chosehumanity | Honolulu Heights, Friday

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Honolulu Heights, Friday

So several people had been promised a housewarming party - and George had managed to convince Mitchell not to invite everyone in the whole neighbourhood, so chances were it might not even end in disaster - which would double as a 'welcome back, Annie!' party.

That meant tea. And biscuits. But mostly loads of tea. (And little finger sandwiches; Annie had insisted, claiming they were 'classy'.)

And leis. Annie had been vocal about those, too.

But: now the place was ready, after a week of running around and shopping and arguing and laughing and then running around some more. Time to celebrate.

[[ for those who were invited, and for anyone who thinks they might have been invited! ]]

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Turn up on the doorstep, offer gifts, or just well-wishes, or, hell, some snark.

Which segues neatly into the kitchen up ahead, and has its own bar. And finger sandwiches, and tea. Lots of tea.

Don't expect to get in without getting a lei, either.

[[ feel free to ping each other here, or poke me if you want a George or a Nina. ]]

As soon as she pings in, that is.

Much love goes to

nookiepowered for playing Annie for me. Poke me down here if you want either of the resident werewolves, plz, and have fun!

Whoever answered the door was greeted with a pretty damn enthusiastic "Hiiiii" when Kate showed up, ~~work SP-y~~ Bod in tow. And could you blame her? Things seemed to be going okay this week, for everyone. Hell, even Moosh's short film had been accepted to a thing in New York. So, she was acting happy.

She also had a wrapped housewarming gift in her hands, while she'd given the frankly mandatory wine bottle for Bod to carry.

Kate was not going to object to a lei.

She was, however, going to get herself a non-tea drink, and boggle at the wall-wide mural of... well, she supposed it was a Hawaiian view. Because really. This was Wales.

She loved it.

Whoever answered the door... would be Mitchell, grinning and all. "Hey, you," he said, and Bod got a no less-enthusiastic, "Bod, right?" with a chill nod of his head.

In the week leading up to the party, Jack finally got himself out of New York and, reluctantly, back to the version of 2012 London he'd called home before the whole recent mess started. He'd found a place to live, was most of the way to a job. And now: Time to hop universes again for a few hours.

Not that he was remotely tempted to miss it. He smiled on the doorstep, if a bit tentatively, and carried the bottle of 1902 Russian vodka he'd saved for a a housewarming gift.

"Hello!"

"Hey, Jack," Mitchell said. Enthusiastic tone, slightly-manic smile on his face; Jack really had nothing to fear about his reception here today, at least not from him. "Glad you could make it, come on in."

Jack sat on the couch with tea -- he'd leave the alcohol for later, when his senses got over the shock of so many other supernaturals -- and ran a finger over his lei, unable to stop touching the flowers.

He was also trying to stop himself from taking all the finger sandwiches.

Mitchell was in fact drinking the tea, thanks, if simply because Annie kept making it, and, well, George had had enough time to get used to her being around again that the likelihood of some kind of too-much-tea freak-out was starting to climb up again.

He also had a lei on. Yep.

Either/or on le George & Nina, please? I have no preference.

"It's not too far," Jack said, grinning back. The manic smile helped, even if the energy level behind it was a bit daunting.

He stepped inside. "Thanks for having us. Oh -- this is for you," he said, proffering the bottle. "There was a side trip to Russia earlier."

Mitchell accepted the bottle, and gave it a good look. He... was not a vodka critic, but it deserved a moment of consideration. "Nineteen... twenty?" he read. "Is that anywhere near when you landed, or is it just arbitrary?"

On it!

A moment or so later, George sank down on the sofa next to him. "So," he said, "Welcome to our party..." He sounded somewhat more sedate than Mitchell, though he, too, had a smile on his face. "We still have plenty of sandwiches, if that's what you're afraid of. Annie keeps making them."

George, twisting around the thing he actually wanted to ask about? Why, never.

"I might keep eating them as long as she makes them," Jack warned, but took another one -- chicken this time.

He gave George a slightly wary look. George had done his best to describe the transformation, but there was really nothing like going through it to make you understand. Not that he was quite sure how to express that, either.

"So," he said, considering and tabling a few different approaches. "How have you been? It must be grand, having Annie back again."

"Flip the digits," Jack advised. "1902. I had a last favor to do for Sebastien."

A shrug. "He ended up staying." He said it lightly -- it probably was for the best anyhow, and Jack had most of a month to get over it -- but it wasn't an easy thing.

"You know," George said, "It really, really is." He looked like he had spent the past week or so deciding whether to cry or smile about it, and had frequently resorted to doing both at once.

"...Though the sandwich-making really is driving me mad, couldn't she just have stuck with tea--?"

Mitchell nodded, shutting the door behind him. "You think he's going to stay there for good?" he asked.

"Whoever decorated this place had a wonderful imagination," Jack said, when he wandered Kate-ward. "Hello, you."

*pokes you down there*

Jack tilted his head to the side. "I'm not sure I'd complain about anyone who wanted to feed me," he said. "On the other hand, the waste of bread would make you a bit mad after a while. Perhaps she'll settle once she gets more -- acclimated?"

Ooooooh.

"'I have a habit of not dying, cariño'," Jack said, in brief imitation of Sebastien's voice before he glanced back to Mitchell. "His theory is he'll live another century then find me when he can. I checked as much as I could -- wherever he is these days, he's not leaving tracks."

Which meant ... precisely nothing, with Sebastien.

"And -- on a related note -- there's a vampire even older than he is in Moscow. Or was, anyhow."

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Honolulu Heights, Friday

Arrive!

Living Room

Talk to the Star of the Party

OOC

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