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Perhaps it is strange to visit someone's family in a funeral home, but the Altman Funeral Home is mixed-use. The last wisps of the crematorium are streaked across the sky, painting -- for those who know what they're looking at -- the last remnants of a human's existence on this planet somewhat morbidly across the evening sky. The night has passed the moment of gloaming and become deep twilight.
Going in through the front door means going through the business parts of the funeral home -- soft and hushed, as if the whole building holds its breath and closes in comfortingly around those walking on its deep burgundy heavily-padded carpet which mutes footsteps. Baffles of the same velvet carpet along the walls sucks in even more sound.
Passing the door marked PRIVATE - NO ENTRANCE opens into a family home worked in the same dark wood, but immediately upon walking through it one is hit with panoply of scents: it doesn't smell like what Mama usually cooks. Everything smells... rich, though not with Serbian or German spices. Fried? Lots of 'fried' smell' and 'bread' smells.
There's the sound of The Mothers talking in the kitchen, low and familiar, too muted to hear yet.
Anton is... wired, to say the least. Is it because he has a NEW FRIEND over? Or because it's the night before a full moon? Por que no los dos? He's been running around like a mad man all day--sometimes literally--attempting to help clean and cook to receive guests, but... mostly he's just been in the way, or too easily distracted to really contribute much. But at least he's tried.
Now he comes bursting out of his bedroom as he finds out Calamity is close (probably through a text), streaking past the kitchen towards the door--then pauses to doubleback, saying into the room in German, "They are outside! I will go get them. Ah--um, they are lonely, and have no family, but also very prickly and proud, so do not try to adopt them too quickly or they will get defensive! Okay I'll go get them now!" And then off to the door he goes, full on zoomies, bursting into the public space to meet up with Calamity.
Calamity is, as texted, in front of the funeral home, hood up, hands in their pockets, the cherry of their cigarette glowing as they finish it. Far closer than is technically legal to the front of the building. Anton's sudden, wild presence makes them jump back a little in surprise, but they raise a hand to wave at him through the doors.
"...Hey." In contrast to his Extreme Excitement, they're a little skittish, curled into themself. They've found some clean jeans, at least, though their hoodie is just as worn and ratty as usual, and they shove it back from their head as he gets closer. Their eyes are their normal sea-green color, with normal round pupils. No seeing in the dark for this youth, at least for now.
The cooking is largely done at this point, so Sonja is sitting on the counter in the kitchen, wearing a flannel shirt that's a little too big for her -- and the right size for Sigi -- with the sleeves rolled up past her elbow, skinny jeans, and an apron that says "your opinion isn't in the recipe." She was talking in German with Sigi when Anton went running by, then stopped to look toward the door with an amused smile. After a short pause she turns back to Sigi and asks, "so, last chance. Odds that this is a date vs just a friend?"
Sieghilde is, likewise, in a flannel shirt, but this one fits her broad shoulders well. Her hair is braided back neatly, and she is -- for once -- not smoking. That probably won't last long, because she's got her pack and her lighter in her front pocket, but at least she's trying. For now. She absently adjust the waistband of her stretchy jeans -- the better for parkour! -- and leans down to kiss her wife on the cheek. "I won't take those odds," she answers, "but sometimes at first it is better to not know whether it is a date vs just a friend, ja?" This gentle ribbing is followed by her grabbing Sonja's butt familiarly, then patting it, solemnly informing Sonja in German, "I have touched your butt," before heading out into the living room to greet their guest.
Anton smiles widely at Calamity, not seeming to notice the skittishness at first. "Hallo!" He pauses a beat, peering at Calamity's eyes. "Ah, you are not looking like a cat today! You can control it? Very cool!" Without waiting for much of a reply, he's ushering Calamity inside and through to the private part of the building. "Do not mind the funeral home things--that is just business--we have home here too. Mama and Mutter have cooked lots of food, hope you is hungry!"
