milliways_bar | Toga Party

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Toga Party

Atop a long table in one corner of the bar sits a row of punch bowls containing ladles and various cocktails: from margarita to plain screwdriver. These are accompanied by several bowls of ice, some containing various bottles of beer. There are stacks of plastic glasses, paper plates, napkins, and a large pile of ivy wreaths at one end. The drinks are buffet-style at this party, so help yourself.

There are plates scattered over the residual tables in the area, some overflowing with huge bunches of grapes, others containing savory fare such as chicken legs, hunks of bread, olives, cheese or humus dips.

To try and give an impromptu impression of a Roman/Greco theme, the tables have been topped with white tablecloths and chairs and surfaces strewn with ivy. If there had been a way to fashion columns or import colonnades in twenty four hours, Indy would have tried it. But ivy will have to do on short notice. At least its not poisonous.

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*Tim blushes.*

I am quite glad to be back.

*Meg grins.* Andrew told me he thought you were coming back, and I almost yelled at him - should've known better, he's usually right.

*Tim sips his alcohol.*

Hmm... you need to trust that man of yours.

He's not mine, *Meg corrects, absently.* He's his own. But I do trust him - I mean, pretty much about as much as I trust anyone.

*Tim nods again.*

He's a good man. And smart beyond compare.

*Meg giggles.* You don't have to tell me that. *She cocks her head.* You asked him to be in the wedding, right?

*Tim nods eagerly.*

Groomsman, yes.

*Meg beams.* Well, I'm glad to know that tux I got him is going to come in handy. Do you know when it's going to be?

Soon.

Er.

*Tim blushes.*

We're not using tuxes. We're going with kilts.

*Meg says: . . . blink.

Then she cracks up.*

For everyone? Or just the guys?

Just the guys. The girls wear these.

*Tim snaps his fingers...and meg is in a miniskirt.*

*Meg squeaks and grabs for her skirt.*

What did you do with my tutu?! I'm running short on those!

*Tim snaps and the miniskirt is now frilled and tutu-y*

Sorry, is that better?

I still can't dance in this, *Meg points out.* People are supposed to focus on the dancing, not my bloody underwear, which is what they will be focusing on -

*Tim snickers, and her clothing is back to normal.*

Right, no strip clubs in old paris, got it. But, yes, those are what the female half of the wedding party is wearing.

Well, I didn't say we didn't have any strip clubs, *Meg corrects.* Only that I don't work at them.

- the bridal dress doesn't look like that, does it?

*Tim grins like a maniac.*

Hells yes.

*Meg looks rather dubious.*

Well.

As long as Ace is happy . . . *she says, tactfully.*

*Tim winks.*

Shes just happy to have me in a kilt.

I suppose it'll facilitate the honeymoon, *Meg says innocently.*

*Tim winks.*

Dam straight

Might make the wedding party a bit - short, though . . .

*Tim is lost.*

Huh?

If everyone's wearing little tiny skirts, *Meg explains, innocently,* and, you know, most people here are significantly othered -

*Tim shakes his head.*

Still not gettin ya.

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balletrat - 2005-05-01 06:39 (UTC) - Expand

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timsbooks.livejournal.com - 2005-05-01 06:49 (UTC) - Expand

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