What A Chance (1/?)
Jan. 12th, 2010 10:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ifeelbetterTitle: What A Chance (1/?)
Rating: G at the moment. It may change when Arthur shows up.
Warnings/Spoilers: Only for Bedknobs and Broomsticks.
Word Count: 2,399
Summary: AU for Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Merlin is a recluse wizard-in-training in rural England during WWII. He has been coerced into temporarily adopting three children but, worse than that, his wizarding correspondence course (Pendragon Correspondence School of Witchcraft and Wizardry) ends abruptly without any explanation.
Author's Notes: I have no idea why I began this. It just popped into my head and seemed like SUCH a good idea that it just had to happen. I promise not to write songs into the plot.
“You’re not serious,” Merlin said. One of the three children sniffled. Gwen sighed. The child wiped his nose loudly down one sleeve and Merlin grimaced.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, now would I?” Gwen said, absentmindedly handing the smallest child a handkerchief. The boy pocketed it without hesitation. The taller of the two boys sniggered and the girl elbowed him grumpily.
“I was hoping you’d taken up cruel pranking,” Merlin said. Gwen rolled her eyes.
“Look, everyone else is chipping in, aren’t they? The whole town is doing their bit and here’s you, living with an entire farm and not making the slightest effort,” Gwen said, working her way up to a proper scolding.
“I help!”
“Not enough. These three don’t have anywhere to go,” Gwen said. She rubbed her eyes. “Look – I’ll do my best to find them a proper home—“
“My home is proper!”
“—as soon as I can but, honestly, I don’t think it will be soon. Can’t you just keep them for a bit?”
Merlin looked at the three children again, really taking the time to differentiate between the three mounds of rags and mucus he had taken them for initially. He didn’t have much expertise with children – he couldn’t tell how old they were or whether they were related.
The smallest one sniffed loudly again.
Merlin sighed. “If I did take them—“ he said, holding a hand up to halt Gwen’s enthusiasm, “you would really keep looking for a real place for them?” Gwen nodded vigorously. “This isn’t one of your schemes to socialize me?” She shook her head, less emphatically.
“Would it help if I crossed my heart and promised I was not trying to make your life better?” she asked.
“No.”
“Can I just say, then, that you’re an angel and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can?”
“Yes. Feel free to flatter me always.”
Gwen turned to the three children, in full maternal mode. She pulled another handkerchief out of her pocket and held it in front of the taller boy’s face.
“Spit,” she commanded. The boy did as he was told and she used the handkerchief to rub a smudge off his cheek. This proved to Merlin that he and children should spend as little time together as possible. There was just no way they were hygienic.
“Now, I want to hear that you’ve been well behaved for Mr. Emrys when I come back,” she said, following the same procedure with the girl. “He’s taking you in out of the goodness of his heart—“
“Only when you made him,” the shorter boy grumbled under his breath. The girl elbowed him again. Gwen pretended she hadn’t heard.
“—so you all must be on your best behavior. Jared,” addressing the taller boy, “I don’t want to hear you’ve been eating all of Mr. Emrys’s sugar, alright?” The boy, looking everywhere but Gwen’s face, shrugged a slight affirmation. “Jensen—“ she said, addressing the shorter boy, “I don’t want to hear about you being mean to Sandy. Or Jared.”
She considered for a moment as Jensen sniffled loudly again.
“Or Mr. Emrys.”
The boy grumbled his response, which Gwen accepted so Merlin assumed it was something approaching agreement.
“Sandy,” Gwen said, as she gave each child their parting kiss, “Good luck.”
She pushed all three through Merlin’s door as he stepped aside.
“Mer, I can’t thank you enough,” she said, running down the steps towards her motorbike.
“Gwen, did a parcel come for me?” he called after her as she put on her helmet. She slapped her forehead.
“Of course! I brought it with me,” she said, reaching into the sidecar for a long, angular package. “I was going to use it as a hostage if I had to.”
Merlin met her halfway and eagerly relieved her of her burden. It was oddly light, much lighter than it looked. His eyes gleamed as he wrapped his fingers around it.
“Thanks, Gwen.” She pulled a large-sized envelope, heavily wrinkled, from her jacket pocket.
“This came for you as well.” She eyed the larger parcel. “I swear, Mer, you get the oddest parcels from that school.”
He grinned back at her. There was a crash from inside the house. Gwen grinned mischievously.
