Atticus Santana

Odds are good that you’re right. In the name of strange (and wonderful) American traditions, I think you should try to get at least three other people to do the chicken dance with you. It’s very fun and definitely worth a smile!

Text was sent. Your girlfriend is very confused, but admitted to eating the last cookie in the cookie jar. 

“Not to call our my own brother”. Ouch. I do not like where this is going. Okay, what is the dare.

American culture is categorized by baked goods. Very important to know. I will meet you at the haunted house, to… enjoy being scared with other people.

Oh yeah, it means like… sweet and good. Though you might prefer to be a sinnamon roll. Do you want some company for the haunted house? I was thinking of going.

You are the purest cinnamon roll of goodness. Never done a thing wrong in his life. I promise not to fling myself off of any ladders. Not even to get out of a lab. What are you doing tonight? Other than worrying about worksafe practices?

Ya know, I never really think about it, but you are so right. Ick. Beer is super sticky.

Yeah, I would assume it has to do with like ancient turf war type traditions between tribes or something, but I’ve never been big on sports…or huge parties with large groups of people for that matter haha

Some things were best left in the past. Atticus’ kitchen, Megan thought, was one of those things. It was also another day’s problem or he was going to starve or overdose on packet ramen.

“You’re… not wrong,” Megan allowed. Ty had a particular way of doing just about everything. One either clued in, tolerated the judgement, or avoided the situation entirely. “He’s pretty particular about his food, though, so he probably wouldn’t even try anything you made.” Which sounded more insulting than reassuring when said aloud.

“Have you never tried dogfood?” Megan countered, and shrugged, “I was eight or something, and it seemed like a good idea.” Why it had seemed like a good idea was not something she had ever managed to articulate. It was just a gut feeling that had ended with not so good feelings in the gut. She led the way across to her and Ty’s apartment. “What’s Tim’s favourite colour? What are his life aspirations? What is his favourite cheese?” Megan asked, directing Atticus into their kitchen.  “If you don’t know those things, you can hardly call it a relationship.”

One perk of living with Ty was that the apartment was always tidy. Megan was not a sloppy person by nature - growing up with perfectionist parents had assured that - but if she did leave something out, it didn’t stay that way for very long. So there were no embarrassing messes in the kitchen or bras hanging from door handles. Not that any of that strictly mattered, anyway.

She pulled open the cabinets and stepped back, “Alright, pick an ingredient and we’ll build a casserole around it.” So long as he picked something at least vaguely edible, if worse came to worst, they could drown it in some kind of carb and dump some sauce on it and call it a casserole. “Wait… have you ever had a casserole? Do cooks make casseroles? Pretty sure they don’t deliver casseroles.” While waiting for some kind of answer, she ducked down to dig out one of the less fragile casserole dishes. She didn’t need a good one shattering because it didn’t go on a cooling rack properly.

Raising an eyebrow, Atticus chose to ignore the comment with a small huff. She was probably right, if this succeeded at all it would be because of Megan saving his sorry ass, not his own skill, which he opted to not voice out loud. “No?” Was all Atticus could say, a little shocked by her admission about the dog food, “Though, I guess it’s not like I had the opportunity. I was never allowed to have a dog.” His parents had spared no expenses to keep him occupied, but pets and other “distractions” were definitely off the table. 

Shutting the door behind him, Atticus followed Megan into the kitchen. He’d seen snippets of their apartment before, but the contrast to his own was noticeable. Namely, their place was organized, but still looked lived in. He couldn’t say the same for his apartment, which was sparsely decorated and really only had the bare essentials. Even his childhood home lacked that warmth. Not wanting to pry too much, Atticus returned his attention to Megan, “Red, Tim’s always wearing red,” Atticus said, but furrowed his eyebrows a moment later, “Wait... that might just be the colour of his uniform...” 

Bitting his lip lightly, he considered the list of questions Megan asked, “I don’t think I know those things about anyone, not even my mom. Are you suggesting I don’t have a relationship with my mother?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted saying them. No, no he did not have a relationship with her. Not really. “Never mind, sorry,” he sighed lightly, waving off the comment as if it hadn’t happened. “I’ll be sure to ask Tim next time I see him. What’s your favourite colour, then?” he asked instead. 

Of course! Any time. I love love love carving pumpkins. It’s such a fun creative outlet! I’m sure homecoming probably has an interesting history too but I definitely don’t know that one. Mostly I think people just like to party.

Aren’t you a guardian angel today. The ladder is pretty safe, and I don’t stand on anything unstable. I’d hate to be hurt, so we’re on the same team here.

Originally on All Hallow’s Eve, the Irish hollowed out turnips, rutabagas, gourds, potatoes and beets and placed light in them. They were said to ward off evil spirits as All Hallow’s Eve is said to be the time when the veil between worlds is the thinnest. They are called Jack O’Lanterns because the main spirit they were keeping at bay was Stingy Jack or Jack of the Lantern.

You over-estimate the management skill of university book store/print shop managers. If there are two of us scheduled, its a good day. Plus the bats look super cute and I don’t think that James would’ve done as cute a job.