Bite they little heads off! Nibble on they tiny feet!

[baedalites]

Who: EVERYONE.
What: Catenrat party.
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Givdi the 22nd of Toidaren
Notes: The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread. When your characters are ready to leave, they'll be given a little wooden cheese, a glass fish, and a voucher for a big basket of snacks.
Warnings: None yet. Please put warnings up on individual threads.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Above the doorway and wound through a few of the sets of antlers some enterprising soul has placed a garland decorated with little blue and green fish.

Comments

[norea]

"Yes," Hasi agrees, vehemently. "You don't understand, I've had the most ridiculous week at work, this is the first time I've been out in...I don't know, too long. I'm glad they have this holiday, though; I like it better than Christmas."

[norea]

Just then, the bartender manages to actually get their drinks to them; she gives the man her most gracious smile and thank-you, aware that he's probably having quite a day at work, even if the tips ought to be good. When she returns her attention to Jim, it's with a glass in hand.

"Well, I'll follow your lead," Hasibe decides, "There are so many people in here, I'm going to have to stick close by you so I don't get caught in the crowd."

Her reasons are wholly practical, you see? As for those ideas, there is a moment when she bites her lower lip a little in that smile, the gesture not entirely as calculated as it could be, but...it's not without purpose, either.

[thenormalsquint]

"Why? Is something wrong?" She studies his face for a sign of something gone bad, but Angela can't get hints off of him. He, to her, is a little hard to read, but that only feeds into Angela's concern more and more.

[captaincocksure]

He grabs the edge of the door, gesturing inward as well--look, he's a smartass and a pain in the ass, but he's a well-mannered one. He's also a starship captain and Starfleet beats proper and respectful conduct into its recruits. He wouldn't dream of preceding a lady through a door.

"What are you drinking and where do you prefer to sit?"

[captaincocksure]

"Thank you!" Jim calls after the bartender, because one must always be good to the people who can get you more booze. And so he also offers Hasi a warm thank you, and his arm.

"Come on. Come sit with me for a few minutes before I try to track down my reclusive CMO."

[ruinedu2]

It's good to know that chivalry survives into the twenty-third century. With a gracious inclination of her head, Olivia ducks back inside the bar. "I'll stick with beer, I think. You can pick where we sit." It's a bit of give and take. "Company's more important than seating."

[captaincocksure]

"I agree. Company's always more important." His gaze sweeps the room, lighting on two people leaving a table not far from the door, back away from most of the crowd. "I'll get the beer," he suggests, "and you grab that table before someone else gets there."

[ruinedu2]

"Teamwork! I like it." 'Liv grins and offers a two-finger salute before she veers off toward the now-vacated table. She narrowly beats out some competition, pretending not to notice the way she's edged out another pair in search of a table. Early birds and worms.

She drums her nails on the table top absently while she waits, scanning the space casually with a faint smile still on her lips. She's actually enjoying herself, she realises. That was the point of attending the party tonight, of course, but there was some pessimism lingering. A notion that having fun might prove impossible. Her gaze drifts off to find Jim in the crowd again, watching and waiting for his return.

[captaincocksure]

It takes him a few minutes to get the drinks; the place is busy tonight, seems even busier than when he stepped outside to get away from the crowds for a bit. The bartenders are hopping, and they do move quickly, but with the sheer numbers of people needing drinks, there's a wait.

But he does return, pausing when the crowd thins out, away from the bar, to search out Olivia and their table. He grins when he sees her, hoisting a glass in greeting and then making his way to her.

"Here you are." He places one beer in front of her, sits, and takes a sip of the other before setting it on the table in front of himself, hands folded around it.

[ruinedu2]

"I was about to send out a search party," Olivia jokes, as if she hadn't been keeping her eye on him. "Cheers." Glass raised in appreciation before she brings it to her lips for a sip.

There's something comforting about the way that beer is beer no matter where you tend to be. (Apparently.) "So... Starfleet captain. What made you decide that's what you wanted to do? Is that a childhood dream?"

[toldastory]

Martha frowned and almost reached over and touched Hasi's arm, but stopped herself at the last moment. Baedal was starting to shear edges off her that the Barge hadn't, and random touches was one of those things. Well, most of the time.

Frowning harder when Christmas was mentioned, Martha just shook her head and forced herself to smile. "Shots. Tequila shots."

[hehaseatenthepancake]

Hellboy opens his mouth, about to say something about soda-soda, but then pauses to consider. After a moment, he says, "That sounds intriguing, actually. I'll give it a try."

Congratulations, Hasi. Your serious question has steered one person, at least for the time being, from just drinking ordinary soda.

[captaincocksure]

He raises his own glass in return, still smiling, before he takes another sip. And then his contented expression kind of... freezes, just for a second, in place. It's not her fault--she couldn't have known what a minefield that is. It's complicated most days, being what it is, but lately, with the nightmares and the self-doubt? Damn.

"Not always," he admits, the momentary lapse overcome with his usual warmth. "I was torn about it for a long time. My dad was a captain." His smile fades, and his gaze drops to his glass. He wouldn't be this open if he wasn't already so full of beer and tired on top of it, but...

"For all of twelve minutes. He died saving his crew. Including me, and my mother. Part of me wanted to follow in his footsteps but part of me was terrified I wouldn't live up to his example. And then most of me was angry."

He looks up at her again, almost sheepish, and he shrugs. "But I got there eventually. Can't imagine doing anything else with my life, these days."

[hehaseatenthepancake]

The invitation to sit is met with the tiniest bow, which also helps him get his head clear as he removes his sword from off of his back and hangs it by its baldric on the back of the chair before seating himself. He then reaches out with his Right Hand to a nearby onion ring basket and, like the claw machine at an arcade, picks up a bunch of rings to hold in his palm and work on.

