undergrounds | Small Town Celebrities party log for Sept17-Oct6

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Small Town Celebrities party log for Sept17-Oct6

The Redbright students clearly aren't getting enough homework if they have the time to start following their favorite members of supernatural society around for the chance at getting The Perfect Shot of them looking hot. It starts slow and small, for the first week, anyway. Just a random person pulling out their phone and taking a quick shot. Can't even be sure it was you they were photographing. By the five days in, though, they've started making a game of it. Groups of two and three going out together. Following people for a while. Having the audacity to wave when they're looked at. Some even invite their target to take a picture with them and their friends. (If you say yes to that, please do flex a little.)

Ratings on the website change on a day to day basis and currently both Redbright Professors and the Hillingdon Clan lists are the current most popular due to the territory change over and general familiarity with the groups.

Hans Estergaard had been reigning supreme as #1 in Hillingdon since he had the audacity to challenge Sylvia for her seat on the council. An unprecedented length of time! (It's like the students enjoy the idea of someone standing up to Sylvia, the person ultimately in charge of telling them what to do. Go figure.)

Most factions are getting more attention from these folks, though. They really have a lot of time on their hands.

[[ooc: post around like it's a party log. If you want an npc bothering you and want me to play them, put NPC request in the subject line.]]

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"It's just down the road," Faolan replies, and doesn't quite answer the question directly. "Not too far to walk. I thought that this might be a better meeting spot. Especially," he raises his eyebrows pointedly at the other man, "in case I didn't end up being the first one to get here." It was still a few minutes before their appointed meeting time after all, but that didn't really matter. It's better than to be left waiting and growing increasingly cold feed as he does.

"Here," he sticks his hands in his pockets and nods them forwards, starting off down the way himself. "This way." The hands in his pockets are of course to keep himself from fidgeting. Act natural, he tells himself. What would he normally be doing right now? Talking? He tries to strike up some sort of idle conversation.

"So," he starts, glancing sideways at the other man before deciding looking down the road before them is safer. "How...have you been?" Hardly a natural question -- they'd only seen each other at work the day before after all. Faolan kicks himself internally.

How has he been...? Lancelot blinks, trying to parse the question. In... general? It isn't as if they haven't seen each other recently. Just.... since the other day?

"Fine?" he hazards, then shrugs a little helplessly. "You haven't missed much. I spent most of the morning in the garden -- the mixture of sun and rain has made it go wild. I had to leave it for a few weeks because..." Lancelot hesitates, drags a hand out of a pocket and makes a lifting gesture with it. Arms. Hurting. "So I haven't had much time to tame it. Not that Lily minds, of course."

Weeds don't bother dogs.

Faolan's grateful that Lancelot doesn't question him too much, but then again, that's Lancelot. He seems to pretty much just go with the flow with just about everything that is thrown at him. It's both admirable and infuriating in equal measures, at times. At the last, however, Lancelot provides him with the topic that he's always certain will go over well with the other man. His dog.

"I hope that she's been behaving for you in the last while," he says. "Hasn't gone on too many muddy adventures before you were ready for that bath, or the likes..." He glances up at the other man again. "Then again, you could have called me over again, if you'd needed help wrangling her. I wouldn't have minded." He'd have been happy to help, in all honesty.

"She did not have much of a chance, unfortunately. I fear I will be making it up to her for some time."

His smile turns a little rueful at that, and Lancelot drops his eyes down to his feet for a moment as he walks.

"She was good, though. Perhaps she could sense something wasn't right. Animals can, I think, they seem to know -- or perhaps that's... just us projecting our way of thinking. I'd link to think she knew."

Either way, she was a very good dog. She always is! Just sometimes a little too enthusiastic about being good.

"I don't think that it's all that far-fetched to believe that she did," Faolan replies. "You have a special connection with her. You've had her for a while now, yeah? I've seen your photos," he points out, giving the other man a look. Honestly she might as well be the other man's child, for how proud he is of her. "Of course she understood enough to behave herself when you needed her to."

He shrugs slightly, continuing their walk and turning the pair of them down a side street as he does. "Of course, that doesn't mean that you couldn't spoil her a little. To make up for lost time, as you say. Have you ever tried baking for her? I know that there are dog-friendly recipes out there somewhere..." Maybe that would make a good gift, actually. Faolan makes a note to go looking sometime. A book of healthy recipes for dogs. He's sure that Lancelot would love it.

It's true, Lancelot adores his dog -- and Faolan has been in his house so he supposes he must have seen the photos he has of her. When she was smaller and fluffier, and as she grew bigger. He hadn't really thought about it before, but it makes sense.

Still, the answer Faolan gets is:

"Baking?"

Since, no, despite how much Lancelot fusses over his dog he has never gone so far as to bake for one. What would you even bake for a dog? He has no idea.

