(no subject)

[wearyheadtorest]

Who: Hellsing personnel
What: The meet-and-greet barbecue.
Where: Out in back of Hellsing HQ.
When: Givdi, beginning in the afternoon, stretching on into the night.
Notes: Dean's network post will be the first comment, after that, just tag in at will to create new threads at the barbecue itself.
Warnings: Contains Alucard. Also contains Dean Winchester. Further warnings to be added as we go AW SHIT I NEED TO WARN PEOPLE ABOUT THAT.

About midday, a call goes out on the Hellsing filter from Dean, setting this thing up.

By mid-afternoon, with help, there are a couple of grills going, crabs on the boil, tables lined up in the grass behind the guild hall. There's meat, there's shellfish, there's vegetables and side dishes. There's even some wine and beer.

Hello, Hellsing. Come meet and greet your fellow operatives.

Comments

[video; Hellsing lock]

[wearyheadtorest]

[Sup Hellsing. Have Dean, and his :D face.]

Hey.

I read my brochure, and I saw that today is Givdi. Day of giving. Get it? Anyway. It's a day to give gifts. And I think, after all the ass-kickings we handed out with that monster bullshit, we deserve a little unwinding. And we need to all meet each other.

So in the spirit of the day, I have something I want to give all of you.

Crabs.

I got up early this morning and I started working my way all up and down the docks and I have got crabs like you wouldn't believe.

Come meet me out in back of the hall this afternoon and I will give you crabs.

[:D]

[cailisairgid]

Having spent a respectable amount of time contributing to the cooking effort, later into the afternoon Sol can be found with his daughter on his shoulders and a beer in the hand that isn't holding what's probably Liesl's plate (judging by the fact he holds it up to her occasionally when she demands something). The Koenigs have been living at the hall temporarily, though he's been speaking with a local landlord and they should be moving out next week, and the smaller of the pair is apparently quite accustomed to and happy with her position as unofficial mascot.

[hehaseatenthepancake]

After his shopping run, Hellboy set up his own little cooking station near the others. His contribution was a bit more involved than some of the others: thankfully, he was able to save some time by buying pre-made wonton wrappers, but he still had to mix up the crab meat, cream cheese, and other ingredients and get them wrapped before he could fry them up for eating.

It had been a long time since he last made crab rangoons. Fortunately, the time he had to spend cooling his hooves in the Inn the other day was enough to dredge the recipe up from out of his memory. He'd gotten it from a restaurant in San Francisco, early in his career, after he'd helped them with a hobgoblin gone bad that had taken up residence in their kitchen. (Ten years later, after they'd opened a location in England, he got their Mai Tai recipe for taking care of a werewolf problem.)

Once the rangoons are cooked up, they get laid out on racks to drain oil and cool off a little before being transferred to trays for people to pick up. His duty done, Hellboy takes off his apron -- just because he can withstand boiling oil doesn't mean he wants to -- puts his coat back on, and wanders around for other food and socialization.

[51stcentury]

Jack made his way out to the designated place where Dean had set the barbecue up behind the Hellsing guild hall. It was hard to miss, and even if he hadn't gotten the message in the first place, he probably would have wandered out to see what the fuss was all about anyway. Knowing what it was was an added bonus.

The message had been cute, he thought, their invitation there. 'Give you crabs' indeed. This Dean guy was obviously more than a little cheeky. Which was fine for Jack. He rather liked cheeky. Then again, Jack liked pretty much anything, so that wasn't exactly a feat by any means.

Jack wasn't really much of a cook. Well, not for large groups of people, anyway. The fact that he had learned to cook far away and long into the future meant that he really didn't know how to work with the ingredients they had there, and without the means to experiment himself, he was content to stand back and let other people handle it instead. So instead he had a glass of beer in hand and was standing back, watching the crowd, a smile on his face, in his usual outfit of trousers, button-down, braces, and RAF greatcoat.

[heardmermaids.livejournal.com]

During the week after the critter invasion, Sebastian had been quiet almost to the point of being withdrawn into his work. Now, during the barbecue, he and Velcro are out and about in public, but still hanging back from the main crowd of Hellsing staff.

