tampered | Everyone raise your glasses!

Entry tags:

Everyone raise your glasses!

When; Evening of Tuesday, August 13th
Rating; PG-13, at best. Angela's on her best behavior tonight.
Characters; It's Ginny's birthday party and everybody Ginny knows was invited. Let's handwave that and just show up. BTW, IT'S BLACK TIE. PUT ON YOUR SUITS, BOYS.
Summary; There's no legal drinking age in the City, but who says we can't party like there was one anyway?
Log;

This party was four years coming. The restaurant has set aside a large room just for this event and on short notice too. The food is plentiful and of various cuisines, with even a large selection of vegetarian options for those who prefer that. But of course, there is more alcohol than one has ever seen because Angela knows the people she invited and knows quite a few of them have liquor in their veins instead of blood. Rule of thumb: more liquid than solids every time.

Everything's set and ready for the birthday girl to make her appearance, so for the time being, Angela's flitting around the place dressed in more subdued colors than usual, choosing black because no one gets to stand out more than Ginny tonight, and socializing with the few guests that have shown up already.

Sadly, there are no strippers. Ginny nixed that one hard.

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Four years, and he's both known her in some form or another for almost all of that, and is still getting to know her now. The city's revolving door approach to stability makes for some interesting friendships, but Ginny's one he's particularly glad of.

Leaving his gift on the table (he arrived early enough to avoid too many people watching him stagger in with the thing, trailing streamers and silver paper) Chase is nursing a glass of bubbles by the bar, watching the trail of old and new faces (and those who, by some quirk of the city, manage to be both) and waiting on the birthday girl's arrival.

[She hasn't quite spotted the gift because there is quite a lot happening that she doesn't even know where to look first. So she zeroes in on the most familiar face she knows—and she knows everyone, but Chase is her oldest friend in the City, of course she sees him first. She makes her way over to him and smiles but greets him in a hug first over anything else, rising up a little even in her heels to do it.]

Hi.

[And as his arms clasp round her he lifts her just that little bit higher, so there's the faintest sliver of air between her feet and the floor for a second. Gently, though. Wouldn't want to ruffle-]

This dress. [He's already looked her over, it would have been impossible to miss her arrival, but he does so again in close up.] You should do impractical more than once a year.

[Her greeting hitches into a laugh, arms winding a little more tightly around him until he sets her back on the ground, and she's blushing and beaming as he looks over her and she shrugs, ducking her head for a moment.]

Thank Angela. All of this is her doing, I just went with it.

She's a quick worker. [He's not really surprised. And he's also well aware that if Ginny was picking her own party they'd be more likely eating from a selection of bring-your-own signature dishes and crammed into two rooms of her apartment, everything magically decorated but still looking somehow home made. And that might be more her, but it's nice to leave your comfort zone once in a while.

And nice not to have to worry about tripping over the cat (catthing).]

Happy birthday. How's twenty-one feeling so far?

Loud. Kind of busy.

[He knows her very well because that's all quite true. But that's more or less what they did last year and he's right, stepping out of your comfort zone and letting someone else take care of things—pamper her, as Angela put it—is something that should happen once in a while. And lately, things have been hard and she takes it hard and she doesn't say a word, so this is good for her.

She glances back up at him, grin widening a bit.]

How's not-twenty-one feeling?

Old.

[He settles an arm loosely round her shoulder rather than break away properly. And it's worth noting that he has to lean down a little less to do so. Probably the heels rather than a late growth spurt.]

No, actually - it's feeling fine. Good. You've got plenty to look forward to.

[And age doesn't always mean maturity, after all.] I mean, beyond the presents.

[She notes the ease of the gesture and exhales in a silent laugh and leans into him, resting her head back on his shoulder and looking up with an amused cast to her glance.]

Well, do enlighten me.

[As long as her "plenty to look forward to" doesn't mean being stuck here until she gets that much older. Though leaving would be a hard decision for her if it ever came to it—she's gotten so close to so many people here.]

You've got my attention. And you've got your human armrest, as usual.

Short women make a very good case for intelligent design.

[Just going to snuggle this arm in like it belongs there, no big deal Ginny. But he'll dodge just what's feeling so decidedly tolerable about being in his thirties in favour of guiding her toward the gift table.]

Rather than enlightening you about your present, why don't you open it? Big one in the corner.

[Big big. A couple of feet square. It looks a bit like a monolith compared to all the cute little bags and boxes which probably contain jewellery or perfume. He's wrapped it in red and gold paper, with the kind of precise neatness that could mark it out as being his gift even without the doctor's handwriting on the label: which just says saw this and thought of you.]

[Ginny stops dead in her tracks when he points out his gift, eyes widening and an incredulous laugh spilling from her lips, both hands coming up to clap over her mouth a second later. She's only just gotten here, this is her first time seeing the table as a whole and she's already a little overwhelmed with the attention, the sweetness of everyone this evening, and something like this was the last thing she expected.]

Chase.

[She twists under his arm to look up at him, bumping against him in lieu of an elbow before pulling away from him, shaking her head.]

How'd you get that through the door? What... [She looks at the card.] Saw this and thought of me? How? It's bigger than me!

[But she's already started to tear into the paper because she is far too curious.]

Women. They always tell you size doesn't matter.

[He's folded his arms to watch, lip quirking at one corner. Under the wrapping is a box which gives the game away, especially since he's sharpie-markered out the brand name and written 'MACROSLAVE' over the top. There's a book too.]

I don't know how. I was just passing by the shop and... thought of you.

[And he shouldn't have, that's the point. He's not supposed to remember things like this.]

It's been what, four years? I figured you might need an upgrade.

