Something's wrong when you regret

[unwheeled]

When; Saturday 16 Feb, evening

Rating; PG? Maybe PG13 for language

Characters; Charles has invited the following:

• Luke
• David Allard
• Astrid Allard
• Tommy Shepherd
• Billy Kaplan
• Darwin
• Alex Summers
• Jocelyn Lassiter
• Bobby Lassiter
• Ginny Weasley

By virtue of living on the Floor of Mutants in this building, Raven Xavier and Sean Cassidy are expected to be there. Or wrangled into the cooking/cleaning crew, however one wants to take it.

Including Charles (the octomom-host) and Erik (the disgruntled bitchy head shark-chef) that brings the total guest list to 14.

Obviously if a guest brings another guest Charles won't make a fuss. This is all his fault, anyway.

Summary; MUTANT/MAGIC DINNER GATHERING (in Erik's one-bedroom apartment, whoops) Human to powered ratio? 3:11

Log; Charles managed to clear out the entire produce section of the first store he went to. Not to mention gaping holes in quite a few shelves (barring the freezer section, though Charles does stand there and stare at ingredient lists in building horror for a while). Naturally he somehow also manages to convince the store to loan him their delivery truck, as he proceeds to greatly diminish the shelves of at least one of the first store's competitors.

Hopefully there's someone around to help Charles bring all this food up. Hopefully they don't mind having their picture taken with the small camera Charles pulls out of his pocket, because that will happen if they mind or not. 

Charles' kitchen, seeing as how it's merely an extension of Erik's at this point, is definitely expected to be used in the cooking preparation - probably by Sean as Charles has been forbidden to assist (no one has TIME to throw a cookbook at his head is what this boils down to, and there aren't enough fire extinguishers around to cope with what may happen if he's rushed otherwise). The bulk of the dinner party will be occurring in Erik's apartment, where the bedroom door is welded shut without a visible seam. Charles' apartment door is open, though by the time things are underway there is a distinct lack of furniture - apparently it all migrated next door.

Barring Sean's apartment, all the other doors on the floor are open with keys in the lock with yellow, blue, or magenta tags labeling the apartment number. No one else lives on this particular level of this particular apartment building, imagine that? Not a single neighbor in sight, how useful.

Charles will say hello to each and every one of you and be the consummate host. Contrary to how it may seem, he's never actually THROWN a party before. Add that to the knowledge that six of the invited attendees won't be around come Monday and Charles will know it the moment they leave, he really wants this to go well. 

Eight mutants. One witch. One god. One Astrid. The Lassiters and David as the partridge in the pear tree only humans on the entire floor.

What about this party could possibly NOT be amazing?



[ooc: HERE THERE BE NO TAGGING ORDER. Just go for it, whatever it happens to be, and have fun! For reference: Erik's apartment is full of metal, complete with a very modern kitchen (though some of the seating and small tables have been liberated from Charles' apartment, and this is very clear.) However in case you were worried your character would be alighting on only metal seating do not fear! There is a low, long black couch that is more than comfortable.

The kitchen and dining room area are connected by large archways, collectively acting as one large room. The bathroom and bedroom have actual doorways - the latter of which is practically impassible as Erik has sealed the door.]

Comments

sharkyyy the friendly shark

[violenthearted]

So because this is Erik's apartment he is in fact, present, usually on the periphery of things. He's not the kind of host (he would in fact maintain he is not the host at all, despite living here and providing the food) who circulates and refills drinks and inquires after everyone's comfort or how they're finding the food. He just expects that the meal is good because he made it, and everything else seems superfluous.

But he's there, and he doesn't look miserable. Out of place? Yes. Even in his own home he doesn't fit in in this kind of cheerfully cohesive mass. That's all right, though. He likes the edges, where he can watch and be aware that he's part of what made this happen.

So he's not miserable, or angry even if he is a little unsettled and virtually always has a full wine glass. It's--a change, that's for certain. He doesn't know what else it is, but it is that.

/pokes sharkfais

[horseish]

[Alone until a very small person sidles up next to you holding a cracker. She's hiding from her sister, hush.]

:E--oh it's you

[violenthearted]

[Erik can get with hiding, it's cool.]

Miss Lassiter. [He mimes tipping an invisible hat, which, you know, is a pretty charming move for an revenge-ridden sea creature skulking around in his own place.]

[horseish]

[She nods back companionably and finishes her cracker.]

[violenthearted]

[Erik gestures idly somewhere off to their left, and salt and pepper shakers from the main table drift lazily by, dancing together in midair. If they're going to be a pair of companionably quiet lurkers, at least he can be entertaining.]

[horseish]

[Highly entertaining! She bounces happily and claps when he's done.]

What else can you do?

[violenthearted]

What would Miss Lassiter like to see?

[ Like he could do literally anything. It's not quite the case, but why admit that? ]

but not too friendly

[infernoandhearth]

"I brought--" begins Luke, and then cheerfully amends it to, "We brought a jelly." He is holding said jelly on a plate with a glass bowl upended over it, standing just back out of the area which constitutes the kitchen. "We made it. Is there room in the refrigerator?"

