C&C HOLIDAY JAMJAR ICE HOTEL HELL: PARTY

[bluffing-ruffle.livejournal.com]

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.

Comments

[bluffing-ruffle.livejournal.com]

He uttered a small strangled sound of terror at the teetering tower, all accidental alliteration aside, and prepared himself to freeze them into a solid block should they begin to fall--only to watch as Bruno somehow kept them from tumbling.

"Right here," he manages. He's too grey-haired for this.

[donttasemebro]

Wherever 'right here' is, that's where Bruno has just walked over to set them down, gently as anything. He straightened up, wiped his hands together in a satisfied sort of way and looked back over at Edgeworth.

"I think that was the last of the chairs. Is there anything else you need me to move?"

[bluffing-ruffle.livejournal.com]

Edgeworth couldn't help himself. There was a strange Truth hidden here, and he wanted to unearth it.

"Yes," he said, pointing at one of the tables that hadn't been set up yet. "Kindly align that with the others."

He'd keep to himself the fact that it had taken three men to do that with the rest of them.

[donttasemebro]

Bruno nodded, and without skipping a beat he set out to do exactly that. He picked up the folded table, carried it out to an open spot on the floor, undid the various fastenings keeping it shut and the legs folded up with barely a flick of the wrist to each, folded the table out into its full length with approximately the force one would use to flatten a recyclable cardboard box, set up and locked the metal legs and everything else in place, and then-- gingerly, as though making sure not to break it-- lifted the whole thing over his head, stepped over to where the other tables had already been placed, and carefully set his down in line with them. Then, after a little nudging to make sure it was plumb with the others, turned back to look at Edgeworth with an 'okay, what's next?' sort of expression.

Note that his all took him less than a minute.