multiversallogs | Two years in a row now, someone I loved died on my birthday

Who: Steph and friends!
What: A birthday party
Where: A restaurant in... let's go with Howl Barrow? It's not really important.
When: Sukkadi night
Notes: HI. If we haven't pre-discussed this and you're unsure whether your character would be invited, hit me up and I will tell you. On the off-chance your character would like to bring a friend/SO, we can work something out. But yes, come here, tag around and feel free to talk to everyone. Have fun or Steph will make sad faces. P.S. She's wearing this because I wanted an excuse to use it.
Warnings: None for now

Birthdays are weird. They've never been a big deal for Steph. Her parents never cared, she rarely had friends close enough to make a big deal out of it, and she didn't even tell Tim for a long time (she's pretty sure he actually found out by snooping). Last year it was a quiet affair, just dinner with her mom and a few small gifts. Things had been too awkward with Tim to do anything together, and Cass was - busy with something that Steph can't remember now. Baedal makes it even weirder, for starters she'd forgotten it was her birthday for a good two weeks and then she hadn't been sure exactly how to go about recognizing it, considering the fact it wasn't the actual date of her birthday here. On the other hand, she feels like she has more friends here than she has back home, so she takes Angela's suggestion about a party to heart.

After much deliberation, Steph decides to rent out part of a restaurant for her partying needs. Babs had offered her house, but Steph feels like the population of Baedal, her included, has imposed on Babs enough already. So a restaurant it is - one that Angela helped her choose, pay for and organize, which Steph is extremely grateful for. As a result of Angela's help, said restaurant ends up being a little eclectic, hole-in-the-wall place with a restaurant/bar downstairs and the private room upstairs, serving platters of food that Steph isn't entirely sure she recognizes. There's odd pieces of art on the walls, the chairs, small sofas and tables don't actually seem to match each other, but the whole thing seems to fit a general theme and Steph likes it, so that's good enough for her. She'd entrusted music to the venue, not really having the resources at the moment to put music onto one of those fancy crystals; it's been good so far though, a little on the instrumental side, but Steph doesn't mind that. There's a small bar up here, too, with Steph choosing the package that gets them free beer and house wines - if anyone wants anything stronger or fancier than that, it's up to them to pay (Steph isn't made of money, alright).

She's kind of nervous about it, this is the first party she's ever thrown for herself and she just wants everyone to have a nice time. When she'd invited everyone - either by private CiD message or in person - she'd told them that presents weren't necessary, that it was just a small get together to help her celebrate the technical passing of a year. She really just wants everyone to have a good time.

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Whoops. Laura is at least capable of feeling guilt.

"I'm glad it's over. No more people will die." Yes... thank you, Laura. She takes a sip of beer as if that weren't an incredibly depressing thought. "You do not always celebrate your birthday?"

Nice topic change, though.

Well, they probably will. There's still other things to worry about, not to mention regular every day crime, accidents and death. Still, Steph won't mention that.

"Not really. Mom was always too checked out on drugs to even know what day it was, and if dad wasn't in prison, he was busy organizing a bank robbery," She says it like it's a Fact Of Life, rather than something that really upsets her. It's easy to tell Laura stuff like this, because she knows there's not going to be any judgement.

"I am sorry," she says, and it sounds genuine, if a little unsure. Birthdays, she's figured out, are a normal part of growing up -- a way your family shows they care about you, whether or not they give you things. An acknowledgement that you are important. That you matter.

It matters to some people more than others, though. Julian, for instance --

Not going there. "How old are you now?"

"Thanks," She gives a bit of a shrug to accompany the thanks, not really wanting to let it get her down, "It means I appreciate nights like this more, so there's that."

"Twenty. I'm no longer a teenager," her mouth twists in a wry smile, "I have to start acting like a mature adult, I guess." No she doesn't, and no she won't.

