fandomhigh | Book Fair

Current Mood: busy
Current Location: Fandom High Gym

Entry tags:

!event: friday events

Book Fair

Giles had gotten up at ack o'clock and actually had toted five boxes of books to the Fandom High Gym before he "cheated."

Everything was now set up neatly on tables, and separated by genre.

There was also coffee and hot water urns, bottled water, and a variety of pastries and breads set on a table near the register.

The First Annual Fandom High Book Fair was open for business.

[ooc: ~~Hang on to your collective hats while I get the OCD threads up, please.~~

Threads are UP. Whew. I think you all know how this works. Go look for a book. Up to you whether you find it or not. No, there is no magic/new age section. Yes, Giles has planned it that way.

That's it! Go to town! Wait. No. Stay here and buy stuff...]

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Peter grinned at Walter as he also took a cup of properly made British tea. "How do you do, Walter?"

Walter grinned back and held up his cup in a wordless toast. "Quite well, other than the frogs that decided my room was their new habitat. How are you enjoying your introductions to Fandom's oddities?"

"I'm still thankful the skies didn't decide to rain true figgy pudding on us the other day. That could have been painful," Peter replied. "I'm not so keen on the frogs though.

Walter nodded. "I preferred the kittens to the frogs." Little amphibious voyeurs. "But at least none of these things have attacked, unlike the snow monsters."

"Yes, the kittens didn't scare anyone," Peter said. "And they were awfully cute. Maybe they're all massing their forces? And tomorrow we'll face an attack from all sides - pudding from the sky, coffee from the water, and kittens and frogs as ground troops." He made a face. "I really ought not to have said that."

Walter grimaced and shook his head. "I certainly hope not. It will be like being swarmed by those army ants except slimier and purring."

"And if some people are to be believed, after the slimy, the frogs will eat your brain," Peter said. "Though on less odd note, the World Cup's starting today."

"Ah yes. Watch out for Nadia and Pippi on that. They have wicked plans involving shirtlessness and body paint." He grinned. "Alas, only for the boys."

"That seems to be the general consensus about shirtlessness," Peter replied, as he grinned back. "Thank you for the warning though. I'll have to keep my eye out for blue and yellow paint. What country does Nadia support? I don't think I've met her."

Walter looked around and pointed out Nadia. "She's the pretty brunette with a Spanish accent. She supports Argentina. Seras will likely hit me with something if I even joke about supporting Argentina, though."

"Why would you even think about it," Peter asked, slightly aghast. "Though as long as you don't support Germany, I suppose."

"Never!" Walter looked equally aghast at the merest thought. "Nor would I support Argentina just because my girlfriend is Argentine. Unless they're playing some inferior, non-British team."

"Which would be any other team, of course," Peter said with a grin. "Though probably would be good for you to start hoping Britain doesn't play Argentina at all."

Walter smirked and shrugged. "If it happens, I will distract her with shirtlessness and body paint. Even if it's the Union Flag and not the Argentine flag, I think she'll forgive me."

"Best of luck with that," Peter said. "Seras and I were talking about taking over a Common Room for one of the matches. Decorating it with the Union Jack and such. Think the Yanks would forgive us? And if not, we definitely ought to do it."

"There are enough Brits here that I think it won't matter." Walter said. "And I noticed recently that almost all of my closest friends here are foreign, either from other countries, or even other planets. I rather wonder if we might outnumber the Yanks anyway."

"True," Peter said, counting up the number of non-Americans he knew in his head. "But it's still their country and all. People can get a bit territorial."

Given he and Peter had left an England at war, Walter could understand that. "I have a feeling we'll be alright as long as we don't try to redeclare it a British colony."

"In that European, bastard-like way," said Seras, waving as she walked up to the two boys.

She was carrying a couple Louis L'Amour novellas, two new books on alchemy, and two more on guns and fire arms.

Gosling!Pip sat on her head. His yellowy fuzz rather matched her blonde hair, and all of him that really stood out were his eye-patch and his beak.

"Hello Seras," Walter greeted. "And Pip. Still a goose, I see."

Pip gave a honk that might have been either a hello or a disparaging remark about Walter's keen observational skills.

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Peter grinned. "Hello Seras. And an animal that's neither kitten nor frog. How goes it?"

Seras smiled back.

"Peter, this is Pip Bernadette," she said, pointing to her fuzzy, little passenger, "You may have met him already. He's usually a good six feet taller and not sporting webbed feet. Pip, this is Peter Pevensie."

Pip honked a greeting.

Walter grinned and appeared to ponder. "My schedule is rather busy this weekend. Perhaps next?"