Toga Party

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

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.

Comments

[balletrat]

It's just -

*She flails, a bit.* You know. Weird. I just want to get it taken care of.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

He nods in agreeement. "What does this Lord Peter guy look like? I think I should have a little chat with him."

He glances at his disheveled robes, and the copious amounts of exposed flesh.

"Uh... at some point. Maybe when I'm normal clothes."

[balletrat]

It's not really his fault, *Meg says, rather worriedly.* In general he's a pretty nice guy, he's just - you know, crazy right now.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy rolls his eyes skyward. "So, this all rests on him regaining his sanity?"

He lets out a dejected sigh. "What are the chances of that?"

[balletrat]

Hopefully good? *Meg says, optimistically.* Once my aunt gets tired of him -

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

He looks puzzled. "What's he doing with her anyway?"

[balletrat]

*Meg shrugs.* Well, you know. My aunt likes - well, playing with people.

She's easily amused.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"I didn't know that. Should I be wary?"

[balletrat]

Er. If you meet her, then probably.

I mean, I'm very fond of her, but - well, you remember, first time we really talked, she did turn me into a butterfly.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"Oh yeahhh..." he says with a wrinkle of his nose. "But, didn't you really enjoy that?"

[balletrat]

I did - but, you know, that's because butterflies are brainless. And, er, only live about five to six days -

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"Uh, right. So... you just gotta wait for her to come back? Dang."

He frowns and stomps his barefoot down. "I hate it for you. Wanna get drunk?"

[balletrat]

*Meg considers this.* Okay, *she says, after a minute.* I figure it's properly celebratory, and all.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"Good plan." he leads her to the drinks table and waves his hand over the fantastic selection of delicious cocktails—a far sight from the single drink offering at his own party. "There's no wine I'm afraid... but the margaritas are very nice."

[balletrat]

*Meg eyes him.*

I suspect you, *she accuses him darkly,* of horrible pundom using my proper name. Which you are not meant to use.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"Hardly... I'm not that stupid."

Nevertheless, he inches his legs together in an attempt to fend off any impending knees to crotches.

"It's a type of cocktail with tequila in it. It's very good."

[balletrat]

So . . . like what whatsisname was trying to order when the Virgin Margarita came out of my tutu? *Meg hazards.*

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"I guess. Just try it," he urges impatiently.

[balletrat]

*Meg sighs, good-naturedly, and raises the margarita glass to her lips.*

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"WAIT!" he cries before she imbibes any of the contents.

[balletrat]

*Meg blinks and stares at him.*

This isn't going to turn me into a panda or something, is it? *she asks suspiciously.*

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"No," he grins, dragging her over to the bar. "If you're gonna do it, and this is your first one... then we gotta do it right."

A proper margarita glass appears on the counter, frosted with a ring of salt around the rim. Indy smiles and pours her drink into it and then offers it back, shrugging at her quizzical look. "I never worked out why it needs salt, but that's the proper way, supposedly."

[balletrat]

*Meg peers at it dubiously.*

- doesn't salt make you thirstier?

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"I think its to offset the bitterness of the tequila."

"All I know from my day's working with Marion at her club in Manhattan, is that, for the perfect margarita, the rim of the stemmed glass should first be rubbed with a cut lime or dipped in Triple Sec, and then dipped in sparkling marine salt."

[balletrat]

That sounds, *Meg says, still twirling the glass suspiciously between her fingers,* awfully complicated when all you want is to get drunk.