SSSD - Have a beer

Alison doesn’t know what the drinking laws are in Norway or Antarctica, but it seems like it doesn’t even occur to these relatively straight-laced Nordic types that she might be underage. That’s OK. Although, Alison doesn’t have much tolerance. She was never a party animal.

“Thanks,” she says with a smile, taking the offered beer. “And thanks again for rescuing us.”

For whatever reason, everything that Alison says and does seems to take Marit off-guard. Not necessarily in a bad way, and it probably has something to do with her expectations. Her **** bias about Americans, or maybe how she expects Alison to act because everybody knows that she had sex with Golda last night. Whatever Marit’s mental picture is, Alison’s generally polite, easygoing style doesn’t fit with it.

Birgitte doesn’t seem to have that problem. She’s a little guarded because her relaxed, intimate break with a trusted friend now has a stranger involved. She’s also a little drunk. Overall, Alison senses that the strong characteristic of professionalism that seems consistent among the science team is not shared by these two.

“Do you like this place?” Birgitte asks. Like Marit’s, her English is stilted and heavily accented.

Alison decides to play into it. “I like the people. Julie is nice.” She’s all but sure that Birgitte and Julie have slept together, and she’s dying to know how Birgitte made that happen. “Signe is nice. Everyone is nice. And Marit saved my life today.”

Marit looks almost embarrassed.

“I do wish all your shit would quit breaking,” Alison adds.

Marit grimaces and Birgitte snorts.

“I mean, it’s obviously not your fault. It’s all old,” Alison adds, looking around. “I do like it, though.” The weird, Nordic, vaguely lumber-jacky, old-timey, 80s vibe in everything from the sparse decorations to the furniture is a little neat. Or maybe she’s just friendlier toward everything now that she’s warm again and not stuck in a snowcat.

“Is Golda nice?” Birgitte asks.

Alison’s cool CCL girl impression is imperfect. She blushes.

“Yeah,” she replies with a self-conscious smile. She corrects course. “And now she’s busy. So I have to sleep alone and freeze to ****.”

“Very sad,” Marit says, taking a swig.

Birgitte says something in Norwegian, still looking at Alison.

It’s tough, but Alison handles it gracefully as they speak to each other. She doesn’t get a word of it, although it has to be something about Alison and Golda.

“Is she good in bed?” Marit asks finally, and Birgitte punches her arm.

“Golda?” Alison asks, just to be sure that’s what she means.

Marit smiles encouragingly.

“I would be rude to talk about it,” Alison says ironically. “But she’s very beautiful. I think she’s great.”

It’s not hard to read that Marit and Birgitte aren’t overly fond of Golda.

Marit looks annoyed and fascinated at the same time.

Birgitte says something and Marit blushes, shooting her a look.

“What do you two miss the most?” Alison asks. “Being here in the Antarctic.”

The Norwegians exchange another look. Alison senses that these two are close friends and can read each other’s minds.

“All things,” Marit replies, making a face.

“Walking,” Birgitte replies. “In the outside,” she clarifies. She probably means like hiking or something. Fair answers. “What do you miss?”

Alison considers it. A part of her already misses CCL House. It’s not the cartoonish madhouse that people think it is, but it has a certain energy that Alison appreciates more now that she’s away from it. But that would be hard to explain. She could say that she misses her friends, but that’s not very spicy.

“Shibari,” she says.

Birgitte and Marit look blank.

“It’s an art form from Japan. You use a certain type of rope to tie someone up sexually,” Alison explains. That is not a correct definition, but she’s trying to make it sound edgier than it is.

Rope, tie, sexually. These are words that the Norwegians recognize and understand. They might not have run across Shibari, but Alison is pretty sure that BDSM exists in Scandinavia. Marit comes off like the type to know a thing or two about that.

“You do that?” she asks.

Alison has their full attention.

“I love doing it,” she says. “I even brought the ropes with me.”

“Does Golda like your ropes?” Marit asks. As she speaks, her eyes go to the door, as though she worries that Golda might be there listening.

“We didn’t do that, unfortunately. I bet she would, though. Being in charge is stressful. I think it’s pretty common for people like her to want to give up control,” Alison says, but she’s not sure that the Norwegians got all of that. “I brought one of my books. A photo book. Beautiful pictures of advanced ties and things like that. Maybe I should show her.”

Marit gazes at Alison for a long moment, chewing her lip.

“I want to see the book,” she says, and Birgitte twitches. “American, do you…” She trails off, then does something with her fingers and her mouth. Birgitte gives her a look. It takes Alison several moments to realize that Marit is, in her own way, trying to indicate the act of smoking.

Does Alison smoke weed? In fact, she hasn’t since she was fifteen. That would not necessarily stop her now.

“I like to listen to music,” Marit says.

“Me too,” Alison replies.

Marit finishes her beer and takes Alison’s arm.

Birgitte grabs Alison’s other arm.

“Or,” Birgitte says, giving Marit a stern look. “You don’t do that. Show me the book,” she says.

Marit says something in Norwegian.

Birgitte says something back.

Marit pulls on Alison’s arm. Birgitte resists and pulls back.

Alison tries not to spill her beer, which she is still holding.

Should she listen to music, show Marit the book, and partake of the herb?

Or just show her book to Birgitte?