Comfort and Joy

[noprevaricating]

Who: Come one, come all! ...In formal attire.
What: A Christmas ball, old world style.
When: December 1st, beginning around five in the afternoon and ending when the last person leaves.
Where: The rec center.
Summary: Earth's eighteenth-century peeps are throwing one hell of a party.
Rating: Well, considering no one is serving water? Probably PG-13 for

Comments

[slaying]

She was focused on one single ornament. A little bird cage with an inhabitant possessing plummage just about as red as her own wings -- wings that fluttered and flicked every few moments. This movement was just about the best measurement of her mind's genuine state. Another telling twitch and she touched the corner of the cage; it spun lazily, leftwards. Colliding with an inch of garland. One half of her mouth quirked upwards and she watched it only for an extra second or two before lifting her attention to the room. Someone she recognized passed by and so she smiled her recognizable smile and saw them on their way through the crowd

[slaying]

"We could..."

She dodged his attempt to take her napkin. The napkin he gave her. Why did that make it somehow more than what it is? And instead she snagged onto his hand and began to fuss and scrub over the space of skin between his index finger and thumb.

"I don't think I'll be missed. Not for a little while. And then we could come back and--" A nod of her head back to the room at large. "Dance."

[lists_to_port]

It took a lot for Sparrow not to pull away from her. Carrying powder and shot didn't exactly lend itself to having clean hands. Much of his tiredness fell away at that suggestion.

"Dance," he agreed. "You know how?"

Because Jack was fairly certain that Buffy had once told him the dancing in her day was very different.

[slaying]

"...Uhm. I was watching Archie and Elizabeth teach everyone else. I've got pretty good watch-and-pick-up quick study habits." But she didn't sound too convinced.

"I don't like all that...group dancing stuff. Too complicated."

She just wanted to dance with him.

[lists_to_port]

"How's this, then? You wait here for me. And you learn it. And I'll clean up and..." Jack's gaze drifted to Kennedy. Hornblower. Aubr----what the hell was Aubrey wearing? Maturin.

"And I'll find something to wear. And I'll come back and you can teach me, savvy?"

She belonged at this party, shining thing; not off giving a scruffy man a bath.

[slaying]

A suggestion of disappointment clouded her face. He was just now returned -- she wed So very disinterested in giving him up to the cold outside and waiting a moment longer. Patience had been a difficult virtue to master this past week and now that it had been rewarded, she wasn't at all certain that she could lapse back into it.

"I dunno..." She hesitated.

[lists_to_port]

"You don't know?" he prompted.

[slaying]

"Me? I've already done enough waiting." She lifted her chin; defiant. "Let me just get my coat..."

[lists_to_port]

"No. Stay, lovely." Jack Sparrow sounded very much like a man with his mind made up. "Swore to help you have fun once, didn't I? What sort of man would I be, letting you leave a party? And I told you when I got back, you'd have me. Give me one hour. Wait under the mistletoe."

[slaying]

"The sorta man who..." But she trailed off -- shaking her head. She didn't want to fight. Not right now. Not so soon. And certainly not with a dozen other prettily-gowned women whirling about.

"Fine. Forty-five minutes. And I wanna make sure complete dissatisfaction with waiting -- mistletoe or no mistletoe -- is noted."

[lists_to_port]

"Noted and witnessed." He couldn't kiss her, didn't want to mar her; so Jack tipped his hat in a salute.

[slaying]

Then he would be the victim of a ploy. Because Buffy Summers would not be content with just a salute. Similar to how she had strong-armed the napkin away from him, Buffy snatched at the hat and stepped closer as she did so.

"And I get a hostage. Just in case it's more than forty-five minutes."

[lists_to_port]

"Bugger." Frowning at that, solely because he didn't know what sorts of dirt the hat itself might contain, Jack took the slightest step back, pushing the sudden tangle of dreadlocks back from his face. "You certainly know how to throttle a man into being punctual, sweetheart. Very well--I accept your terms." How could he do anything less?

[slaying]

He stepped back -- Buffy frowned, as well. A little annoyed and a little sad. She scrunched the hat up in her hands and well-manicured nails bit into is shape.

"Go. Get. Clock's a-ticking."

[lists_to_port]

Jack grinned, soaking her in for a second---golden and annoyed and sad and gorgeous and treasured. Exquisite.

Then, without another word, he whirled away and made his unsteady but determined way toward Seven.

The ladies will probably be shocked at the bathtub ring that he was going to leave behind, when it is eventually discovered.

With very little time to spare, a curious sight will be on offer to any (un)fortunate enough to be hanging around the shuttered clothing shop: Sparrow, wrapped about the waist in a towel, breaking in for a suitable set of clothes for this party.

Mother Fate adored him. Auntie Luck was chucking him under the chin and pinching his cheeks. Grandmother Doom was sulking in the corner.

There was still a collection of twenty five or so seconds to spare when Sparrow finally made his breathless way back to the party.

[slaying]

Then he would have the length and breadth of that collection of seconds in order to locate her in the mass of guests. Buffy had abandoned her post by the tall, tall tree and was instead picking at the edge of his hat on the complete opposite side of the room. Not...not quite close enough to a sprig of hung mistletoe to be considered under it but close enough to suggest that she knew it was nearby.

It looked entirely likely that she had found this spot the moment he had left and had been standing in it ever since.