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

[timebethine]

"I had many a debate at university on just that question," Laertes admits. "If you like seeing a man in a gown, my husband's collection grows by the day, and every one is lovelier than the last."

[vineleaves]

"I admit I'm jealous! My own carefully curated wardrobe was lost to me when I arrived here." He's still in mourning.

[timebethine]

"Ah! Has no one taught you about the closets here? They can produce anything you desire, should you merely think of it. They can be difficult to persuade, at times," he admits, "but the clearer your sense of what you want, the more responsive they are to it."

[vineleaves]

He lights up again. "This is absolutely such a relief! Why, I'm half tempted to go test it now!" He won't though, he'll wait until at least after the gathering has concluded.

[timebethine]

Laertes grins. "I shall look forward to your new habiliments with rapt interest. And should you require the services of a tailor, Kade--" he gestures with his cup of coffee in Kade's direction "--hath some skill."

[vineleaves]

"Is that so?" Truthfully, what he chooses to wear on a regular basis doesn't really require any tailoring. An occasional replaced hem, but there's a big difference in the structure needed in a chiton and a more 'modern' outfit. Maybe a new place requires a branching out of fashions though.

"What sort of outfit do you think I should try for first?"

[timebethine]

"Oh, that I know not," Laertes protests, with a laughing gesture at his t-shirt, jeans, and scuffed combat boots. "Fashion and I are not acquainted."

[vineleaves]

"Oh, no, don't say that! You wear it well!"

[timebethine]

"Thy flattery is very kind--but I know the worth of my body, and I would wear nearly anything equally well," says Laertes. "I have not the discernment to choose something singular."

[vineleaves]

“Maybe I’ll stick to my usual for a while longer… After all, if you find what works why mess with it, right?”

Besides, he’s fully aware he’s… well, he’s no Heracles.

[timebethine]

"It's a fine look," says Laertes gamely. "Very comfortable."

[vineleaves]

“Comfortable is precisely why I like it,” he responds, but suddenly he’s not sounding convinced. In his experience describing someone’s look as ‘comfortable’ is often a backhanded compliment.

[timebethine]

"I could not carry off the color, but it suits you."

[vineleaves]

"My dear, sweet Laertes, I doubt there's anything on Earth you couldn't carry off, color or otherwise." He places a hand gently on Laertes' upper arm for a moment, before grabbing his glass up off the table and taking a sip.

[timebethine]

"Sir!" says Laertes with a slightly incredulous laugh. "Are you flirting with me?"

[vineleaves]

“Not if you don’t want me to be,” he says, a little apologetically. There might even be a bit of a blush on his cheeks, though that could also be the alcohol. Hard to tell.

[timebethine]

"Sir," says Laertes again, and this time there's a laughing look in his eyes. "The attention of a god is a high honor--but a dangerous one, too, if the plays tell me aright."

[vineleaves]

“I like to think I’m a nicer person than how I’ve often been written.”

[timebethine]

"I know not how I was written," says Laertes, with a light air of challenge. "Am I nicer? Or worse?"

[vineleaves]

Oh no. No no no no no noooooo no no nooo nope nuh uh nope no thank you no. He can practically hear alarms going off in his mind, even through the slight buzz of the wine he has consumed.

“Well, ah,” Zeus help him get through this. “Granted we have just met, but I’d say you seem more or less as I would have expected. There are normally very sweet actors cast in your role.”

Maybe the compliment will deflect. He got out of the prophecy business long ago.

[timebethine]

"Ah," says Laertes. It makes sense--the better to make the audience feel for him, upon his inevitable death.

Setting that subject very deliberately aside, he asks, "Have you made friends here?"

[vineleaves]

Thank heavens. Dionysus makes a mental note to find something to offer up to his father for helping get through that.

"I certainly have! Grantaire has been a better friend than I could have ever asked for, but there have been so many others who I've met so far, and most of them have all been quite friendly."

[timebethine]

"Ay, it's a friendly place, with much employment for a ready mind," says Laertes, who has never once found it boring here. "Have a care, though; with much time for thought comes much time for reflection. If there are sorrows in your past, you will have time to meet them."

[vineleaves]

“Well we should all look on the bright side in that case, it’s cheaper than paying for therapy.”

[timebethine]

Laertes has heard the term therapy from Magnus, but magnus says a lot of things that he doesn't particularly understand, and Laertes has more or less learned to roll with it. Dionysus, he thinks, may have new insight on a form of catharsis that is neither dramatic nor induced by a tonic. "What is therapy?" Laertes asks.