“Good luck, Merlin. I have a feeling you might need it.”
Merlin groaned as another crash was followed by a high-pitched wail.
***
Gwen was right, of course. Merlin did own a farmhouse on the outskirts of town, he did live there alone but have plenty of room to spare, and he had been seriously shirking any part of his civic duty that involved him interacting with people. So while Gwen had been doing enough for ten people, Merlin had contented himself with donations and, after a brief study in some more feminine labors, sewing and knitting for the troops. He hadn’t been accepted when he had tried to enlist because of his weight or something – apparently waifish isn’t the look the British Army wants to present to the Germans. It still irked Merlin and soothed the occasional pang of conscience when Gwen came calling, begging him to take in some of the evacuees from London.
So she upped her game. She knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse with the children standing there on his stoop, misanthrope though he may be.
Which left him staring at the three children as they fidgeted under his gaze, looking varying degrees of rebellious. There was a fallen vase in pieces behind them, with Merlin’s cat sitting primly on the window ledge above.
“Right,” Merlin said firmly. “I want this mess tidied—“
“But I didn’t—“ Jensen began.
“It wasn’t—“Jared interrupted.
“He said—“ whined Sandy.
Merlin interrupted all three, “Enough! I don’t particularly care which one of you wretched creatures broke my mother’s vase—“ Sandy and Jared both pointed to the cat on cue, as if their hands were magnetically drawn to it but Jensen sniggered at the mention of Merlin’s mother. “—But I want this mess tidied. You will tidy it,” he said, adding the emphasis of a glare the sentiment, “As soon as I have shown you to your room and you’ve cleaned that muck off your faces.”
He gestured towards the stairs behind the children. They stared at him blankly.
“You want us to wash?” Jensen asked incredulously. “Now?”
“Of course I do! Just look at yourselves,” Merlin declared, inwardly appalled by how quickly the mere presence of children had transformed him into his mother. “You’re not fit to be seen. Now let’s go upstairs and I can show you where you’ll be sleeping.” He encouraged them with his best shooing motions. This pantomime proved effective and they allowed themselves to be shooed.
“I never wash but once a week,” Jensen grumbled. Jared giggled.
“You don’t even wash then. I seen you, you don’t even use water,” he said, grinning.
“I wash properly every morning,” Sandy announced proudly, attempting to take Merlin’s hand. He instinctively jerked it away before he realized what she was doing but she didn’t seem to mind.
Merlin lead them to the bedroom down the hall, the one he had shared when he was a child. It was still boyish in its decorations, though thoroughly dated. It had two musty beds under dustcovers, which he pulled off, freeing clouds of dust to pour into the air.
Coughing, he said, “This should do for you boys.” They followed him cautiously into the room.
“What do you have an extra bedroom for?” Jensen asked sulkily.
“He must be rich, right?” Jared theorized.
“Stupid, he wouldn’t live in the middle of nowhere if he was rich, would he?” Jensen responded tartly.
“It’s my old room from when I was a kid. I had a bigger family then, I suppose,” Merlin said, trying to keep the tinge of melancholy out of his voice.
Sandy eyed the two beds. “I don’t have to sleep on the floor again, do I?” she said, turning plaintive eyes on Merlin.
“What? No! ‘Again?’” Merlin said, shocked. “Have you been sleeping on a lot of floors?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Jensen, throwing himself onto one of the beds. “And in train stations and things.”
“It’s better than outside, at any rate,” said Jared cheerfully.
“I’ve got another room for you, Sandy,” Merlin said. “Though I suppose you might want to stay here with your brothers?”
All three kids laughed. “We aren’t related, mister,” Jensen said. “Imagine me being that big goof’s brother.” He pointed at Jared.
“Then there shouldn’t be a problem,” Merlin said, escorting Sandy down the hall. “It’s quite a bit smaller, unfortunately.”
Sandy looked thrilled with her room, tight squeeze and all. Merlin left all three with strict instructions (elaborate in Jensen’s case – he wasn’t sure the child had ever properly been washed in his whole life) to wash and then come downstairs to help prepare dinner.
***
After they had supper and Merlin had insisted that the children go to bed, despite Jensen’s argument for his superior age being justification for a later bedtime. As soon as he was relatively sure that they were safely ensconced in bed, Merlin crept quietly into the basement.
