(2018-12-31) New Year Luau
The Boardroom hosts a luau to ring in the New Year. Grass skirts and coconut bras abound!
Players:
angela..elliot..ethan..noah..uma..vyv..

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The Boardroom Calaveras
Sat Dec 29, 2018 -- Sat Dec 29 21:19:29 2018


A wooden bar occupies the center of this small, hole-in-the-wall establishment - lacking for things like "free wi-fi" and slick interior design. The whole place has fewer than ten small, round tables with mismatched chairs scattered across the wooden floor and one L-shaped bar with five stools in front of it. This is not the place to come asking for specialty liquors, but it's a decent joint if you're looking for some place downtown, and the location means it turns a good bit of business on a week night. There are decent beers on tap, and you can get a middle-of-the-road cocktail for a not-unreasonable price.

There's one, good-sized TV stuck to the wall next to the bar, inevitably tuned to sports, and every other spare space on the wall is occupied by a random assortment of decorations: advertisements for liquor or local businesses, a smattering of framed photographs of Colorado scenery, pennants for the Rockies and the Broncos, and a dartboard at the back. The smell of beer, peanuts, and patrons hangs in the air, often battling with whatever song someone convinces the old-school jukebox to pump out.


It's super cold outside, and - every time the door opens - a blast of icy air makes its way into the high heat inside the Boardroom. An hour before midnight sees the joint packed, with music pouring out over the sound system, the Beach Boys, Margaritaville, anything with a warm-and-lazy twang to it. The heat really is cranked up, so it's right on the cusp of being too hot inside, making all the icy drinks that much more desirable. Anything with an umbrella in it is a buck off all night!

The back of the bar is staged for people to get super-cheesy photos taken in front of a wholly unconvincing beach scene; buy a print for $15. Everyone that comes in the door gets a cheap, fake-flower lei draped around their neck, and there are a few extra plastic grass-skirts and coconut bras floating around, if anyone's feeling ambitious.


Exits: [BR] Back Room - The Boardroom [O] Main and Route 10


There's a scene-set, so you can "look here" and read it. I can't be assed to rehash it. ;)

Ethan is, of course, wearing an appropriate get-up. He's opted for a white t-shirt under the coconut bra, and some tropical-printed board shorts under his grass skirt. Also flip-flops and sunglasses. And he's passing out cocktails from behind the bar before, snagging a super-blue one with his palm, he slips from behind that bar and delivers this extremely syrupy drink unto Angela. "I didn't even make it myself," he informs her cheerfully. Which means it's probably a good drink.
There was a request for things like coconut bikinis and who wouldn't be so kind as to do what it was that people asked for who were so damn adorable? Mean people.

Angela is mean, sometimes, but she's put on the required outfit, without the shirt under it, and without the shorts under the skirt, instead it's just a bikini bottom. She's got sunglasses pushed up on her head, her hair in a sloppy bun, and somehow she's found a pair of cheap tiki shaped earrings to wear for the night. "What if I'd wanted something you slaved over in front of a hot stove for hours making?" She wonders, but takes the drink and leans over to press a kiss against his cheek.

"Pay me to slave, and it's all yours." That's Ethan, who just delivered a fish-bowl sized drink to Angela, and got a kiss on his cheek as a tip. They're both in appropriately terrible tropical get-up, him with the white t-shirt under the coconut bra and shorts under the grass-skirt, her a little more realistic with the bikini under her kit. "Fuck this year," he adds, a little loudly since he says it right when the song shifts from one Beach Boys number to another one.
Fortunately, most everyone seems to be on the same page, and there's a general, "Yeah, fuck this year!" murmured through the crowd. People drink to that, so Ethan's happy.

"Why fuck this year?" Angela wonders, her brows lifting upwards a fraction as she tucks the straw in between her lips, taking a sip from her overly large liver-damage-in-a-bowl. "Because, I'm going to say this…some parts of it have been good."
There is, obviously, the other parts, so she adds after another sip, "Some parts have been terrible."

