Retour de l'happy hour

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

The fourteenth of July again--again!--makes it time for Milliways' third annual celebration of the Fête nationale. (Has Lesgle really been here long enough for that? Is this what eternity feels like, periodically scratching your head and reckoning up which anniversary this is? Well, it's been a good long-enough-for-that, and he'll do his best to make it a good anniversary.) So this is probably a familiar sight to bar regulars: the tricolor flag draped behind the bar, the bunting and cockades.

As Lesgle begins setting up drinks--red wine, white wine, and blue things*--Bar surprises him with a large cake: not in the shape of the Bastille this time, but an elegant three-tiered affair reading * LIBERTÉ * ÉGALITÉ * FRATERNITÉ * around the rim of each layer.

"Why Madame Bar! You are, as always, not only a pearl beyond price, but a true patriot."

The Bar gets a kiss, and if you're not careful, you might too!

*Some of the blue drinks are relatively harmless cocktails featuring blue curaçao. Some of the blue drinks are Romulan Ale. Drink at your own risk.


((Unfortunately my internet presence is patchy today, but this is open all day. Threadhopping encouraged! Talk amongst yourselves!))

Comments

[merryeccentricities]

"Oh! Is it already-- well, I suppose it is. Happy Anniversary, then!" Joly is totally okay with getting a kiss from the bartender. Actually, he's going to go ahead and do that right off, avoid procrastinating and all.


Sorry about your professional decorum here, Bossuet.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Oh no, not his professional decorum!

Lesgle returns the kiss with a smile and presses a glass of red wine into Joly's hand. "--Unless you'd prefer white? Or blue? And yes, it is already. Happy fourteenth! We may sing the Marseillaise as loudly as we like."

[merryeccentricities]

Joly laughs. "Of course I trust you, but I'm afraid Courfeyrac's experiments have left me with a prejudice about blue. Red will do just fine." His smile turns a touch sappy. "And I think it was Ca Ira last year, actually."

[i_am_your_host]

Historically, Germany has been a major dick to France.

But not this German! This German loves France and French people! In fact he wants to meet all the French people today. Unless he gets too drunk before that happens.

"Greetings, Monsieur Lègle!" Emcee calls out cheerfully as he approaches the bar, marveling at the decorations, the drinks, and especially the cake. "How wonderful to see you again. Is it Bastille Day?"

He's speaking French, which actually should sound better than German-accented English translated into French via the translation field.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle beams at him.

"Indeed it is, my dear fellow, and thank you! And what can I get you? Red wine? White? Blue...somethings? Cake? Cockade for your lapel?" (Of course, Emcee may or may not have a lapel, but...)

[i_am_your_host]

Lapel what is a lapel Emcee has no need for lapels

But! He gets the sentiment anyway, and a cockade can most certainly be pinned to a simple sleeveless undershirt. (What? It's warm today.)

"I do believe that I will have at least one of everything before the day is done," he declares. "But a glass of red wine to start would be lovely, thank you, and a cockade to show my solidarity with the citizens of Paris."

[vive_lavenir]

"Bossuet!"

Last Bastille Day in Milliways--Jehan's first one, actually, and Combeferre's, too--Jehan had gotten drunk on some blue thing.

This does not deter Jehan from making straight for the blue drinks again. Hey, maybe it's the curaçao.

Combeferre prudently takes red wine instead, examines the cake, and looks around the room to see everyone who's shown up.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Brave man, Prouvaire!" Bossuet grins at him. "And--prudent man, Combeferre. I confess I've forgotten myself which blue drinks are which; but they're all guaranteed to elevate the spirits and/or promote a contemplative reverie. And what about cake, Citizens?"

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel was going outside with a paint can and brushes, but of course he has to stop at that display. "What, no effigies today? I fear Madame Bar neglects the day's need for destruction."

He has determinedly learned nothing from Courfeyrac's turn at Bar. He grabs one of the blue drinks.

