capeandcowllogs | C&C HOLIDAY JAMJAR ICE HOTEL HELL: PARTY

C&C HOLIDAY JAMJAR ICE HOTEL HELL: PARTY

WHO: AHAHAHAHA. Just... just tag yourselves in.
WHERE: The Gorsewick Hotel
WHEN: December 19th. 5PM-7PM for setup, 7PM onward for dinner.
WARNINGS: Let's just cover for your basics unless something more specific comes up.
SUMMARY: Miles Edgeworth and Remus Lupin are hosting the second comm-wide holiday party and have rented out the dining hall in the Gorsewick for the night. Everyone comes in for food, warmth, and (relatively... hopefully...) civil company. Whether or not they can leave is another story.
FORMAT: IF IT FEELS GOOD, DO IT! Long prose, action brackets, rapidfire dialogue, present tense, past tense--whatever floats your narrative boat!

The Gorsewick is not all that large a hotel, although it would very much like to grow up to be one someday, a mere five stories tall and having only a small parking garage to its name. The owner is clearly an optimistic sort of fellow, building a place like this in the City despite the risk the existence of imPorts poses to it and the hits the tourism industry has taken from their antics; bigger places than this have been smashed to pieces by enormous grey lizards with bad cases of heartburn.

Sadly, it just isn't paying off. At a time when people should be on vacation, packing his rooms to the max, the Gorsewick is... really, really empty. The groups renting out the dining hall are pretty much the only things keeping it afloat this month.

Still, appearances must be upheld, and although it is mildly understaffed, it is currently no less well-cared for. The handful of people on duty that night are friendly and the place is clean as a whistle--no bugs, no rats, no dust, nothing like that. He may be running a sinking ship, but the owner is damned determined to keep it a tidy one on the way down.

Come on in.

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"Always." She gave a slight smile to Hank as he sat, a familiar face from what was definitely a better time in her life.

He replied with a smile, "Ah, much obliged."

He settles himself into the chair with a small bit of fuss, ponders the silverware for a moment, then snaps back to attention. Indicating the awkwardly dressed gentlemen still standing next to him, he asks, "Have you met Spider-Man? I hope it won't be a problem if he joins us."

"Oh, Rachel and I have met before -- she helped me out with an, ahem, missing persons case a while back. Did the whole psychic medium thing," Spidey said.

[[In Marvel Knights: Spider-Man #6, true believer!]]

Edited 2010-12-19 21:28 (UTC)

Rachel hadn't missed the wall-crawler and she motioned to another chair. "Sure, more the merrier, I'll never turn away a fellow New York superhero. Have a seat."

"So you have? How delightful!" Giving the room another glance, "So, quite a party, isn't it?"

Spidey slips into his chair next to Beast, adjusting his suit -- the one over his costume as opposed to the costume itself -- a bit self-consciously.

"I wonder how big the turnout'll be? This is my first one of these shindigs," he explains to Rachel. "The Doc's too, I think, unless he's been even busier these past two weeks than I thought."

"I heard about it a little last year, it was huge." Rachel shrugged. "But all of us X-types went to Warren's home in Colorado for the holidays, so I didn't go."

She smile faded a little, she wouldn't trade those memories for anything, but they hurt a little knowing that just about everyone who'd been there was now gone.

He chuckled softly to himself that even on an alternate earth, Warren somehow always managed to have a a holiday home in Colorado. The more things change, and that.

Glancing back at Rachel, "The adjustment periods are always the most difficult." He raised his glass, unfortunately still empty, and declared, "This will just have to be the table for Christmas loners. Who'll toast to that?"

Under his mask, Spidey smiles wryly at the mention of loners. This year he actually has more people he can call blood family than he's ever had since ... well, since his parents died, probably. It's just that he doesn't know any of them, and they don't know him, not really.

"May our lives not be quite so pathetic this time next year," Spidey says, clinking his glass against Hank's -- and Rachel's, if she's raised it.

"I guess that's worth drinking to." She accepted the clinking of glasses and after a quick look around, she floated a full bottle of wine over for them to share.

"To not being pathetic next year."

Hank held his glass upside-down and eyeballed it. "Even worthier if we'll actually have something to drink!" He caught the bottle out of the air, popped out the cork with a claw, and filled his and Rachel's glasses before offering it to Spidey.

"So, Rachel, how did finals pan out this semester?"

Spidey waves him off politely and gestures to his (non-tableware-matching) glass -- it's already filled with punch, since he filled it while wandering around.

"Everyone passed, although Santo has an incomplete what with not being here for most of the semester." She smirked, "He'll have some making up to do. But there really isn't a way to fail my class unless they put themselves in the hospital."

"I suppose this is true." He grins wryly and muses aloud, "You know, I wonder sometimes what'll become of those kids after they graduate." Turning to his other side, "And I apologize, Spidey, if the topic is somewhat excluding to you! The Institutes, teaching, they've been on my mind a lot lately, I suppose."

"It's cool, Doc," Spidey says cheerfully, swigging his punch, "I've done my time in the system at both ends. Still don't know whether high schoolers or college students are harder to deal with. Though college students are slightly less inclined to throw things..."

Rachel smirked, "Actually, in my class, some of the students are graded on throwing things."

Hank chuckled. "I wasn't aware you'd been a teacher, Spider-Man. What did you teach?"

"Basket-weaving, obviously." Spidey waggled his hands. "I have nimble fingers."

Sorry, Hank, some things are a little too close to the ol' secret identity.

Giggling, Rachel sipped at her wine, the image of Spiderman, sitting in an apartment weaving little baskets just to rich to ignore.

"Really?" Hank said, as he toyed with the cracker on his plate. "Given your established interest in science, I hoped perhaps you might have taught a similar topic as I have in the past."

With a little effort, he pulled the cracker apart and it exploded with balloons and confetti right in his face! After the initial shock, he stared in wonder at the contents, regarding each carefully before digging out a fez and excitedly placing it on his head.

After looking at them both with an eager smile, he finally asked, "So, when does the food arrive?"

Spidey started when Hank's cracker went off, then laughed at his own silliness. Your Spider-sense didn't even go off, dork! He pulled his own cracker and, after another confetti-balloon explosion, he examined the resulting booty carefully and pulled out a derby hat, which he immediately put on his head.

"No idea, Hank, but look," he said, pointing to the little cake and candy still on the table. "We can spoil our dinners."

"I think it's a buffet, but I haven't seen the caterers anywhere." She looked around, partially to hide her giggles at the ridiculousness of the hat and the suit over the costume. Either one would be silly, but the combination was just too much.

With a slight frown, Hank wiped the confetti off of his plate and started to rise. "If that's the case, do either of you have any preferences? I can take care of our plates."

"I'll eat whatever's put in front of me, no worries," Spidey said. "You can't be a picky eater on patrol. Thanks, Hank."

"Sure, um, just a variety, little samples, if it's not too much trouble." She looked as though she meant to get up and help. "Do you need an extra set of hands?"

(no subject)

professorlionface - 2010-12-21 03:13 (UTC) - Expand

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