Lancelot du Lac (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
knightscode) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-05-05 05:56 pm
knightscode) wrote in undergrounds2016-05-05 05:56 pm
Entry tags:
Semi-open: May 05
Who: Lancelot and friends!
What: It's a birthday party! With both regular people and supernatural types. What could go wrong?
When: May 05
Where: Lancelot's flat & garden, Richmond!
Warnings: Gratuitous doggy! Probably a punch up later. Possibly some drunk kissing.
Lancelot's garden is not exactly an acre-large tented paradise.
He's not made of money.
It's big enough to just about fit the people invited across the patio and grass, with Lily variously herding them and rolling around, and he's flitting between them and the kitchen and living room and generally doing his best to butterfly around all of them making sure they're happy. The garden is relatively tidy, as tidy and well kept as a garden that suffers an enthusiastic dog can be. The hedges are neatly trimmed, the tree in one corner healthy and big enough to throw a little shade, and the one flowerbed border seems to mostly have some roses that are yet to fully bloom.
For those who he's only known since the incident last year he's given them a warning: not everyone who will be there is aware of the supernatural side of things, so try not to blurt it to people you don't know.
Despite it being his own birthday Lancelot is, of course, playing host. There's a table set up outside with finger food, salads, drinks and all sorts -- and food strategically inside for those who can't be out in the sun too. He appears to still be checking on more in the oven every so often too, but Lancelot does like to cook -- and he seems quite focused on making sure everyone has something they could eat.
Some of the drinks are alcoholic. The punch isn't that strong, but he has a few other drinks along the side for people who want them and some bottles of beer in an ice bucket. If someone decides to do a little mixing of course then it might wind up stronger.
His sound system is playing the soothing strains of Dire Straits through the place and all in all, for now at least things are going smoothly. So long as nobody says the wrong thing to the wrong person, it will probably be a nice evening. With the mixture of factions present alongside those who have no idea what a faction is, of course... that may be difficult.
[ OOC: Feel free to mingle away on the post with others here! ]
What: It's a birthday party! With both regular people and supernatural types. What could go wrong?
When: May 05
Where: Lancelot's flat & garden, Richmond!
Warnings: Gratuitous doggy! Probably a punch up later. Possibly some drunk kissing.
Lancelot's garden is not exactly an acre-large tented paradise.
He's not made of money.
It's big enough to just about fit the people invited across the patio and grass, with Lily variously herding them and rolling around, and he's flitting between them and the kitchen and living room and generally doing his best to butterfly around all of them making sure they're happy. The garden is relatively tidy, as tidy and well kept as a garden that suffers an enthusiastic dog can be. The hedges are neatly trimmed, the tree in one corner healthy and big enough to throw a little shade, and the one flowerbed border seems to mostly have some roses that are yet to fully bloom.
For those who he's only known since the incident last year he's given them a warning: not everyone who will be there is aware of the supernatural side of things, so try not to blurt it to people you don't know.
Despite it being his own birthday Lancelot is, of course, playing host. There's a table set up outside with finger food, salads, drinks and all sorts -- and food strategically inside for those who can't be out in the sun too. He appears to still be checking on more in the oven every so often too, but Lancelot does like to cook -- and he seems quite focused on making sure everyone has something they could eat.
Some of the drinks are alcoholic. The punch isn't that strong, but he has a few other drinks along the side for people who want them and some bottles of beer in an ice bucket. If someone decides to do a little mixing of course then it might wind up stronger.
His sound system is playing the soothing strains of Dire Straits through the place and all in all, for now at least things are going smoothly. So long as nobody says the wrong thing to the wrong person, it will probably be a nice evening. With the mixture of factions present alongside those who have no idea what a faction is, of course... that may be difficult.
[ OOC: Feel free to mingle away on the post with others here! ]
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As it just so happened, Nancy was one of those people who found her easy to open up to.
Sitting down on the other side of Lily, the dog seems happy for double the attention in the shade, and Nancy's just pleased she doesn't have to get her knees dirty anymore.
"It is alright," she says, but mostly because she can follow it up with: "Lily already knows. It's not something I really advertise in mixed company, but, so long as you don't tell the law enforcement type-" she glances around. Lance knows. And there's only so much that the police can do when she doesn't have any sort of legal existence. Fagin's got her out of tough spots with the police before, and being a favorite meal for the police commissioner really did help.
But he wasn't here. And Fagin would never help her again. Hopefully, given she was under his protection, Eames could step in when needed. Not that she would ever actually ask.
"I'm a sex worker." Now Kathryn is going to get disgusted and change the subject in five, four, three, two and...
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Plus? It feels kinda disingenuous in a way that she's not about to analyse.
"I'll keep it between the three of us," she offers with a wink and a bit of a playful smile instead, "that's pretty rough work though, isn't it?"
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Yeah, Eames.
Nancy's smile eases back on to her face. "Yeah- yeah, it is. But it is what it is." She shrugs it off. She's not going to get into her sordid history- she'd made poor Skip nearly ill, when she asked the wrong sort of question. Plus, it's not great cocktail conversation.
"What is it that you do, then?"
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"Knowing people, introducing them to the right people for them. Almost like a puzzle, I'd imagine."
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"cross words were never something I was good at. I'm far better at maths." One of the few good parts to being raised poor. They all had a knack for numbers.
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