a_littlefaith | (no subject)

The apartment looks amazing, so at least there's that.

Beth has put a lot of work into the decorations, the lights and the tree. There are wrapped gifts under the tree, most of them for Judith and Carl, and there are cookies and candies and chocolates on the table. The rest of the apartment is more or less the same, she doesn't have a lot of extra money to be buying Christmas place settings or anything like that, but she thinks she's done a good job regardless.

And it's a good thing, too, because she's not sure dinner is going to turn out the way it's supposed to.

It's not bad, not from what she can tell, but it's just not very good either. Nothing is burned or overflowing, nothing is undercooked and nothing looks like it might possibly poison someone accidentally. But she's tasted everything and it's all just kind of bland.

The only thing this dinner has going for it is dessert, which is apple crumble and the one thing Beth did learn how to bake from her mother. It's still in the oven and it smells delicious and she's sort of hoping no one will notice that cinnamon and apple is the only smell in the apartment when they arrive for dinner.

She doesn't say anything about it, not to Daryl, but she sits down at the piano and plays a soft, melancholy song, something that's got no place at a bright, cheery Christmas dinner.

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"Ow," he laughed, jerking away from her and rubbing at the sore spot on his arm. "Okay, okay, I get it. You're right. Even if it's not real, there's not really any point in wasting it."

Spearing a piece of turkey with his fork, he took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "It's not that bad," he decided, barely keeping a straight face.

"Shut up," she says, laughing. She's not really insulted, though, because she's pretty sure this day is going to be a relatively good one regardless of the state of her turkey. There are still gifts under the tree and the lights are sparkling and even though they're all missing people, they have each other. Which is important. "You better be nice to me or you won't get any of the apple crumble I made and I might not be much with turkey, but my mom did teach me how to bake."

Then she tips her head toward the tree and says, "Won't give you your present either." And she's pretty sure he'll like it. She'd found an entire run of a new comic series, something not from their world, something written in Darrow, and it's only twenty issues so far, but the guy at the store had promised her that it was amazing.

"Yeah, you will," Carl insisted, shoving another forkful of turkey into his mouth, because it really wasn't that bad. It didn't really taste right, and it was sort of dry, but he'd learned not to be picky.

"Thanks. For doing all this. It is kind of great."

"Yeah, I will," she admits, because they both know it's an empty threat. She smiles a little and leans back in her chair, her arms still around her knees.

"Thanks for comin'," she says. "Wouldn't be much of a Christmas without family, no matter what I did." And she's glad the others are here in Darrow, more than she can say. She'd get along alone if she had to, but she's glad she doesn't have to. She needs these people.