[defunct contact]

[thelatechrisfreeman]

Hello, residents of Pumpkin Hollow. Do you have a reason to contact Chris Freeman? Please feel free to send a letter or note, or place a call to their home phone. Written communication can reach them at any time, and phone calls will be answered in the evening. (Using the clinic phone number to reach Chris personally is not advised. The line should be kept clear for patients to use for medical matters only!) You can also seek Chris out around town for an in-person encounter. Feel free to set the scene! Remember, the options are: [letter], [phone], or [encounter]!

Comments

activity around the freeman residence over the course of November

[theydrewfirstblood]

- a squeaky pair of shutters isn't squeaking anymore

- a loose board on the steps is no longer loose

- a piece of trim around one of the windows is replaced, but unfinished in the morning

- the unfinished trim is painted by evening

- an orange wrapped in a red gingham-checked cloth appears on the bannister of the porch stairs, seemingly appropos of nothing...but maybe a clue?...

[thelatechrisfreeman]

At first, when certain random repairs happened around the outside of Chris's house, they wondered if maybe Milo had noticed and done them. But then they figured Milo would at least say "hello" when he swung by, or say something about it all. Especially since -- when Chris dropped off a batch of 'thank you' cookies, Milo had no idea what the thank you was for.

(Chris covered for that one by saying it was a 'thank you for being my friend' gift, and mentioned Milo should share them around if he wanted.)

So then it was more of a mystery... Sam would probably say something, too. Chris was pretty sure Erik had never done a home repair in his entire life or unlife. And Hawkeye... well, that man had better uses for his hands than to risk them around a hammer and nails. So if it was Hawkeye doing sneaky home repairs, then Chris would have to have words with him.

Finally, that orange in the cloth. It confused Chris quite a bit... until they remembered that sometimes the napkins at the Oak and Iron were that red gingham check.

Consider that the clue that has Chris marching over to the Oak and Iron and sitting down in a chair right close to the door between the main eating area, and the first hallway to the rooms. Somebody staying at the Oak and Iron has been helping Chris out, and they aren't going to leave their rooms -- or come back to them -- without Chris noticing now.

[theydrewfirstblood]

It ends up being coming back—after leaving the orange from breakfast, more just a more personal little acknowledgment that could remain anonymous, John is out and about for maybe three hours. He asks around about work, drops another bad joke off to Hawkeye, and says hi to River before heading back to the Oak and Iron.

John enters through the front door, quiet and unobtrusive, ready to skirt through the main eating area when one of the serving girls approaches him not far from where a slim man sits, able to hear even their quiet voices over others.

”Sorry to bother you. Wanted to find out if you’ve any issue with your stomach? Cook’s planning his black pepper stew tonight, and he’s not one to skimp. All right to send some up?”

For a second, John feels like he can’t breathe—but he manages to draw one deep one, smile, and nod.

”I’ll let him know—much obliged, Mr. Rambo.”

[thelatechrisfreeman]

And when Mr. Rambo turns to leave the main room, Chris is lounging there in the seat -- orange in one hand, waving the red napkin with the other. And there's a cheeky grin on Chris's face.

They're waiting to see how Mr. Rambo reacts to the sight of them, with those little 'personal touches'. Because they've got a sus~pi~cion...

[theydrewfirstblood]

John doesn't react at first, having never seen his benefactor face to face--so the waving napkin gets a brief glance, a nod and a smile of greeting.

...then he sees the orange. Orange plus napkin. Two plus two.

Four equals Chris Freeman.

So, of course, John still doesn't react--but that shy, polite smile warms up a great deal as his gaze slides off of Chris and he continues towards the hall leading to the inn's rooms.

gift left on Chris's porch

[theydrewfirstblood]

[One morning, Chris will find a basket covered with a simple piece of cheesecloth. Inside is a big stack of Navajo fry bread along with a note.]

Got a job, and a new place. [address here] Just wanted you to know I'm eating well. These are my mom's recipe--great with a beer.

I'll keep a few in the icebox, so to speak, if you ever wanna come by and learn how to make them.

Thank you again for looking out for me. If you ever need anything, I got you.

-J

[thelatechrisfreeman]

Chris peeks into the basket, sees that it contains food and a note, and carries it inside to their kitchen. With the basket sat on the counter, Chris leans against the counter near it and reads over the note.

They're smiling by the end of it, and wondering if John heard about their other forays into baked goods and bread.

