Happy Birthday to You...

[stillplaying]

Who: The Everdeen sisters and whoever knows them (plus dates, if applicable)
What: Belated birthday party for Prim.
When: Starting Saturday evening (6/8), around 5 PM.
Where: House 43
Summary: Thanks to the spirit possessions, Katniss cancelled the original party she had planned. Time for Surprise Party #2!
Rating: PG/PG-13 if any fights break out?

She had gotten up early to make certain everything was perfect. Double checked that all the bedroom locks worked, moved all of the valuables out of the living area and into Sharpe's bedroom. And then she cleaned the house more thoroughly than she had in a long, long time.

Hours later, with Aang's help, everything seemed perfect. The inside of the house was decorated with crepe streamers. Though there was an emphasis on blue, she made certain to alternate with other colors: whites and greens and purples and reds. Balloons floated along the ceiling, interspersed among strings of twinkling lights. A huge banner reading "Happy Birthday Primrose!" hung across the space between living room and kitchen.

Food covered every available surface, bowls and plates and bowls of punch and other drinks resting on top of blue paper table cloths. Peppermints and chocolates and other sweets covered the dining room table, with a two-tiered cake in the center. It had been pushed against one of the walls to make space for dancing and talking. In the kitchen, various dinners - stews and roasted meats and an assortment of vegetables and starches - covered the counters. Snack type foods were scattered both inside and out, a mix of cheeses and crackers, vegetables and fruits.

Extra chairs surrounded a table in the backyard, which had been equally decorated. Balloons were tied to chairs and a mixture of streamers and lights hung over any tree branches that crossed into the yard. In one corner, a goat stood tied up to a poll with a pink bow around her neck. Space had been provided for a D.J. table if Teddy or Sabriel grew tired of playing.

Everything seemed perfect. She only hoped that Prim would love it, too.

Comments

[greenjacketed]

Bloody hell. But he knew that ruse! Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir. He knew it because he'd used it often enough as a sergeant and because he'd had other use it 'gainst him once he'd been promoted. Sharpe wasn't certain whether he should be impressed or indignant, so he settled for a mixture of the two.

"Of course it bloody wasn't nothing more," he hacked away at another potato. A beat. "Zevran, ain't it?" Just to be sure he was talking to the right damned elf.

[antivanleather]

"If you like, Ser." He shrugged, small and silent until he was addressed. It was less of a militant ploy and more one of a servant. Crackling humor was hid away in favor of someone slight, demure, and utterly harmless.

[greenjacketed]

If he damned well liked, eh? Well -- Sharpe would not rise to the sycophantic strategy. So he instead lapsed into a silence of his own, plucking away at his chore and gathering a pool of naked potatoes for his troubles.

No skin of his nose; he quite liked silence.

[antivanleather]

For a moment Zevran wasn't certain if he should be impressed with the silence or if he should break it before he settled happily into the former. It was simpler to work without attempting to read tone and intent no matter how habitual the practice might be. This way they were both productive enough without rubbing one another the wrong way.

When the potatoes were finished and the apple in his hands was as well, he pulled a flask from his person and poured a golden measure into a bowl along with a small brush and set about painting the exposed flesh of the fruit with the contents.

He started to speak again, slow but certain.

"Elves are viewed as lesser, in my world. Slaves, tools, decoration."

Not an apology, but an explanation.

[greenjacketed]

"And in mine, you don't have to be a bl--" Caution, Sharpe. Caution. "You don't have to be an elf to be any of those things."

You just had to be born wrong, in some cases.

[antivanleather]

"Having an entire race to put under their heel makes men slightly less likely to do it to one another. Not that it stops them in the slightest- we simply get the worst of it." He said, adding another golden line against the pale flesh of the apple.

"This is your home, I am a guest, though a working one. You've a right to call me what you like and order me about. That you have not yet done so is in your favor."

[greenjacketed]

"I only give order to my men." This was a point of pride, and he presented it as such. "And even then, only orders I'd follow myself."

