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

[sagramore]

"Of course." He toasts Dionysus.

[vineleaves]

“Do you mind if I ask, what was life like for you before coming here?”

[sagramore]

His easy smile doesn't slip. "Tedious, mainly. I spent a lot of time trying not to get sent on any quests of any kind and when I was lucky I had rather nice intervals of carousing."

[vineleaves]

“Sounds like a nice life,” he responds.

[sagramore]

Sagramore laughs. "Oh, I was miserable. I'm far happier here."

[vineleaves]

"That seems to be something of a theme among our fellow residents, unfortunately," he says, thinking about two somebodies in particular. "Les Misérables, some might say."

It's Dionysus, he's the some who might say.

[sagramore]

"I beg your pardon?"

[vineleaves]

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad life is treating you better here! It is, I suppose, quite a marvelous place to live."

[sagramore]

"Quite marvelous. There's no work to be done except what pleases me, I have a dog and a husband and three or four other lovers besides, and this place produces infinite alcohol. How could anyone be melancholy?"

[vineleaves]

He raises an eyebrow. "That does sound ideal, in all respects. The infinite alcohol might make me a little redundant, though."

[sagramore]

He takes a sip of his wine, having been reminded that it's there. "I don't know, I can do decent work mixing liquors but I don't know anything about wine. I like the idea of being educated with practical knowledge."

[vineleaves]

“You know, I’ve been thinking, once the weather warms up I might try to start a little vineyard out back, if I can find a suitable spot.” It’s hard to tell with all the snow on the ground right now, but he thinks he might just be able to get it to work. At the very least he could make it work. “Maybe you and some others might be interested in learning how to make your own wine? I used to do this sort of thing all the time, but it’s been a while.”

[sagramore]

"I'd be very interested! Grantaire and Laertes and I are crafting a way to distill our own liquor; we can add wine to our slate of knowledge."

[vineleaves]

He’s grinning now ear to ear. “Oh that pleases me greatly! I hope we can make it work then! Something nice to keep our time occupied!”

[sagramore]

"I hope you won't want for occupation regardless," unable to stop himself.

[vineleaves]

Oh. In that case. "Well I'll defer to your expertise on what might be a good way to spend one's time here."

[sagramore]

"I think I've told you enough for you to make your own inferences on that point," his dark eyes sparkling.

[vineleaves]

He steps close and leaves a kiss on Sagramore’s cheek. “Sounds lovely, my dear.”

[sagramore]

"Bold, sir," sounding very pleased about it. He has another drink of the wine -- without knowing anything about wine he knows it's good, by virtue mainly of the flavor, which is fruity and complex -- and lets Dionysis get a good look at the line of his throat when he swallows; he knows he looks good.

[vineleaves]

He thinks this is maybe not a very bad place to be trapped for all eternity after all.

“Well, you know what they say about who fortune favors, after all.”

[sagramore]

"I have heard something about that, but sometimes I like a practical demonstration for clarity's sake."

It's strange (or perhaps it's not) how after these periods when he's miserable over something, losing Janet or switching with Asmodean or Mordred's visit or whatever stupid thing, flirtation makes him feel so much better. It reminds him that he can be someone who isn't a misery to be around, that there's still playfulness and happiness left in him. He likes Dionysus perfectly well; he likes that this is another way to get to know him, and perhaps come to like him better. Dionysus seems to have about as much godly authority as Aziraphale does, frankly, but the humanness is rather charming.

More the point, he's never been kissed by a god before.