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WHO: Everybody! Everybody, and Patricia.
WHAT: The first annual Europe Day Party, aka EU New Years, aka Europegate, aka The French Revolution. Decadent decay, imperialism, wine-drinking, scone-waving, Manet/Monet slurring, nouveau bossa nova, big maps, Eurocentricism, themed booze.
WHEN: Friday evening; party starts around nine, starts around ( Read more... )
WHAT: The first annual Europe Day Party, aka EU New Years, aka Europegate, aka The French Revolution. Decadent decay, imperialism, wine-drinking, scone-waving, Manet/Monet slurring, nouveau bossa nova, big maps, Eurocentricism, themed booze.
WHEN: Friday evening; party starts around nine, starts around ( Read more... )
At 11:19, the Arabic Librarian momentarily lost Murdock, and was left to fend for herself amongst the raucous faux Europeans. She clung to her wine glass, classic shield of wall-flowers: it occupied at least one of her hands and its contents soothed the anxiety. She avoided most Tales (particularly those who expected such grandiose things like publishing from her), and when approached by drunken artists, merely flashed a shy smile and murmured in French until they got the idea that she didn't speak English and, once the novelty of having a real European (supposedly) wore away, they wandered elsewhere.
It was, on the whole, quite stressful, and Velvet was beginning to think she should have brought more wine.
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"More wine? Er, souhaitez-vous ajouter un peu plus de... oh, hello, Velvet," Hale exclaimed, and in his confusion to find that the non-native speaker everyone was talking about was actually a native speaker whose papers he had graded, began filling her glass whether or not she wished it so. It wasn't intentional, just that the bottle was tipping and gravity beckoned it downwards. He gave her a single curious look, like she was sneakily concealing a French-speaker behind her, and then chuckled to himself, "Never mind. Though I hope you did want some wine, because you have some now." His generous wine-pouring hospitality was operating quite separately from Hale's higher reasoning. "How are you?"
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"I'm all right! It's a good party, is it?" It wasn't as much of a rhetorical question as one might expect; tipping the wine glass to her lips, Velvet Lyon was actually unsure as to whether or not it was a good party. People seemed to be having fun, but it was, well... loud, and she wasn't sure about the emotional status of some of the revelers. She swallowed, and smiled. "You throw them a lot, ouais?" It was possible that she was beginning to have just enough wine that little French words were slipping into her English unchecked.
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Even he could tell the poor young woman was distracted, though he supposed if anything would break her out of melancholy, it'd be an event like this. He had no idea what "it's a European party" meant, but the statement was true, so he said nothing further about it. He nodded, lowered the wine bottle to his side, and laughed a little at the question--he was cheerful enough to assume it was rhetorical all the way.
Hale cast a fond glance across the room, its dancing inhabitants, and his eyes went soft with a mixture of pride and nostalgia. "Ah, yes, it's a good party. I like to think so, at least. We have them fairly often... haven't had one since my birthday, well. Not a house party, not like this." For Watts' party they'd taken a brief detour into the realm of private booking and upscale martini bars; he didn't think he'd repeat it. "I think the theme's playing out nicely though, non?"
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It occurred to her that she might not want to seem overly attached to the notorious liar, so after another quick sip of wine (her glass was really quite full, she didn't want it to spill), she changed her topic. "How's your dissertation going?"
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"Hey, I think we should go!" He began, his hand coming up to touch Velvet's arm, to convey some sense of urgency behind his statement. "I don't want to freak you out or anything, but it's come to my attention that the Byrons aren't exactly on the up and up. Turns out the guys are in all sorts of trouble, and frankly, not the sort of people I think either of us should be... associating..." One of the anxious glances over his shoulder had, fortuitously, landed on the primary Byron stationed immediately to his left, thus allowing him the time to cut off an otherwise embarrassing tirade exactly one word before it ended. A good thing, too, otherwise this could have been a horrible faux pas.
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"Oh, we're in trouble?" Hale echoed with a sort of acid amusement. It would have been funnier if they were on the up and up or, really, the sort of people Velvet should be associating with. Hale flattered himself that they were really the sort of person a sloppy con like Murdock Varletti could only wish to associate with; the chances of that ever happening were dropping by the second. The sketchy gravity with which the young man was conducting himself made Hale wonder if, by some bizarre chance, he'd stumbled across something incriminating--that would be a problem. Some of the (fake) qualities Murdock had recently evaded from the other Byron found imperceptible, if genuine, purchase in the mind of this one.
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"What did you DO?!" she cried, cutting straight through to the real heart of the matter. Unfortunately, her (louder than strictly usual) accusation was accompanied by a melodramatic whirl-about-face... and at that moment, it became clear just how much wine Velvet had imbibed while standing nearly perfectly still in her little corner of the party. The laws of liquor physics came into play, and it was thus revealed that while her social inhibitions were only just beginning to break down, her motor coordination had snuck out of the building about a glass and a half ago.
So, Velvet did not turn on Murdock accusatorily and call him out on his shenanigans. Instead, she called him out on his shenanigans and lurched sideways - hopefully into someone with enough coordination to catch her.
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Murdock's muscles were still coiling in preparation for the dramatic leap rehearsed a thousand times in his overactive imagination when Watts stepped seemingly out of nowhere, to casually bolster his damsel in distress. The look of triumph on his face disappeared as swiftly as it had come, to be immediately replaced in rapid succession by a crestfallen frown, a jealous glare, and nervous realization when he discerned exactly what the identity of the newcomer was. Or at least, what he thought it was, since there was still some contention on the matter.
"Vel, I think we should go." Murdock intoned meaningfully, reaching out to cautiously take one of her wrists in an effort to slowly but firmly tug her back towards him and away from the seedy criminal fellow, from whom his leery gaze never deviated.
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"Hello! Sorry, I..." Sadly, what might have been the first instance of drunken semi-flirtation on Velvet's part was again interrupted by Murdock. "Murdock, no!" she protested, tugging her wrist away from him. "We don't -- I don't have to go because you've done something stupid! And you know what? I'm not apologizing for you this time either!"
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"Hello, Watts," he said, cheerfully, over the squawk of an oncoming lover's spat; "Did you know that we're in trouble?" Any soberer version of Hale would have held off for Velvet's sake, but it seemed Watts possessed enough gallantry for the both of them (like this was ever in question). Deciding it was all quite enough with playing happy host, he took a drink of wine straight from the bottle.
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"Who says I did something stupid!" He objected, his tone rising in indignation at first, before he caught himself and forced it down to a more private tone. "I'm not asking you to apologize for anything, okay? I just thought that you might want to go because you didn't want to come in the first place, and I'm trying to be more mindful of your needs. It's a gentlemanly thing to do. And if you do want to leave, which I feel would be appropriate, then I support the decision and am offering to escort you out of--" He paused mid sentence, brow creasing thoughtfully, as he seems to cycle through the background conversation that had just occured between the two hosts to their side. He seemed to replay the dialogue twice in his head, carefully, before he tilted his head to look warily at Hale.
"I'm sorry, did you say Watts?"
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"Nevermind," she continued, "what I wanted to do! And now you're just throwing my words at me to suit your desires! Ne me fais pas avaler ça!" Irritably, she took a teeny little sip of her wine, rolling her eyes at her companion's question. "Watts, yes, t'es sourds maintenant, aussi?"
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That put him in a much better mood, and he smirked over at his fellow Byron. "I don't suppose that arm's still free?"
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