Edited (wrong icon) 2016-09-27 16:59 (UTC)

Faolan shrugs slightly, uncertain what the response means exactly, save for apparently he has suggested something apparently far-fetched. It isn't all that far-fetched, is it? Lancelot likes cooking. He likes his dog. Why wouldn't he like cooking for his dog? Crazy dog people do that sort of thing all the time. He's honestly rather surprised Lancelot doesn't.

"Well... Yeah," he replies. "Well, I suppose cooking in general, but. You know. Biscuits...? Are generally baked...?"

He tilts his head in thought, turning this over.

"Is that --" good for them, he wants to ask, but pet shops do sell dog biscuits. They're just different to the type people eat. So he cuts himself off, distracted as he dodges people on the pavement for a moment. "I suppose I never thought about it," he admits finally.

Lancelot's mind has now been opened to a whole new world of potential baking for animals. He is unsure how to handle this.

Faolan raises his eyebrows at the other man slightly. "I have to admit that I'm surprised," he says. "I mean. You cook for me all the time. And I don't even live with you, I'm not..." He searches for the right words, shrugging slightly as he does. "I just would have thought, with the amount of doting over her you do. I'm surprised you haven't crossed that bridge yet, that's all."

For better or worse, Faolan is saved from his rambling about cooking for dogs by the sight of a restaurant front up ahead of them on the street. It's a little bit tucked away, and the look of it is rather unassuming, but he glances at Lancelot as he spots it, suddenly all that much more unsure of himself, before gesturing ahead. "There we are," he says, before glancing at his watch. "We shouldn't be too early, I don't think."

Glancing up at the front Lancelot smiles a little as he steers toward it, stepping up toward the door before stopping and glancing back at Faolan. It was his choice so really he should lead them in, and he might have a booking...?

"It looks nice. Have you been here before?"

He hasn't, but Lancelot doesn't really eat out a lot in truth. He normally cooks for himself, since it is cheaper -- the fact that he enjoys cooking is a bonus.

Faolan shakes his head slightly, stepping up as Lancelot pauses to open the door and lead the pair of them inside. "I haven't," he admits. "But. I've heard that it's nice. It... Came on a recommendation from a friend, I guess you would say."

And it is nice, at that. The interior is bright, minimalist but still somehow leaning a bit towards the fancier side despite that. It's clear why Faolan had advised them to dress as they had -- and why he had dressed up himself for a change, for that matter. He'd been trying not to feel so out of place as he had, the first time they'd eaten out at a restaurant together. He really is trying.

Glancing to Lancelot for a moment, he steps forward and speaks with the host to check in for their reserved table before they are immediately skipping what gathering there is left waiting and led straight through the place towards their seats. It's a selection that's a bit out of the way of the rest of the place, and should allow them some privacy. Faolan thanks the host as he sets down the menus and moves to take a seat before glancing up at Lancelot. Trying to assess his opinion of the place so far.

Edited 2016-09-29 00:43 (UTC)

His expression is largely curious as he walks through, eyes flitting around the decor before he moves to shrug off his coat and let it be taken.

"Looked up a review?" he guesses, and flickers a playful smile as he drops into his seat. A recommendation from a friend I guess you would say is so utterly non-committal and vague it's endearingly awkward. "We'll both find out either way, I suppose. Although I doubt it would be this busy if it wasn't good. Was it hard to book?"

Gentle sort of small talk, since Faolan seems uncomfortable. Perhaps he's worried he picked a bad restaurant?

He is indeed worried that he picked a bad restaurant or rather, worried that he picked the wrong place for Lancelot. He can't know so early into the meal though and do he forces himself to swallow back as much of his nerves as he can.

"That too," Faolan admits, to the question of the review. He really had asked around and done some research before he had landed on this place as a suggestion after all. And of course he had looked into reviews as well. He wasn't about to take regular advice on face value. This is important for him to get right, after all. It's why he's feeling so nervous, really.

At the question of the booking, Faolan may or may not flush slightly -- it could just be the lighting -- as he answers carefully. "I... Well, I mean, it wasn't easy exactly, but. I was able to pull some strings." He had been relentless, really. Been in a waiting list for this time while he held another, called so often he suspects they had probably given it to him to stop him. He supposed that worked in his favor though, really.

He pauses a beat before asking, a bit hesitantly, "I hope it's alright?"

Had to pull some strings? That's a surprise. Lancelot isn't really sure he expected this much effort on picking a restaurant. He'd be fine with a regular Italian chain place too.

"Yes! Yes of course," he says, in obvious surprise, and even though he hasn't eaten anything or even seen a menu yet. It seems fine? Why wouldn't it be? "I hope I've not made you think I have expensive taste, though. I'd be fine with a gastropub too."

Faolan shakes his head slightly. "It's not that," he says awkwardly, reaching for the menu and pulling it toward himself, mostly to give himself something to do with his hands considering the fact that he's studied it intensely before he'd decided on the place and honestly already knows what he's going to order for himself anyway.

