It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

Who: EVERYONE
What: Réjean has decided that more people ought to celebrate and help raise a bit of dosh for one of his favourite bars. See: flyer.
Where: The Apache.
When: Misdi night and into the wee hours of the morning.
Warnings: Discussion of Pickman's manky feet.

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. Tonight, the bar is packed with people from all across the city, different cantons and cohorts, all out to celebrate surviving the fungal plague. Patrons are encouraged to buy tickets for a door prize with the proceeds going to repair the damage tunnelling ants made to the cellar.

Comments

[fixedroll.livejournal.com]

Yet? He'll need a few more drinks before then, okay.

"Well, there is something to be said for classic black." And that something is: he prefers it. Not that he's going to state this outright. One does not opine about a lady's footwear, he knows this much. "Either way, they suit you."

[rhinemaid]

It's okay, there's no where here for her to bust it out conveniently.

"I've been rebuilding my collection- these go with everything, it's lovely." They are legitimately standing here talking about her shoes, and it's fantastic. "And shoes are easier to get a hold of than tiaras." Which she also had a collection of, presumably still locked up tightly in Italy.

(In a rare show of authority, Emery had firmly vetoed taking any of those to Boston with her, so she'd bought a plastic gift-shop one to wear on the flight over.)

[fixedroll.livejournal.com]

"I'll have to take your word for it," he says, as though this is meant in a roundabout way to prompt the mental image of Arthur shopping for tiaras. And it is, so enjoy that. "And... well, since I so rudely refused your offer to dance, can I buy you a drink?"

[rhinemaid]

Judging by Ilde's expression - she does these things so briefly, like morse code using shuttered lights - that's a delightful image and he's just lucky she's willing to live without making it a reality.

"Yes- please. I'm drinking brandy." A brandy alexander when she can persuade the bartender to make it for her, but this isn't a big cocktail bar. (Her usual bar is underground and serves some really interesting things.) "I'll take that in lieu of the dance, if you insist."

[fixedroll.livejournal.com]

"Brandy it is. And I do insist, this time." His wallet's going to shed some bitter tears after tonight—it's not as deep here in Baedal as it was back home, sadly—but it's a bit awkward to buy someone a drink and have nothing yourself, right? Right.

Oh hey, there's his tie. Still on the floor over there. ...Yeah, he doesn't need that back.

[rhinemaid]

"Thank you." She's so mannerly! ...on occasion. Well, she was certainly taught to be, at some point, and probably taught by the same person to pick and choose her moments. They probably didn't have this life in mind at the time, but you win some, lose some. "I always want to sing when I drink, but it's not a very good idea."

Because she's sort of like a siren and alcohol doesn't promote fine control and restraint.

[fixedroll.livejournal.com]

As some manner of luck would have it, Arthur happens to be very fond of lady singers, and so this interests him genuinely. Also, he can't read narrative text and keeps forgetting about the mer...person... fey... issue, thing, so he must ask, "No? Why not?"

[rhinemaid]

"I can-" she makes a gesture with her hand as they wait for their drinks, sort of indicative of 'some kind of mind magic'. "I think it's why my father's charity concerts always raised the goal figure. It's magic. I think I'm too drunk to be sure I wouldn't accidentally make everyone want to dance." Etcetera.

"But it's fine sober. I teach music." And, you know, she's not whammying her students right and left, though her lessons do carry an inherently magical edge to them. Her students will be good.

[fixedroll.livejournal.com]

"Oh, right, the uh..." The thing he cannot name, evidently, and must make a vague—but not dismissive—hand gesture instead. Bear with him, he's still having some trouble accepting Baedal on the whole for what it is. (Yes, still. Will he ever?)

"Do you have any pupils yet here in the city?"

[rhinemaid]

"Oh- yes, this is where I've started." Before Baedal, Ilde had never actually had a job, per se; she doesn't think joining Sonja's army counts, exactly, and her father had been content to spoil her outrageously. "I offer piano, violin and cello, mostly. I like the harp, but I don't have one here and it's not as common. I could probably play anything." She's also a bit more conversationally friendly, when she's been drinking.

"I do a bit of interior design here, too. It's really just a case of trying to make money off having been spoiled and unqualified for real work." Well, she's honest.

[fixedroll.livejournal.com]

"You don't think dealing with people's opinions of fashion counts as real work?" Not that Arthur has been a designer himself. As far as we know. "Or wrangling kids into piano lessons, for that matter. I'd rather be shot at by cultists, personally."

If he's not careful, he might actually give people the impression that there's a personality under all that seriousness.

[rhinemaid]

"Interior design is, in my experience, essentially babysitting while opinionated." That's sort of how she got her job, declaring her strongly held opinions on good taste and accidentally getting herself hired to professionally turn her nose up at things. "But I was making that up along as I went, really."

She's fairly pleased with herself for pulling it off, all things considered.

wording :Ia

[fixedroll.livejournal.com]

Ilde's summation summons forth the elusive spirit of grins and chuckles, however briefly. That is to say, he enjoys it very much.

"Well, that's life in a nutshell. The tough part's just convincing anyone you know what you're doing."