It's Pancake Day!

[abjurer]

Who: Anyone and everyone!
What: A feast of pancakes in honour of Shrove Tuesday.
When: Tuesday February 5th
Where: CH7, ground floor
Summary: Truly a feast day second only to Christmas!
Rating: PG/PG-13 for language if someone gets burned on the stove or hit by exploding magical pancake batter.

All of the ingredients have been gathered and are laid out when Max finally gets up that morning. More eggs and milk and flour than he's ever seen in one place and maybe he'd gone a bit overboard with it, but he didn't know how many people would be showing up. It wasn't as though they could use the rest of it some other time.


[OOC: Max's invitation can be found here. Essentially an open mingle post.]

Comments

[treehouses]

Molly is totally supposed to be here. Ask anyone. Going to a pancake party is an amazing idea and everyone should be there and if they're not, it's not her fault, is it? No.

She got there a little earlier than planned and was awed by the magical display.

But now? Eating.

Mmmm.

"Pass the syrup, please!"

[250mhzwabl]

It was just Molly's luck, that her request coincided with the day's appointed gofer returning to the table with a backup bottle.

"Maple syrup for the young lady," a cheerful English voice practically singsonged behind her head, accompanied by the momentary shadow of a taller figure leaning over her. Then a fresh bottle of syrup gently thunk-ed down in front of her plate, followed a moment later by the owner of said voice stopping and toeing at the empty chair beside her.

Jack didn't suspect he was recognizable, except perhaps as maybe That Guy Who Keeps Washing Dishes And Making Fresh Pots Of Tea. Though there were worse things to be, all in all.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

[treehouses]

And unfortunately, Molly won't be the one informing him of his recognizability, since she was fairly sure that she'd never seen him before. She blinked up at him and wondered - How many people here are English? - and said, "Thank you!"

Taking hold of the syrup, Molly nodded. "No, it's fine. You can sit down."

[250mhzwabl]

"Thank you kindly." Mug and plate settled down to the table, with Jack following soon after, offering his hand once he was settled. Eager as he was to start on his own pile of pancakes after a morning of manual labour, he offered his hand in the slight space between them. "I'm Jack Holden. Apartment one here in Community House seven."

[treehouses]

Molly took his hand in the very adult greeting of a handshake and smiled, "I'm Molly Carpenter. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Holden."

What, she's nine, okay? Sure, she may be masquerading as a thirteen-year-old because that means she's old enough to take care of herself, but the habits of politeness long engraved by her mother are hard to shake.

[250mhzwabl]

God, what manners. Giving a gratified chuckle, Jack nodded, taking his hand back and reaching for the half-lemon perched aside the multiple thin, rolled, crepe-like pancakes lined up on his plate.

"The pleasure's all mine. But 'Jack' is fine, really," he insisted with a grin, letting the working the last of the juice out of the lemon. "'Mr. Holden,' sounds like I'm about to be reprimanded."

[treehouses]

Careful, Jack, give Molly an inch and - "Does that happen a lot?" she asked with a guileless smile - she'll take a mile.

[250mhzwabl]

Laughing in appreciation of a perfectly-timed question, not to mention a little girl with a bit of cheek to her, Jack nodded. "I answer to a stern sort of lady back home, so I suppose it does there. Not so much in Luceti, at least."