"It's just..." He trails off, shrugging slightly, before offering, "I just thought. It would be nice. To take you somewhere you might not have been before. Somewhere...like this." He keeps his eyes intensely on the wine selection so that he doesn't have to interpret whatever look the other man might be giving him in response to that.

Well, that's... fine, he supposes?

"It is nice!" he assures him, "or at least, the decor is nice? I suppose we'll find out about the food."

He flicks a playful smile, a little teasing at that. Opening the menu he scans it thoughtfully, trying to decide what might be good.

"You'll have to let me take you somewhere next time, though. Keep it fair."

'To keep it fair.' Faolan keeps himself from reacting visibly to that by sheer force of will alone, but it's pretty much all the proof he needed to understand that Lancelot really does have no idea why they are there. Or why the restaurant is so nice. Or why Faolan has tried so hard, with all of it. Well, Lancelot knows why he does but he doesn't know why now. That much is now painfully obvious.

"...you really don't have to," Faolan answers, awkwardly. That isn't the point of this, after all. He studies his menu without really looking at it at all. "Consider this. My treat, I suppose..."

"Am I not allowed to treat you in turn? That doesn't seem right!"

He wrinkles his nose and gently nudges Faolan under the table.

"Come on, what are we having? Are we going for starters or just skipping to mains?"

Edited (Belated typo correction ) 2016-10-02 11:35 (UTC)

Faolan glances up at the other man and knows within his heart that he can't correct the other man. Correct him to say that he hadn't actually meant for it to be merely a treat -- perhaps if he had then he might have chosen somewhere a bit less... Well, like this. That he had something else in mind in choosing this venue. He supposes that's neither here nor there now. He'll just have to go along with it now, he supposes. The alternative is far more awkward and embarrassing than Faolan would care to create things just now.

"Whatever you'd like," Faolan replies. "Like I said, it's my treat."

Lancelot presses his lips together at that, mock-irritated at Faolan's easy non-answer of whatever you want.

"We're eating together, Faolan. Unless you intend to just sit there and watch me eat."

He lofts an eyebrow questioningly, drops his eyes back to the menu as he scans it.

"We could split a starter, though? There must be something we could share --"

Only something pricks at his senses and he frowns, looks up and around the restaurant with a slight frown. It's an odd sort of feeling, yet one that is familiar now. The sense that he's being watched.

Faolan nods slightly, glancing down at the menu as he does. He hadn't meant to suggest that Lancelot eat while he watches, so he looks over the options for starters as the other man suggests they could split something.

"I wouldn't mind splitting something," Faolan agrees, not catching that the other man had stopped himself from talking until he glances up and sees him looking around as he is. Faolan raises an eyebrow at the other man and glances around himself before looking at the other man.

"Lancelot...?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at him questioningly.

He frowns around the restaurant a moment, thinking, then shakes his head slowly.

"Nothing," he says softly, "I thought--" only there it is, waves of long red curls talking to the waiter. "Thought I saw someone I knew," he finishes. What on earth is she doing here? Of all places? Well, eating he supposes. He blinks and frowns down at he menu instead, trying to force himself to focus. "Forgive me, I suppose London is just a lot smaller than I thought. Do you like pâté? Should I know that?"

He doesn't think he's been around him eating it before, but he feels weirdly off kilter now. Like he's forgotten how to do this sort of thing normally, whatever 'normal' really is.

Faolan keeps his eyebrows raised at the other man for a moment longer -- someone he knows? Who? Who would put a look like that on his face? -- before he focuses back on the task at hand. The menu, ordering a starter for the pair of them. He can honestly say that pâté isn't exactly his favorite cuisine, and he supposed since they're going to spend money on it, he might as well actually enjoy what they're eating instead.

"Well... I don't know why you should, but I don't. Exactly. The mussels sound good though," he says, glancing at Lancelot hopefully. He knows the other man likes seafood. He's cooked with it before after all. Hell, he's cooked it for him for that matter. (Then again, Faolan would even prefer escargots over pâté any day.)

"Wouldn't that be quite big for a starter?"

At least to Lancelot, although he still seems distracted -- eyes flicking up and around the restaurant.

"There's some toast with onion too, which might be nice. If you like onion enough, I suppose, and salmon..."

His eyes flit up again -- and she is here. It definitely is here. Why is Elaine here? It nags at him, and he knows she's seen him this time. Even as he drops his eyes again and fakes casual interest in his menu.

Faolan shrugs slightly, before glancing at the menu again to read about the toast. It doesn't sound bad, all things considered, and he glances up to the other man to say as much, but catches the look on his face as he does and the absent look in his eyes. Watching the way the other man looks down at the menu and tries to look interested in it while obviously being otherwise distracted. Faolan frowns slightly.

"The toast sounds fine, but. Are you...?" he trails off for a moment, uncertain as to why the other man is so troubled, before speaking up again. "Is there something wrong?"

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