TURKEY DAY AT THE PIE HOLE II

[onetouch]

WHO: Ned and Digby and you and you and you and all your closest friends
WHERE: The Pie Hole pie restaurant and bakeshop
WHEN: Thanksgiving Day, November 22 8am - November 23 1am (he'lll stick around for any stragglers tho)
WARNINGS: Shouldn't be any...
SUMMARY: Ned invites the whole City to the Pie Hole. He and Zatanna are cooking and baking everything (there are meat and meatless options), but feel free to bring a favorite from home!
FORMAT: quick/spam; make your own threads for your own people or table. on open threads estimate the time of arrival.
NO ONE IS EVER LATE!!!!!

[From the outside, the Pie Hole hasn't changed much, though the window is draped in elaborate snowflake-shaped lights, but inside is a whole other story. Zatanna has made quite a spectacle of the place, a huge banquet hall filled with long and short tables for enjoying your meal with any number of friends. And the decorations are outrageous. Ned's Christmas decorations, which were already over-the-top have all been magically enhanced and Thanksgivingsized like little crystalline pumpkin baubles and overspilling cornucopia on each buffet table, lined up in front of the kitchen. Ned is firmly putting his foot down this year: no one is to enter his kitchen but Zee or himself.

He'll be serving regular pie menu as well as breakfast (frittatas) until twelve noon at which point there will be an hour or two for people to arrive and mingle. The food will be out by 1:30-2 pm and dessert to be served at 3 pm. Ned just wants everyone to have a great day so come in and make yourself at home!! There are a few kegs as well if you all didn't listen and byob...]

Comments

[waiting]

Happy Thanksgiving. [ He raises a brow and waves a hand. Of course he'd noticed Mitch come in, but he hadn't greeted him. Things have been strictly professional since Monday, interactions kept only to what was necessary.

In other words, what Bradbury's job could be like if he didn't give so much of a shit about Mitch as a person. ]

Congratulations on surviving another year. [ The endless parade of commitments, he means. He raises a glass, filled with sadly unspiked cranberry juice, in a silent toast in Mitch's direction. ]

[viced]

[ He eyes his former friend carefully, saying nothing for a moment, before lifting a shoulder even as he took a long drink of whatever the fuck it was he was drinking. His eyebrows shot up over the rim of his glass. ]

Shit, compared to last year, this is fucking quiet as hell. [ He looked around the room, reserving a look that was almost edging on relieved. Nothing had happened...yet.

Yet was a pretty big word, but he was starting to be hopeful. ]

Last year, the Scarecrow fear gassed the parade.

[waiting]

Hey, don't jinx it. [ Automatically, he reaches a hand out to rap his knuckles on the table. ] Still got a few hours in the day.

[ He's looking more at the spread of people around them instead of Mitch, taking a sip of juice. There are a lot of people around, not all of them ones that he recognizes. There's still a tension in the line of his shoulders, and not all of it has to do with the man beside him. He's glad it's an imPort-only affair - he's not sure he can deal with the curious, knowing looks from Cityzens right now, though in typical human fashion, they've begun to taper off as the memory of the fight gets buried by whatever else is new and attention-grabbing. ]

[viced]

True. Although with the parade over, it's looking less likely someone will do something for the attention.

[ And he looked relieved about that. How could he not? Holidays were met with trepidation from the Mayor. Too many disasters to count, it had taught him to be careful, and bring the police out in droves for any event. Regardless, he still looked on edge. ]

[waiting]

[ Bradbury finally turned his head to look at Mitch properly. The buzz of tension coming of his boss was hard to miss, of course, but he wasn't sure at all what to do about that. Or if it was wise to say anything at all. Instead, he looks down at his plate and huffs a laugh. ]

You know, I honestly can't remember the last time I sat down for one of these things.

[viced]

[ His boss looked across the room, his eyebrows rising, but he released a snort. ]

Shit, you say that like I do this whole thing often. I can't remember the last time I did this any more than you can.

slowly necromances every damn tag

[waiting]

Seriously? I figured you got invited to these kinds of parties more than I did. And you've been here three years.

YOU'RE THE BEST NECROMANCER

[viced]

Sure, I get invited. [ He waves his hand, though, indicating that being invited and going to these things were different things entirely.</small. ] You think I have the time to go to these kinds of things?

DELICIOUS THREAD NECROMANCY AND REFERRING TO OLDER THREADS

[waiting]

Oh yeah? [ He turns his head to look at Mitch at that, smirking. ] What happened to not acting like a politician who thinks he's better than everyone else?

YEAAAAAHHH

[viced]

Hey, dickhead, it's not that I think I'm better than anyone! I just don't have time to go to every fucking event. I'd rather be doing my job than be visible not doing my job.

[waiting]

I know you don't think you're better than anyone. [ He snorts. ] What part of acting like didn't you get?

Anyway, maybe you should just throw your own party, one of these days. [ The smirk broadens, like he knows exactly how fucking unlikely that is ever going to happen, and he ducks his head to smother an actual laugh with a mouthful of turkey.

Despite the evident amusement, something about him remains distracted and distant, not quite tuned into the conversation. ]

[viced]

[ He noted it, the seeming distance, but he doesn't comment on it. It's an odd thing, the divide, but it's one of Mitchell's own making, and he knows it. It's not something he's used to, but it is a necessity. If Bradbury is so far in the past, maybe it's best to keep the distance. That was the entire point of it all. ]

Shit, that sounds like a fucking terrible idea.

[waiting]

Because your idea of food is a cup of coffee, or because you'll actually have to let people into Gracie Mansion voluntarily?

[ The banter was on autopilot, almost careless. though perhaps he was flagging a bit, running out of inane things to say. Though that, in itself, was funny to think about. Maybe it was just the energy to keep it up for this long that was starting to run out, making the quips come a little flatter, smile a little more faded. ]

[viced]

[ Mitch could hardly notice it, being the sort that didn't pick up on every cue if he wasn't looking for it, or maybe it was the willful ignorance of playing pretend.

He would continue to play it off, because it was simpler and easier to make it so. ]

Hey, it's a historical fucking site, I'm not going to just let anybody traipse around in it.