He lit the lamp and it illuminated his treasures, delivered by Gwen earlier in the day. He had stealthily deposited both envelope and package down there when he re-entered the house because the basement was the only room in his house that had a secure lock. As the light grew, it revealed why he had deemed this room worthy of the extra secrecy.
There were bottles and tubes labeled sloppily in Merlin’s cagey handwriting things like “Dragon’s root” and “spider’s lung” and such. A cauldron sat in the fireplace, caked solidly with a foul-smelling gel. Merlin was never interested in cleaning up after his experiments. A particularly disgusting clump of unidentifiable material was hanging from a gelatinous string off the side of the cauldron, threatening to spill onto the already sticky floor.
Merlin pushed aside the papers strewn across his makeshift desk and laid the longer parcel down with loving care. He tore into the brown paper and found a short letter attached to the contents. It read:
Dear Sir:
With this shipment, the Pendragon Correspondence School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sends you its heartiest congratulations on qualifying for the first degree of your chosen calling. You may now call yourself Apprentice Wizard.
Yours Faithfully,
Arthur Pendragon
Merlin finished reading and greedily pulled the contents of the parcel out of its wrapping – it was a broom. He held it close for a moment and announced to no one in particular, though the cat had decided to join him, “My first broom!”
He moved to the center of the room, deciding to take the broom for a trial spin. It may be a bit girlish, flying on broomsticks, but Merlin was determined not to let the fairer sex have all the fun in magic. He sat astride the broom and commanded it to rise.
It failed to do so.
He waited patiently for a moment in case there was some sort of delayed magical reaction at play but the broom continued to sullenly be bound by gravity so Merlin was forced to return to the packaging, in hopes of directions. He found them taped to the inside of the paper.
“Step 1. Sit astride broom,” Merlin read aloud. He returned to sitting on the broom, holding the directions in his teeth. “Got that part.” He removed the directions from his teeth, trying to remain in a sufficiently dignified position on the broom all the while in case it decided to lift off.
“Step 2. To start up the broom, your basic formula: Hedfan Banadl,” Merlin read but no sooner had the words left his mouth, the broom left his hands. It flew into the wall across the room, knocking Merlin’s legs out from under him as it left. He blinked at it. “I wasn’t ready,” he told it huffily.
Perhaps, he thought to himself, outside would be better?
***
Jensen looked at the clock next to his bed. It read five minutes past midnight.
“Right,” he said loudly. “Let’s go.”
He flung his covers aside, revealing himself to be fully dressed. Jared also rose instantly, similarly fully dressed. The latter tiptoed down the hall towards Sandy’s room as Jensen searched the bedroom for valuables.
Sandy was waiting when Jared tapped quietly on her door. She followed him back to their bedroom, where Jensen had wrenched open the window. He handed Sandy and Jared each a handkerchief filled with odds and ends, tied neatly at the top. Jared climbed out first, reaching back to help Jensen through (despite Jensen hissing, “I’m short not a girl” angrily) when Sandy squeaked. Both boys shushed her but she pointed urgently beyond them, into the sky.
“How’s he doing that?” she asked, as all three finally caught sight of Merlin making his jagged way across the sky.
“He must be a witch. He’s got a black cat and everything,” said Jensen wisely.
“Stupid, boys can’t be witches. Bet he’s a wizard,” Jared said. They all turned their heads to one side as Merlin took a particularly jagged turn.
“Not a very good one,” Jensen said.
Merlin had managed to fall over the side of his broom and had begun a long fall towards the ground, intermittently interrupted by brief victories over the broom, which continued to escape his grasp. Just before he hit a tree, it smacked him across the face.
“He’s going to be very angry,” Sandy said forebodingly. “Let’s get out of here before he gets back.”
Jensen had stopped his progress down the tree, leaving both of the other children stalled behind him.
“Hang on a minute,” he said thoughtfully.
“I am hanging on,” said Jared, struggling with the branch he was precariously balanced on.
“I mean, he’s a wizard or something, right? I bet he wouldn’t want people to know he was a wizard, right?” Jensen said, rather too slowly reaching his point in Jared’s opinion.
“Yeah?” said Sandy, “So what?”
“So I bet we could use this to our advantage.”
“Oh, Jen, you’re not suggesting—“
“I’m not suggesting,” Jensen said, moving back up the tree towards their room, forcing the others to imitate him. “I’m planning.”