Uma can do this. She can mingle with complete strangers while wearing a coconut bra and a grass skirt. Happens every day. And, being unaware they would be on site, she's brought her own. As she steps inside they are hidden by a long coat, scarf and beanie - it is damn cold outside. The heat is welcome, allowing her to pull the scarf down enough to be able to speak with clarity as she heads to the bar. "Oooh…cheap cocktails. Can I have a 'Bahama Mama', please? Oh…if I put an umbrella in a beer, does it come cheaper?" Worth asking. The coat is undone to show off the outfit beneath a little but it still stays on for now. Drink clutched in her hands, she turns to survey the huge bar interior…which takes a couple of seconds. At least the beanie and scarf can come off and be stuffed into pockets.

The bartender hears Bahama Mama, so that's what Uma gets handed. The guy knows his way around a cocktail. Frat boys may still be opting for beers and trying that schtick - with the umbrella in them - but Ethan is quick to clarify, "No! Beers are full price, you cheap bastards."
Which sends a renewed wave of, "Fuck this year!"
That's still circulating when Ethan steals a pull off Angela's cocktail (which also includes a decent chance of diabetes to go with the liver disease), mulling over the taste with what's eventually a satisfied little hum. "How 'bout - fuck the first ten and a half months of this year? Can we agree on that? What do you think?" He includes Uma in the question, juuuuust tipsy enough at 11:30 PM to talk to anyone. "You in the 'fuck twenty-eighteen' camp or no?"

"Whatever this is, it's good too." Angela calls over to Uma, pointing towards the fishbowl drink that's being shamelessly stolen from her for a moment. When it's handed back she hugs it to her, tucking that straw right back into her mouth. It's clear she's had more than a few drinks tonight, because she talks right around that straw, "Alright, I'll support that." She lifts her free hand, "Fuck the first ten and a half months of this year!"

A long, low whistle leaves Ethan, and he tells Uma, "That's a shitty camp. Keep drinking, I'm sure you can start next year on a better note." As for his t-shirt, he plops down on a stool for a second - don't ask how he got one in a crowded bar; it's owner's magic - and picks at the bottom of it. "If I take it off, people go crazy. So I gotta do this, to protect all you guys." He hooks an arm around Angela's waist then, ostensibly 'cause he likes her so much but also to take more drinks. Until it occurs to him, "Shit! We need champagne glasses." He goes tearing ass off behind the bar.

"Oh, it wasn't that bad of a year." Angela shakes her head, taking the glass back when Ethan goes tearing off for champagne glasses, once more taking sips off it before she sets the giant fishbowl down on the bar. One elbow settles on it, chin tucking on her hand before she leans forward, holding a hand out in offer to Uma, "Angela Bell. I don't think we've met before…that's Ethan."

"Uma Campbell" the blonde replies, taking the hand to shake. "Doctor. Damn…I probably shouldn't have said that at a bar. Now everyone and their dog will want some advice and I'll see more boils and rashes than a person should at a party. Ethan? He seems to have a healthy ego" she smirks. "Are you two together? Not sure how I should process 2018 being such a bad year for you two if that is the case." Another sip of her drink. "This is yummy…and so bad for me." Time for the coat to come off.

"Hey! Doc! Can I take these with this?" Like, immediately after those words come out of Uma's mouth, a super-drunk guy shoves a bottle of amoxicillin at her, slurring the shit out of that question and pounding a pina colada.

Ethan missed the introductions, 'cause he's busy getting out plastic champagne flutes from a box behind the bar. Not for everyone, fuck all those NPCs, but he has a handful of them, and a bottle stuffed under his arm when he returns. "Open this," is Angela's job, he passes out plastic glasses, and someone has the foresight to make the TV change from sportsball-channel to the ball dropping.

"Yeah, we are." Angela replies with a smile at the question, and an amused look for the drunk already there seeking some advice. The bottle that is handed to her to open is taken, but before she opens it she points out, "You are going to have to pay me for this work." That work in question is pretty easy as she starts to pop that bottle open like an old pro. She might have opened a few bottles of bubbly over the years.

Elliot did promise that he would be here, and while he is a little bit on the late side, he is here! And he's wearing an extremely loud mostly blue hawaiian shirt over a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Gone is the tweedy chic for the evening, and he comes in with company. Noah is there with him, similarly dressed save the hawaiian shirt is screaming yellow. Angela would likely recognize them both as Elliot's from previous parties over the years. On entry there is a grass skirt shoved at him, and Elliot ties it around his waist over his jeans, but there are no coconuts for him. Instead, he leads Noah over in the direction of Angela and Ethan, giving his sister a hug and a kiss to the cheek before saying, "Hey. How are you guys doing? Angela, Ethan, this is Noah, Noah.. my sister, and her fiance." He then smiles at Uma as well and nods a hello.