He stops in the living room and beams between his mothers and Calamity, gesturing a bit too widely with his hands between them. "This is Calamity! Calamity, this is my mutters, Sigi and Sonja."
Calamity opens their mouth to respond - but when Anton keeps talking, they close it again with a small smile, and a shrug. They're openly curious at the trappings of the funeral home, peering around the space as Anton leads them toward the living space.
"Kinda thought I was at the wrong place, first," they admit to him softly, and then they're through the door and in the living room, and glance at Sigi and Sonja before their eyes fixate on a spot on the floor.
"...Hi, I'm...Calamity, yeah. 'S me. Thanks for...letting me come over and eat your food...?" This scrawny youth scuffs their worn boot against the floor awkwardly and runs a hand through their curls. They smell of cigarettes - the cheapest ones you can buy, really - and...burning things. Fire. Not strong enough for any sort of mundane person to notice, but...you know.
"The things will go as they will go, yes?" Sonja says as she leans into the kiss on her cheek, then hops down off of the counter. She reaches out to grab Sigi's hand as they head out together, the shorter of the two blondes smiling and really looking, for all the world, like the definitely more soccer mom of Anton's lesbian moms. There's something about her that's all patience and kindness and a little bit of mischief, and there's truth to that, but it's also an extremely good camouflage for the fact that she's quite dangerous, in the right circumstances.
When they encounter Anton and Calamity she lets go of Sigi's hand and beams at Calamity. "Welcome to our home, Calamity," she says with an incredibly thick Slavic accent. People who know how much of a troll she can be might wonder if she's trolling with the accent, but she's not. Her English isn't the best yet. "It's no problem, yes? It pleasures me to have company over and feed them from our table. Thank you for coming, and I am glad that Anton has already made the friendship."
Anton has one (1) soccer mom and one (1) butch lesbian lumberjack mom. The latter is definitely Sieghilde. She has leaned into the trope so far she's just kind of fallen over into it. Her fingers knit into Sonja's, and while it is difficult for people who don't know her to read her expressions -- that weird Austrian formality runs strong in her -- Anton can see that her eyes sparkle and there's the subtlest of smiles playing at the corners of her lips. She's very happy that Anton is making friends and bringing them over.
"Ja, Guten abend," and then there's a weird pause that lasts a second. It's very possible for Sonja and Anton to sort out the struggle going on in Sieghilde's head, where there isn't much in the way of non-gendered language in German, but also her Austrian formality demands that she use some sort of title, and augh there's no last name, she's going to have to use their forename and be SO FAMILIAR, finally she says, "Freund Calamity." There. It's the best she can do." Her hand stretches out in greeting as well -- Austrians do love handshakes, they're obligatory, really. "Agreed. We do like to have company, and my wife loves to cook. And yes. Very happy of a friendship for Anton."
"It is friendship we are working towards," Anton says with a bob of his head. Because they're not friends yet but obviously they will be friends soon, right??? "Calamity is very nice and cool! Mutter, they do parkour!" Because there's no way to say parkour without shouting it like you're in a vine, apparently. Or that's just Anton's current state. "And they are very good, not just people who say they are good but then fall down all the time."
Calamity's handshake is surprisingly strong, given their kinda small frame. "I uh...thanks," they say again to both Sonja and Sigi. The formalness of it all makes them a bit stiff, like they're not entirely sure how to act around it, and after the handshake their hands both return to their hoodie pockets, where a quiet clink can be heard, like they're fiddling with something metal
Anton's excitement breaks the tension for them a little, at least, and they give him a small smile. "Yeah, he said you...do parkour, too...?" Though whoops, they don't know which mom to look at, as they ask, and kinda glance between the two as their face flushes the tiniest bit.
