lucetilogs | so pile your boots up in the corner -- hang your jacket from the door

Entry tags:

so pile your boots up in the corner -- hang your jacket from the door

Who: anyone invited to house seven's thanksgivingstravaganza -- as well as anyone walking by who might be curious about all the brouhaha.
What: giving thanks!
When: forward dated to november 24th due to predicted holiday hiatuses!
Where: house seven!
Summary: friends, food, fondness. family. festivities.
Rating: g for goin' up.

House Seven was decked out in soft oranges and browns. Gentle reds and yellows. The table was shoved up against a wall and dish upon dish of delicious Thanksgiving dinner-bits adorned it. Plates to one side, a pile of cutlery. Feel free to line up and pile your arms high with roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, carrots and green beans, cranberry sauce, sinful gravy. Stuffing. Steamed broccoli. The amount of food would almost be laughable had the guest list not been so long. Chatter abounded.

It was, by all accounts, a fairly casual gathering. No ceremony (Buffy, by this point, was all ceremony'd out after some fiercely dedicated meal-prepping) to stand on and no customs to keep. Just food and friendship. The only thing customary about Buffy Summers would be her delighted, enchanted grin throughout the evening. Very little pleased her more than a social event that was going well.

Mix! Mingle! Make merry!

(ooc; threadjack into oblivion and don't forget to add your character to the entry tags! have fun! note that this is forward-dated. i'll be tagging around myself later this evening. )

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"Fancy suits of various, um, natures--and I still haven't impressed you, Summers? Well, I'm really off my A-game."

"...What can I say? I'm a hard nut to crack. But I'm glad you showed up. Really."

"Aw, well, doesn't that make me feel as peached as pie." He pauses to take another bite of roll. "Is this a good time for me to mention I don't really celebrate holidays?"

"And yet? Here you are. At my holiday. Celebrating."

"You must have a pretty broad definition of the world 'celebrting'. See, here. I'm eating a roll. That's all."

"You showed up. That's enough for me."

He tries to shrug it off. "What can I say? I'm drawn to free food. Beats the Cup of Noodles in my pantry."

With the kind of sympathy that sounded a lot like smugness: "How about I make up a package of leftovers when you leave, too? Avoid those noodles for a little bit longer."

And, equally smug: "I did build myself a rather remarkable microwave, so I think I'll take you up on that offer."

"...You built yourself a microwave. For reals? Why not just go pick one up? Is it a super-microwave?"

"Why? Because I can." And lets face it. Not like he can build anything technologically advanced here. Not like he wants to. "And, as a matter of fact, it is super. It has a preset precisely for those Cup of Noodles."

"You are a sad, sad man."

She tapped him lightly -- friendly-like -- on the arm. "Come on, let's get you something a little tastier than a roll. And maybe a drink, too."

"On the contrary. I'm am perfect happy with my pantry. Quick and tasty." Not so.

He didn't intend to stay long--this wasn't the only Thanksgiving he was invited to, shock and awe. But what's a little bit of food? And he won't ever say no to a drink. "Alright, fine, have it your way. What's your crown dish?"

Buffy made the mental note to maybe invite Stark over for some of Seven's dinners. They weren't the fabbest cooks but McCoy had left a legacy of family dinners that would be tough to shake. And so they would try.

Luckily, the meal set out tonight had a bit more effort thrown into it. "Huh. Let me think. The turkey's kind of a hit. Jack hunted it. No frozen, plastic-wrapped bird for us. No siree. But Winry brought over the sweet potato casserole before she went over to her own shindig and it's melt-in-your-mouthable."

And he'd act like he'd only be coming for the food. But there's only so many times he can sit in his workshop with something he made in his microwave and not feel the teeniest bit lonely.

"I don't know how Winry would feel if she knew I ate something she made--then again, if she made it for everyone, I can be sure she didn't spit in it." Which would not necessarily be the case if he ever got her to bake him one of those apple pies he wanted. "Turkey and sweet potatoes. I think I can manage that."

"Oh, huh? You don't get along so well with my girl Winry? How terrible. I'm guessing her finely tuned sense of decency and strong personality clashed with you immediately."

He grins. "You could put it like that." The young engineer did have some real genuine talent, however, and he recognized that. He's not about to go about admitting this, but she had impressed him. In more than one way. "She's a pretty good kid, in any case. Even if she likes to hold onto my armor when I ask for it sometimes."

"...She's a joy." Some very real affection flooded her voice. "I'm really sorry to see her not able to make it, tonight. Would've been nice to have her."

"That reminds me," he says, holding up a finger. "This isn't my only Thanksgiving today, so don't fill me up too much. See? I really am as popular as I say."

"What? And you came to this one first? Oh. Please. I know the first party attended is always the blow-off party. How rude. I have half a mind not to feed you at all, now."

"Okay, okay, let's back up a second. First of all--I was invited to theirs first. Second of all, it's hosted by minors--the alcohol selection is going to be severely limited. Now, does that really sound like the sort of place I want to be on a holiday?"

"Which, of course, begs the question of why you're even going. Got some secret lack of humbug hidden in that fancy reactor of yours, Stark?"

"Hardly." Maybe. Probably. God forbid he admit he might actually want to spend time with people. "It's more I just don't want them on my back about how I didn't go to their party. I don't know that I want to get on their bad side."

Rogue and Storm? Even Kurt, too. A wee bit scary, those ones.

"...Good for you, either way." A nudge in the ribs.

And he's aiming for a subject change, because he isn't a big fan of talking about how Tony-Stark-might-not-be-the-ass-everyone-thinks-he-is. Shockingly. "So, are there any special slayer traditions I should know about? I don't want you to shank me if I cut my turkey wrong."

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