Barring, perhaps, when Harper made the tea. But that was never truly an order, was it? More like a gesture, from one friend to another.

"To be bloody honest, I ain't even accustomed to having a house. Let alone guests."

[antivanleather]

"Something we have in common. The house, not the ordering. I have never been in a position to order anyone about- save the once and that did not end well." Probably due to a distinct lack of a real plan, but he has since learned. Satisfied that every bit of exposed apple had been painted, he gave it one last turn before offering it to the man.

"I am Zevran, yes. Zev to my friends. And I know you wished something simple- but it is terribly difficult to put brandy into an apple with it's full peel. I have tried, there is simply no good way to go about doing so."

[greenjacketed]

"Major Richard Sharpe," he said as he plucked the fruit from Zevran's hand. He understood the man would already know his name; after all, he knew that he was part of the household. But it was just bloody good behaviour to introduce himself, regardless. Introductions had purposes beyond the stiff communication of information.

The soldier examined the piece, and mourned that the fact that it nearly looked too artful to eat. But the faint aroma of brandy compelled him to settle it into a palm and take a bite.

[antivanleather]

"Well met, Major Richard Sharpe." Zev allowed himself a faint smirk, a bit of a return to his usual good humor at the examination the apple warranted before plucking up another to carve. "I suppose you've endured many a poor joke and pun based upon your name- at least if it is translating the way I think it is."

[greenjacketed]

"Many, indeed," he confirmed -- but not until long after he'd chewed and swallowed and half-smiled over the bite of brandy-painted apple. "No matter the class or status of a person, the joke is always the same."

Puns. The great equalizer.

[antivanleather]

"And everyone thinks they are quite clever for it." He snorted and started up a spiral on the next apple, laying out the lines with quick flicks of the wrist.

"I shall restrain myself. Somehow."

[greenjacketed]

"You have my gratitude for that. And for this apple, too, at long last."

[antivanleather]

"Payment before a service is performed is poor business, my friend."

[greenjacketed]

"I'm in the army, mate. Payment months after service is a bloody decent cop, by our standards." It was a joke -- although perhaps a poor one, really. But he wasn't quite sure how he should respond to such overtures of friendship.

[antivanleather]

"So next time I should withhold the apple for at least a week." He cracked a laugh. "I will keep this in mind."

[greenjacketed]

"Christ. Forget workin' for you, mate. I'll go back to being a gentleman of bloody leisure."

Not that he didn't work, here in Luceti. He simply picked his projects with care and consideration. He did what benefited the household.

[antivanleather]

"Be a gentleman of leisure outside of this kitchen. While you are here? You work. Or at least pretend to do so." He couldn't think of anything more for Sharpe to do off the top of his head, but it would come to him.

[greenjacketed]

"Bloody hell!"

But this time, it was said with a wider grin. The man had spirit, no one could deny it. "Busted back down to bleeding private in my own kitchen. You certain you're an assassin and not a drill sergeant?"

[antivanleather]

"Perhaps I am both in equal measure." Grin was met with grin and good humor returned in full. And he had it in that moment, what needed doing. "Onions. They need to be chopped."

[greenjacketed]

"They make my eyes water," he huffed.

[antivanleather]

"They make everyone's eyes water. It is that or dicing garlic. Choose wisely."

[greenjacketed]

Garlic. His nemesis. Bah.

"Onions it is, then." And he turned away to retrieve his knife, mildly miffed that he'd been reduced to a wielder of such a paltry blade. "But let it be said I only subject myself to this for the Everdeens."

[antivanleather]

"They are quite compelling young women, you are right in that." Else he'd be off hunting in the woods rather than preparing trays and platters and meals for those he did not know so well.

"It is terribly difficult to tell them something so simple as 'no'."

[greenjacketed]

"Difficult indeed. Why else do you think I'm in here with you instead of out there, risking that one might ask me to dance?"