[byrightsinhell]

Lucius isn't precisely sure he should even be here, as a freelancer, but it's important to keep making and reinforcing contacts, if he wants to survive in Baedal properly. As easy as it would be to withdraw and try to stick to the small remnants of his own kind, he needs to make his face familiar and at least somewhat trusted - for Narcissa's sake as well as his own.

It may not be possible to look out of place in such a varied group, but Lucius does look a bit thoughtful, deciding how to proceed.

[returntous.livejournal.com]

Mabel has a beer in one hand and an unopened one tucked under her arm. Don't judge her. She's pretty banged up from the whole monster mash ordeal - there's still a cut on her cheek that 'flesh-colored' bandaids don't hide, and a few more bandages up and down her arms. She's wearing short sleeves, exposing not only the bandages but an alarming collection of scars, because fuck it. She isn't going to bother hiding them around Hellsing. It wasn't like anyone cared.

Her plate's empty, at the moment, and she's considering the crabs. If she really wanted to try them, she'd have to admit that she's never eaten crabs before, and didn't quite know how to go about it.

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

Boromir was at Hellsing HQ dealing with the usual bout of things a new job brings: contracts to sign, places to get shown around, so on and so forth.

(All of which is new to him since he's never had a job so much as a duty he was born into.)

Just as he was preparing to leave, he heard the gathering out back and went to see what was going on. He'd thrown his own share of feasts and celebrations for his men post-battle, so while he's not familiar with the term 'barbecue,' it certainly looks familiar.

It's quite possible someone might see him standing at the book door while he looks on for a moment.

[lily-schlaflied.livejournal.com]

Shiori, having just been hired, wanders into the barbecue apprehensively. Everything had changed so fast - too fast for her liking, and while she at least had a job now, it was about as far removed from being a librarian and barista as you could get. As different and scary as it was, though, social work had always been an interest of hers. Dealing with people who weren't children would be a new challenge.

After successfully obtaining some crab, Shiori finds a free table to sit at and begins eating. She looks around, still overwhelmed by what was happening to her. It wasn't just the change of vocation or location that got to her, but the presence of things other than human. Shiori was nothing if not polite, and she even found it comforting to not be the only not-normal person around, but this was a lot for her to handle at once.

[suninhades]

Not early enough to be fashionably late but not quite so late as to be rude, Integra finally puts in an appearance. She comes alone, and from the direction of the forest - where the house is - giving her the impression of having materializing from nothingness. Seeing as how she's less joining the party than she is approaching it cautiously, as one might a wild and dangerous animal, perhaps it makes sense.

She's not dressed in her standard near-formal attire, instead sporting a combination that is trapped somewhere in between accidentally fashionable and awkwardly out-dated; the shirt is edgy enough (... and thus clearly not her doing), but she's coupled it with someone's grandmother's cardigan and riding boots, and she's still armed. Though her body language is typically aloof and commanding as she hovers at the edge of the event, observing quietly, someone with a keen eye might be able to pick up on the fact that she simply has no idea what to do in social situations, and is having a bit of a deer in headlights moment.

[apostatised]

It would be easy to mistake Martel for a field agent - he looks like he should be, with that build and demeanour - but some of said field agents may already be better acquainted with him as a recently acquired training instructor in combat and riding most prominently. (The more antiquated weaponry that is Baedal's standard is incidentally the equivalent of Elenia's cutting edge designs, and Martel doesn't merely teach or study weaponry and hand to hand, he innovates. A useful sort of man to have around, and a quick study as he familiarizes himself with the more modern modes.)

This is not the sort of socializing he's accustomed to, and frankly he'd rather not get accustomed to any kind of socializing - but Martel does better with company, and he can justify this as useful. Becoming acquainted with those who work here, making himself recognizable...

A glass of wine makes the whole thing a bit more tolerable. He isn't socially inept (far from it), just occasionally fancies himself anti-social. (He isn't that, either, he just wishes he were.)