"No, no, Sigi does PARKOUR," Sonja does a pretty close imitation of the way that Anton said it, but with slightly more gusto. Sonja pauses at the sound of the clink, her eyes go to the pocket, and then back up to Calamity, where there's not suspicion but acceptance and understanding. "If you are nervous this is okay, yes? But there is no pressure. You come, you make conversation, you eat food, but you do not have to prove anything. What is worst that happens? You are rude and we ask to leave? But I don't think you will do this." She gestures toward the kitchen. "Let us go and sit, yes? I made traditional American specialties."
"I am Mutter, she is Mama," explains Sieghilde gently. Her handshake is ... well, butch. Firm, kinda masculine, etc. "And yes, I do the Parkour. Very much, all the time. Usually I run from place to place, I climb things to see if I can, and I like to be on rooftops very much."
"I would like to see you being good at Parkour, this is true. I promise not to throw you off the roof." A hand rises up. "Is family joke." Not really, but. "Take too long to explain."
"Yes, let us go eat. I think I heard Ludwig come in, or maybe just a ghost slam a door."
"Ah--yes! Sorry, I should have explained this. Mutter, Mama," he says, pointing.
He pauses a beat to look at Calamity when Sonja mentions them being nervous, as if just realizing this for himself. "Oh, yes--if this is all too much, just tell me, and we will go hide in my room too! It is no biggie-diggie. Okay? But the food is good, you will like it, I think." He moves towards the dinning table with a bounce in his step, claiming a seat to sink down into. He perks, looking towards the door. "Onkel?"
Oh no, acceptance and understanding? Does not seem to quite compute, to Calamity, whose hands go still in their pockets as they nod slowly at Sonja. "I don't...this isn't my usual kinda deal, 's all."
They cock their head at Sigi's mention of throwing people off roofs. "Anton said he'd jump off the roof, to prove I'd catch him. But that's...not the same. I like being on roofs too, it's...you can kinda get away from everything, that way."
A very buttoned down, tweedy, erudite and effete looking man-- tall, dark, and slender as is common among the Altmans --slouches in from the front hallway. He's wearing a charcoal toned overcoat, a cashmere sweater, and has a small kitten in a sweater poking its little head out of his jacket, right near the aforementioned scarf. He pauses near the living room entry way, notes the guests, and shoves the kitten's head out of view. Possibly before anyone notices it.
Its resultant meow doesn't help in that regard.
"Oh! My mistake," Sonja says, just rolling with it. Look, it might be their usual deal, how would she know? "We do a lot of sitting on roofs, drinking, watching city and people. Nobody looks up, yes? Is interesting how people act when they do not think someone watches." At the sight of Ludwig she brightens up and waves him over. "We are meeting Anton's friend, Ludwig. Come eat with us? We are having big American dinner."
"I do like the being on roofs. It is my favorite, except for being with family." And Sigi, for all of her terse mode of speaking, seems quite genuine about that.
"Ah, hello, Ludwig. It is good to see you, my brother. Have you seen Small Cat? I was looking for the kitten earlier. Perhaps you have seen." Totally deadpan, that. "Ja, is Freund Calamity. Anton addresses with they and them, so probably this is correct?" A glance at Calamity to confirm.
Anton's eyes widen with delight, then alarm. "Do not squish Small Cat! He is family, he eats with us," he insists/chides. Then waves his hands energetically at an empty seat. "Join us! Calamity, this is my Onkel Ludwig. He is grump-face, but very smart. Kind and squishy inside, like half-melty M&M."
Calamity gives Anton a quick, assessing once-over, when he's not looking. Anyone who sees would probably recognize it as a threat assessment. The presence of the cat - or at least the meow - makes them blink and hide a small smile. "I - yeah, they and them for me. Hi." They give Ludwig a kinda halfhearted wave hello, their hand half hidden by their oversized sweatshirt sleeve.
Indignant, the little mottled cat pokes her head back out, meowing more insistently. How dare.
Ludwig, chagrined, sighs longsufferingly and redirects his course and his cat towards the sit down meal already in progress. He sets his book bag down on a chair in the living room, then slips out of his scarf and jacket, draping them both over the same chair. Small Cat hops down to the floor and goes trotting into the dining room, making a bee line for Anton on account of Small Cat knows where the food scraps come from.