Edited 2013-08-30 14:46 (UTC)

[Four and a half since she's gotten here, four since she met him. Faintly,]

It has been four years.

[For an instant, just for a heartbeat, she thinks she might cry. Not because it's awful but because it is perfect, in its own stupid little way; she knows what this means, too, because this joke is from well before he came back and didn't remember her or the friendship they had. And in all honesty, she thought this was something that wouldn't (couldn't) come up again and she's so often felt like her memories are a lie because they're so one-sided and this is a reminder that despite what the City's done, her history here matters. The friends she's made here matter.

She laughs again but it's softer, comes from somewhere deeper, and she rests a hand on the box.]

It's exactly what I wanted. [Pull it together, Weasley, no one should see you get sentimental over a kitchen appliance. She takes in a breath and the laugh hitches into something brighter as she picks up the book and flips through it.] You're ridiculous. It's perfect.

I still don't remember everything.

[He steps forward and lets his shoulder bump against hers. For so long he's told everyone it couldn't be an issue of memory - that other person simply wasn't him. But he's known, for a good while now, just how much of a lie that was. Little fragments have come back, piece by piece, and they're not glimpses of someone else's life, they're memories, buried deep. With the right tools he might dig them all up in the end but right now - he doesn't remember everything.]

For example, anything I ever did that you might have cause to be mad at me about? Don't remember it. And I'm still trying to re-forget what any of your first attempts with that [yonder macroslave] tasted like.

Edited 2013-08-30 16:16 (UTC)

You mean you don't remember anything I did that you might be mad at me about.

[The fox incident.

Ginny wraps an arm around him, a little sideways hug as she sets down the book and looks over the box, the scribbled MACROSLAVE across it, grinning too broadly.]

I'm glad you remember this. It's one of the first conversations we had. You took me to the frozen food section of the grocery, all the ready meals and popcorn... I mostly burned popcorn. You introduced me to ice hockey, too, when I was hurt and couldn't fly. [She breathes out.] You don't have to remember everything. I don't care. As long as you know we're still friends—I'm okay with that.

[Actually the fox incident has started to come back. He's just going to keep denying that one, it's easier.]

I've always known we were friends. [That much is true, it's just that he wanted to push away from everyone who said they knew him, in the beginning. He didn't want them to tell him how much he'd changed (and wonder what changes a person like that, what deadens hope and turns the blue of his eyes darker shades). He'd known they were friends from the way she looked at him and, more, from the way she kept trying - still there even when he was keeping away.] Bonding with someone over watching grown men spit blood on the ice's something you never lose.

[She chuckles, ducking her head briefly.]

Yeah, alright. You just know me so well. [It's not something she says lightly, despite the smile. It's true; he knows her better than most in a lot of ways. Out of everyone in the City, he's seen her grow and change the most, even if some bits are a bit hazy.] I'm really glad you're here, Chase. Means a lot.

[At the party, in the City.]

Oh, hey, he recognizes him. They talked. Or, they sort of talked. Scott doesn't know if speaking during a curse means he's met someone formally. He's guessing not. But, Stiles keeps mentioning him so Scott figures he should meet the good Dr.

When they end up next to each other, he breaks the ice. "Uh, hi," he says, looking over at him at a certain point. "We talked - over the weekend. Or, other versions of us talked. And you know my friend, Stiles. I'm Scott."

They did talk, and Chase has dealt with enough to know that curses that render you otherwise insane are just part of how people network in the city. Hopefully Scott didn't take the intent to have him hung too personally, because Chase wouldn't like to give Stiles another person to worry about his friend's not liking.

"I heard he had friends to visit." He sticks out a hand, "Chase – I take it you're not a med school dropout making a living from treating crims?"

He smiles, even lets out a laugh before shaking Chase's hand.

"And you're not a gallows-happy Navy ... guy." He doesn't know what they'd be: i.e. the word, officer, perhaps. "Yeah. We just keep coming." He indicates the redhead a few feet away. "Another of our friends arrived tonight. Lydia." It's crazy. Also, random to be telling a stranger this. Anyway... "If I ever got to med school I wouldn't drop out."

He wouldn't if he could help it, anyway.

"Gallows-happy, but not in the Navy."

He lets that sit, dead-pan, for a minute, before the quirk of his smile smoothes it over - kidding, kidding. It's actually a useful way of not responding to the name of the new arrival. Because (and he's probably the oldest in this crowd right now so maybe his mind's just slow) but he has a feeling he's heard Stiles mention her before.

Eventful times.

"Everyone says that until their first cadaver class. Does that mean you're interested in trying?"

He waits, wait for him to crack and then he does and his own smile shines through. Phew. That was a little intimidating Chase. Okay, a lot intimidating. If he thinks Stiles has mentioned her, he definitely has. There's a deep ceded crush there.

Seems like.

"I'm interested in being a veterinarian, actually. I'm the one that took over the animal shelter. I'm converting it. With help." Of course. "I ran that animal drive."

Somebody is checking on how well the bar is stocked before things really and making sure all the hot foods stay hot and the cold foods remain how they were. That somebody is Angela and once she's certain everything is in place for Ginny's shindig, she moves to greeting the guests, starting with Chase.

"Well, well, well. Look at you."

[Like moths to a Chase, this one. And other puns involving chasing, chases, the pleasure of chase, and so on. She is in a good mood tonight, and in no way influenced by alcohol - so far.]

I'm slightly disappointed it's not coloured. Have I taught you nothing?

Edited (what the shitting shit was that mistake) 2013-08-20 19:47 (UTC)

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Everyone raise your glasses!

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she will get her gift if it takes me 60 years (which it may)

i will tag with you for 60 years and more <333

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