It's curacao! That's all right.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Oh, retract the statement; Madame Bar--Citizen Bar--neglects nothing. Isn't cutting into such a beautiful cake good enough for you? If not, you could go out and collect some flowers for me: death to daisies, cornflowers, poppies."

[clayforthedevil]

"Oh, if you're giving me the knife, that's another story." That is probably not happening! "If I find a good trove of poppies, I'm hardly handing it over to you. Unless you plan to pass it along to Joly, that's a man I trust to reduce a poppy. "

[vive_lavenir]

"This cake won't be as fun to destroy as the Bastille-shaped one," says Jehan, sliding over from a few seats down. "Not that I'm complaining," he adds, in Bar's direction. "It's a lovely cake, Mme Bar, and what it lacks in inspiring revolutionary reenactments, it makes up for with elegance. It's very kind of you."

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel laughs and throws an arm over Jehan's shoulders. "I yield; the cake is fine indeed, I recant my slander of our hostess' planning. " He lifts his own blue drink to clink against the rim of Prouvaire's . " But we must still find some proper clamor before the day is out."

[wings_of_a_swan]

Combeferre, sauntering over himself with his wine and a piece of cake, grins. "Find it, or start it?"

[i_am_your_host]

Some time after the red wine, and some time after the white wine, what's left to try is the blue...not!wine.

Emcee appears only slightly hesitant as he picks up a glass and gives it a sniff. Well, it doesn't seem to be Kool-Aid. So the only logical thing to do is to take a sip. Right?

"Oh, that's delicious," he murmurs with a grin, and then promptly takes a bigger sip, looking around to see if anyone else has tried the blue drink.

[vive_lavenir]

Jehan, seeing another brave soul with the blue drink, raises his glass. "I recommend it," he says.

(It's the Romulan ale. He's gotten the Romulan ale again.)

[i_am_your_host]

He raises his glass to the other man in return.

"Oh, yes, I like it! It goes straight to my-- well, everything, really," he chuckles, feeling pleasantly buzzed.

(And still speaking French, although when he's tipsy, and getting tipsier, more of his German accent comes through.)

[vive_lavenir]

Jehan smiles. "I'm Jehan Prouvaire," he says, "and I believe what you're drinking is Romulan ale."

[i_am_your_host]

"Romulan ale," he says slowly. "Well, it is nothing like I have ever tasted before. And I am not averse to tasting it again once this glass is empty."

He offers a slender hand to shake.

"Delighted to meet you, Monsieur Prouvaire. People call me Emcee."

[vive_lavenir]

"Enchanted," says Jehan, shaking Emcee's hand. "You seem to be from my world?" He hesitates, and hazards a guess, based on the accent: "Germany?"

[i_am_your_host]

"Yes, Berlin," he says with a nod, "but I don't believe we are of the same world...? My year is 1934. And yours?"

He suspects that Jehan is part of the group of very specific Parisian friends that Lesgle and Feuilly belong to.

[vive_lavenir]

"1832," says Jehan, and then adds--perhaps unnecessarily--"Paris."

[i_am_your_host]

"I figured," he says, smiling warmly. "I think for today, there is a little bit of the Parisian in those of us not native to her. I salute her and her people."

He raises his glass to him again in a proper toast, and has another sip.

"The cake looks marvelous, by the way. Have you had some?"

[vive_lavenir]

"To Paris." Jehan raises his glass again, echoing the toast. And thinking, too, about Berlin and 1934.

"The cake seems almost too elegant to eat. I haven't tried it yet."

[i_am_your_host]

"I'm sure it tastes as exquisite as it looks, but I can't decide if I want a slice of liberty, equality, or fraternity," he muses. "Although, I don't suppose there is anything stopping us from sampling all three?"

[vive_lavenir]

"I don't see why! In fact, I would hope it's encouraged. We need all three, after all."

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel laughs, and raises his own glass in salute. "Have you found the lady or the tiger, then?"

He's had the curacao. He's also had the Romulan ale. The two are distinctly different.

[i_am_your_host]

Oh, hello large beardy man!