Ludwig, by contrast, does not trot anywhere and probably never will. No. Far too serious for all that.
"I am not grumpy-faced," Ludwig protests grumpily as he grumpily takes his seat.
"Oh! Yes. My pronouns are she and her," Sonja says for Calamity's benefit, in case this wasn't somehow obvious already. You never know, right? But Sonja is also decidedly not from a generation where introductions with pronouns are a thing, so she's not used to it, either. She starts ushering people over to take a seat, where the table has way more than enough food for everyone present. Even if they're werewolves who eat a lot.
The food selection is a little strange, though. Everything might qualify as American food? But not foods that go together. There are what look like home made corn dogs, but also biscuits and gravy? There are also grits, and then potato salad? There are some greens for actual salad too, and baked beans. And, inexplicably, also hamburger buns, although what thing out of those options she expects to put on the buns is anyone's guess.
For all of the oddity of the selection of foods, though, they all look good. Well, if they're foods that someone likes, anyway. Sonja is a good cook!
Yes, Anton definitely feeds the cat scraps any chance he can get. He grins, leaning over to scoop up the kitten to rest in his lap.
"Mama, everything looks delicious!" He's not one to wait around when he's hungry, only waiting for everyone to sit before he starts filling up his plate with a bit of everything. Once his plate is full, he leans back in his seat and picks up the cat to hold up in front of his face, facing Calamity, and wiggles a finger under a paw to make it look like the cat is waving a paw authoritatively.
"Calamity, eat everything you want, okay? It is official cat permission given!" This is said in a higher pitched... kitten voice?
Sieghilde follows after Sonja and pulls her chair out for her. She is, after all, a gentlebutch, and she clearly dotes on her wife. "Oh, no, never grumpy or emo," she laughs gently at Ludwig, good-naturedly chiding her older brother in a distinctly shit-eating-grin-bearing little sister kinda way.
Once Sonja is seated, Sigi takes a chair. "Mm. Always good cooking." Sigi has fed herself garbage food forever, because her metabolism means she just burns it all up, and her body sort of self-heals all the time, so she starts piling up food on her plate. "Yes, eat up. Sonja cooks like the Russian Army has come to visit, so eat, eat." A pause. "Anton, how did the meeting occur?"
Look, food is food, Calamity's not complaining about silly things like whether they go together. They take a little bit of everything, too, though the biscuits and gravy take up most of the space. As nervous as they might be, they don't seem to hold back on filling their plate, or waiting to eat.
Anton's antics with the cat make them hide another smile, and roll their eyes a little as they nod. "'S name is...Small Cat? It...yeah, kinda fits..."
"Reichsalder Fuzzykins von Fluffbutt," Ludwig corrects Anton politely, "but she will answer to small cat or psspsspsspss if there's tuna involved." Ludwig shakes out his napkin and tucks it daintily into his shirt collar just so. He pointedly ignores Sieghilde. There is a Sieghilde shaped hole in his reality at present. Did anyone hear something make a joke at his expense, because he sure didn't.
"It is fitting name." He lowers the cat down to the floor now, so he can focus on devouring food--which he does very eagerly. And a bit too quickly. Look, it's nearly the full moon. His body is doing weird as fuck things and he always burns a shit ton of energy this time of the month. He's probably going to go through two or three plates by the end of the night.
And, of course, little bits of meat are slipped down for Small Cat to eat.
He looks to Sigi. "Ah, it was at a park, when I was out walking one night. I was practicing fußball, and Calamity walked along. We played together for a while, then went and got food."
He glances towards Ludwig. "Small Cat is cuter..." he says sulkily.
Sonja sits down and starts serving herself too, and as things are being passed around she makes sure everything makes its way to Calamity, because making sure your guests are fed is important. She herself does strange things like putting baked beans on a hamburger bun, along with some grits. Like she knows that these things are American foods, but not how they're actually supposed to go together, and she doesn't really care.
