Eleven O'Clock Number

MUSICAL #22: MARY POPPINS

22: MY OPTIMISM DISAPPEARED ALONG WITH MY ABILITY TO FLY A KITE

« as i expected. 'mary poppins, practically perfect in every way.' »

"IT'S SO...British," Allison wrinkles her nose slightly at the screen.

"I wonder why," Toby comments. He's chosen to sit on the floor by her legs and lean back against the couch, and she doesn't know why, but she's not exactly complaining, because she has easy kicking access, which she takes advantage of now.

"Ow!"

"Don't be a smartass," she scolds.

"Says you," Toby mutters grumpily. "Ow! Allison!"

"Don't be a smartass," Allison repeats, and smiles when Toby doesn't respond. God, she loves being in positions of power.

Mary Poppins starts singing about spoonfuls of sugar, and Allison feels some vague recognition of it stir in her gut.

"Hey," she says thoughtfully. "Why aren't we watching the movie version?"

"Too different," Toby shrugs, leaning forward where he sits to grab some popcorn from the bowl sitting on the coffee table. "Plus, much as I love Julie Andrews, the theatre version is awesome."

"Hm," Allison replies.

"Are you...agreeing with me?" she can't tell if Toby's incredulity is sarcastic or genuine, so she kicks him anyway.

"Ow!"

"Shut up."

"You're so mean to me," Toby whines, rubbing at the arm to which most of Allison's kicks have been administered.

"I know," she replies.

 They sit and watch in silence after that, broken only when the musical is close to ending. "I just realised," she says thoughtfully.

"What?"

"We've only got, like, eight musicals left after this one."

"Loving how you say only," Toby snickers. "Three months ago you'd probably choose life imprisonment over watching eight musicals. Ow!"

"Toby," Allison says sweetly. "I hope you've noticed a pattern by now. Every time you say something irrevocably dickish, I kick you. Get it?"

"Got it," Toby whimpers. Five minutes later, the musical ends, and he twists to face her.

"Log?"

"Yeah, okay. Go make some hot chocolate or something while I set the camera up."

"Yes, ma'am," Toby gives her a salute, and she rolls her eyes at him. They move pretty quickly after that; Allison to retrieve the camera, Toby to the kitchen.

She sets it up with practiced ease, and Toby comes in a few minutes later with two steaming mugs.

"Thanks," Allison says when he offers one to her, taking it from him and sipping with a sigh. "Hm. This is good."

"You say that, like, every time," Toby smiles.

"Well, I'm sorry for complimenting you," Allison shoots back. "I'll make sure not to do it next time."

"You were complimenting me? I thought you were complimenting the hot chocolate..."

Allison's eyes narrow. "Shut up, and start the video."

Both of them set their mugs down as he follows her orders, and manage to finish the log with minimal excited theatre digression on Toby's part and eye-rolling at Toby on Allison's. Once Toby's pressed the stop button on the camera and they're clearing up, he says: