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

[summerdude]

"Oh, thank gods, Hanguang-jun," Magnus says, parking himself right next to him. He whispers a confession: "This is a lot more boring than I thought it would be. And I already kinda thought it would be pretty bad."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji's mostly straight face does soften into a minuscule flicker of a smile, particularly in answer to the word boring. He gives a tiny nod of acknowledgement and of some private agreement, then produces a second teacup out of his sleeve and holds it aloft to ask Magnus if he would like some.

[summerdude]

Magnus nods earnestly. "Thank you," he says. "That sounds great."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji looks fondly at him for a small moment, and then holds back his sleeve to pour him a cup as directed. It's still hot, steaming once it fills the cup, and he passes it with care to Magnus.

[summerdude]

"Thanks, Hanguang-jun," says Magnus. He scoots a little closer as he takes the cup, and then leans against him.

[lightbearinglord]

Feeling as indulgent as ever, and surprisingly glad to have some company here, Lan Wangji folds his arm around Magnus' shoulders. He can use his other hand to continue drinking his tea for the time being.