Or she's a troll.
"Do you want something to drink?" she asks Calamity. "Other than water?"
Sieghilde's eyes glitter with amusement as she stacks food on her plate. "I love you, Ludwig," she sing-songs, and continues to pass the plates around. Pours herself some water, seems content to watch the interaction play around the table. Now is the time on Sprocket's when we chomp chomp on corn dogs.
"Water's fine," Calamity shakes their head in between bites of corn dog, though they do eye Sonja a little strangely at her putting-food-together choices.
"Small Cat's a good cat name," they agree. "And yeah, 's like Anton said. He's pretty good at fußball." They don't butcher the word nearly as badly as they did the first time, though they don't quite have it correct. But it's pretty close.
"Please pass some type II diabetes," Ludwig asks politely with a perfectly straight face of Sonja. His hands fold up primly in his lap before he asides to Anton, "The remnants of the Holy Roman Empire are not, as a rule, particularly cute. All that Hapsbrug inbreeding, I'm afraid." He makes a bit of a face, though his deadpan remains. "I will not be angry if you persist in calling her Small Cat. Nor, I imagine, will the Reichsalder."
The kitten in question stretches, putting its butt in Anton's face. Or near enough, anyway. So that checks out.
Even if Calamity is butchering the word, Anton looks delighted that they attempted it, grinning broadly. "Is good! Maybe you will learn German, ja?" He stuffs a bite of corndog into his mouth to chomp-chomp on, all the while his leg is bouncing under the table rapidly, just hard enough to be heard faintly in the background. "You speak other languages, ja? I heard you saying somethings that I did not know."
He bats at the cat's tail as it smacks against his face, laughing, then feeds the cat a bite of his corndog. "I do not think she cares what I am calling her, so long as she gets treats."
Sonja eats like she means it, despite how slim her build is. She's not quite in a hurry about it, but she's not the slightest bit dainty in the bites she takes and starts packing away food as the conversation flows around her. "I am terrible at fußball," she says, her own pronunciation of that word pretty good. Better than her English. "Anton tried to teach me, but I lose every time. I prefer to play football for real, instead of with silly little men on table."
"Yeah, I uh...Spanish, Arabic and Farsi, in order of how good I am at 'em. And English, obviously. My..." they trail off and take a bite of food, like they've maybe changed their mind about wherever they were going with that sentence, and their brow furrows at Sonja. "No like...we were playing for real...?"
"Is good to learn many languages. I speak several," agrees Sigi, adding, "but I like to study." She's mostly just sitting here and eating, listening to people talk, because Sigi is not usually an effusive person. It can be kind of intense being under the Rahu's scrutiny, but she doesn't seem to mean anything by it.
Ludwig gives Calamity a fresh appraisal at the mention of speaking Arabic and Farsi. His eyebrows spock upwards approvingly. "How is your Turkic dialect?" The question is asked pointedly of Calamity, as though there were a very clear purpose behind the question. "I will likely have some translation work that will need doing sometime soon, and I learned my Arabic in Israel and Palestine."
"Mama! I am meaning with a real ball! Not on table," Anton says, falling helplessly for the trolling, looking offended. "But you are very good at this, yes, you are sometimes even faster than me."
Another chomping bite, perking as he looks between Ludwig and Calamity. "That many? That is very good! You are very smart, Calamity!"
Sonja looks a bit impressed too, and tells Calamity, "I had enough trouble learning German, and now I try to learn English? What a silly language! I think everyone should just learn Serbian so the world is easy for me." She might have looked impressed when Calamity was talking about languages, but when Ludwig starts doing it her eyes kind of glaze over. Until Anton falls for her trolling, and she laughs. "Oh, real ball! Yes, much more fun."
