Lancelot du Lac (
knightscode) wrote in
undergrounds2016-05-05 05:56 pm
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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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"You really don't need to wait on me, I could come with you?" he suggests, in a last-ditch effort to keep from having to sit there and watch the other man walk away again. Knowing it probably wouldn't work, given the way Lancelot tends to fuss. "Or at least bring something for yourself and join me for a minute. Surely you can spare that much without anything setting on fire?" He raises his eyebrows in question -- can he? He's been awfully busy flitting around, checking on oven and food and guests after all.
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Lancelot quirks a smile at that, gestures slightly for Faolan to join him and paces through to the kitchen. Swiping a nearly empty plate up on the way he begins to fill it with more food from the fridge, humming to himself a little and gently nudging Lily back with his leg before she gets too enthusiastically close.
"Here," he says, and holds it out to offer the contents to Faolan. "This suit?"
It's a mix of cold finger food, sausages and little wraps of various sorts with some cheese biscuits and olives. Easy to pick at once they find somewhere to sit and eat.
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"Yeah, thanks," he says, a bit awkwardly, balancing the plate in one hand and his drink in the other before glancing back up at Lancelot. "Aren't you getting anything for yourself?" Unless he'd made the plate with the intention that they share it -- which of course Faolan wouldn't mind at all. No waiting on him though. He'd like to be able to sequester the other man to himself, if only for a few short minutes of this party.
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Lancelot lofts an eyebrow at Faolan for that, digging a bottle of what looks like it might be chilled coffee from the fridge to pour out for himself.
"I suppose if that's the case then I will have to get something else..."
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There isn't really anywhere in the little place that doesn't have someone already in the same place, or nearly. But there might be some room out in the garden, maybe?
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"Here," he decides finally, "we can sit on the steps, if you don't mind a little sun."
That, and if he doesn't mind being low enough that he may have to fend off Lily -- who thinks that plate smells very interesting indeed, Faolan!
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"This alright?" he asks, shifting the plate in his lap so the other man can reach it as well. "I promise not to keep you for too long. Just for a bite to eat. Your back will be thanking me later, though. Old man," he adds, with the hint of a wink, to show that he's only playing. It is Lancelot's birthday after all, it's almost expected.
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"This old man's back can handle more than yours. Besides which, for all you know this gift of mine means at one hundred and three years old I will still be this handsome."
Now there's a thought for you, Faolan. Who knows, after all, what the other side-effects might be. It's hard to be sure until he's aged a great deal, of course.
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"Like a fine wine," he comments aloud, the drink he's already had perhaps loosening his tongue a little. He quirks something of a smile at the other man. "Or perhaps not at all, I suppose. You outshine the lot of us as it is." Faolan knows how he looks, on the days that he has gotten little sleep, when there is something on his mind and he is pale and tired and ten years older than he may be with a good meal and a few decent nights' rest.
He reaches to pick at a bit of food on the plate. "Another man might be jealous."
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He lofts an eyebrow curiously, reaching out to draw Lily close to his side as her snout begins to get suspiciously close to Faolan's plate.
"I'm not so sure it's as remarkable as you think. Perhaps it only seems so because I have people like yourself to help me through."
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"People like myself?" he repeats, raising a wry eyebrow at the other man and refraining from making a comment to put himself down, a joke about how having him around makes it easier to look good to others perhaps. He may be digging, but not at the expense of himself. Not tonight at least.
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Like needing help in awkward break-ins, or with severed heads, or standing unexpectedly for election. Lancelot shrugs, picks up his drink to take another sip. Faolan should know he's a good friend already, surely. At least, he hopes he does.
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"More interesting than necessary," he repeats. "A polite way of saying that sometimes, I am more trouble than I am worth. No," he says, holding up a hand before there can be any protest. "Don't deny it. I know that it's true." He knows his own life, after all. He's the one living it.
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"Do you?" he prompts, "because that is not what I said. I said more interesting than necessary. Which is true, sometimes you make life a little more interesting than I would strictly prefer. That is not at all the same as saying you are more trouble than you are worth, Faolan, because you are worth a great deal to me as a friend. A little excitement doesn't cancel that all out."
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"You don't regret it, then?" he asks, cautiously glancing up at the other man at last. "How 'interesting' things seem to get, around me? I wish I could promise you better, but." He knows himself. And he tries not to make promises he knows he cannot keep.
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"Faolan," he chides, "have I ever given you the impression I regret our friendship? Why on earth would you be here if I did? This may surprise you, but I don't go about inviting people I dislike into my home -- let alone letting them sleep in it."
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"I'm sorry," he says, after a moment. "I didn't mean to. I mean, of course. I suppose I'd never thought about it that way." He shrugs slightly. "It's much easier to recognize the trouble I've caused than anything else after all. And far easier to list specifics as far as that is concerned." The wolf chase. The monkey's paw. The head in the box. The burglar. The tea. He could go on...
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"I can do without a list of specifics," he assures Faolan, and swipes another bit of food from the plate. "Now, eat some food and try to look like you're enjoying yourself. This is a birthday party after all."
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"I'm sorry," he says again, reaching for a sausage roll himself and taking a quiet, contemplative bite, before glancing up at the other man. "I haven't even wished you well. Some friend I am. Today is your real birthday after all, isn't it?" He quirks a flicker of a smile at the other man, shaking his head in turn. "I bet you even made your own cake for yourself, haven't you?"
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"For once, no. I bought some from a patisserie. Even I know you should not bake your own birthday cake."
Lancelot nudges Faolan a little, flickers a wry smile.
"So make sure you save room for some, it's good. I'll make sure to cut you a big piece."
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Faolan flickers a slight smile at the other man in return. "Good," he says, taking another bite of the sausage roll. "I'm glad that you've drawn the line somewhere at least."
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He grins a little, takes another bite of the food he's nursing and shifts his grip on Lily.
"There's a reason I didn't go into cooking as a career."
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"Anyway, you're better suited to what you do," he continues. "In the police, and the Guardians. Excitement or no, don't tell me you don't enjoy it. This way you can have both, yeah? It makes sense."
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He smiles a little wider as he jerks an eyebrow at Faolan, who clearly is not objecting to the feeding, and ruffles Lily a little more as she leans into him.
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"You're more than you give yourself credit," he says, cocking his head at the other man slightly, a part of him wishing that he could be Lily, leaning against him and demanding his attentions. "Cleverer than you think, a better cook. You could do anything you put your mind to. Don't sell yourself short. You're certainly a better Guardian than I could ever hope to be myself."
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