"There is no such rule," Laura says, and while her tone is serious and her expression blank, there are occasions -- like now -- when it's obvious that she's joking in spite of that, poking a little fun at herself. She's socially maladjusted, not entirely un-self-aware. "It has been my experience that adults behave the most childishly."

YEAH, SCOTT SUMMERS.

Steph is good enough at reading non-expressive people and at reading Laura to pick up on the fact there's a joke in there and she smiles in response.

"If I'd known that I would've gotten a bouncy castle and had everyone over to get their face painted, instead of having a party at a restaurant."

She wonders if they have bouncy castles in Baedal; she hopes so.

"What is a bouncy castle?"

Oh.

Oh no, Laura, how do you not know the magic of bouncy castles? Steph is so sad for you.

"They're inflatable structures, usually just a floor with three walls, sometimes shaped a bit like a castle - hence the name - and you're meant to jump on them. For fun." She feels like she needs to clarify that, like she had to with Damian.

That's a good hunch of hers, because Laura was just opening her mouth to ask for what purpose?

She doesn't understand trampolines, either.

Instead she blinks, obviously trying to imagine such a thing, her expression puzzled. Then she looks at her hand, considering, and -- no, she's not going to get into anything inflatable anytime soon. It would not end in anything resembling fun, just sadness. "I see," she says, although it's clear she does not.

"It's a lot more fun when you're little," Kids can find amusement in anything, jumping on things and crashing into each other is the perfect entertainment. She's explaining a lot more because she knows Laura doesn't really get it.

"And then once you're grown up it becomes a kind of nostalgia thing. It's fun because you remember it being fun."

"I don't understand nostalgia," she says, conversationally. She knows what it is, but it's not something she's ever experienced. If there's an upside to the way she was raised, it's that everything is new to her, and that makes it all interesting.

"You might when you're older," With a gentle smile, because while she doesn't know a whole lot about Laura's past, there are things she can pick up from the way she acts and some of the things she says, "It's hard to be nostalgic if there's nothing to be nostalgic about." The yet is kind of unspoken there, she hopes Laura has better, happy experiences now that she'll feel nostalgic for when she gets older.

"I am your age," she says, which is more of a reaction to the fact that that first comment there sounded disturbingly like what most of the adults she's lived with have said to the kids about anything ever. 'But I don't want to learn kung-fu, Mr. Wolverine.' 'You'll appreciate it when you're older.'

"I know," Or she'd guessed, Laura looks about her age, "But did you..." A pause and a vague hand gesture as she tries to work out how to say this in a sensitive way, and kind of gives up, "Did you have much a childhood?"

That'll have to do.

Her head tilts very slightly to one side. "I was raised in a cell in a facility in a classified location under the direct supervision of a team of specialists."

Laura, a simple no would have sufficed.

Oh, Laura. More things that reminds Steph of Cass, and that breaks her heart. If it was anyone else, Steph would be hugging her right now, but she doubts Laura would appreciate it, or the pity.

"People are dicks," Is what ends up coming out of her mouth, anger undercutting the sympathy. Because people are fucking dicks, that they think raising a child like that is even remotely acceptable. Steph would like to throw them all off a cliff.

Anger isn't exactly what Laura was expecting, although maybe she should have, since it's not that uncommon. Anger, shock, horror -- it all puzzles her. She knows, intellectually, that it wasn't right and that she was robbed of something difficult for her to define, but it's also all she's ever known.

"Yes," she agrees finally. "They can be... dicks." Everyone will thank you for introducing that into her vocabulary, Steph.

You're welcome, world.

Steph takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, "Sorry, you probably get that a lot." At least, if Laura tells people about it, although it doesn't seem to be some big secret. Laura just doesn't talk about herself.

"I'll find a bouncy castle somewhere in the city, and we can make a day of it." Steph is apparently going to fix everyone's crappy childhood by giving them better memories. She also doesn't seem concerned that Laura is kind of pointy; if Steph can't find someone who can magically augment a bouncy castle so that Laura can jump on it, she'll - something.

Two years in a row now, someone I loved died on my birthday

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