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"It's about the ancient American tradition of pretending to be friends with people so you can steal their s**t," Harrison said cheerfully, "and then you celebrate by eating a ton of food. No idea what Melvin managed to scrounge up. It may just be Pepsi and Doritos. We're setting up for a fancyass banquet regardless."

Rep had gone quiet.

"It's uh, supposed to be time you spend with your family," he offered.

Sasha rooted around in the drawers and produced a paring knife before nod-smiling at Ofie.

"Oh, absolutely. We've got this under control."

More smiles, more nods.

The instant the redhead was gone, Sasha turned to Wash.

A huge smile parted her lips, predatory and dangerous.

"Th' peeler's a lil' big but it really gets in there," Sasha's voice trembled with suppressed laughter as she mimicked Wash in her best Wash-voice.

She held a straight face for about .9 seconds.

"You're shameless!"

Loud, raucous laughter burbled up from her chest, ringing out and likely carrying into the next room. She clapped her hands over her mouth and snort-laughed through her nose, shaking her head at the man that stood over her.

"Did you really say that, Wash!"

Sasha was trying to keep a straight face, she really was, but it was difficult.

"Sit your a** down. I'll teach you how to peel a potato."

Sasha waited until he'd returned with the stool - a familiar one, she'd sat on it for hours while peeling potatoes with Marcus long ago - before handing him the small, slender, flexible paring knife. It took some time to find the second stool. A few moments later she was seated beside him, her own paring knife in hand.

"I've told this story before. Potato peeling is something of an art. I never had a hand-peeler growing up. We peeled with a knife. Less waste - you have more control over where the knife goes, more control over applying pressure. Just go slow, and don't cut yourself."

She pressed the sharp edge of the knife into the peel of the potato.

"I used to play a game when I was told to peel potatoes, or apples. Anything, really. I'd try to see how long I could get the peel before it broke." Sasha was making quick work of the potato, the peel curling longer and longer until it hit the floor. Soon enough the potato was naked, and Sasha set it aside. "The faster you can peel, the better - potatoes will brown if they're left sitting out."

She laughed softly, reaching for another potato.

"I don't have a thing for peeling vegetables, I promise."

Jerry had been stewing, quietly and mechanically folding each turkey with the same intense concentration he gave practicing his scales and working Roar's aim for maximum impact. Don't think about Sasha wafting about the kitchen. Don't think about Wash's cold shoulder. Candace and Rep and Harri were off having fun across the room, stare at them intently instead when he wasn't staring at napkins.

Finally a fresh burst of voice and red caught his attention, spotting the tiny Moon with recollection. "MISS HAZEL!" He suddenly waved a bit too enthusiastically, "I COULD USE HELP WITH DECORATION!!" And conversation oh god, he needed conversation. And besides, the last time they had spent any sizable amount of time together, he had certainly not been at his best.

If a bit distracted.

Don't think about her. He was cleaned up. Wearing his best remaining (if a bit bright) shirt. Shaved and trimmed. He had his mind set. He was a new man. Awoowoowoo and all that.

Before anyone approached, his hands dipped down under the table to pull the flask from his back pocket and take a quick sip before tucking it away again. He hadn't touched it in days, but it always found itself somewhere on his person.

In case of emergencies.

And this was an emergency.

Jordan was a little late, but there was a good reason for it. Said reason had been carefully hidden for months, patiently hoarded; it had been difficult to convince himself to let go of it, but this was Thanksgiving, and the portals had been down for way too long. Still, he wasn't giving it to just anyone. He waved to the guys as he came in, nodded absently in Jerry's general direction - what was Jerry doing, anyway? Something with napkins - and headed over to where Melvin was directing things.

He produced a small blue foil bag from one of his pockets. "Donation," he said. "Should be enough for one urn, anyway." The bag read 100% Blue Mountain Coffee - Certified Organic. "Careful with it," Jordan added. From what he knew of Melvin, the guy was well enough organized that the coffee wouldn't go missing or get forgotten.

The year had been filled with a lot of drama, a lot of hardship, and a lot of...well...a lot of stuff. It was hard to accept the fact that Thanksgiving was already here. It was too soon, right? It felt too soon.

The death trainee found her way into the kitchen as quickly and as quietly as possible, hurriedly getting to work on the food supply Melvin, was it? Right. That Melvin had gathered. She had never met him before that day, only sightings here and there. But organizing all of this in hopes of bring the island together, or even if he just wanted a good meal for the holidays, in some way earned him a gold star.

Minerva slid onto an unused counter space with the goods she snagged on her way in and began chopping away. From the looks of things, some of the preparation had already been done, and there were a good handful of cooks to do the job. While Minerva was certainly proud of her cooking skills, she wondered if perhaps she might be of better use elsewhere.

"So..." The trainee said only loud enough for anyone close to her to overhear. "What are we making?" Aside from the turkey, there were tons of side dishes at their disposal. Or...well if they had the ingredients.