Summer Smith (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
somethingwithturquoise) wrote2024-10-23 05:24 am
somethingwithturquoise) wrote2024-10-23 05:24 am
Frontenac Suite; Wednesday Evening [10/23].
The suite that Summer and Stark had been given had boasted being "spacious and perfect for entertaining," and so now Summer was putting that claim to the test with her traditional School Trip Wednesday Night Room Party. Texts had been sent out to remind people of the party or to inform them if it was their first trip (with a caveat that if you were underage, Gladio Amicitia will kick you out, but that was mostly just a formality because, here in Quebec, the drinking age was 18, and she was pretty sure even their youngest students were at least that age now, but, either way, she was covering her bases for resposible chaperone behavior!), and then a good portion of her day was spent getting the jello shots ready, setting up snacks, getting other alternate drinks, and then utilizing this 'perfect for entertaining' space to its full advantage.
And, of course, all the shots were locally inspired and, when possible, locally sourced. You had
Maple Bourbon Cider, Maple Almond, a little French Martini, Honeysuckle Mimosas enchanced with local honeysuckle berries, an Ultimate Caeser, some flag representation, and, of course, the poutine jello shot.
(For which, oddly enough!, there were no recipes to link. Rude!)
The cooler was also filled with bottles of water, Canada Dry, and Puppers and other local brews, and there was a good selection of other booze if you wanted to mix your own drink (especially if you were pouring some of that Gus N Bru).
And the snacks? Of course you have your ketchup chips and all-dressed and dill picklers, and other varieties of moddable party food, but you really don't want to miss the poutine punchbowl.
So come on in! It was Wednesday night! There was a playlist pumping that had only Canadian artists on it (with an emphasis on ones from Quebec, but not exclusively because come on). Time for a mid-week classic room party!
[[ open party is open and flying OCD-free! Swing by, enjoy the party and free booze and snacks and please don't mind if I disappear due to being eaten by work! ]]
And, of course, all the shots were locally inspired and, when possible, locally sourced. You had
Maple Bourbon Cider, Maple Almond, a little French Martini, Honeysuckle Mimosas enchanced with local honeysuckle berries, an Ultimate Caeser, some flag representation, and, of course, the poutine jello shot.
(For which, oddly enough!, there were no recipes to link. Rude!)
The cooler was also filled with bottles of water, Canada Dry, and Puppers and other local brews, and there was a good selection of other booze if you wanted to mix your own drink (especially if you were pouring some of that Gus N Bru).
And the snacks? Of course you have your ketchup chips and all-dressed and dill picklers, and other varieties of moddable party food, but you really don't want to miss the poutine punchbowl.
So come on in! It was Wednesday night! There was a playlist pumping that had only Canadian artists on it (with an emphasis on ones from Quebec, but not exclusively because come on). Time for a mid-week classic room party!
[[ open party is open and flying OCD-free! Swing by, enjoy the party and free booze and snacks and please don't mind if I disappear due to being eaten by work! ]]
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He gave her a smile, one that showed his dimples. "And thank you for the blankets."
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With a swift motion, Yelena snatched the hat off his head and flung it across the room. "There," she said, reaching out to fix his collar. "Much better."
Her hand lingered a second too long on the fabric, and the moment she realized it, she jerked it away, glaring at her fingers for a second like they had a mind of their own. She took a quick swig of her beer, eyes darting elsewhere.
"You fit in better this way," she added, added a little too quickly. "No one will think you're a Barry Plodder reject."
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And then sighed. "At least at your party, I had something to do. What do you do at regular parties?"
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She paused and frowned. “Whatever. Just be nice and you’ll be fine.”
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He looked around. There were a lot of pretty people around, which he'd appreciated at the picnic, but it would be rude to Yelena to go trying to pick someone up.
Well, unless he went to their place? Because he certainly couldn't take them back to 603!
"...I mostly talked to my mother and my aunts," he admitted sheepishly. "At least until they all wandered off to do their own things."
His mother's thing had been named 'Bellamy.'
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“What did you expect to be different?” Yelena asked. “Did you expect people to be dancing on the ceiling? Or everyone tearing off their clothes and rolling in jello?”
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Then it would just be a regular Beltane celebration with some additional jello!
"It might shock you to hear this, Yelena, but I'm not really used to stuff like this, and definitely not with strangers. The closest I'd been to a party before yours was sneaking into Chuck E. Cheese to watch some other kid's birthday party on our way to the Boston Anchor Market."
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She shook her head. Clearly the Jell-O shots and the beer was clouding her mind.
“So what? Orgies are easier for you then just talking?” She deadpanned. “Which by the way I would not use as a conversation starter.”
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She looked at him and patted him on the shoulder. “Just be yourself. Everyone here is weird. Or weirder.”
And then for whatever stupid reason she gently tucked that lock of hair behind his ear. Letting her fingertips brush his hair a bit she immediately felt herself cringe in reaction.
“Just don’t breathe so loud,” she said, pulling her hand away quickly. “I think I need a refill.”
She looked over at the Jell-O shots. “Of everything.”
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"I don't breathe loudly!" he huffed. Loudly.
Yeah, he also needed a refill.