Noah is most definitely here in his blindly bright banana-yellow Hawaiian shirt, taking the grass skirt and coconut bra that's shoved his way with a laugh. "No coconuts for you?" He nudges his shoulder into Elliot's own as he ties the grass skirt about his waist, trying to figure out how to fit the coconuts over his shoulders because he's a good sport /unlike some people Elliot/. He dutifully follows to the bar, still fidgetting with the bra like someone who has literally no experience with these sorts of things would as he's introduced. "Hi!" he offers, extending a hand to Angela and Ethan in turn. "It's nice to meet you both, Elliot's said really nice things about you two."

Uma smiles the smile of the patient as she is assaulted by a…patient. "If you need to take these…" she informs him, holding the bottle up for him to make her point, "…you shouldn't be drinkng." They won't react to alcohol but he should be taking better care of himself if he needs antibiotics. She slips the bottle back into the man's pocket. "Why don't you go home and get some rest once the ball drops?" More cowards arrive. Grass skirt over jeans? The shame! After another sip of her Bahama Mama, she offers a smile and a nod to the new arrivals. At least Uma has the bra on with nothing underneath! No clothing at least. And the grass skirt has bare legs beneath it. She's in the spirit…and finishing off a spirit. "Can I have another?" she asks the barkeep.

Ethan's in his cups enough that he pays Angela right then, kissing the hell out of her and taking the bottle from her at the same time. "You can keep the change." Thankfully, he's out of the way by the time Elliot arrives for the hug-and-cheek-kiss, busy pouring glasses. He shoves one at Elliot immediately, saying, "Digging the shirt, man." Then foists a glass into Noah's hand - which was obviously there to take a glass, not to shake. "What's up, man, nice to meet you." Drunk Ethan dgaf; "Are you guys on a date?" Whatever the answer really is, it's forever 'yes' in Ethan's mind, 'cause he's moved on to waving Uma away from the bar. "Fuck that, take this," champagne glass. "We got a minute here." No, seriously. The TV says 60 seconds.

"My doc said," hiccough, "not to take them on an empty stomach!" The drunk guy on antibiotics spills off to find whoever he came with and leave Uma alone and spread the t-Virus to everyone here.

Payment accepted, bottle given away, and glass received. Life is great, and it gets even better when Elliot shows up with a date. Angela might be usually a little more circumspect about things, but she's had enough to drink tonight that she truly looks excited by this fact there is a Noah with her brother, "It is so nice to meet you." she then gestures towards Uma, "Doctor Campbell, this my brother Elliot and his date, Noah. Guys, this is Uma Campbell….she's a doctor."

Elliot is nudged, and he smirks just a ltitle bit, "No, no coconut that isn't part of a drink." He does grin though as they are all introduced and a drink is shoved into his hand as well as Noah's. He doesn't even have time to answer Ethan's question before the man is turning away, his mouth open just a little bit. He laughs then and downs the drink, "Another. I have some catching up to do." It's one minute til midnight, and he needs at least one more drink. He makes sure he's out of the way of the drunken sick dude, nudging in closer to Noah to let the guy pass. He then says, "Hi Uma," when introductions are made, "Nice to meet you."

Vyv's cutting it close, slipping in mere minutes before midnight. One'd think maybe he was dropping in on the way from or to somewhere, but given he seems to be more or less dressed for the venue, perhaps not. Coconut bras and grass skirts are Not Happening, Thank You, but he's given a nod to the theme nonetheless, in a pale cream linen-blend three-piece suit over a turquoise cotton aloha shirt printed with birds of paradise in their hues of orange, indigo, and green. It's a well-done pattern, if only saved from being Decidedly Loud by being mostly hidden under the suit. The points of a turquoise pocket square with tiny orange polkadots emerge tidily from his breast pocket, and on his feet are brown-and-beige brogued oxford spectator shoes.
He heads directly to the bar, sliding in where an opening's made by someone moving away and paying absolutely no apparent attention to the woman who'd expected to slide into that spot herself once it opened up. Too slow, lady, get slinkier. The important thing is he'll have something to drink before the ball drops. Something involving rum, probably. And maybe a paper umbrella. It's not until that's sorted that he starts giving the rest of those assembled a proper looking-over.

