milliways_bar | (no subject)

There's off-key humming coming from one of the booths; a humming that might sound something like "Deck the Halls" in its more tuneful moments. The sound isn't coming from the seats, but from the end of the booth, as Jack's standing next to the booth's table, the table covered in Christmasy items--snarled balls of lights, molting tinsel garlands, and layers of tissue paper with ornaments laid neatly on top.

He's sorting through the Christmas things he'd got from his apartment yesterday, looking for a couple items in particular, and there wasn't any space to do so in his apartment. At least unless you count the floor or the bed, neither of which was much of an option with a rather bouncy chihuahua running around.

"A-ha!" he says, pulling out a small, lidded box, from the very bottom of the larger box. Inside are two ornaments, nestled in cotton batting. Their paint is chipped but they're stil recogniseable as a small, blonde-haired angel and a small star.

He carefully puts the lid back on the box, then pokes through the tissue paper, looking through four generations' worth of Bauer Christmas memories.

[ooc: Must flee for bed, but feel free to tag if you want to slowtime!]

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Angela beams. "Oh, yes. I love the star in particular."

As a very small girl, she used to dream that it was a real star and that Angie had to put it back in the sky.

Kim glances back at them, she's smiling, but her mind is elsewhere for a moment. She remembers her mom putting up Greta, making sure that she wouldn't fall off the branch, and then when she got a little older, she was allowed to do the honors.

Her dad was sometimes away for Christmas, but he always tried to be there when she was younger to decorate the tree. 'He got them from his apartment which means that they won't be there when I go through his things after his -- ' she stops the thought before it can continue.

"Greta was my favorite, Angie. Although, you probably already knew that..."

"You tell me every year," Angie says softly, smiling.

Things have gotten about ten times better for Angie. She's still wearing baggy clothes and far too much makeup, but it's getting better, gradually.

"You know the story behind them, I hope," he says, smiling.

"Yes, one day when I was nearly ten, Mom told me about them, how they were brought over from Germany."

She's beginning to think of those stories as her family's stories again. Not just Kim's stories.

"Yeah, when my grandfather and great-grandmother came to the U.S., they couldn't bring much with them, but they managed to bring these; I think they were gifts for my great-grandparents' first Christmas together."

His mouth curls into a lopsided smile. "Considering all the moving, the time they had to leave them with neighbours during their internment, not to mention being around--what, four generations of kids, it's a miracle they've lasted this long without getting broken."

She puts Greta carefully back into the box, "Don't look at me, I was always really careful with them," Kim says lightly.

"I know you were, sweetheart. Still, you'd think someone would have bumped into them or dropped them or something. It's a good thing we've had luck in that case so far," he says, smiling wistfully.

Angie laughs. "Well, Mom always stressed the importance of not playing with the ornaments--just looking at them."

Kim's first instinct is to deny Angie's statement, and then she remembers that...it could very well be true.

"I hope I wasn't too strict."

It's getting a little less weird to say that, especially now that she knows she and Chase are going to be married.

Angie looks at her mother. "No, not much. But I did know enough not to play with them."

She smiles at Angie, "It's more fun to play with the other ornaments, anyway."

"Especially the noisy ones," Jack says, picking up a small brass horn. He blows through it to make a honking noise. "I remember someone waking their mother and I with this one on Christmas morning."

She remembers that sound. "You used to almost jump," she giggles. "But mom would usually let you sleep a little while longer."

Angela just laughs. She's not heard some of these things before.

"It was one of the few days I was almost guaranteed the chance to sleep in, sweetheart."

"I know, mom used to remind me of that too, but when there are presents...well, it was hard to remember sometimes."

He smiles. "Trust me, I know. I was a kid once too, believe it or not."

"I'm sure Grampa always followed the rules and was a good boy," Angela says, a little teasingly.

Jack just snickers loudly at that. Really, there's not much he can say.