"Well," he says, "the population's still mostly baseline humans. Some of the more out there types -- from a human perspective, anyway -- have their own areas they've adapted to suit them, like the vampire Undercity. Plus there's enough anti-Xenian sentiment out there that some folks may not want to seem too accommodating." He shrugs. "I was having those problems for decades before I got here, anyway. It'd feel weird to start growing them now."

[ruinedu2]

Olivia recognises the hesitation, and has her suspicions that she's said the wrong thing. It's confirmed when he explains his motivation, and while she gives him a sympathetic look, it isn't laced in the least with pity. "I'm sorry," for his loss.

"I'm glad you found your place, though." Even though that's been tipped on its head by coming to Baedal. That much is left tacit. "It's not easy, turning that anger into strength."

Then it's her turn to have that moment where the smile falls away from her face. She hides it behind another drink of beer.

[alan_shore]

Despite being denied the satisfaction of witnessing the precise moment recollection scrapes up against intellect, producing that spark of realization, Alan will be pleased to know it's happened somewhere along the line, and Kalinda will rise a few notches in his estimation.

But here and now he simply nods. "I see." Maybe he does and maybe he doesn't (the lighting is awfully dim), but there's a solemnity in the steadiness of his gaze, the softness of his voice. "I'd meant to ask," he adds, recovering quite handily from that lapse into sincerity. "What do you think of the pie?"

[betterthansubpoenas]

She isn't trying to game him, which is precisely the reason why he doesn't witness that moment when she realises she'd spoken with Alan on her first day. She gains nothing from letting him see her work it out, so she doesn't show it. Nothing personal, Shore.

She smiles when he asks his question, grateful for the deflection from serious topics, even if she's more than capable of holding her own on that front. "The pie's delicious. Worth whatever bad karma I may have earned myself by coming over here and making conversation while people are trying to watch an American Christmas staple." Not that she believes in karma. It's probably a fairly safe bet that lawyers and the people who happily work for them don't much care about their karmic status. (Your mileage may vary?)

[deadclumsy]

Tonks admittedly follows the movement of his hand quite closely: for all that she tries to seem at-ease, there is that slight, unconscious discomfort which most exude when with someone different. Which is saying something for her, as she still has the remnants of a pig snout on her face. That, too, disappears as she focuses on the conversation, however.

"There aren't a lot like you here, then?"

[alan_shore]

Oh, please. The mere fact that Alan's here, safe (or, at any rate, not in any immediate danger), warm, and leisurely stuffing his face while in the presence of a beautiful (the lighting isn't that poor) woman rather than beaten and left for dead in a ditch somewhere is one of the more compelling arguments against the existence of any sort of cosmic balance scale.

"I made it," he boasts, unable to conceal a touch of childish pride. "Well," he amends a moment later, stealing a look at the couch, "I suppose if we're to be technical, Ki over there did most of the actual cooking and I allowed her the benefit of my brute strength."

[captaincocksure]

"I had help. Guidance from an old friend." Well. Spock would someday be an old friend, they were working on that, for now. But the older Spock had helped him see his way to grasping that strength. And McCoy had been there, too, to kick him in the ass when he needed it.

He scrubs at his face with a hand, laughing softly. "Geez. Sorry. Oversharing. I promise I'm not usually so pathetic." He gazes at her across the table. "What about you? What's your strength?"

[betterthansubpoenas]

Kalinda oohs appreciatively. "Did you gather the sugar cane yourself?" she teases gently. "Job well done, Mister Shore." See? She remembers your name, Alan. That also slides very neatly into her next topic of conversation.

"Speaking of jobs... You wouldn't happen to have any work for an investigator, would you?" asked oh-so-slyly.

[ruinedu2]

"No," Olivia's quick to placate with a lifted hand. "You're definitely not pathetic. That was my fault." She shakes her head, dismissing whatever fugue may have threatened to overtake her.

As for her strength... "Family. -- Does that... sound too corny? My world is dying, but I'm- I was working to change that. Before I came here." It is what it is. "Someone has to be strong so others don't have to. It may as well be me."

Her smile is bittersweet, "I left my son behind when I came here. I was wondering if he'll feel the same way you did if I never find a way to go home."

[captaincocksure]

Starfleet training tells its officers to try to keep a level head, a calm demeanor, and whatever they're feeling in a difficult moment to themselves. Thank God they're not graded on those ideas, because Jim would've failed miserably. There's sympathy and concern written all over his face; he leans in a little, touching her arm for just a moment.

"I'm sorry. I think I hate that most about this place. You get taken from everything and everyone important to you. And I can't imagine that anything I could tell you about my own strength or struggles because of not having my father around would really help, in the end."

[gifted_hands]

Tadhg suspects that the wrong kind of attention exists here in more subtle forms, but the young woman looks competent and capable enough to already know that. Besides, why be a downer at a party?

"Originally or before coming here?" he asks, mirroring her head-tilt. "Originally would be a small village in Connemara, Ireland, and most recently would be Santa Barbara, California." He pauses a moment. "On a planet called Earth, on the off chance you're not from there. And you?"

[hehaseatenthepancake]

Depending on her ability to sense such things, it may or may not be apparent that there's something Very Mysteriously Other about that Hand, beyond just that it looks like it came from a statue but moves like a large but otherwise functional hand. (As for the sword, well, it's Excalibur, so.)

Hellboy himself, meanwhile, has an uncomfortable look on his face. "That... depends on how many nature-vs.-nurture hairs you want to split. I'd say there aren't a lot like me anywhere. Even back home, other... beings like me aren't really like me. Growing up on Earth, learning right from wrong, all that sort of stuff."