[violenthearted]

That Luke and David are a we has been brought - gently - to Erik's attention, and Luke's ability to comfortably refer to them that way does--something to a place he can't identify below his ribs. But that's neither here nor there, so he inspects this uh, thing, chin tilted down. He has seen them before, yes, but mostly he just doesn't understand the purpose of gelatin in food at all.

"I can take it," he inclines his head, because he'd rather rearrange the food in there his own self than let anyone else do it. It's only in crossing in long strides to the kitchen proper that like, tact or normal human conversation occurs to him: "That was kind of you, we seem to be feeding a small army."

And don't think Erik doesn't think of the gathered assembly as exactly that, an army.

[infernoandhearth]

No worries, Erik, Luke is as bemused as you are by food trapped in gelatin, like a fly in amber. He wonders if trapping amber with stuff in it in a jelly, and then perhaps trapping that in a further, differently coloured jelly, would be worth the amusement. He has the mould, now, anyway.

"It seemed the thing to do for a party this large," he says, putting his newly freed hands into his pockets. "It doesn't seem as if Charles knew how to stop once he'd started extending invitations. I'm half surprised he didn't invite the entirety of the new arrivals."

[violenthearted]

Erik snorts low laughter, turning over his shoulder from where he's manhandling the contents of the fridge. "If he'd had a week to plan he would, I'm sure, have tried to get the entirety of the populace into a one bedroom apartment."

Gelatin secured - at the front of the fridge, he doesn't like, hide it at the back or anything - he turns round to lean on the counter by a hip, arm crossed loose in at least a facsimile of comfortable body language. "This is his idea of small, in which case he thinks he's doing it for me." A shrug, and a flicker of something warm quickly suppressed. "I don't mind. Or at least I won't until any of you start trying to stay the night."

[infernoandhearth]

"In that case," says Luke, "he might be lucky enough to accidentally invite someone who might bend reality for the night and make your apartment larger on the inside. Or he might well hold it in his own." He watches the jelly go in with a good deal of approval. An unspoken sort of niceness, that, he thinks.

"I'm sure you have something metallic and flat somewhere you might use to harry people out of the area like a riot shield before sealing them outside." He laughs at the mental image. He's no doubt Erik wouldn't hesitate to do something very like that. Erik is interesting to watch: the flickers as his shields drop and slam back up again. He likes people like that much more than he likes people who really don't have any depth of emotion.

"We could do smaller, another time. I may as well return the favour at some point." Sort of an invitation. Half of one.

[wreakings]

[ Alex is feeling no less out of place than Erik, really — and sooner rather than later he discovers the balcony and the relative quiet of it, so he's out there with a glass of punch that he's technically too young to drink, shoulders tense. ]

[violenthearted]

[Erik is from Germany, the underagedness would really only occur to him if it were someone like ...Bobby.]

Ah.

[This passes as greeting, apparently. He doesn't turn round to go back inside, because it's his balcony and he wants the privacy too, which this resembles inasmuch as small talk doesn't feel so irritatingly urgent. Instead out comes a metal cigarette case and a Zippo, the latter of which Erik operates with his mutation without even pausing to think.]

Then speaking of how Alex is underage, Erik tips the cigarette case at him, eyebrows questioning.] I've been told these are terrible for you.

[wreakings]

[ For what it's worth: Alex isn't going to drink more than this one glass anyway. Alcohol comes with a loss of control and he really can't affort that. So his gaze on the Zippo is a little envious. ]

Whatever. [ Cigarettes don't come with a loss of control which makes them much more suited to Alex. He's been in prison, and solitary confinement or not, it's not going to be his first smoke.

And because he's got some manners: ] Thanks.

[violenthearted]

[Erik lifts one shoulder in lieu of 'you're welcome'; for all that he's operating under this cloud of low-grade fury nearly-constantly, he's much easier with his body than Alex. He can snap into readiness and tension at a moment's glance if he needs to, that's the thing. The contrast isn't one he remarks on - why would he - but he's still aware of it.]

It's not the health hazard that bothers me. It's the manipulation in advertising. [One of those shark smiles.] I don't like being lied to.

[But he hasn't quit yet, although he will. For now he just let smoke drift around his head and contemplates the lay of the city below them, one arm loose across his chest.]

[wreakings]

[ Alex doesn't really let go — when he does, bad things tend to happen. Sure, it takes some effort to discharge the energy and he isn't constantly thinking about it, but there's a reason he preferred solitary confinement back in prison and it's not because all the inmates were assholes.

Well, not only. ] Who does?

[ A shrug, and he snages the Zippo out of the air (provided, of course, that Erik will let him). ]

[hexuality]

So I suppose I ought to thank you for hosting this thing.

[She knows it must have been Charles' idea by the way Erik's holding himself, but it is his flat and Ginny knows that, too. So thanks, even so.]

[violenthearted]

[Erik's wry, slow grin seems to suggest exactly that, that thanking him for hosting is a bit past it. He'd be like this even if it had been his own idea, which it ...would never have been. But his manners are quite crisp unless he's deliberately being surly, so Ginny gets the better of that.]

