Semi-open: May 05

[knightscode]

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! ]

Comments

[reticence]

Faolan glances at her, trying to understand what she means and what her motives might be. Whether she really believes what she's saying or whether she's just feeding him this because it makes for an easier, less cautious conversation on his part. He doesn't have reason to suspect much from her though, so he'll give her the benefit of the doubt.

"It's good thinking, really," he admits. "And some that I appreciate. Especially given..." He waves his hand vaguely. "My present situation, and all, I suppose." He shrugs slightly.

[outstandingbalance]

Natasha laughs at that, a little wry but not without real humor. "How I see it, the situation right now is a friend's birthday party—a mutual friend, it turns out. It doesn't have to be more than that if you don't want it to be."

She smiles. "You could tell me how you know Lancelot?"

She says it as an extension of their last interaction, and while it might be expedient for her, she doesn't see it as a problem. If it works best for both of them... sometimes the path of least resistance isn't the wrong path. Especially when it means keeping politics out of a party.

Natasha's not sure how long this tack can last, but she's not above drawing it out as long at it works.

[reticence]

"Lancelot?" Faolan asks, and out of habit glances across the party towards the other man. (Perhaps notably knowing exactly where he is...) He shrugs slightly, watching the other man for a few moments before looking back at Natasha.

"We work together," he replies. Which isn't exactly a secret, if she knows who he is. And Lancelot isn't exactly hush hush about his position as a Guardian either, for that matter, so he doesn't feel like he's betraying the other man's confidences if she doesn't. "But we'd met before that." He shrugs again. "It's. A bit of a story, really."

[outstandingbalance]

"Is that the kind of story you can share?" She smiles, leaning just a little closer. There's a kind of sincerity in her look that comes from being comfortable in social situations, being taught how to encourage other people to open up to her. She doesn't have any ulterior motive now, but the toolbox is the same.

"That sounds like a good conversation."

[reticence]

Faolan quirks something of a smile at her, before nodding. "He helped me," he says, which if she knows Lancelot at all, should come as no surprise. "I had been...attacked. Got cut up pretty badly." He shrugs slightly. "Happened to run into him on the street, and he patched me up. Made sure that I went to the hospital." He looks down at his feet, toeing his shoe in the grass slightly before he continues.

"Then... I guess you could say that I got him caught up in my mess. And I had to help get him out of it." He shrugs again. "And he's been keeping something of an eye on me ever since. I'd like to say that I've done the same in return, but. He doesn't seem to find himself in anywhere near as much trouble."

[outstandingbalance]

"You know, that is easy to picture. Very easy to picture." She can see Lancelot insisting that Faolan go to the hospital—did he fuss? She imagined him fussing. Not exactly fretting, not a full grandmother act. But still fussing, hanging around until he was sure the other man was taken care of. "For both of you."

She raises both brows, head tilting, smiling faintly. "There are worse things to base a friendship on, though."

[reticence]

Oh, he fussed. Like a housewife, he fusses. And he keeps fussing still. Every time Faolan comes back to his door, wanting food or care for his wounds. Lancelot lets him in, he feeds him, he tends to him, he lets him sleep on his futon. He doesn't force him to leave until he wants to or he must. The friendship was a given. It's everything else that Faolan knows he has no one to blame but himself.

Though he can't help but cock his head at her in turn. "For us both?" he can't help but ask. Although he supposes it's not that difficult to imagine himself being difficult and refusing what's best for him without a little coaxing.

[outstandingbalance]

"You don't seem like a good patient," she says, not even a little apologetic. "Don't take it the wrong way, but more the kind of guy who sucks it up and tries to white knuckle through."

Her tone is light, not serious. Not framed like an actual insight into his character, and certainly not as criticism.

"Maybe with a bottle of whiskey? Though my impression of that one might be biased."

[reticence]

Faolan shrugs slightly. "Just because it's biased doesn't mean it can't be true," he says, quirking something of a smile at her before glancing down again. Mostly because it is a fair assessment of him. If given the choice he'd much rather tough it out, unless it's detrimental to his health to do so. Sometimes even besides the fact that it's detrimental to his health to do so.

"You're either very good at reading people, or I'm really that predictable," he continues.