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

[herotypical]

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. )

Comments

[unneeded]

"...Does he do the same, then? Let it get in the way?"

[herotypical]

"M-maybe. I don't...really know what goes on in his head."

The enigma that was Archie Kennedy was occasionally a topic of discussion between Buffy and Jack.

[unneeded]

"...He wouldn't say just everything he thinks. He'd be too frightened you wouldn't like him if he told you everything."

[herotypical]

"...He should know, by now, that I've got no legs to stand on. Judge from."

[unneeded]

"...Back home, everyone knows practically everything about me. The men gossip about me. I don't have any secrets. But the lieutenant, he's come here and no one knows a thing unless he wants them to. After everything, I can understand why he'd like to keep his secrets. He finally has a few to keep. I wouldn't know who to trust, either, not when things are passed around so."

[herotypical]

Secrets? Well -- she suspected they all had them.

In fact, she said as much: "Everyone's welcome to keep their own things to themselves. If it helps him...well -- I just hope it does help him."

[unneeded]

"I'm not sure it always does. I just don't know what to do about it. I only meant to explain, at any rate."

[herotypical]

"...It's okay. Y-you don't have to explain for yourself. Himself. Him."

[unneeded]

"I don't want you to think he doesn't want your friendship, I suppose."

[herotypical]

"...I'm not sure I could ever think that, now."

She dropped her eyes. Just a moment.

[unneeded]

"Now what?"

oh wait i realize i was probably unclear.

[herotypical]

"Now?" Buffy misunderstands on purpose. "Now we eat some food and try and put all the weirdness neatly to the side for the time being."

[unneeded]

"...Of course." A tight smile. He'd pursued this awkward train of thought long enough.

[herotypical]

"...Or maybe you'd like to try some pie?"

[unneeded]

"Of course I would. What kind?"

[herotypical]

"Your pick. Apple or pumpkin? Both'll have mountains of whipped cream."

[unneeded]

"Spoiled for choice, my dear Buffy. Perhaps I should save myself the agony of choice and have a little of both."

[herotypical]

"...That right there could be the best choice. A tiny sliver of each or two big portions and we'll share?"

She began to walk back to the table.

[unneeded]

He followed her. "I'll leave it to the hostess to decide. American tradition and all."

[herotypical]

"Then I decide sharing. Who wouldn't?"

Buffy tackled the edge of the table with gusto -- grabbing a wide plate and divvying two fair slices of pie onto its expanse. She added messy, teetering dollops of whipped cream.

[unneeded]

"And you say you're American, adding cream to everything. It looks like English fare now." He nabbed a fork.

[herotypical]

"Shh, you'll offend my carefully honed patriotism."

Buffy cut off an edge of pie with her own fork.

[unneeded]

He nabs a bite of pumpkin pie. "Patriotism. It's either 'my country is always right,' which is foolish, or 'my country right or wrong,' which is dangerous."

His fork halts on the way to his mouth as he thinks about what he just said. "At least, I've heard someone say it somewhere, and it makes a good deal of sense."

[herotypical]

"...Why can't it just be 'I like living in my country because we have awesome holidays like this one'?"

[unneeded]

"I should suppose it can." His fork finally makes it to his mouth.