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]

Nina's brows knit slightly. "The country?"

[untamedantinous]

"Yes. Of course, I am speaking metaphorically."

[ravkanwitch]

Nina drops the teasing for now because she is genuinely curious. She's heard so much about Paris and France, about pastries and wine and rebellion, and she's learned some of the language -- but she still feels as though she doesn't have a good grasp of the country itself. "Where I come from, there are stereotypes for those from Ravka, Fjerda, and everywhere else. What do you think makes someone French? Or... stereotypically French, I suppose?"

[untamedantinous]

"Mm. Well, if you would ask anyone else in Europe, they would say that the French have a tendency to fight quite often, whether it is among themselves or other countries. ....Typically the English, but Buonaparte was a special case, I suppose, in that he attempted to fight the whole of Europe and possibly the world."

[ravkanwitch]

Nina knows what Europe is; she’s looked it up and tried to learn it’s geography. It seems as though a lot of people are from there. She tilts her head. “Who’s Buonaparte?”

[untamedantinous]

"He is -- was, I suppose, as he died while I was a child -- a general who rose to power during the first republic and its fall, and claimed himself to be emperor of France. He intended on making all of Europe part of France." A beat. "He was not even properly from France, he was from a small island off the coast of Italy."