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

[medicos]

Wasn't it? A birthday party's been a human tradition since god-knows-when. [ maybe spock will know the exact date, but he doesn't, and he doesn't care to know, either. ] Uhura would do something of same. Maybe not a black tie affair like this one. She strikes me as the type of girl that'd want to keep things simple.

[logistical]

[After a while, he says, very quietly and tersely:]

She is.

[For once, he's really. Just not arguing.]

[medicos]

[ it was never going to end well to begin with. ]

When did you learn how to bake?

[logistical]

Chemistry, Doctor.

[Gosh.]

[medicos]

Doesn't quite answer the when part of the question.

[ ugh, vulcans. ]

So everything was in perfect ratio, good to know.

[logistical]

Your question was centred on the how, not the when.

[A beat.]

You have not tried it?

[mother hen mode, engaged.]

[medicos]

Not yet. I was going to some time later.

[ uh oh. ]

[logistical]

Allow me.

[He wanders off and returns with a slice of cake, handing it to McCoy.]

[medicos]

Wh- [ spock no.

spock.

god fine he's going to take a bite you pushy vulcan. ]

...

[ take that silence, spock.

that silence is your win.

goddammit. ]

[logistical]

[He couldn't look more smug if he tried 8D]

[medicos]

[ nope-ing out of this conversation.

he hates you so much oh my god. ]