SHEETCAKE PARTY #1

[goneawaymod]

SHEET CAKE MEETUP

“Who the fuck is Linda?”

The question pops up every few minutes, a little tack of punctuation above the offensively-inoffensive music being piped in*. The room the hires have been ushered into is clearly just a conference room, with a layout that requires either sitting at awkwardly-spaced intervals around a giant table or milling and scooting around the smaller folding table, where the “big surprise” the corporate officers promised them is on display: a sheet cake.

A sheet cake that that still bears HAPPY BIRTH DAY LINDA in blue icing across the top, although someone has, at least, gone to the effort of writing welcome, to the team new hires in Sharpie on a purple flashcard and used a Popsicle stick and tape to plant it like a dismal flag right in the middle of Linda’s “DAY”. Dedication aside, the cake itself looks pretty suspect too, not as if it were poisoned but more like if it were salvaged. The cake part looks dry, and the frosting seems strangely...sweaty. No one’s eating yet, and yet there’s already a piece missing.

However, there’s no lack of enthusiasm around the room. A projector hooked up to a laptop casts an off-center, warped rectangle of WELCOME TO, THE BEST TEAM. NEW HIRES!! onto a wall. The many paper plates have a festive print, although they all seem to be Christmas themed. The table cloth looks as if it came from both 4th of July and potentially a war, given the scuffs and tears. The shot-glass sized paper cups are inadequate to hold a satisfying amount of sparkling cider, but at least they don’t leak. There are many more plastic knives than forks, which could prompt some hires to give in to their animal instincts and just use their hands, or perhaps start a barter economy for the better utensils.

“I’m so jealous,” a corporate employee keeps saying as she ushers hires into the room. “We haven’t had a good party in this office since Kelly’s baby shower, and that little girl practically has teeth now!”

(An eagle-eyed hire may suspect that the box of donuts next to the sheet cake might have come from said baby shower, on account of the fact that the few stale hunks of donut remaining have Pepto-Bismol pink strawberry icing and that there’s still the paper envelope for a gift card with ITS A GIRL written on it.)

Most of corporate slips out after the hires get set up - this is clearly an event for the hires to do some “team building” and work on “rapport” in addition to filling their bellies with cake that tastes remarkably like sand. There’s a karaoke machine in the corner, but hires are instructed not to touch it because, as an employee points out, last year’s Christmas party demonstrated that karaoke is the worst thing in the entire world for morale (“in any world! even before this one got eaten away by the bombs!”).

There’s an additional big glass jar filled with scraps of paper, which the hires are informed are filled with prompts for ice breakers and activities in case the party needs a pick-me-up. Any hire who investigates will find that most of the ice breaker activities start with three benign questions (“what’s your name?” “where are you from?” “what’s your favorite animal?”) and somehow, always a fourth question that feels a little invasive (“what are your feelings on unions?” “under what circumstances would you kill an innocent person?” “do you use the same passwords for all your accounts?”).

“Please enjoy yourselves and all the desserts Jorgmund has generously supplied you with,” one of the employees says on her way out, “and don’t worry about making a mess, janitorial gets paid too much to sit around as is.”

*All music that can be summarized as ’grocerycore’.

Comments

[stickypete]

"I think we're almost good. Are the nerves linked up okay? Can you feel it when I do this?"

Peter puts the tool he was using down on the work tray and taking both hands, he runs an index finger along each side of his jaw.

It's not a particularly tender gesture, but it's at least a gentle one. It's very much a "does it hurt when I bend it like this?" medical touch. Clinical, but...gentle.

[cachedout]

Cayde is very still, which has been his default response to touch this whole time. There has been no unnecessary contact and Peter's made it as non-weird for him as possible but it's still something he's extremely unaccustomed to.

"...Yeah," he confirms. He gives his jaw another waggle, just to be sure. "Feels right. Jury's not totally in until I've hit a mirror, but I'm absolving you of responsibility for my vanity. We'd be here all night."

Delivering self-owns aside, Cayde seems glad. This is the most at ease Peter's seen him, because he's finally not faking it.

"If there's nothing else..." He tilts his head significantly. "I'd like to get a little more pants and a little less Roman."

[stickypete]

"There's a mirror right here."