Chris pulls out one of the fry bread pieces and takes a bite. Oh wow, they definitely want to learn this recipe. And they put down the note and go to their own 'icebox' for a jar of elderberry jam.

****

The best-laid plans of mice and men... -- Chris had intended to visit John at his home, and give him the chance to dictate how it all went. And then someone got injured on one of the construction sites, and guess who was on call for emergencies?

"That saw chewed up your hand pretty good, but Doctor First Aid will be able to help," Chris says, in their best 'cool collected professional' tone, as they do a quick emergency stitch on the man's worst-off finger. To the other construction workers, Chris calls out, "I need a clean cloth soaked in cold water, to wrap his hand. Ice would be best if you have it."

And they sneak a glance at John, who is probably watching the whole scenario -- or at least nearby enough to do so. Then they focus back on their patient.

[theydrewfirstblood]

“You—gimme that rag…”

John isn’t just watching, he’s paying attention. He was the one who asked three different guys to get a doctor, fell back a little when one of the guys knew more about first aid, and now is surveying the situation to act with a clear instruction given.

Grabbing the clean rag he’d demanded from one of the other workers, John moves to his work station nearby, flipping open his makeshift lunch box. Pulling out a flask, he shakes it and wets the rag, bringing it to Chris as fast as he can.

“Some nights, it gets cold enough to freeze water if you leave a bottle on the porch.” He explains quietly, handing him the rag. “Poor man’s ice pack, easy access to a cold drink.”

[thelatechrisfreeman]

Chris is glad to know that someone else can take charge in these situations, and accepts the cold, wet rag from John. They wrap that cloth around the wounded man's hand, to help slow the blood flow.

Chris directs a few other workers to help carry the man to the wagon that Chris arrived in. "I want one other person who saw the accident to come with me to the clinic," they announce, and they make eye contact with John for a moment, silently asking if he fits that.

As soon as all are in the wagon, Chris asks the driver to make all haste back to the clinic.

[[ OOC: Assuming that John will be the one who volunteers, so the thread moves forward, heh. And we can timeskip to Chris and John in the waiting room area while First Aid stitches the guy up... ]]

[theydrewfirstblood]

[[OOC: you assume correctly. HI HO TIMESKIP, AWAAAAAAY! XD]]

John just nods as Chris makes eye contact, climbing into the wagon without another word, save to let one of the guys know to tell the foreman where he's gone.

Later, once the poor bastard's in with the other medic, John finally has a chance to sit and settle. It's like flipping a switch, not just remembering the war but letting it back in. In Hope, he had no choice--it was the only way to attempt to survive. Here...here he did have a choice, and he helped someone.

It's like building with Sam, it's something good that can come out of what the military turned him into.

...now if he could just make his hands stop shaking, that would be good...

Hiding it by rubbing his hands together where he sits, John looks over at Chris with a small smile.

"So, how'd you like the fry bread?"

[A note]

[300kgbackpack]

Left in Chris' personal inbox along with whatever they might have needed to have delivered by one of the local porters:

Freeman
You busy?
Wanted to ask you a favor re: making some stuff like we were talking about.
Supplies available at bazaar afaik.

[thelatechrisfreeman]

Chris heads out to find Sam -- checking on his delivery routes before heading out to the cabin. But either way, once they find Sam they wave at him and say,

"Hey, so what's up with the charm project?"

[300kgbackpack]

Sam has been put on duty circulating the myriad holiday gifts being purchased, crafted, ordered etc so that all of it gets to where it's going before the actual celebrations get underway. It's easy to find him at least, heading up the path back toward the post office.

"Hey," he calls back, waiting a moment for Chris to catch up. "Actually, wanted your help figurin' somethin' out. Had a specific thing I wanna try and get right 'fore the holidays hit." A present. He's trying to figure out a present. "You any good with wire?"

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"Like, craft wire? I'm decent at it," Chris replies as they jog up to Sam. They smile, and match Sam's pace now. "What have you got in mind?"

[300kgbackpack]

Sam starts walking again, hiking his pack up on his shoulders as he goes and reaching back to snag a pouch that was tucked into a side pocket. A few smooth, yellowish stones, leather strips, wire in a few different gauges, and smooth silverish thread all bundled neatly together.

"Dreamcatcher. Real specific one, actually. Figured I would do somethin' for a friend."

Civil Blood Makes Civil Hands Unclean

[lovinglefthand]

[Set immediately after First Aid's argument with Vika.]

