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

[vineleaves]

Dionysus is mid-sip when he hears his name, turns and sees, “Claudius! Hello my dear friend!”

He’s definitely feeling the effects of the wine he has already drank, though not yet at the level most would call drunk.

He approaches, wrapping an arm around Claudius in a half-hug. “As great a party as any there ever was, I assure you!”

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs, half-startled by the familiarity of the greeting. After all, Claudius greets one of his best friends with a formal exchange of names while standing six feet apart, and only recently have they progressed to hugging. But he finds he doesn't mind the attention from Dionysus. He evenly gamely pats Dionysus's back. "A party could hardly fail with you in the company."

[vineleaves]

"What, just because they named them after me?" he replies with a joking grin. He's still got his arm around Claudius, completely oblivious.

[wickedwit]

"Yes, I think that has something to do with it. And for a party like this, where the aim is that all should feel free to speak their minds ..." He idly toasts the air with his wine-glass. "Wine has a way of loosening tongues. In vino veritas, as they say."

[vineleaves]

"One of my favorite phrases!" he says, except he has now switched to latin. He figures there's a chance Claudius maybe speaks it, or maybe whatever translator magic the house has will just fill in the blanks.

[wickedwit]

The translator does it work, and Claudius detects only a slight shift in accent, as though the words are more familiar on Dionysus's lips. He can do little with it, except sip his wine and take note of it. "And what's on your mind, Lord Dionysus? Is there some subject you'd care to discuss?"

[vineleaves]

"Oh, please, don't call me 'lord'. Makes me feel old." Usually when speaking with any of the residents, he matches whatever language they're speaking. He caught on to the fact there's something translating everything the first time he heard two people talking to one another, but he generally doesn't want to trust someone or something else with handling his words. It's nice to have control over the exact connotations in speech.

Right now though he's a little tipsy, and decides to just have fun. He switches to Middle Egyptian. "I was wondering if you'd like to introduce me to that drinking game you mentioned the other day."

[wickedwit]

"Now there's an excellent idea," Claudius says with cheer, cocking his head to notice another little accent shift and smiling at the subtlety of it. "It behooves our side to practice before the day of the wager. And Grantaire is here, so he'll know where to find the drawing pool."

[vineleaves]

"I will admit, dear Claudius," Haitian Creole now, "I'm not entirely certain it's fair to consider me on your side in this. I very much want to see the end result should you lose." He switches to English. "I'll do my best to root for you, but in the interests of full disclosure, I also kind of want you to put on that performance you mentioned."