Rating: G at the moment. It may change when Arthur shows up.
Warnings/Spoilers: Only for Bedknobs and Broomsticks.
Word Count: 2,399
Summary: AU for Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Merlin is a recluse wizard-in-training in rural England during WWII. He has been coerced into temporarily adopting three children but, worse than that, his wizarding correspondence course (Pendragon Correspondence School of Witchcraft and Wizardry) ends abruptly without any explanation.
Author's Notes: I have no idea why I began this. It just popped into my head and seemed like SUCH a good idea that it just had to happen. I promise not to write songs into the plot.
“You’re not serious,” Merlin said. One of the three children sniffled. Gwen sighed. The child wiped his nose loudly down one sleeve and Merlin grimaced.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, now would I?” Gwen said, absentmindedly handing the smallest child a handkerchief. The boy pocketed it without hesitation. The taller of the two boys sniggered and the girl elbowed him grumpily.
“I was hoping you’d taken up cruel pranking,” Merlin said. Gwen rolled her eyes.
“Look, everyone else is chipping in, aren’t they? The whole town is doing their bit and here’s you, living with an entire farm and not making the slightest effort,” Gwen said, working her way up to a proper scolding.
“I help!”
“Not enough. These three don’t have anywhere to go,” Gwen said. She rubbed her eyes. “Look – I’ll do my best to find them a proper home—“
“My home is proper!”
“—as soon as I can but, honestly, I don’t think it will be soon. Can’t you just keep them for a bit?”
Merlin looked at the three children again, really taking the time to differentiate between the three mounds of rags and mucus he had taken them for initially. He didn’t have much expertise with children – he couldn’t tell how old they were or whether they were related.
The smallest one sniffed loudly again.
Merlin sighed. “If I did take them—“ he said, holding a hand up to halt Gwen’s enthusiasm, “you would really keep looking for a real place for them?” Gwen nodded vigorously. “This isn’t one of your schemes to socialize me?” She shook her head, less emphatically.
“Would it help if I crossed my heart and promised I was not trying to make your life better?” she asked.
“No.”
“Can I just say, then, that you’re an angel and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can?”
“Yes. Feel free to flatter me always.”
Gwen turned to the three children, in full maternal mode. She pulled another handkerchief out of her pocket and held it in front of the taller boy’s face.
“Spit,” she commanded. The boy did as he was told and she used the handkerchief to rub a smudge off his cheek. This proved to Merlin that he and children should spend as little time together as possible. There was just no way they were hygienic.
“Now, I want to hear that you’ve been well behaved for Mr. Emrys when I come back,” she said, following the same procedure with the girl. “He’s taking you in out of the goodness of his heart—“
“Only when you made him,” the shorter boy grumbled under his breath. The girl elbowed him again. Gwen pretended she hadn’t heard.
“—so you all must be on your best behavior. Jared,” addressing the taller boy, “I don’t want to hear you’ve been eating all of Mr. Emrys’s sugar, alright?” The boy, looking everywhere but Gwen’s face, shrugged a slight affirmation. “Jensen—“ she said, addressing the shorter boy, “I don’t want to hear about you being mean to Sandy. Or Jared.”
She considered for a moment as Jensen sniffled loudly again.
“Or Mr. Emrys.”
The boy grumbled his response, which Gwen accepted so Merlin assumed it was something approaching agreement.
“Sandy,” Gwen said, as she gave each child their parting kiss, “Good luck.”
She pushed all three through Merlin’s door as he stepped aside.
“Mer, I can’t thank you enough,” she said, running down the steps towards her motorbike.
“Gwen, did a parcel come for me?” he called after her as she put on her helmet. She slapped her forehead.
“Of course! I brought it with me,” she said, reaching into the sidecar for a long, angular package. “I was going to use it as a hostage if I had to.”
Merlin met her halfway and eagerly relieved her of her burden. It was oddly light, much lighter than it looked. His eyes gleamed as he wrapped his fingers around it.
“Thanks, Gwen.” She pulled a large-sized envelope, heavily wrinkled, from her jacket pocket.
“This came for you as well.” She eyed the larger parcel. “I swear, Mer, you get the oddest parcels from that school.”
He grinned back at her. There was a crash from inside the house. Gwen grinned mischievously.
“Good luck, Merlin. I have a feeling you might need it.”
