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

[lanselos_du_lac]

He shakes his head, "I've nothing more, for now."

[summerdude]

"Okay," says Magnus. Extremely grudgingly, he says, "You're alright."

[lanselos_du_lac]

It might be the mead on top of the bourbon, but Lancelot cannot help but laugh at this. "The highest praise," his laugh and his voice are both genuine, even warm, and it's not meant as a tease. "I would never have thought it possible."

[summerdude]

It actually is extremely high praise, from Magnus Chase, given everything Lancelot represents, so he just nods, takes another swig from his mead, and slides back down from the counter. Then he gives Lancelot a shit-eating grin. "Good talk, asshole." If he sounds almost nice about it, well. Nobody else would possibly believe it, so it's fine.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Good talk, Magnus," leaning back against the counter to watch him go.

[summerdude]

"I am keeping my eye on you," says Magnus, hovering in the door. "Girl Code. Read those books." He raps his fingers on the door jamb, and then he's gone, without even flipping Lancelot off even once.