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The trailer looks much the same as ever: small, clean, ruthlessly tidy.
Well, except for the tinsel on the cabinets. (Cathy's doing. It's shedding a bit on the counter.) And the holly and colorful squiggles drawn on the whiteboard on the back of the kitchen door. (Also Cathy's doing.) And the tiny tree taking up half the kitchen table, wedged into a corner and slightly precariously laden with ornaments. (Trowa helped with that one. But because Cathy handed him the box of ornaments and told him to.) There are small presents shoved under the drooping branches.
Trowa is making coffee, at the moment.
Well, except for the tinsel on the cabinets. (Cathy's doing. It's shedding a bit on the counter.) And the holly and colorful squiggles drawn on the whiteboard on the back of the kitchen door. (Also Cathy's doing.) And the tiny tree taking up half the kitchen table, wedged into a corner and slightly precariously laden with ornaments. (Trowa helped with that one. But because Cathy handed him the box of ornaments and told him to.) There are small presents shoved under the drooping branches.
Trowa is making coffee, at the moment.
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This takes maybe, oh, forty five seconds tops.
"Welcome to our home!" She tells Cass, happily, holding another sticky bun towards her, but using it momentarily to wave at the small space as if it were a terribly grand mansion.
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Hi, Cass.
The coffee machine gurgles. This is probably not a greeting, since it's nonsentient.
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It is quite fortunate that the machine is nonsentient because most people would find the sort of hungry attention she's directing at it more than a little disconcerting.
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It's from the dollar store. But it still tastes like peppermints!
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If Cass wants to spend the entirety of the brewing time staring at the coffee machine, though, Trowa's not going to stop her.
He leans against the counter, arms comfortably folded, and doesn't comment on the concept of peppermint coffee.
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Every so often her nose twitches as she inhales the aroma of the brewing beverage. It smells just like she remembers.
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Cathy tilts her head at her. "Caaass? Can you read me?" Cathy doesn't know the cultural reference except through osmosis. "Have you never had coffee before?"
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Or something.
It may be a good thing that this is not a huge coffeemaker, and only makes a few cups' worth at a time.
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Cathy's leading them, in the haphazard way of someone with the barest idea of where she's going (Trowa probably knows, but he's not saying; then again, she hasn't asked), and with a left turn they find themselves square in the middle of a brightly colored crafts fair.
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Even if Cathy had had to pull Cass back from her attempts to climb on the things. Apparently that wasn't allowed.
And now there were crafts! Maybe there were some good blades or things. That could prove useful.
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The general deal here is that Catherine gets to play tour guide, and Trowa gets to point out where things (like home) actually are when such is necessary. And, apparently, they both get to rein Cass in from conspicuously bouncing onto dinosaur skeletons.
Accordingly, he follows his sister.
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Otherwise Cathy is going straight for the colorful bangles and scarves.
Or maybe the throwing knives, in a cart two aisles over and thirteen down with a bright blue roof, she's been trying to convince herself she doesn't have the cash for.
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She's not entirely sure they'll be understood.
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Either Trowa understands, or Cass is predictable.
Or both!
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They head over a few aisles to where a lot more metalwork is displayed--pots and pans, a few chunky jewelry shops, and in this section--knives.
Most of them are pretty harmless (lots of kitchen stuff). But Cathy's trailblazing for a shop with a bright blue roof.
"Here we are!"
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When they reach the shop in question she grins even wider.
Ooooooh! Shinies!
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Someone realized that giving Cass more caffeine was probably a bad idea, so she's currently cradling a mug of microwaved instant hot cocoa between her hands and looking around.
From the curious expression on her face, people might be forgiven for thinking this is her first Christmas. She looks like she has no idea what to do.
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(Eggnog is perhaps more traditional, but Cathy doesn't make a habit of keeping alcohol in the trailer. Hard to haul out for the customs officials every time. And some colonies are dry.)
Cathy tugs on Cass's sleeve, gently, towards the table. "Hey, magpie, want to open presents?" The casserole is in the oven, and the presents under the tree, so.
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(Not that Cass objects to such things. Presents are good, after all!)
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"Do you celebrate Christmas?" Cass personally, or her world in general: either one.
Trowa is perhaps more familiar than Cathy with missing the point of holidays, anyway.
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Does she look like she's had a lot of time for that? She's got important things to do! Like... hit people.
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Thus: easier to ignore any ):-face-making reactions.
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Holidays, for Trowa, are mostly things that have meaning to other people. He sits back and observes this habit. This used to be even more true than it is now.
It's also one reason why Catherine gets to bustle about and steer everyone towards the tree and PRESENTS!!!, and Trowa will play laconic cultural interpreter if needed.
(He's letting himself be steered, though.)
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Right?
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