Merlin groaned as another crash was followed by a high-pitched wail.
***
Gwen was right, of course. Merlin did own a farmhouse on the outskirts of town, he did live there alone but have plenty of room to spare, and he had been seriously shirking any part of his civic duty that involved him interacting with people. So while Gwen had been doing enough for ten people, Merlin had contented himself with donations and, after a brief study in some more feminine labors, sewing and knitting for the troops. He hadn’t been accepted when he had tried to enlist because of his weight or something – apparently waifish isn’t the look the British Army wants to present to the Germans. It still irked Merlin and soothed the occasional pang of conscience when Gwen came calling, begging him to take in some of the evacuees from London.
So she upped her game. She knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse with the children standing there on his stoop, misanthrope though he may be.
Which left him staring at the three children as they fidgeted under his gaze, looking varying degrees of rebellious. There was a fallen vase in pieces behind them, with Merlin’s cat sitting primly on the window ledge above.
“Right,” Merlin said firmly. “I want this mess tidied—“
“But I didn’t—“ Jensen began.
“It wasn’t—“Jared interrupted.
“He said—“ whined Sandy.
Merlin interrupted all three, “Enough! I don’t particularly care which one of you wretched creatures broke my mother’s vase—“ Sandy and Jared both pointed to the cat on cue, as if their hands were magnetically drawn to it but Jensen sniggered at the mention of Merlin’s mother. “—But I want this mess tidied. You will tidy it,” he said, adding the emphasis of a glare the sentiment, “As soon as I have shown you to your room and you’ve cleaned that muck off your faces.”
He gestured towards the stairs behind the children. They stared at him blankly.
“You want us to wash?” Jensen asked incredulously. “Now?”
“Of course I do! Just look at yourselves,” Merlin declared, inwardly appalled by how quickly the mere presence of children had transformed him into his mother. “You’re not fit to be seen. Now let’s go upstairs and I can show you where you’ll be sleeping.” He encouraged them with his best shooing motions. This pantomime proved effective and they allowed themselves to be shooed.
“I never wash but once a week,” Jensen grumbled. Jared giggled.
“You don’t even wash then. I seen you, you don’t even use water,” he said, grinning.
“I wash properly every morning,” Sandy announced proudly, attempting to take Merlin’s hand. He instinctively jerked it away before he realized what she was doing but she didn’t seem to mind.
Merlin lead them to the bedroom down the hall, the one he had shared when he was a child. It was still boyish in its decorations, though thoroughly dated. It had two musty beds under dustcovers, which he pulled off, freeing clouds of dust to pour into the air.
Coughing, he said, “This should do for you boys.” They followed him cautiously into the room.
“What do you have an extra bedroom for?” Jensen asked sulkily.
“He must be rich, right?” Jared theorized.
“Stupid, he wouldn’t live in the middle of nowhere if he was rich, would he?” Jensen responded tartly.
“It’s my old room from when I was a kid. I had a bigger family then, I suppose,” Merlin said, trying to keep the tinge of melancholy out of his voice.
Sandy eyed the two beds. “I don’t have to sleep on the floor again, do I?” she said, turning plaintive eyes on Merlin.
“What? No! ‘Again?’” Merlin said, shocked. “Have you been sleeping on a lot of floors?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Jensen, throwing himself onto one of the beds. “And in train stations and things.”
“It’s better than outside, at any rate,” said Jared cheerfully.
“I’ve got another room for you, Sandy,” Merlin said. “Though I suppose you might want to stay here with your brothers?”
All three kids laughed. “We aren’t related, mister,” Jensen said. “Imagine me being that big goof’s brother.” He pointed at Jared.
“Then there shouldn’t be a problem,” Merlin said, escorting Sandy down the hall. “It’s quite a bit smaller, unfortunately.”
Sandy looked thrilled with her room, tight squeeze and all. Merlin left all three with strict instructions (elaborate in Jensen’s case – he wasn’t sure the child had ever properly been washed in his whole life) to wash and then come downstairs to help prepare dinner.
***
After they had supper and Merlin had insisted that the children go to bed, despite Jensen’s argument for his superior age being justification for a later bedtime. As soon as he was relatively sure that they were safely ensconced in bed, Merlin crept quietly into the basement.