First Aid stands on the clinic's front step for several minutes, shaking hard enough to make his plating rattle, until a drop of water falls onto the top of his foot and makes him jump. He realizes to his horror that he's holding the frozen severed head of the man Vika killed -- and the ice is melting.

This is a biohazard. He needs to dispose of it -- or is it considered evidence? Should he tell an enforcer? He took it from Vika because he was worried she'd do something disgusting with it; he had the half-baked idea that he should take it to the graveyard and bury it, but now he isn't sure. He isn't sure of anything -- he can't think. Too upset.

Chris would know, though. Chris used to work with the police, they were a coroner. They would know what to do, he just...needs to get his legs to move...and go back inside...and ask him.

First Aid nods to himself and turns around decisively, clipping the doorframe hard enough to knock an entire chunk out of the wood. He staggers back into the clinic, still clutching the severed hand in his hands.

"Chris," he groans, voice still mixed with static. "There's been...Vika did something terrible..."

[thelatechrisfreeman]

Chris moves toward First Aid, realizing what he's holding in the next moment and barks, "Leave that outside!"

Bodies don't vanish until they are unobserved. For the sake of poor César, Chris wants his body gone as soon as possible.

[lovinglefthand]

First Aid shrinks back at the sharp sound of their raised voice, knocking into the poor abused wall this time. The picture frames shake.

"But," he stammers in a tiny voice. "Isn't it, um. Isn't it evidence...?"

[thelatechrisfreeman]

Chris gets close enough to speak quieter, and hisses, "His ghost is inside the clinic. Stop touching it or looking at it and let it vanish. Do you really think I'm going to set the enforcers on Vika? She won't go with them, and she'll make that point violently if they press her."

[lovinglefthand]

"Oh Primus!" First Aid turns and -- yeah, he, uh. He throws the head into the snow outside and slams the door. The picture frames shake again, but mercifully none of them fall. "I'm sorry!" And now First Aid is shaking, his visor too bright, fans roaring as they try to compensate for all the heat his co-processor is generating. "I'm so sorry, I didn't, I didn't know what to do..."

He can't cry. He physically can't cry. His face doesn't have that functionality, there aren't even any gaps in his helm to drop sparks. But Cybertronian emotional programming is ancient, it transcends their recorded history, and the subroutines that govern emotional equilibrium are too foundational to overwrite. He covers his face with both hands, water sizzling as it evaporates on contact. "I don't know what to do Chris, help me!" he sobs.

Ring ring, worried phone call

[300kgbackpack]

Sam is hanging out at home more often than he's out during the inclement weather, and so hasn't been seen around town except to pick up standing medication orders to be run out to the folks that need them most before tucking right back in at home. These instances see Lou at one of the myriad babysitters he can now ask for help.

Chris can be forgiven for probably thinking it's about that when Sam speaks up on the other hand, quiet as always.

"Hey Freeman, you seen John Rambo around? He ain't been by and I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume you noticed it's real fuckin' cold out."

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"I've spoken to him, yeah. Seems he's staying inside as much as he can." Chris gives a little huff of a laugh. "Since, as you said, real fuckin' cold these days."

[300kgbackpack]

There's a relief in his tone. Subtle, but it's there for the people that have spoke with Sam at length. Even over the phone, it's there.

"Good, 's good. Better that he stays in 'til this passes. 's what we're doin' over here too. He uh. He left some stuff for us here but he ain't shown so I wanted to be sure." Some stuff. A little whittled flower that feels like it's meant to be an apology, or maybe a goodbye. It doesn't sit right with him.

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"He's got a habit of doing stuff for others, or leaving presents, instead of actually talking. I think that's what he's comfortable with." Chris says, as casually as they can. They have proof of this anyway -- all those repairs of their house before even speaking to John Rambo directly.

Beat.

"I had a dream a while back. I was somebody different, somebody local... and I remember talking to you. Well, in sign language. Do you... remember anything like that?"

[300kgbackpack]

"Yeah...noticed he ain't great about that kinda thing. Worse'n me, and that's really saying something."

In spite of himself, Sam cracks a small smile. It fades when Chris speaks up again, and he finds himself taking a moment to realize that...huh, yeah, he actually remembers not only that, but the signs themselves. Not all of them, but some.

"Yeah. N' Lou was a little girl, not just a baby. N' you looked like a flapper."