"Well, I have known some ferocious ladies," he says cheerily (and one lady who is literally a tiger but he doesn't know that yet), "but this clearly has teeth and claws. Oof!"

His German accent is peeking through his French.

"Which one are you enjoying now?"

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel laughs. "I won't ask for names! Let me save myself a few suprises here. -- I'm with the lady, at the moment. She promises longer company, though perhaps more regret for it later, as is her right, I'm sure. But I think I must change my colors next, or be called a turncoat for taking another flag."

He has no hat, but motions through a very grand flourish of one anyway. "--Bahorel, late and always of Paris. Your accent I can't quite place, though." Hey, Germany wasn't even a unified country yet when he died!

[i_am_your_host]

Annnnd Emcee is instantly smitten. He can't help giggling brightly at his way with words.

"I don't believe in regrets," he chuckles. "But it will probably be best if you spread your attention to the other colors. They have their merits, too."

He then returns the flourish with one of his own in the shape of a theatrical bow. "A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Bahorel. Please do call me Emcee. I hail from Berlin, Germany, 1934 to be exact."

[clayforthedevil]

Giggling is good! And the bow is very nice. "A fine philosophy; I wholly endorse it, Monsieur Emcee." Monsieur is a wonderfully absurd word for people like they both obviously are, and he grins as he says it-- but it is a fine philosophy. He lifts a drink to it, this time a glass of red wine.

"And a fine city, from all I've seen --alas, only photographs. But she does look beautiful--and I do not flatter cities lightly." 1934..? "Is she kind as well as lovely, your Berlin?" There are worlds and there are worlds, after all.

[i_am_your_host]

Ah, the irony of formalities among the most informal of people. Being in a paid position of servitude, it's required of him to address people as such. Then it becomes a personal little game to see exactly who doesn't mind it, who demands it, and who insists it's not necessary.

"Berlin is beautiful, old and magnificent, staunch and stalwart, but she is not as kind as she once was, unfortunately," he admits, taking a large sip of his blue drink as if to punctuate how he really feels about that. "She is a rather harsh mistress."

[starrydome]

That is a very festive display.

Elrond drifts closer to look at the decorations and the refreshments looking, well, not particularly revolutionary, we're afraid.
More - sort of - noble?

He really can't help it. Although the silver circlet on his brow isn't really helping.
(Sorry about that).

[clayforthedevil]

Hey, some of Bahiorel's best friends can't help looking noble! It's not a sin. "Come to drink to the fall of tyrants, Citizen? I wouldn't advise the blue, myself" he goes on, taking another swallow of his own blue drink "it's not a dependable color in drinks. But the red and the white are both fine, and both French--very appropriate."

[starrydome]

"You are celebrating the downfall of tyrants?" Elrond asks and looks the drinks selections over again.

He chooses a glass of red wine and raises his glass.

[clayforthedevil]

"Nothing else; nothing less! The day when the people came together and knew they were a people, citizens together with their own force, and not mute subjects to be dispersed or struck down at the tap of a king's pen." He toasts it. "It was the beginning, only the beginning! of the great fight for the prize our little coterie died still trying to win. But there must be a beginning, always--and the fall of the Bastille was that beginning, in truth."

...Of course maybe Elrond really is lordly. It doesn't matter at all, except Bahorel would be even more blatant if he knew it was so.

[starrydome]

"There is strength in uniting for a common cause and taking back one's own power," Elrond agrees.


No matter where one stands on the topic of monarchy.

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel laughs. "There's a diplomatic answer! Very well,then, Monsieur Ambassador, share a glass--unless this isn't a drink for people of your world, but only name your drink, we can surely find it!" It's so much more fun to debate over drinks!

[starrydome]

"That is a title I have shouldered before," Elrond replies with a small smile.

"Old habits die hard. And wine is fine."
He pours a glass and raises it.

"When our enemies, who wanted nothing more than total subjugation of all The Free People, cried out 'Night has fallen', our answer was 'Day shall come again'. "