[open & closed starters] december catch-all

[guitarpicks]

WHO: eddie munson + YOU
WHERE: all over
WHEN: december
WHAT: open & closed starters of all sorts in the comments. will be updated through the month.
WARNINGS: mentions of death/gore, self-deprecating language. will add more as they come up.

✦ let their souls rest
✦ avert your gaze, you peeping tom!

Comments

[closed] for mccoy

[guitarpicks]

[ even back home, eddie's never quite ready for winter. he's always lived in places with snow, sure, but somehow it always surprises him when the leaves finish their kamikaze jumps from the branches and the first snow hits the ground.

keeping track of the change was the last thing on his mind most of the time, until the snow thawed and he had to figure out how much work he had to put into the upcoming semester and if it would even be possible to graduate. at least that had been the song and dance of the last three years, until chrissy and the upside down.

this time he's not prepared because this place has no rhyme or reason. at least as far as he can tell. he makes his way back to the shadowlands to check if any of his winter clothes, like the jacket he finally got last year, have made it into his closet and nope. no luck.

so eddie's rocking his leather jacket and the vest he died in (how grim) to keep warm, manages to get a scarf thanks to that five finger discount. it doesn't do much, he's damn cold whenever he's outside but at least he's sticking to the whole 80s metalhead aesthetic as he's shivering his ass off. some days, when it's not as cold, eddie busks to make a few extra coins. today there aren't really many people out and eddie's fingers are blue by the time he sets his guitar down.

sitting at the edge of a fountain in the square where can normally draw a more captivated audience, he looks at the tips of his fingers and frowns at how red they are. after a moment, he tries to bend his right hand and hisses. ] Yeah, that's not good...

[ he stuffs both hands in his pockets, pushes himself up to stand and looks around the square. fire would help so he tries his luck with the nearest passerby, someone he's pretty sure he recognizes coming his way. ] Hey, doc! Got a match or a lighter?

[homeostatic]

Mr. Munson, ( he greets the younger man, warmly dressed for the winter conditions by comparison- and already his eyebrows knit as he takes in eddie's jeans and minimal layers, the ruddy look of his wind blown face. )

Matches? ( not the weirdest thing he's ever been asked, and anyway, ) Y'know, I think so...

( he nods at the guitar leaning against the fountain as he pats down his pockets, coming across the small box in his inner pocket. ) I'd have thought it'd be too cold to play.

( think fast, eddie, 'cause he's gonna toss the little box to him. )

[guitarpicks]

Eddie. [ the young man shudders, nose crinkling like he's been called something that sounds too strange. it is, actually, because eddie's only ever called 'mr. munson' by educators who are in the mood to talk down to him. ] Mr. Munson's my uncle.

Sweet. I figured it might be a long shot. [ but there's a grin on eddie's face. ] No rest for the wicked, doc. Or those trying to earn a quick coin.

[ don't look too closely in his little jar, there's not really anything in there today. eddie's normally not that coordinated so it's no surprise that with such cold, stiff fingers he ends up fumbling with the matches and playing a game of them bouncing from hand to hand until he's squatting in front of the fountain with them cupped between his hands. ] Thanks, man.

[ and then he proceeds to do what might some find horrifying and stupid, which is lighting a match in one hand and holding it with trembling fingers while he holds the fingers of his other hand near the flame in a quick attempt to warm those babies up. ]

[homeostatic]

( Bones reacts as one slapped across the face, as quick as he flinches, lunging forward so he could (attempt to) snag Eddie by arm, to pull his fingers away from the flame. )

Are you insane? ( That's completely rhetorical; he looks shocked and aggrieved. )

Have you been out here this whole time without gloves? Dammit man, you're frost bitten; that calls for medical attention, not matches. Can you even feel your feet?

( he's just gonna do his best to hustle Eddie up and moving toward the direction of Sakura's clinic, guitar in tow, grumbling all the while. )

[guitarpicks]

According to some? [ eddie squawks, pulled off-balance by that tug on his arm as bones lunges forward. some might call eddie crazy but this, at least in his mind, is resourcefulness.

he's about to explain, even though he's pretty sure that it won't really get him anywhere, but his mind kind of stops on 'dammit man' and his eyes light up with delight. this mccoy isn't deforest kelley, sure, but he's definitely mccoy and the star trek nerd in eddie's vibrating at little.

good job, doc, he feels a bit warmer even before he's hustled along. he feels a little awkward about it, rubs the back of his neck. normally getting scolded is grating as fuck, has eddie bristling but he's kind of too cold to bristle. ] Um, I could probably wiggle my toes just fine.

And medical attention's pricey! [ damn capitalism, man. ]