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“Excuse me?” Hardison did that screeching thing he did in the middle of word when he was really incredulous. Parker liked that sound, mostly because it meant that she or Eliot had had a good idea. When it came to stealing, though, it wasn’t nearly as nice.
“What? It’s not as bad as stealing a mountain. Or an election. Or that one time with the space station.”
“We’re stealing a Tomato Festival. Girl, a festival. About tomatoes.” His hands were occupied with his keyboard, but somehow Hardison still managed to interject a flail here and there.
“It’s not about tomatoes,” Eliot pointed out, as he wandered in from the Brewpub. “It’s about throwing ‘em.”
“That’s even worse, man! Wasting all that food. Getting it everywhere. Nuh-uh, you did not go having food fights, not in my Nana’s house, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t approve of us going and doing it in another country, either.”
“It’s government sanctioned, though,” Parker said, having settled into her chair with a bowl of popcorn.
“I’m pretty sure they use the surplus harvest, although it’s annual so maybe not anymore, and it’s got rules. Parker, what the hell, is that microwaved popcorn again?”
Looking sideways from the main screen, Parker mumbled around a mouthful, “Nooooo.”
I'll see you all tomorrow!
You know the drill: kudos, comments, concrit welcome. Poke me at fins-illusion.tumblr.com
~Fins