Happy Birthday, Roger Motherfucking Davis
Mark wasn't shocked by many things, but the speed and efficiency with which Angua pulled a party together was a thing of wonder. There were lists and orders and locations and food and drink...enough things to make his Boho head spin. Mark's idea of a party (and Roger's too, he was sure) consisted of some booze and some weed, some good music and an open door. Parties, as far as he knew, just happened.
Except apparently not.
Angua had organized everything, from the Speakeasy at the Catscratch Club to the guest list to the cake. And the decorations. And the...everything.
When it was time and people started to arrive, he stepped back a little and let his camera roll. He'd edit this later, but for now he was gathering raw footage, the pure emotion of another year marked in smiles and tears, in heartbreak and delight. Zoom in, close on Roger. Pan left to Dean and Angua. Tight shot of Prior and Maureen. Scan the crowd slowly. Every face was documented, every glad wish caught forever with the lens of the witness.
Except apparently not.
Angua had organized everything, from the Speakeasy at the Catscratch Club to the guest list to the cake. And the decorations. And the...everything.
When it was time and people started to arrive, he stepped back a little and let his camera roll. He'd edit this later, but for now he was gathering raw footage, the pure emotion of another year marked in smiles and tears, in heartbreak and delight. Zoom in, close on Roger. Pan left to Dean and Angua. Tight shot of Prior and Maureen. Scan the crowd slowly. Every face was documented, every glad wish caught forever with the lens of the witness.