"Uh...I just learnt it from some'a my...friends, 's like 'conversational' or whatever. Don't think I could translate shit without more practice...they might be able to, though? Dunno what dialect it is, honestly, I uh...my friend who speaks Arabic, his family's from...Morocco originally, I think." They shrug, flushing a little at the praise. "I'm okay with languages I guess, yeah. Doesn't mean I'm smart, just...yeah."
It seems to click belatedly with Anton that Sonja is trolling. He squints at her, then sticks out his tongue playfully before focusing back on Calamity. "Maybe you should practice and learn more? If it is something you are wanting. You could learn more. I could teach you German. And Serbian!"
"Some people are good at languages," agrees Sigi easily, smiling a very little at Calamity. "No pressure to determine yourself as smart or not smart." She finishes her second corn dog, sets down the stick, and picks up a third. A hearty crunch, and she makes a small 'hmm' noise. "These are good! Much crunch, and meat. Is like an Oktoberfest sausage with a crunchy corn bun. Hunh!"
"I am best at languages," Sonja declares. "Nobody can butcher language like Sonja." She waves a corn dog stick, now devoid of corn dog, at Sigi. "I like too! I wonder if I can find good way to make it seem more Serbian. Or Austrian! I wonder if corn dog is good with gravy? Corn part is little bit like biscuit, right?" As always, it can be hard to tell at what points Sonja is trolling and when she's being serious, but she did make a sandwich of baked beans and grits, so... yeah, who knows.
"Corn dog's prob'ly good with anything corn bread'd be good with," Calamtiy points out to Sonja. "So like...yeah prob'ly gravy. But...I eat just about everything." It's true. they're pretty quickly cleaning their plate. "An' like, there's like bougie places that do fancy shit with corn dogs, make 'em with fancy sausages and whatever shit, but I dunno why they bother, this's perfectly fine." They hold up their own nearly empty corn dog stick.
"I could maybe learn some German and Serbian, sure," they continue to Anton. "Be fun, when we're not kicking a soccer ball around." Yeah, they said soccer, not football, and they give him the tiniest smile when they do. Like they might be teasing.
“Oh! This is good! Use sausage? Then is like biscuits and gravy, with sausages. Sounds good,” he says to Sonja. “Can we do this for breakfast some day?” He bobs his head. “But yes, this is very good too.”
His nose scrunches up briefly, then huffs. “I will teach you then!”
Sieghilde snickers when Sonja makes her joke about languages, and leans over to kiss her cheek. Oh no they're being mushy. "It's true, you butcher the languages best." Her green eyes glitter, and she sits back in her chair, picking up a second corn dog and eating it. Sigi has an appetite to rival the best: parkour eats calories, man! "German is fun to learn, and corn dogs with gravy... sounds interesting."
"Morocco?" Ludwig inquires with a furrowed brow, "I've been to Morocco several times. A lovely little nation, truly. Excellent hospitality-- and even better food." The notion that Ludwig might be impressed lingers, even through Calamity's lack of conviction in answering. Find him another kid that just idly learns Arabic on a lark, you know? Shit's impressive. "Do you find that languages come easily to you? Is the study of language something that interests you?" Ludwig quiets now so that he can take a bite of his meal and a sip of his beer.
"Yes, indeed," Sonja says as she leans into the kiss. "In all of this world, there is nothing I am not expert at murdering. This includes language!" She flips around the little corn-dog stick so that she's holding it point down in her fist and stabs it into her sandwich, like she's murdering it. "And sandwich," she adds. "I can make you that for breakfast, Anton," she agrees with her son. "I hope that idea turns out better than when I tried to make chicken waffles. I am still not sure how recipe is supposed to work. Chicken is very hard to smash in waffle iron."
She briefly gives Ludwig and Calamity an amused smile, like it delights her that her brother in law is finding some nice common ground with Anton's friend, and she's content to let them continue that discussion.
"I never even been out of the country," Calamity mutters as they take a drink of their water. "German like...you do the thing where you can just shove words together, right?" They look to Sigi, mostly at that question, and take another bite. "An' yeah I guess I pick up languages pretty fast - don't really study 'em or anything, I'm bad at school shit." Oh look, another person who the US education system has utterly failed.