Peter walks over to the worktable and lifts up a little magnifying work mirror off a stand, then walks back over and hands it to Cayde.

"It's not ideal but I least got the basic structure back together and you should be able to move those face plates for expressions again. I can maybe work on replacing all the plastic cover plates some other time. Maybe scrounge up some paint first or see if I can get some dye for the 3D printer." He adds, "Besides, right now I'm better looking. I gotta hamstring any competition for the rig's next top model somehow."

Cayde's face...looks like his face again. Sure, it's missing the plastic plates that went over the metal but the metal is intact and cleaned up a little, the moving face plates that he uses for expression can move again, they just don't have the nice blue and white over top. But it's still his face, mostly the way it was, minus the pretty.

"Okay, now pants. I'm going to turn around and start cleaning up. Tell me when you're decent."

He goes over to the work table and starts cleaning up, sorting tiny little components to put them back in the bins. He doesn't want to lose any because who knows how hard it is for them to get this stuff post-apocalypse and Cayde might need new repairs in the future.

[cachedout]

Cayde examines his reflection, tipping his head this way and that to compare. It's more than he expected a stranger could do for him on short supply and shorter notice. It already makes a huge difference that looking at things doesn't cause parts of his face to bind up.

"Alright, good enough," he says when he sets the mirror aside, but he can't quite manage to be breezy about it. Having this much back now? It means something. He's honestly touched. His face is his face again.

He makes a shooing motion as Peter goes, and then he suits back up. His legs feel so much better, he bends them and stretches them a little to make sure the joints are smooth.

"You can turn back around without being blinded," he says, tone jaunty and sarcastic, but when he does:

"...Thanks, Peter."

That's sincere. That's more sincere than Cayde ever likes to be, but it's what's called for here.

[stickypete]

He'd mostly cleaned up as he went, to keep the workspace free, so all that's left is putting these last little pieces away. When he turns back around, he's hit in the face with sincerity.

An all he can do is reflect it right back.

"You're welcome."

It feels...like it used to feel. Early days. Not just saving people, but helping old ladies move furniture. Helping a harried mother carry her groceries so she could carry her kid. Legit, actual kittens in trees that needed to go back to their tiny owners.

There used to be more caring. And there used to be connection. To his city and its people. Before he got so far into his own head and started drowning in his problems - and mistakes.

"Now let's get out of here. I'm starting and it's gotta be close to time for breakfast."

[cachedout]

Cayde's glad to let the moment pass. He's had far more vulnerability than he's comfortable with today.

Tonight.

This morning?

"Dammit, you're not kidding about that."

He has a pretty good time sense that confirms. "...You didn't have to do all this," he continues immediately.

[stickypete]

"Yes I did."

Peter stretches his neck as he walks, raising his arm up to stretch his back. He'd spent a long time bent over Cayde or the workspace. It used to be he could spend all night bent over electronics and feel fine, but even though his back had healed after he'd broken it a few years ago, it had never quite been the same.

"Although there is one way you can pay me back," he says, opening the door to from the robotics room into the machine shop outside. The light through the reinforced hanger windows does confirm it's indeed early morning.

[cachedout]

Cayde tags along with him. Might as well. It's not like there's any point in trying to get any sleep, and while his face may be in much better repair, it's still not gonna be able to open the door to get him into breakfast on his own.

"What's that?" he asks, all casual despite his suddenly sharp interest. It's a relief to think he might have a concrete means of returning Peter's favor.

[stickypete]

He says it with complete, dead seriousness:

"I want your pudding."

Big ask, right?

"Places like this, with food just shy of 'hospital cafeteria,' the only thing they don't mess up is pudding or jello or some other little side dessert. I don't want it every time, but if you ever don't want yours, I get first dibs."

Very serious, very important request.

[cachedout]

Cayde eyes Peter for a moment, as if this is a major concession he's being asked to make and it needs real mulling over.

It's a joke, it's not enough to be the out Cayde's looking for from his feelings of debt, but there's exactly one answer Cayde can give here.

He holds out one hand for a solemn shake.

"Deal."

[stickypete]

Peter gives his hand a firm shake.

"I'm gonna hold you to that," he says with what's become a slightly rare smile. "And I'm gonna extra hold you to that if it's a brownie..."