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

[ravkanwitch]

"You're a good friend, Grantaire," Nina tells him.

[futaille]

He shrugs. "I'm all right. Could be a better one, but could be worse."

[ravkanwitch]

"You're loyal and kind and funny," Nina tells him firmly. "You're thoughtful."

[futaille]

Grantaire scratches the back of his neck and takes a quick drink. "That's a slight overstatement."

[ravkanwitch]

Nina gives him a skeptical, stern look, briefly wondering if she needs to head back to the pantry for bread to make an idiot sandwich.

[futaille]

That is a worrisome expression. "Now, I hardly dispute being funny, and will even admit to loyalty, much to my occasional chagrin. But most all people can be thoughtful occasionally, and I include myself in that."

[ravkanwitch]

Nina purses her lips slightly. "Occasionally? Mr. I can think of the perfect dessert, animal, and drink for someone I've only known for a short while?"

[futaille]

"In my defense, I have no idea whether or not they are truly perfect choices. There could easily be something more suitable that I am unaware of, either because I don't know the animal or foodstuff in question or because of short acquaintance."

[ravkanwitch]

"And yet you're still trying to create community and make friends because you're thoughtful." Nina sets her hands on her hips. "Are you going to keep debating with me about this until I have to bully you into admitting you're a good friend?"

[futaille]

"I have no doubt that you would, clearly. So I shall concede this time."

[ravkanwitch]

Nina nods imperiously once, then gives him a bright smile. "Good."

[futaille]

He laughs almost despite himself. "You are a formidable opponent indeed, mademoiselle."

[ravkanwitch]

"So I've been told," she tells him with a little wink, before heading off to speak with someone else.