The casual murder comment gets a bright laugh. His leg continues bouncing, and he falls quiet to look between Calamity and Ludwig. Distractedly, he starts picking at his napkin, tearing it apart into increasingly tiny pieces until there’s a pile beside his plate.
"... chicken waffles?" That's the only thing that Sigi seems to find notable about what Sonja said, like, not even fazed a little bit by her saying she's great at murder. "Moroccan food is amazing," she agrees with her brother (look it happens sometimes), and then she grunts. "Formal education is not for everyone. It can be... a trap. And take a long time to do an escape."
"You learned a language with an entirely different alphabet, noun and verb forms, and entirely different syntax. Because you wanted to. For a single friend. Because you could. If anything, I should think 'school shit' is bad at you. There is clearly no deficiency in intellect or ability to seek and retain knowledge." Ludwig gives a brief glance towards Anton, perhaps checking to see if he is presuming too much on his onkle privileges. "In any case. I am a licensed educator in my country. Accredited and credentialed. If you ever have a subject that piques your curiosity and you want to pursue the learning of it, please come see me. We will get you the resources you require and whatever supports you need to complete your study of them. You don't seem the sort that needs someone standing over your shoulder telling you how to learn." Ludwig slices off another dainty bite of his dish with a fork and knife, guiding the little morsel to his mouth. Another dainty daubing with the napkin follows.
"Oh, yes, that is one of my favorite things about German language," Sonja replies to Calamity. "Just stick together words! Is excellent for annoying people by doing wrong." She nods a couple of times and then gives Ludwig another look, before smiling at Calamity. "I am also someone that school is bad for. I did not finish what I think you call high school, here? I stopped school when I was twelve. This does not mean I don't know things! I just learn better in different way." She looks at her wife and confirms, "ja, chicken waffle!"
“YEAH!” Anton blurts out approvingly after Ludwig’s speech. Inside voices are for people not on full moon steroids. “Onkle is the BEST at teaching! I am so bad at school too and he is always giving the good advice.”
Ludwig demures but then says in total contradiction of the action, "It's true."
His Mutter, the retired professor, props her head against two fingers resting against her temple, and smiles a bemused little smile.
"...Chicken and waffles...?" Calamity cocks their head as the discussion continues. "They're like...two seprate things. Like. You make fried chicken, and you make waffles."
Ludwig gets a few surprised blinks. "I...yeah I mean, 's useful to know, I...I dunno. I just...I care about stuff that I care about and don't care about other shit, and school...doesn't care about that - yeah, thirteen, for me." A bitter little smile in Sonja's direction. "Which is like...my parents prob'ly got in trouble, but I wasn't there, so. Who the fuck knows. I uh...I'll think about it. 'F there's anything I wanna learn. Sounds like Anton's fine to teach me German, an' 's not much else I really care about, right now. Nothin' teachable, at least. Y'know?"
"But--I am being serious now," he says, nodding soberly to Calamity. "Had to be homeschooled for many years, when I was young, because I could not do things. School was bad. No sit, no listen, just yell and run around. Break things! Ludwig and Mutter are patient and clever. Keep things fun and hands on." He lifts his weird too long fingers to wiggle and wave for emphasis. "School is no good for everyone! Even now, in college, I have tutor to help, and Ludwig help, and still sometimes I am overwhelmed and forget things. But is okie-dokie, you learn mistakes are not bad. And you are not bad for making mistake. You are very smart, Calamity!"
"Oh." Sonja looks at Calamity for a few seconds before she bursts out laughing. "That makes more sense! Chicken and waffles. I tried to make chicken in waffle iron," she admits. Or pretends? Hard to tell. She waves a hand like she's waving something away. "I know that this family likes to make everyone learn all things, but give Calamity break, yes? They did not come here to be taught, they came to meet family. And eat food. Calamity, you are from Philly?"
