Everyone raise your glasses!

[thenormalsquint]

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.

Comments

[hischair]

[ Have a funny look for a moment, Spock, and then he remembers a certain talk and has to actively give into grinning. Glancing around to check no one else will hear, he leans in. ]

Me and Ginny plan on putting the best booze in the kitchen later and then making it snow out here at midnight while we camp in the other room with the goodies. You with us?

[logistical]

[Give him a moment. Several, actually.]

How do you intend to make it snow, in summer, indoors?

[ARE YOU GOING TO DO SOMETHING STUPID, JIM.]

[hischair]

Ginny's going to use her magic. [ Raising his brows pointedly. ] You want to see how, right?

[logistical]

[M WORD (fuu).]

I did not bring my tricorder.

[hischair]

Then we'll use our eyes. When was the last time you had a snowball fight?

[logistical]

[...]

[...]

[!!]

I have not previously engaged in this activity.

[hischair]

[ SLAPS HIM ON THE ARM you know this is a real mission now!! ]

We're on the same team. Rules are that you throw snowballs at people until they're on the ground or begging for mercy.

[logistical]

[Rules = good. Rest of it = ???]

How is that fun?

[hischair]

It just is, you'll see when you're the last man standing. Or not! Probably end up on our asses too, knowing this lot.

[ It's okay, Spock, when winter rolls around Jim is going to make some snow forts and launch a full battle in the City for your learning benefit. ]

[logistical]

I am certain you will be victorious.

['you', not 'we' because hello he's getting out of here as fast as possible.]

[hischair]

[ NONONO, he can hear that aborted 'we'. ]

You're not playing?

[logistical]

Physical exertion of that variety would ruin the suit.

[hischair]

You guys in your suits. [ Rolling his eyes, psh. ] Raincheck on the snowball fight, then.

Still gonna watch her do her wand-work thing?

[logistical]

[You're such a child, Jim. Not that Spock is any better sometimes.]

I would be interested in observing.

[hischair]

Great, you're my plus-one Vulcan. I'll come find you when we pull it off. [ Annnnd nodding to the table, then curiously back to Spock. ] Did you really make a chocolate cake?

[logistical]

Indeed, I did.

[Then, a little worried-]

Is it unsatisfactory?

[hischair]

I haven't had any yet. [ Mingling is a thorough job. ] Oblige me?

[ Let's go eat cake, Spock, yes good. If they were any younger, Jim would be tugging him under a table to eat in pseudo-secret away from the adults. ]

[logistical]

[Spock goes over and cuts a slice, with plenty of icing, before carefully placing it on a paper plate and hands it to Jim, along with a spoon.]

[hischair]

[ Obediently accepting it, he pauses to glance up (whoa, hi) before segmenting a bit of everything to try in one bite. ]

Oh my God. Jesus, Spock. [ Moaning happily around his mouthful, he hacks off another, larger piece. ] This is so good!

[logistical]

[:D :D :D]

This egg to flour ratio appears ideal.

[hischair]

It's such a shame you can't have any. [ Or he could, but Jim assumes he'd rather not get tipsy. ] When did you find time to turn all baker on me?

[logistical]

I was informed there were no plans for a cake, and sought to rectify this. It is tradition, is it not?

[He'd really, really rather not get tipsy, thanks.]

[hischair]

It is, you did an excellent job. If we had a station for a baker on the bridge, you could man that, too.

[ Mmmm, icing. ]

[logistical]

It is only chemistry.

[And in case people forget, he's still a science officer, and a damn good one.]

[hischair]

It's more of an art form when it tastes like angels are exploding in my mouth, Spock.