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Mason had been feeling like an ass.

Well, no, that's not entirely true. He was feeling pretty good in some aspects. Survived his first mission, chemical burns were pretty much healed. He also had a really pretty girl that he was dating (way too soon to declare girlfriend).

The ass part came in with teammates having given him way better presents than he'd had the money to get them at the time.

Now however, he had some government paychecks under his belt, and it was time to start making some contributions to the team. Starting with picking up on what Jordie had missed out on with his man teen-cave. Official-looking signage politely explained why there was a large two foot thick iron plate blocking the doorway should anyone open it. Heavy enough it took multiple transfigurings to open and shut the hole in it he passed, but security was important for this.

First order of business had been seating. Leather couches were slick, and shiny, but they just didn't have that crash space feel. That's why everyone was getting their own Sumo chair. Plush, stylish, nice. Not being shippable to Canada, these had taken some doing. Fortunately, Mason still had the address of a primary school pen-pal from New York on file, so they were shipped there, then the friend was wired the funds to mail them on to the base. Well, not the base actually, but the nearest post office he'd been able to rent a mailbox at. Along with regularly renting an unmarked van, Mason had been able to get them to the base without ruining the surprise of what they were. The same trend of mailbox followed by private transit followed for the rest of the gear.

Jordie had done a great job getting the place situated so far for music needs, but there was a vital component missing. Karaoke. Mason bought the best machine his budget allowed for, then had it sent to his Dad, who installed a speech to text program and hardware so they could make non-karaoke cd's work just the same as regular ones. There was some disclaimer Madison included about the potential of the unit melting if certain selections by Bob Marley, Bob Dylan, James Brown, Curt Cobain, or Jimmy Reed were put in for translation. This was clearly marked on a sign next to the unit, requesting that official cd's be used for them. The machine was set up with a small stage for people to step up on, various microphones (stand, overhead, or headset), and small spotlights. The stage was notably wheelchair accessible.

Finally, not to rain on Mel's culinary parade, but junk food was needed. What Mason referred to in his head as a 'campus kitchenette' took shape in a corner nearest the main tv. Soda fountain from a restaurant supply store, toaster oven, and microwave. A cabinet had been installed that was now stocked with Hostess products, Pop-Tarts, candy, chips, and dip. There was no need for microwave popcorn, as an actual popcorn popper stood next to the soda fountain. A mini-fridge in the bottom of the cabinet stocked with cheese and cold-cuts seemed to furnish nacho and sandwich needs, and a bulletin board with takeout menus arranged by cuisine style completed the setup. Paper plates and biodegradable disposable utensils only.

"Awesome." He smiled and nodded to himself as he finished with the last of the installations, then retreated to shower and change.

After he was presentable, he announced that everyone was to report to the Temple of Boom for the unveiling of what the Official Jeffries Business had been for the past half a month. They'd find him in one of the sumo chairs with a plate of fresh nachos.