open: don't let the wine go to your brains

[untamedantinous]

It shouldn’t be this hard to prepare for a meeting. He’s done it countless times before. However, this time, it somehow is difficult. He’s never really had to set things up at times like this; and he knows as well as anyone else that he is not the best at social niceties. Granted, this meeting is in a much more well-appointed cafe than any he had ever been accustomed to holding space in in Paris. At least they have the benefit of a larger space. Consequently, Enjolras has spent much of the day of the eighth of Menestheus preparing, a little uncertain of how to plan a social gathering that is not immediately centered around planning a revolution. He is trying his best, at least.

Most of the tables and chairs have been pushed a bit more to the center of the room; the couch is arranged off to the opposite side. There are even various pillows scattered about, should anyone choose to sit on the floor. Arranged on a few of the larger tables and the counter there is a modest spread of food: of course, some of Laertes and Galahad’s pastries; but Enjolras has also procured what amounts to a few charcuterie platters: sliced sausages and meats, a selection of (mostly French) cheese, and various sliced loaves of bread and crackers are laid out for perusal, and spreads to go along with them. In an effort to provide multiple options of entertainment, Grantaire has set up a table somewhat near the food, with an assortment of wines and liqueurs. Off to one side, there are a few pots of brewed coffee, cream, sugar, and whatever else anyone might like to add to their beverage of choice. If anyone is drawn to the liquor cabinet, they will find three cups filled with various pieces of paper sitting atop it.

Enjolras himself is lingering on the couch with a glass of wine and some bread. He’s not sure how many people were even informed about this gathering, though he had done his best to advertise. If no one arrives then perhaps he will try again another time; but at least a few in attendance other than himself and Grantaire would certainly be welcome.

Comments

[futaille]

He nods and takes a drink, thinking it over. "All right, but on the other hand... if we're all fictional, we were created for a reason too, so would that make us like monsters?"

[peaklordshen]

This is a great point, actually. "I wasn't sure you got the fictional memo," Shen Yuan admits. "But yeah, I guess? But fictional humans are still created in the image of real humans, as it were, which IMO precludes all the really interesting stuff. Like, nobody's shown up here with cool bat wings for a snake tongue¹ or whatever."

¹ You sure?

[futaille]

He shrugs. "I heard the speculation and then when Dionysus arrived, he informed me that I'm from a musical play¹. I figure it doesn't matter much here... which just informs my point about metaphysics. That said, maybe someone has bat wings or a snake tongue and just hasn't showed anyone."

¹ Dionysus clearly neglected to note that it was an adaptation, but as R just said, there is no such thing as a god that always actually knows what they're doing.

[peaklordshen]

"True. And the second they do, they'll move up in my estimation—and, in my opinion, get more monstrous. You're from a musical?"

[futaille]

"So the more like a monster, the better. But not, I assume, in the normal ways that people can be monstrous. And yes, or at least that's what he said." He shrugs. "I've obviously never seen it."

[peaklordshen]

"Nah, the normal ways of being a monster suck, obviously." Shen Yuan could expound on this, but it would probably involve Shen Qingqiu's body and human beauty vis a vis human evil, and that's a lot to get through to eventually just end up accidentally complimenting Airplane on character design. "Can you sing?"

[futaille]

He laughs and shrugs again. "I can sing¹, but not particularly well, and people aren't generally lining up to hear it."

¹ 'A rover, a gambler, a libertine, and often drunk, he annoyed these young thinkers by incessantly singing "I loves the girls and I loves good wine" to the tune of "Vive Henri IV."' You could make a case that Grantaire was at least partially in a musical even when nobody else was!

[peaklordshen]

"I suppose expecting people from a musical to be able to sing is like expecting people from Shakespeare to speak in iambic pentameter all the time," muses Shen Yuan. "The genre trappings are for the audience, not the lived experience of the characters. Hey, do you think you look like a specific actor that played you, or like a combination of every actor that's ever played you, or like the original writer of the musical imagined you in their head?"

[futaille]

"You know, I couldn't say. It's odd to think that I might be essentially stealing someone's face, though, so I'll lean towards the imaginings of the writer."

[peaklordshen]

"Yeah, I get that," says Shen Yuan. "I know I look like the imaginings of the writer of where I come from, so I think everyone probably does, even when it's not a strictly prose source."

[futaille]

"It makes sense, I suppose. Unless, I suppose, my writer had an actor in mind, in which case¹..." He shrugs. "It doesn't make much difference in the end, I suppose."

¹It's a little more complicated than that, R, but don't worry GBlags's pretty little head over it.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan snorts. "Now we're getting back into the metaphysics paradox. Out of curiosity, what would you say does matter?"

[futaille]

"Oh, that's a tricky one, and it completely depends on your perspective. From the point of view of... the stars, let's say, I suppose nothing we concern ourselves with matters at all. What matters to me, though? Good food, good drinks, good fun... good friends. The last one most of all."

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan grins. "Sure. I get it. It doesn't matter if the debate itself is pointless, because debate is a means to an end, and the end is friendship." Just like getting into arguments online. "I've been teaching Galahad to argue for fun."

[futaille]

He laughs a little. "Oh, are you? How is that going?"

[peaklordshen]

"Pretty good, honestly," says Shen Yuan. "Mainly we've been arguing about food—noodles verses falafel."

[futaille]

"And who is taking which position?"

[peaklordshen]

"He claims falafel is the superior food, when it couldn't be more obviously noodles."

[futaille]

"I see. Clearly the debate has come to no resolution yet."

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan grins. "He's gathering more information by eating more types of noodles. Which really proves my point, because there's only the one type of falafel, and a food you can experience the entire breadth of in one sitting just doesn't compare to one you need probably days for."

[futaille]

He laughs. "Possibly. Although I would be tempted to throw bread into the competition."

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan makes a face. "Bread? That seems way too broad to be in the same contest. What kind of bread?"

[futaille]

He grins, amused. "What kind of noodle?"

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. "Sure, fine. But noodles at least are a dish. Bread's an ingredient."

[futaille]

"Do you frequently eat noodles with no sauce or broth or anything?"