Chapter Text
Vertin went into the pantry and opened the cabinets, in search of that jar of marmalade. Where had she put it?
“Second cabinet, third shelf,” Bkornblume's muffled voice said from inside the wall.
“Thank you, Ms. Bkornblume,” Vertin said, following her directions and finding the jar.
She took it back to the table where she and Sonetto were having toast and tea. She gripped the lid and did her best to twist it off, but it didn't budge.
“Timekeeper, shall I try?”
“See if you can open it, Sonetto. I've been bested.”
Sonetto exhaled and grabbed the jar. With a mighty effort, grunting and straining – she couldn't move it, either.
“Apologies, Timekeeper, but this is truly stuck...”
They both heard a door slam and frantic footsteps running down the hallway above them on the second floor, hurried steps down the stairs, and then saw Matilda, slightly disheveled, burst into the parlor.
“Aha! While Sonetto was unable to open it, I, the great Matilda, will prove that I am up to the challenge!”
“Please try,” Vertin said, “I had spent some time singing the praises of this brand of marmalade. I'd hate to disappoint after all that.”
“You never disappoint, Timekeeper,” Sonetto said softly, nearly drowned out by Matilda's battle cry.
“VIVA LA FRAAAAAAAANCE!”
Matilda twisted her whole body as she gripped the jar in one hand and the lid in the other. She started turning red in the face as her entire body tensed up and she started to sweat before collapsing in a heap on the ground, jar still unopened.
“It's not important, Timekeeper. We can just have butter instead.”
“No!” Matilda cried from the floor. “I shall take a second attempt! Mais d'abord, un peu de repos...”
“That's really not necessary, Matilda,” Vertin said. She noticed Lilya and Druvis had entered, the former chuckling to herself.
“Wow. All this early morning noise over a jar?”
“It's quarter past eleven,” Sonetto noted.
Matilda scrambled up, but Lilya swiped the jar away.
“I'll do it. Easier than steamed turnips!”
Lilya took a quick swig of her body-strengthening vodka and, with a dramatic roar, attempted to open it. But no matter how many Russian swear words she uttered through gritted teeth, she couldn't make it so much as budge, and she set it on the table in defeat. She looked at Druvis, who merely shook her head.
“My, my. Perhaps I can lend a hand,” Tennant said – she'd slipped in so subtly that nobody even realized she'd entered the room.
“Always happy to help a beautiful young lady in need,” she purred, rakishly tilting her hat. She took up the jar and was soon whimpering in futility as she was unable to open it despite all of her seductive charms.
“What was all that shouting and crying?” Vila's concerned voice – she followed the sounds into the parlor, Avgust and Windsong following.
“Oh, we don't need to get the whole suitcase involved,” Vertin said, but Vila had already rolled up her sleeves and ready to get to work. Tennant, at a loss, handed her the jar of marmalade the same way a defeated general would surrender a sword to the victor.
“Comrade Marmalade must be awfully shy to want to stay in his house,” Avgust said as Vila's arm muscles flexed and she strained to open the lid even a tiny bit.
“Surely one of us could simply open it with arcane power,” Windsong suggested. The entire room stopped and glared at her.
“Sorry...”
“It's – HRRRRGGHHHHH – the principle of the thing, Comrade,” Vila managed to say as she fought with the stuck-on lid. “Community building – RRRGGGGHHHHHHHH – relies upon everyone coming together on difficult tasks... to... build... comradeship!!”
It was no use, and Vila was soon shaking off the pain in her hands.
“I'd rather not resort to such unsophisticated methods,” Tennant said, drawing her gun. “But, needs must, as they say.”
“Whoa, whoa, let's keep it holstered, darlin'!” Now Bunny Bunny was getting involved, and others were watching to see what all the noise was about.
“I'm ready for another attempt! I'll prove to the world that the great Matilda shall not be defeated by mere static friction!”
She snatched up the jar and once again was twisting and turning red as she battled against it, staring Sonetto dead in the eye as she struggled mightily. Sonetto, for her part, quietly watched, her fingers tented. She was the picture of serene dignity, which infuriated Matilda to no end; and she once again fell to the ground.
“Anyone else want to try?” Vertin asked.
“Where's Medicine Pocket? Get that thing, those chompers can cut through anything.”
“Shamane's strong, maybe he can give it a try?”
“Oh, I know! Centurion! She's an escape artist, those skills have to be transferable!”
Then, a small voice.
“...may I?”
Everyone made way for Marcus, who quietly stepped forward, lugging her massive case.
“Very... well... but if I, the great... Matilda...”
She handed off the jar with a wheeze. Marcus analyzed the jar from all angles, thought about what Madam Hofmann would say, considered all the variables, triple-checked that she had permission to open the marmalade, preemptively apologized if she should fail, remembered everything she could about marmalade, closed her eyes, gripped the lid, and...
Pop!
Success!
The suitcase erupted into cheers, and Tennant hoisted Marcus onto her shoulders in triumph. Marcus buried her face in her scarf, but she was still able to squeak out was I helpful, Timekeeper?
“Thank you, Marcus,” Vertin said with a soft smile.
As the crowd dispersed, Marcus still on Tennant's shoulders, Vertin and Sonetto resumed toast and tea. Sonetto spread a thick layer onto her toast and took a bite while Vertin looked at her expectantly.
“It's not bad,” Sonetto said.