"She meant food!" Uma yells after the antibiotic man before a little sigh. "I should warn the emergency department" she mutters under her breath before there is champagne glass being thrust in her direction, followed by champagne one hopes. A smile for the new arrivals as she is introduced. Elliot…she knows. "Hi, we met once before. At Maude's. It's fine if you don't remember. Part of my work is remembering people. Are you in the 'hate 2018' camp? Everyone else seems to be." She can't help but glance over at the Truman Capote Dress-Alike Competition winner (aka Vyv) - someone made an effort.

The Doctor-word gets uttered again, and some woman is like, "Hey, is this serious?!" And tries to show Uma a rash on her arm - but her boyfriend/husband/whatever intervenes with an embarrassed, "Hon, stop showing your rash to strangers!" And he wheels her away, toward the guy with the t-Virus. So it can mutate into a lesion-borne disease.

Ethan passes out more plastic champagne glasses, ridding himself of the lot of them. Coincidentally, he has one that he plonks down in front of Vyv, snapping his fingers a couple times to conjure a memory (btw he's tipsy af), "Poor unfortunate souls guy, right? Here." Free (cheap) champagne, and he takes off one of his polyester-flower leis to sling it in Vyv's general direction. The bartender is much more professional, and makes the actual drink, leaving Ethan free to hook his arm back around Angela's waist and tip his cheap glass against hers with a plasticy 'tick' instead of a satisfying glass 'clink.'

The TV leads everyone in the chant: "Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. SIX. FIVE…"

"Uhh —" comes Noah's response, about the whole date thing, but then drunk Ethan's shoving drinks in his hand and he just shrugs his shoulders. There's no time to answer, the clock is ticking down you guys! So he flashes a polite smile to Uma, a quick 'hey!' before he clinks his glass against Elliot's own. That looks like the thing to do in the moment.

"That is a gorgeous suit." Angela states, looking at what Vyv is wearing with the appreciation of someone that usually doesn't wear the coconut bra and tiki earrings she's wearing currently.
But then there is the count down, and her attention turns towards the television to watch that stupid ball drop, joining in the count-down so that when that one hits, she's on time for her New Years kiss.

"Yes, I think we did. You were there with Katherine at the time, right?" Elliot asks with a smile. "I recall." He might not recall all the details of the conversation, but he does remember her. He doesn't correct either Ethan or Angela calling it a date, though he does notice Noah's reaction and he gives him a reassuring smile and murmurs, "They're drunk," to him, and clinks his glass against Noah's own once he acquires his second drink, and begins the countdown along with all the others there, raising his glass into the air and grinning at those around him.

"Mm. Yes, my most salient talent," Vyv murmurs rather dryly to Ethan's identification, but hey, it comes with champagne, so that's automatically a step up. Even if it does also come with plastic flowers; he looks at those dubiously, but wraps it loosely around his wrist for the moment. If nothing else, it gets it out of the way of the drink. "Ta," he adds, probably for the bubbly, and Angela gets both an entire, "Thank you," and the hint of an actual smile for her remark. He leans lightly against the bar, watching as the count-down, well, counts down. It takes until 'three' for him to actually join in aloud.

There are always rashes, but thankfully the boyfriend stepped in before Uma had to check it out. At least there is lots of alcohol around to keep things clean. No zombie apocalypse is starting on her watch! She nods to Elliot. "Yes, Katherine was there too." Ball dropping time! With no one to tink glasses with, Uma will quietly watch the televsion until the cheering starts.

"FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE!" Yay! No one in this room died in 2018. Now everyone kiss~! Most people have someone to kiss, but the frat guys do the high-five thing (a few of them kiss, too, and a couple crush plastic cups of beer with loud roars), and some of the bar-tramps try to make out with each other hotly, but they're mostly just sloppy-drunk so it's not sexy. But they try, especially the ones that have strategically arranged themselves in what they assume is Vyv's line-of-sight.

Ethan definitely has someone to kiss, though, and does so. He <3s Angela, guys, and he owns the bar, so everyone can just deal with it while he makes out with his lady for a minute.

Outside, of course, there are a bunch of people firing off their guns in the air - POP POP POP!!! Crash! A car alarm goes off. Everyone cheers. (New Year's is kind of a stupid holiday if you think about it.)

