his hands hard into his eyes and curling his fingers in his hair until it pulls. "And everyone says I should talk to Smoke but I'm too scared. There's so much going on and I keep *failing* and I can't afford to just. Sit in my room and be sad. At least until things calm down. I just have to hold it together."

He subsides into ragged breathing. Wingnut rubs her head against the back of one hand, then turns to stare imperiously up at Maggie.

Maggie’s face drops. *Oh, no. I pushed him too far*. She quickly rushes over to the other side of the island and sits down next to Mel. “Hey shh shh shh. I’m sorry honey. Is it okay if I give you a hug?”

Mel hesitates for a second, trying to get his breathing under control, but it quickly becomes clear that he's passed the point of no return and can't lock it back down. He nods wordlessly and leans sideways into Maggie. "Sorry," he mumbles, still hiding his face.

Maggie pulls Mel in close and gives him a firm but careful hug. “You have nothing to apologize for darlin’ you haven’t done anything wrong.” She gently pats Mel’s back. “Focus on breathing, nice and slow.”

Mel heaves a deep, shuddering breath, and then another, and blindly sticks a hand out in Wingnut's general direction. She hops over and presses her head against it and the purple light of his powers reflects dimly off the countertop. His breathing slowly evens out, but he remains leaned against Maggie, crying softly, for another little while. Finally it subsides and he scrubs his eyes hard with the hand not connected to Wingnut. "I'm… I'm okay," he says, but the way his voice hitches betrays him.

Maggie squeezes Mel tight. “You don’t have to be okay, Melchior Mercury. You can be as not-okay as you need here.” Maggie lets go and pulls away revealing that she’s been crying too. “And if you *ever* need me to beat up Daniel for you you only have to ask.”

That surprises a laugh out of Mel that's closer to a hiccup than anything. "Thanks, Mrs. Ostenberg," he says, sitting up and wiping his face with his sleeve. "I don't think you have to beat up my dad, but… thanks. For letting me stay here, and--and building Lugnut a house, and the fortune-telling and. Just. Thanks."

“Of course Mel, I care about you. And please, we’re cousins… I think… Call me Maggie.” She bumps him “gently” on the shoulder.

Mel rocks with the impact, but doesn't seem phased by her strength. "Can I… can I at least use 'Aunt Maggie'?" he asks awkwardly. "It just feels weird to call an adult by their first name." He gives her a sheepish, watery smile. Even Smoke had yet to succeed at getting Mel to call him Kenneth.

Maggie opens her mouth to protest and then changes her mind. “Eh fuck it, Aunt Maggie is close enough. Now, why don’t we take a break and do something *actually* fun.” Maggie nods her head towards the living room where the PlayStation is set up. “Ever play Rocket League?”

Mel looks down at his still blank notebook and abruptly flips it closed. "Yeah, okay," he says. "Let's play Rocket League."

Maggie gets up off of her stool. “Just don’t expect me to go easy on you.” She grins.

Mel holds out a hand to transfer Wingnut from the counter to his shoulder as he slides off his own stool. "I would never," he says with a smile. "I've been here long enough to know better."

The two crash on the couch as the snow falls outside. The camera pans out the window and past Lugnut sleeping in his doghouse and zooms out to show the Ostenberg-Welles house covered in snow just like the ones around it. The house rattles again and some of the snow slides off the roof as a mother shouts after her child to be careful.