You 'ought' to do nothing. If you are thanking me, then please yourself. If not--[a liquid, easy shrug]--then I suppose I ought to thank you for the dessert.

[He will probably never quit trolling her, sry.]

[hexuality]

[And she will probably never stop feeling a little bit uncertain about him, despite everything. She crosses her arms, bites back some quip about manners because she isn't Hermione Granger, and raises an eyebrow.]

It isn't homemade, but it'll do. Have you always got your knickers in a knot or is it just for special occasions?

[violenthearted]

No one is judging you for your baked goods, Ms. Weasley.

[ There are the eyebrows again. He likes her, which is--well, he pushes people he likes off of satellites. ]

I don't know, would you consider the invasion of one's home a special occasion?

[hexuality]

[And she hexes people's bogies to fly out of their nostrils. We all express fondness in different ways.]

You could've said no, you know.

[team_sociopath]

It's funny that Tommy would accuse Billy of stalking, when he's the one skulking around Erik's place all day, ostensibly being helpful but mostly just being there. He doesn't really mind-- and this is the kind of thing he'd do for Mrs. Kaplan, as long as no one commented on it, so it's not just the grandpa thing. And a lot of the people he knew in the City are gone, so he's not exactly got a full dance card.

But here he is, not just hanging around the edges of the crowd, but edging certainly toward hanging around the edges of Erik's expansive bubble of personal space.

"Thanks for cooking," he says eventually, when it seems not too awkward to do it. He can't exactly thank him for inviting them since that was all the Professor's doing, but it's something.

lol hey guess what when i sat down to do tags i lost my mind SORRY ABOUT THIS LENGTH O_O

[violenthearted]

The occasional inhabitant (or visitor, in this case; there seemed to be markedly more of those) with an opinion or eye to the future haven't escaped Erik's notice. By and large, though, they've chosen to speak to Charles, which ...only makes sense. Charles is much more capable of holding pleasant conversation and asking soothing, interested questions. Erik's view of the future is much more a) inevitable and b) grim. (Well. Usually b. Depending on the day. Either way it is always inevitable.)

So he hasn't questioned the appearance and deep interest of the twins; he has marveled (openly, but quietly) at Tommy's abilities--and all right, the showing off definitely made him laugh at least once. He's new enough to mutants and their mutations that these things are a pleasure to watch for their own sake, and he appreciates the joy Tommy seems to have in his. Actually, if he's asked a single question that isn't directly related to velocity or distance or some other variable it's been that: what does Tommy call himself? (He likes the answer. And no one was surprised. Speed. It's fitting. But then he'd have liked Quicksilver as a name too, even though statistics show that no iteration of Erik and Pietro will ever, ever get along for more than ten minutes at a time.)

All of this means that at Tommy's approach, he's a sliver or so less wary than he might have been, even if all the hallmarks of guardedness still run the length of his spine and crossed arms. "You weren't exaggerating," he returns mildly enough, of exactly how much the assembled gallery was able to eat. There is half a laugh in his voice, perhaps regarding the sheer impressive volume of food carnage.

Erik's manners are what they are; he can turn them out when he wants to, but he's never been able to say 'you're welcome' without feeling clunky and graceless. "Was your attendance everything you hoped it would be?"

There. Sardonic humor, that he can do.

we'll paint all the deer a lovely shade of teal

[team_sociopath]

Of everyone in the room, Tommy's possibly the least likely to want to talk to Xavier. Charles. Whatever you want to call him, though just about anything's bound to be awkward given his present state of being barely any older than Tommy is and a wheelchair and razor away from familiarity. It's not personal, and actually-- surprisingly-- they'd gotten along rather well in the City, last time. The fact that Xavier doesn't remember that doesn't bother him in the least; it might be for the best, since it means he doesn't know about the twins' family situation. (Which is exactly why Tommy is trying to avoid him. His favored tactic of loudly thinking BLAH BLAH BLAH is surprisingly wearing. And besides, Erik is far more interesting for obvious reasons.)

With typical teenage eloquence, he shrugs. "Pretty much," he answers simply. It's not evasive. Aside from the fact that Erik-- and it's just as awkward calling him by his first name-- doesn't know, Tommy's doesn't have a lot of expectations when it comes to family. He's not as accustomed to the idea as most people are; between the lukewarm-at-best affection of his biological family, and the newness of any sort of relationship with his... well, his real family, as he's come to think of it... he doesn't really know what to expect.

So this about measures up.

"I'm not really, like, a party person, but it's all right I guess."

(When you correct for teenage apathy, that's probably high praise.)

He leans against the wall, slouching a bit less than he usually might. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious; less than he might have been when he lived in the City, before he'd met his grandfather in any capacity, but it's an interesting opportunity. A weird one, but he'll take it.

Xavier-- before, when he knew who they were-- had said he could see the resemblance. Tommy's trying to decide if he can, glancing now and then from the corner of his eye, unconsciously echoing the crossed arms as he watches the room.