"I can see that," Noah replies to Elliot about Ethan and Angela being totally wasted, but he's laughing about it all the same. He gets into the countdown around the '5' mark, then it's all downhill from there, until the balls drop and everybody's making out. There's an awkward shuffling of his feet, but Noah will at some point grasp Elliot by the screaming blue collar of his Hawaiian shirt and bring him in for a smooch. Until the guns go off, that's pretty fucking distracting.

There might be welcomes in return for the thank yous, or further comments about how Angela's totally not that drunk. (She is.) But there are things that require a full set of her attention when that ball drops and it's a HAPPY NEW YEAR moment. There is kisses given, the kind that usually has drunk frat boys shouting 'get a room' at the person doing the kissing. Which sadly…that means that SOMEONE misses the fact her brother gets his own new years smooch. Opportunities are being wasted here.

Vyv does not have anyone handy to kiss, or at least certainly not anyone he's willing to soberly entertain the idea of kissing, which is a shame, really. But at least he has champagne. He takes a drink of that instead, glancing briefly toward the sound of the gunfire outside before watching all the various kisses that /do/ get distributed around the place; the bar-tramps in theoretical-eyeline will probably be disappointed that they don't seem to qualify as particularly eye-catching. A couple of the others he spots do lead to another faint smile, though, as he takes another, slightly larger, drink from his glass. "And a happy new year," he murmurs to no one in particular.

There is that moment when they reach one, that he does turn and look at Noah in time to be about to say Happy New Year, when his collar is grasped, and Elliot grins for just a moment before he returns that New Year's kiss, curling his fingers into the front of Noah's terrifyingly yellow shirt to pull him in a little closer. It's New Year's and he's got someone to kiss, and so he's going to kiss him properly. Then the guns go off and he sighs, shaking his head a bit, as he glances toward the door. But even that distraction can only detain him for so long. Then he does finally turn back toward Noah and says, "Happy New Year," just loud enough to be heard over the din.

Uma is in the no one to kiss camp too, so she will quietly sip on her champagne while avoiding looking at all those who do. The sound of gunfire makes her sigh. When will people learn those bullets still have to land somewhere. Should she go and check? And miss out on seeing drunk people's boils? She drains her glass and places it carefully on the bar. "Happy New Year everyone."

Patient Zero really tries to get Auld Lang Syne to happen, but the number of people in the room that know the lyrics sober is pretty slim; the number of people that know them drunk is infinitesimal, only a couple of people shouting, "OLD ANG SIGN!" Against the background of a couple more gunshots, and then a bunch of pops that are firecrackers.

Ethan had been eating Angela's face when Noah and Elliot do their smooch thing, but he comes around enough to hitch a thumb toward those two afterward, grinning triumphantly. Like he totally made that happen. "Happy New Year," he takes up after Vyv and Uma, knocking back what's left of his champagne in one gulp. "Happy new year, doc, happy new year, Ursula." Fist-bumps all around. "Twenty-nineteen is going to be awesome."

"Happy New Year, Elliot," Noah replies over the drunken cheers, smoothing down the front of Elliot's too-loud shirt with a quick pat-pat before he leans away to drain the rest of his glass. And to think, Angela missed it ALL, and now it looks like nothing at all happened. What a shame, what a shame! "Happy New Year, everbody!" he adds, lifting his (tragically empty) glass to Vyv and Uma, and Ethan and Angela too.

Elliot likewise releases the front of Noah's shirt, tugging it lightly back into place before lifting his glass to those around adn wishing them all a Happy New Year. He catches the look from Ethan and laughs just a little bit. He has no doubt that Ethan will take total credit. The cheap champagne is sipped, and Elliot looks pretty damned happy. He leans comfortably against the bar for a time, just people watching the celebration going on. He then says to Noah, "Going to need to be careful going home with people out there firing off guns." Because drunk with guns is always a great idea.

Vyv looks… bemused, frankly, by Ethan's attempt at a fist-bump, blinking at the hand once, but— eh, what the hell. He moves a hand to meet it. Congratulations, Ethan, you probably got the only Vyv fist-bump that has ever existed. "Happy new year," he replies, the tone still a touch dry. Maybe it's making up for festive hand gestures. "And let's hope so." Worth drinking to, at least! Or maybe it's just worth drinking. Either way, he drains what's left of the champagne, and trades the glass out for the awaiting cocktail. Uma, being nearby, gets a head-inclination of acknowledgement. And maybe of subtle new year wishes, if it's being eloquent.

