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

[gifted_hands]

Magical as he may be, Tadhg needs to eat just like anyone else does. The spells he works draw partly on his own physical energy, and given the fact that he turns into a horse and goes for a gallop on a regular basis, let's just say the man has an interesting metabolism.

This might explain why he has staked out a table bearing a hefty array of food. A platter of onion rings and mozzarella sticks (it's some kind of mild, white cheese anyway), a couple of largish funnel cakes, a basket of peanuts, and a couple dozen sweet and savory pasties or empanadas or some variation on the theme of filled turnovers all vie for attention.

Or he could want to attract some company. He certainly looks willing to share all those goodies. Right now he's noshing on a turnover, regarding his fellow celebrants with a smile of caloric good will.

[hearditbothways]

It's the mozzarella sticks that draw Shawn in. He still hasn't found a job - not that he has been actively looking, because he plans on working the psychic routine as soon as he knows more about this city - so free food is a high priority. He may or may not have already started stuffing his pockets at this point.

"That's quite a display," he praises, while the first handful of snacks makes his way to his mouth. "Inviting. Effective. Like a candy truck, but more open and less creepy." He stops, because that is the moment where he sees Tadgh's eyes. "I may have to revise that statement."

Not that it stops him from taking another stick.

"I do have one question-- Are those eyes real, and if not, are they removable? Furthermore, are you planning on tossing them at people at some point in the near future, and is it possible to receive a warning beforehand? I'm a spitter when startled. You don't want that. Nobody wants that. Except maybe tiny animals who live off remains that larger species left behind. Like sparrows."

[gifted_hands]

Polite púca that he is (usually), Tadhg waits patiently for a break in this ramble before gesturing to a seat at the table, inviting this new arrival to join him. Besides, the animation in both the man's gestures and his patterns is quite amusing to watch.

When he can finally get a word in edgewise, he puts on his blandest, most innocuous smile. "Well now, that's quite a load of questions. To answer the first might require a deeper discussion on the nature of reality." He blinks periodically while he speaks, and with every blink, his eyes change: from animal-like to human-normal in various colors, then cycling through some more outre looks.

"As for the rest, I've no plans to remove them, much less throw them, but I can't speak for anyone else. Or for anything else that might happen. There are so many possibilities, you see."

Politeness, it must be said, never stopped Tadhg MacEibhir from trolling.

[hearditbothways]

It takes Shawn a moment to make out the words, because he is mesmerized and horrified by the changing eyes. "Dude. It's like those little look-through binoculars with shifting pictures and a click lever on the side."

Successful troll is successful, however, at least for now. It doesn't mean that Shawn won't try to play along, though. "Really now! My last interdimensional travel took place during my high school years, so it's been a while. How do these parties end when Biddle-people get drunk?"

[alan_shore]

"A superlative Catenrat to you," Alan says, exuding goodwill and a certain self-satisfied air in just about equal measure. Without waiting for an invitation, he joins Tadhg at the table, shifting the peanuts a few inches to the right to accommodate his scotch.

"I hope you don't mind--I couldn't help noticing that the consumer-to-comestible ratio seemed rather outlandishly lopsided." He snags an onion ring, regarding it speculatively before taking a delicate nibble.

[indiscreet]

It's not that she wants to eat — not anything that the Apache is liable to be serving, at any rate; she'd made the requisite stop in Mafaton ahead of time, since really there was nothing worse at a party than being the Kindred sort of hungry.

No, it's more that she's making the rounds, admiring the cohort's holiday finery (the discovery that hemlines may apparently be worn above the knee outside a burlesque was one she made with wicked delight, and she's more than satisfied with her own selection), and the sight of the sheer quantity of food in front of this man is simply too amusing to pass up the opportunity of commenting on. And besides, he's not unattractive.

She has an elegant way of walking as she approaches; it comes with the dance training.
"I'm not sure whether to be more impressed or concerned that you seem to think you're going to finish all that. I suppose if you actually do, I'll settle for impressed." Her tone is playful, as is the hand resting on her hip.