Impromptu Party
For whatever reason, most Friday evenings at the Compound were quite slow. Where people went was a mystery to Shari, but after the dinner rush it wasn't the kitchen, that much was sure. She was still quite fastidiously working off her auction hours, and was glad enough to find herself with plenty of elbow room to bake. There wasn't any particular event she was baking for, but everyone liked cake, and she enjoyed making other people happy.
Peter was quite in the mood of boredom and it didn't suit him whatsoever. In fact, he had a rather notorious habit of getting so bored that he'd pick up and find a new city, a new house, a new party. He supposed he could go and find Lionel, but that felt a bit like annoying the man when he'd been doing so with greater frequency. Instead, he began to plant the seeds of gatherings, of people together in situations with alcohol, terribly wonderful gossip, and possibly loose tongues. He began with the kitchen, because food was a great prop for the masses.
And not only was there a person, but there was baking. "Working the night shift?" he asked with a warm smile.
Shari glanced back at him with a smile. "Something like. Needing something to do, mostly, and who doesn't like cake?" She motioned to a triple-layer creation on the nearby counter. "You're welcome to help yourself, if you've got a sweet tooth."
Peter wandered closer to study the confection and patted his hips, ruefully smiling. "I'd jump at the offer, but my sweet tooth might be the undoing of my narrow hips," he promised, studying her carefully and wondering if she was the sort to not only bake a cake, but to do far, far more. "It seems almost a pity," he noted. "Good treats, such a nice night, and here everyone is, tucked into bed. Back home, we'd only be starting the night now and pouring into bed by dawn, on a Friday night like this," he jovially joked, eyes twinkling now. "If you had a week, I could relay some of the stories. Well, the ones I remember, at least."
After considering that for a long moment, Shari turned and motioned with her mixing spoon. "So, why don't we?" she asked, as if it made no difference that they'd had no planning or even that they didn't know each other's names. It didn't. "I'll be done with this last one within an hour, that's plenty of time to set something up outside. It's a gorgeous night, we have cake... why not?"
"It's as if you've read my mind," he said quite honestly and with all the elegance he can put into his voice. Peter bowed his head properly to her, extending a hand. "Peter Smith-Kingsley, at your service. I'm hardly known here, but perhaps back home, I might have been something of a middle-class name in high-esteem houses. And I do love cake, even if it despises me."
"Shari Cooper," she offered with a pleased laugh as she shook Peter's hand. "I swear I won't tell anyone how much you have. Cross my heart and everything." An emphatic X was made over the middle of her chest in demonstration, and she tossed her spoon in the sink.
"So! How about out by the ferris wheel? There's lights out there, and electricity. If you can get the tables set up, I'll bring the cake. Sound good?"
"Sounds perfect," Peter agreed, something kindling in him like the prospect of a boring night suddenly becoming anything but.
Why, it was almost as if he were back at home in Venice. Anything went and anything could happen.
[OOC: Gathering post, open to everyone all weekend long. Please see Slated for details.]
Peter was quite in the mood of boredom and it didn't suit him whatsoever. In fact, he had a rather notorious habit of getting so bored that he'd pick up and find a new city, a new house, a new party. He supposed he could go and find Lionel, but that felt a bit like annoying the man when he'd been doing so with greater frequency. Instead, he began to plant the seeds of gatherings, of people together in situations with alcohol, terribly wonderful gossip, and possibly loose tongues. He began with the kitchen, because food was a great prop for the masses.
And not only was there a person, but there was baking. "Working the night shift?" he asked with a warm smile.
Shari glanced back at him with a smile. "Something like. Needing something to do, mostly, and who doesn't like cake?" She motioned to a triple-layer creation on the nearby counter. "You're welcome to help yourself, if you've got a sweet tooth."
Peter wandered closer to study the confection and patted his hips, ruefully smiling. "I'd jump at the offer, but my sweet tooth might be the undoing of my narrow hips," he promised, studying her carefully and wondering if she was the sort to not only bake a cake, but to do far, far more. "It seems almost a pity," he noted. "Good treats, such a nice night, and here everyone is, tucked into bed. Back home, we'd only be starting the night now and pouring into bed by dawn, on a Friday night like this," he jovially joked, eyes twinkling now. "If you had a week, I could relay some of the stories. Well, the ones I remember, at least."
After considering that for a long moment, Shari turned and motioned with her mixing spoon. "So, why don't we?" she asked, as if it made no difference that they'd had no planning or even that they didn't know each other's names. It didn't. "I'll be done with this last one within an hour, that's plenty of time to set something up outside. It's a gorgeous night, we have cake... why not?"
"It's as if you've read my mind," he said quite honestly and with all the elegance he can put into his voice. Peter bowed his head properly to her, extending a hand. "Peter Smith-Kingsley, at your service. I'm hardly known here, but perhaps back home, I might have been something of a middle-class name in high-esteem houses. And I do love cake, even if it despises me."
"Shari Cooper," she offered with a pleased laugh as she shook Peter's hand. "I swear I won't tell anyone how much you have. Cross my heart and everything." An emphatic X was made over the middle of her chest in demonstration, and she tossed her spoon in the sink.
"So! How about out by the ferris wheel? There's lights out there, and electricity. If you can get the tables set up, I'll bring the cake. Sound good?"
"Sounds perfect," Peter agreed, something kindling in him like the prospect of a boring night suddenly becoming anything but.
Why, it was almost as if he were back at home in Venice. Anything went and anything could happen.
[OOC: Gathering post, open to everyone all weekend long. Please see Slated for details.]