There is a shocked, and pleased look for the whole Elliot/Noah kissing thing. Then Angela is downing the rest of her champagne before that plastic glass is set down on the bar. In response to Vyv's comment she leans in that direction, pointing out not at all as quietly as she probably means to, "We're getting married. Of course it's going to be a great year."

Uma will take the reserved Vyv style acknowledgement, offering a smile in return. "You're dressed very nice" she notes, though Vyv probably knows this already. "I hope no one throws up on you." It's New Year's Eve, these things happen! "Congratulations" she smiles to Angela. "Best of luck to you both."

Ethan puts the Vyv fist-bump in a trophy case, polishes it nightly~ "We're getting married," he echoes after Angela (no clue who he's talking to, must be Uma), and it's hard to tell if this is news to him or just a joyful proclamation that bears repeating. He's in that state of inebriation where he's better off parroting other people's thoughts than trying to form his own.
So when "MORE BEERS!" gets shouted by the frat guys - one of whom runs right into Noah and Elliot with a guffawed, "PROFESSORS! Happy New Years, profs!" - Ethan has to agree. "More beers." He's allowed to go behind the bar and get some; they have to pay.

"When is the wedding?" Noah asks Angela in a truly interested sort of way, reaching to grasp Elliot's hand just moments before someone comes running right into the two of them. It makes him stumble and pull Elliot along with him, startled but, hey. It's New Year! "Uh, right. More beers!" he puts his hand in the air in solidarity with the frat boy, but it's definitely the hand that's holding Elliot's, so it's going to be obvious to everybody.

"Really? Mn. I don't even remember proposing," Vyv says to Angela, taking a sip of his new drink before one corner of his mouth breaks the deadpan by twitching slightly upward. "Congratulations; I'm sure you'll be very happy. Have you set a date?" The little smile remains at Uma's first words, with an even smaller inclination of his head acknowledging them, though the addition gets a touch of mild horror. "God, so do I," he says, "I can't imagine beginning the year with a homicide would bode well. And thank you." He can't honestly return the compliment, though he does glance over her current gear and settle on, "You look quite festive. Vyvyan Vydal, incidentally, hello."

Elliot grins at Angela and Ethan and their proclamations of their impending nuptials, feeling Noah taking his hand, and slipping his fingers between Noah's, just in time for the frat boys to crash into them. Good thing he wasn't holding onto a glass at the time. He laughs a bit, not seeming to mind being crashed into, reaching out a steadying hand to help the frat boy right himself just in time for Noah to raise their joined hands in solidarity for more beer. Yep, that's pretty obvious. Elliot pauses for a moment, a look of surprise crossing his face, and then he laughs and says "More beer, indeed." He looks over at Ethan and says, "I think we could use a couple more drins, ourselves." He doesn't let go of Noah's hand at all though, instead just drawing him a little closer by it.

"Spring wedding." Angela decides, spur of the moment, in the drunken manner of someone that has not at all, at any point, ever, considered setting a date before this exact moment. "Some spring." She adds, because spring is, technically, just around the corner and no proper society wedding can be planned in just a few months time. "But spring. With flowers, and cake. Plus an open bar." These are all important things that she offers up before sliding off her stool, moving towards her brother to give Elliot a hug, telling him once more in a not quiet enough voice, "I like your date, he seems nice."

Ethan, handing out beers (sorry, but almost everyone has to pay), does a quick double-take at Vyv. "Is that your real name?" He didn't hear most of the conversation between Vyv and Uma, but he caught that, and he reels back from it - while Angela is over there telling everyone about their wedding. "Beers?" he asks of Elliot and Noah. "Anything else - " He hitches a thumb toward the bartender, who is stone-cold sober and still mixing up fruity drinks like the professional that he is. "Yeah, you seem nice," he tells Noah. Like he's known the guy way more than fifteen intoxicated minutes.

"Festive? I think I look like a fruit salad that has gone off" Uma replies to Vyv with a smile. "I'm Doctor Uma Campbell, nice to meet you." A nod for Angela. "Spring is a nice time for weddings. Could always go for Valentine's Day? I should probably get going. I have to be home in time to glare at my sister when she gets home. Nice to meet you all. Here's to future days."

