(no subject)
The package labelled House of Arch is intriguingly large - tall, deep, and wide. It's also very neatly wrapped (in very bright paper), which rather suggests the hand of a professional, instead of that of Crowley or Aziraphael. Inside, once all the distressingly efficient tape and ribbon has been wrestled off, is a stack of modern classics.
You know.
Pictionary, Taboo, Cranium, an entire set of the more... active sort of card games. And, of course, at the top of the pile, a bunch of distorted teenagers grin manically up from a box cover, under bright red letters proclaiming: Twister.
Aziraphael thought the idea was perfectly charming. Crowley thought the mental images were perfectly hilarious. There is no note, and there is no card; no instructions are necessary. They are both entirely confident that Ingress will force the family to play all of them, over the rest of the holidays. Allllllll of them.
You know.
Pictionary, Taboo, Cranium, an entire set of the more... active sort of card games. And, of course, at the top of the pile, a bunch of distorted teenagers grin manically up from a box cover, under bright red letters proclaiming: Twister.
Aziraphael thought the idea was perfectly charming. Crowley thought the mental images were perfectly hilarious. There is no note, and there is no card; no instructions are necessary. They are both entirely confident that Ingress will force the family to play all of them, over the rest of the holidays. Allllllll of them.