new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind

[heardmermaids.livejournal.com]

Who: Any and all Hellsing Staff & guests they invite.
What: Fall dinner.
Where: Hellsing Guild Hall
When: Shundi evening.

At some point during the week, Sebastian posted a brief notice up on the staff bulletin board:

Autumn Dinner
Sunday Evening. Dining Hall. Potluck. BYOB.

When Sunday rolls around, Sebastian has brought along a tray of fruit, cheese, some preserves, and fresh bread.

Comments

[byrightsinhell]

"Well, that's certainly an advantage." He considers Conan. "Are you training him yourself?" In real terms, this probably tracks as 'Is he behaved, probably Sol's doing?'

[cailisairgid]

"Yes," Liesl says, promptly; more accurately, Sol is training Conan and teaching Liesl what to do and not to do in order to keep their new pet on the straight and narrow. A case could be made for both child and corgi being trained, actually, and they're not doing too badly. They seem to more or less equally adore each other, too.

"We're working on it," he says, dryly.

[byrightsinhell]

"And making good progress, I'm sure," he says, smiling. "I've been debating whether to give my son a dog of his own." He wasn't sure yet, at home; Draco was the opposite of "outdoorsy," and his dogs were definitely outdoor sorts.

[cailisairgid]

To his credit, Sol doesn't visibly entertain the notion that any of them might not get home to absent family members; as much as he can think, from here, that he might rather Liesl were safe with Cal or his parents...in practise, he's not sure he'd hold together as well as the Malfoys if he were parted from her the way they've been separated from their son.

"Give it some time," he advises, keeping an eye out as Liesl and Conan lose interest in the conversation of adults (even interesting ones that look like Uncle Richard only with a weirder dress sense) and start investigating the much more interesting game of 'how far can we get under this table before Daddy yanks us back'. "You're going to do the bulk of the dog-bothering either way-" with a sardonic glance at where a small black backside is wiggling just beneath a table.

[byrightsinhell]

"Isn't that the truth. I've a few hounds, and my father 'gave' me one when I was about her age, but in truth, about all I did was proudly claim the thing was mine whenever anyone would listen." He smiles. "She seems to be settling in, though."