He lit the lamp and it illuminated his treasures, delivered by Gwen earlier in the day. He had stealthily deposited both envelope and package down there when he re-entered the house because the basement was the only room in his house that had a secure lock. As the light grew, it revealed why he had deemed this room worthy of the extra secrecy.
There were bottles and tubes labeled sloppily in Merlin’s cagey handwriting things like “Dragon’s root” and “spider’s lung” and such. A cauldron sat in the fireplace, caked solidly with a foul-smelling gel. Merlin was never interested in cleaning up after his experiments. A particularly disgusting clump of unidentifiable material was hanging from a gelatinous string off the side of the cauldron, threatening to spill onto the already sticky floor.
Merlin pushed aside the papers strewn across his makeshift desk and laid the longer parcel down with loving care. He tore into the brown paper and found a short letter attached to the contents. It read:
Dear Sir:
With this shipment, the Pendragon Correspondence School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sends you its heartiest congratulations on qualifying for the first degree of your chosen calling. You may now call yourself Apprentice Wizard.
Yours Faithfully,
Arthur Pendragon
Merlin finished reading and greedily pulled the contents of the parcel out of its wrapping – it was a broom. He held it close for a moment and announced to no one in particular, though the cat had decided to join him, “My first broom!”
He moved to the center of the room, deciding to take the broom for a trial spin. It may be a bit girlish, flying on broomsticks, but Merlin was determined not to let the fairer sex have all the fun in magic. He sat astride the broom and commanded it to rise.
It failed to do so.
He waited patiently for a moment in case there was some sort of delayed magical reaction at play but the broom continued to sullenly be bound by gravity so Merlin was forced to return to the packaging, in hopes of directions. He found them taped to the inside of the paper.
“Step 1. Sit astride broom,” Merlin read aloud. He returned to sitting on the broom, holding the directions in his teeth. “Got that part.” He removed the directions from his teeth, trying to remain in a sufficiently dignified position on the broom all the while in case it decided to lift off.
“Step 2. To start up the broom, your basic formula: Hedfan Banadl,” Merlin read but no sooner had the words left his mouth, the broom left his hands. It flew into the wall across the room, knocking Merlin’s legs out from under him as it left. He blinked at it. “I wasn’t ready,” he told it huffily.
Perhaps, he thought to himself, outside would be better?
***
Jensen looked at the clock next to his bed. It read five minutes past midnight.
“Right,” he said loudly. “Let’s go.”
He flung his covers aside, revealing himself to be fully dressed. Jared also rose instantly, similarly fully dressed. The latter tiptoed down the hall towards Sandy’s room as Jensen searched the bedroom for valuables.
Sandy was waiting when Jared tapped quietly on her door. She followed him back to their bedroom, where Jensen had wrenched open the window. He handed Sandy and Jared each a handkerchief filled with odds and ends, tied neatly at the top. Jared climbed out first, reaching back to help Jensen through (despite Jensen hissing, “I’m short not a girl” angrily) when Sandy squeaked. Both boys shushed her but she pointed urgently beyond them, into the sky.
“How’s he doing that?” she asked, as all three finally caught sight of Merlin making his jagged way across the sky.
“He must be a witch. He’s got a black cat and everything,” said Jensen wisely.
“Stupid, boys can’t be witches. Bet he’s a wizard,” Jared said. They all turned their heads to one side as Merlin took a particularly jagged turn.
“Not a very good one,” Jensen said.
Merlin had managed to fall over the side of his broom and had begun a long fall towards the ground, intermittently interrupted by brief victories over the broom, which continued to escape his grasp. Just before he hit a tree, it smacked him across the face.
“He’s going to be very angry,” Sandy said forebodingly. “Let’s get out of here before he gets back.”
Jensen had stopped his progress down the tree, leaving both of the other children stalled behind him.
“Hang on a minute,” he said thoughtfully.
“I am hanging on,” said Jared, struggling with the branch he was precariously balanced on.
“I mean, he’s a wizard or something, right? I bet he wouldn’t want people to know he was a wizard, right?” Jensen said, rather too slowly reaching his point in Jared’s opinion.
“Yeah?” said Sandy, “So what?”
“So I bet we could use this to our advantage.”
“Oh, Jen, you’re not suggesting—“
“I’m not suggesting,” Jensen said, moving back up the tree towards their room, forcing the others to imitate him. “I’m planning.”
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Date: 2010-10-03 09:03 pm (UTC)THXKBAI