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

[saint-aequitas.livejournal.com]

He laughs. "Ya took it better than th' last person I told. Come on, grab a beer an' join in!"

[lvpd_sidle]

"Bear in mind, I am currently dating a man from the same world, who is also dead. And I keep arriving at this place by walking into closets."

She grins. "A beer sounds good. And.." she breathes deeply. "I'll even wear a toga."

[saint-aequitas.livejournal.com]

He raises an eyebrow. First he's heard of that. And he hands her a bottle.

"I think ya can get th' toga from th' bar. Not sure, though. Got mine from th' man of th' hour."

[lvpd_sidle]

"I didn't tell you? Christ, of course I didn't. Haven't told you anything except about my family." She shakes her head ruefully. "I'm dating Barry Allen--better known as The Flash."

She nods. "All right. Uh, Bar, could I have a toga please?"

A light blue sheet and pins materialize. "Huh...could be worse."

[saint-aequitas.livejournal.com]

He nods. "Could have been more cartoon prints."

"Ya know, fer all that we talk, seems like I hardly know anythin' about ya really. Huh."

[lvpd_sidle]

She puts on the toga, a dubious expression still on her face.

"What would you like to know?"

[saint-aequitas.livejournal.com]

He blinks. "Hell if I know."

By this point he's slumped into the nearest booth. "'S just, when 'm talkin' with ya, or we're just hangin' out, 's almost like when Connor an' I are out doin' whatever. An' I know what he's thinkin' most th' time - or at least I've got a good idea - so I keep thinkin' I should know ya that well, but I don't, an' it just throws me off balance sometimes, aye?"

[lvpd_sidle]

"Birds of a feather, as they say..." she drifts off, quiet for a moment.

"I guess it seems like that because we're a lot alike, in many ways. Granted, I don't know if I could ever resort to vigilantism as a means to an end, but I understand why you and your brother do what you do. We both seek justice, but in different lights."

"I was born and raised in California. Went to Harvard for undergrad, and Berkeley for my master's degree. Then I was hopelessly corrupted by both physics and forensics. Add in an unfortunate murder of a previous CSI, and here I am." She smiles slightly.

"Remind me to tell you about the pickle experiment sometime."

[saint-aequitas.livejournal.com]

Of course, she would say the last bit just as he was taking a drink.

Guinness through the nose is not a fun sensation.

[lvpd_sidle]

Oops? Honestly hadn't been intended that way.

And she offers him a hand towel, fighting back a grin. "Another mug of Guinness for him, Bar, if you will."

[saint-aequitas.livejournal.com]

He kind of glares at her over the towel.

"Yer an evil woman sometimes, deirféar." Not even realizing he just shifted languages there.

[lvpd_sidle]

"Thank you--uh, what'd you call me?"

[saint-aequitas.livejournal.com]

He blinks. It takes him a minute to recall and translate that last sentance.

"Ah- deirféar. Sister."

And he honestly didn't know he was going to say that. Cue the lip chewing.

[lvpd_sidle]

Sister.

Sara is stunned, to say the least. She manages a shy smile. "How would I say brother in Gaelic?"

[saint-aequitas.livejournal.com]

"Deartháir." And the mun had better have her journal incoding (http://www.livejournal.com/editinfo.bml) set to Western European.

[lvpd_sidle]

Now the mun does.

"Deartháir," she repeats. Her accent probably isn't worth much.

"Didn't think I'd ever call someone a brother again," she says quietly. "Though I love Sander, and I know he loves me, I can't say that we were ever truly family."

[saint-aequitas.livejournal.com]

Eh, it's not too horrid. He'll probably help her out with it later on, if she wants.

"Hey." And he's caught her up in a brotherly type hug. Not too hard - she could push him away if she wanted to.

[lvpd_sidle]

And she hugs him back for a minute. "Thanks."

The knowledge she has of him will haunt her later. But she'll take what happiness--what family, she can.

And she'll take flowers to his grave the next time she returns to her world.