A pleased little smile flutters across Sieghilde's face as Anton speaks, and then she laughs a little at the chicken AND waffles correction. Sigi is just kinda busy eating. omnomnomnom.
"Well. My library is open to you in all of its eight languages. As are our computer labs, kitchens, maker space, and more or less all of our facilities. Any friend of Anton's is a friend of mine. You have no obligation to do anything, of course, with any of it. I simply enjoy uniting people with learning." Ludwig finishes his plate to his satisfaction and gives his napkin a tug, setting it neatly over his plate to signal he is finished with his meal. Then he's scooting back in his seat with his beer and relaxing like Bono ca 1993 somewhere in a Berlin strip club.
"...I did some'a that shit too, my parents just told me to knock it off and pay attention. Teachers did, too. Never really worked." Calamity shrugs, like they haven't quite made the connection between Anton's childhood, his ADHD, and their own tendencies.
"Nah -" They shake their head at Sonja, "I uh. Pittsburgh? 'S a couple hours west of here, other side of the state...moved here like six years ago." They fall silent for a moment to actually finish the rest of their plate, and their eyebrows twitch upwars as Ludwig speaks. "Eight languages in your library...? Which ones? 'S pretty cool, someday I wanna get good enough at Arabic to actually read it, I can kinda but it take a lotta work. 'S tiring as fuck, too, but like...so 's reading in English sometimes."
"I am not teach! Right now. German later, now is dinner. I am just saying they are smart!" His waving hands result in the pile of torn napkin bits getting blown all over his side of the table--so he pauses, sheepishly, to pick up all the pieces to pile back onto his plate.
"Oh, yes, because only reason that children do not pay attention is because someone did not tell them to do it yet," Sonja says sarcastically. "Just tell them! This works so well. Never in all of history has this technique failed." Her eyes roll. "Do you want to know how I learn how to read and get practice with other languages? I read comic books."
"English, German, Farsi, Arabic, Hebrew, Latin, Ancient Greek, and Russian." And technically First Tongue, but we don't share those books. "My academic career has focused on the Roman Frontier. Particularly along the Danube. Though I have done digs and field research in ... Palestine. Israel. Morocco as I had said. France, Germany, Hungary, Romania, Austria, Russia, Ukraine, Great Britain, Portugal, Syria, Jordan, Libya, Algeria..." Ludwig has run out of fingers three countries ago and so he stops listing them with a shrug. "And now I am in the United States where all of that knowledge is perfectly useless, and you've more practical knowledge about your surroundings than I have." Ludwig gives a strange little smile at that, then drains his glass and sets his palms flat on the table. "Anton. Would you like to go destroy some snow men with a baseball bat?"
"Wait really?" Calamity's face lights up in excitement at the mention of comic books. "Fuckin' love comics, been thinkin' about trying to see 'f I can order some'a the ones I know by heart in Arabic and Farsi, just to learn a little more...feels kinda stupid to spend my money on somethin' like that though, I mean I already have 'em..."
"That's...that's a lot," is kinda all they have to say about Ludwig's library, and his career. But they look impressed as hell. "Any comics?" It's mostly a joke of a question. But there's a bit of hope, there.
"YES!" Anton practically explodes with excitement when Ludwig makes that offer, causing the carefully piled bits of napkin to scatter again as he stands quickly enough that the table gets knocked against his hip. "I'LL GO GET THE BATS!" And then he full on zoomies off towards his bedroom.
"I still have collection of German comics," Sonja remarks. "Would you like to borrow to help you learn as Anton is teaching?" She glances Anton's way to see if he seems to respond well to her bit of assistance in this endeavor, but he's already running off to his room, and she only laughs at his excitement.
"I have a full collection of Asterix & Obelix in German and French. As well as the full Rin Tin Tin in German." Shocking no one who knows either comic. Ludwig eases to his feet and buttons up his sport jacket. He has snow men to destroy with his nephew. "Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to help our young gentleman work off some steam."
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