Noah's not beneath paying, it seems, although he should definitely get his beers for free seeing as Ethan thinks he seems nice. But out goes his wallet, along with a crisp twenty slid to the bartender in exchange for a couple of beers, one of which was deposited in Elliot's hand after he's done being hugged by his sister. "You should do the day /after/ Valentine's Day. Everybody else gets married on the day, you could be different," he suggests helpfully, while taking a swallow of his drink. "The two of you seem pretty nice, too, by the by. So thanks."

"I'm sorry, were you sold on 'Ursula'?" Vyv asks Ethan, tone amused. "But yes, it is, so you'll have to take it up with my parents, I suppose. Most people call me Vyv, if that improves matters any." Another sip of his drink, and this one hides most of the brief increase in the faint smile that Uma's remark on her own outfit draws. "Not enough pineapple for that," he tells her, "but the lack of glace cherries is probably for the best regardless. Pleasant meeting you; I hope your sister wilts appropriately." As for the wedding, the declaration of spring gets a nod, whether it be this impending one or another, but no further comment as Angela heads away.

Elliot smiles and gives Angela a one-armed hug in return, because it seems he has no interest in letting go of Noah at the moment. He gives her a kiss on the cheek and a smile, and murmurs back to her, "He is." He then smiles over at Uma and says, "Happy New Year, Uma, and say Happy New Year to Eve when you're done glaring at her," he chuckles. There is a beer for him, and he says thanks to Noah for that with a grin, "Next one is on me." He glances over at Vyv and asks "What is a glace cherry?"

"Good bye, Doctor!" Angela is at least aware enough to catch on to the fact everyone keeps saying good bye. She then releases her brother so that she can move back to her seat, and the giant fishbowl drink that she'll never finish despite having been drinking on it from before the time of the count down. "A cherry."

There are very few places where it's socially acceptable to say, "Lemme see your I.D.," to someone. A bar happens to be one of them, so Ethan gets away with it. He needs proof of this, Vyvyan Vydal. For once, Uma gets to say the word 'doctor' without getting immediately molested by someone with pills or rashes, so she can leave in peace (letting the virus spread in here). Leaning on the bar for a second, Ethan has to ask, "Wait, isn't a glace cherry just a maraschino cherry?" He has a bunch of those, flipping up the lid on the little tub full of them to hold one up by the stem.
The bartender hits him on the hand and closes the lid.

"There is a really great trick you can do with maraschino cherries and shaker cups," Noah remarks, nudging Elliot in the side. "Remind me to show you sometime, I think I've got a jar of those back at my place," he grins, tilting the beer back up to his lips for another sip. He looks on curiously as Ethan demands to see Vyv's ID, brows hiking subtly. "Vyvyan Vydal is a very unique name. Like a super hero." Or a villian.

Even in this venue it gets a raised brow, particularly since Vyv's already got a drink, but all right, (ID) cards on the table. He pulls the slim wallet that paid for the cocktail out of his jacket's inner pocket again and flips it open for Ethan's perusal. Vyvyan Vydal, it says. Or 'Vydal, Vyvyan Oscar', technically. And now Ethan can see all the Ys you can't hear, too!
"A glace cherry is a candied cherry," he explains, meanwhile, "Soaked in a sugar syrup until it crystalizes. Not quite a maraschino cherry, which is what that is," he indicates the one the bar owner's come up with, "Often made of them, but fresh ones work as well, if you want a less… virulent shade of red." He'll explain the food. The joke, people are on their own for. Something else emerges from the wallet before he snaps that shut and slides it away again; a business card, which he silently slips toward Angela's groom-to-be. Noah gets a turn with the faintly amused look for the super-hero remark. It does little to dissuade anyone who might be leaning more toward the alternate interpretation.

"Oh," he says when it's explained what a glace cherry is. Though Elliot laughs when Ethan gets his hand smacked by the bartender for reaching in and grabbing one from the container. "It is a pretty cool name," he agrees, though he makes no attempt to look at Vyv's ID to confirm it. Instead, he grins over at Noah and says, "Yeah? You'll have to show me." He seems game for seeing the trick. Though Vyv's explanation of the difference in the cherries makes him chuckle and he says, "What's wrong with the virulent red? It's like a warning — here there be sugar." Glancing over at Angela's drink he asks her, "What are you drinking?"

Ethan pulls his hand back with a pissy, "Ow, man. Too hard." But the number of fucks the bartender gives is exactly zero, so Ethan's left rubbing the back of his hand (pouting) and peering at Vyv's ID intently. Not gonna lie, he hears absolutely nothing about the cherries, busy mouthing the words on that ID with knitted brows. "That's fucked up," he says quietly. "What is that? Like Portugese or something?" He picks up the business card and turns it over for a second, no room number on the back? 'Kay, he passes it across to Angela, mumbling about patisserie en francais. Noah and Elliot don't speak French (losers), but - for everyone else - it's something about cherry wedding cakes and whether or not that's really tacky. He's drunk. :D

"No idea." Angela replies, glancing down into the giant glass before she holds it out towards Elliot in case he might want to try some of it. All the talk of cherries though, she doesn't much seem to have an opinion. Glaring red or not. "I'm fairly certain that the bartender made it extra strong…but maybe he didn't." When Ethan slides the card towards her she reaches for it, picking it up to examine it. Then she shakes her head at Ethan, responding in less than perfect French, because damnit she's drunk, "Chocolate and cherries."

If there was a joke about cherries, Noah completely misses it. "Are they talking .. french? Spanish?" he's not sure, glancing between Angela and Ethan before hiking his brows in Elliot's direction. "Do you speak French? I only know Klingon. And a little bit of Elvish," of course he does.

"Nothing, if it's a cocktail," Vyvyan answers Elliot, adding more archly, "…or one's blind. And anyone eating my work and not expecting a certain amount of sugar deserves precisely what he gets, so I'm personally inclined to stick to the less fluorescent variety in most cases." He's /not/ drunk; unless this isn't the first stop of the night after all, presumably this is the sober version.
"Catalan," he answers Ethan's question, "…or English, mostly, depending which part you mean." Another sip of the drink, listening to the french mumbles, the corner of his mouth going up again. Somehow, he resists the urge to chip in on the tackiness or lack thereof of cherry wedding cakes, but does add also in French, "…and frequently kirsch."

"French, I think," Elliot says to Noah and then shakes his head when asked if he speaks French. He does not though he grins when Noah mentions Klingon and Elvish. He smiles a little amusedly over at Vyv and doesn't seem to mind the answer, just giving him a nod. He eyes Angela's drink when she offers it toward him and he takes a sip of it, then looks at it a little bit circumspect. Given that it's his third drink in within a fairly short amount of time, he seems to be approaching a little bit tipsy himself. He grins at Noah and says, "Say something in Elvish."

Ethan's French accent is terrible under the best of circumstances. His drunk French accent is just… So he stops trying, going back to English to say, "Sure. Chocolate and cherries and isn't Catalan just like French but more fucked up? And wait!" Elliot and Noah are over there talking about Elvish, and he's got this, you guys. He digs around in his pocket, pulls out his ring, and shoves it at Noah. "Speak the Black Speech of Mordor!" He chin-props. Waiting.

"Spanish." Angela supplies for Ethan, "Catalonia…" She thinks. Whatever. She lifts the card though, "I'll be calling." For that wedding with no actual date set. Or maybe just the fact that there needs to be an excuse for fancy cake now. She takes her drink, sets it back down on the bar, then reaches a hand out towards Vyv, "Angela Bell." She is HONESTLY not sure if she'd ever introduced herself, probably because drunk.

"Pedin edhellen, Elliot," coos Noah over to his date, and since none of you losers know Elvish according to your sheets unlike Noah who is clearly very awesome? You'll have to google. Nerds. He would've probably launched deeper into the fake language he learned through all those nights of D&D and reading Tolkien, but Ethan's producing the god damn one ring and Noah's jaw literally drops. "Is that.." of course it is, the precious! "One ring to rule them all," he murmurs reverantly under his breath, "But the black speech is accursed!"

"As a language? Both, I think, " Vyv says, "I believe it's mostly spoken in Spain, now, but also in les Pyrenees-Orientales. …and possibly Andorra?" A light shrug. Linguistics is not precisely his field. Angela gets a small smile and head-inclination for the note that she'll be calling, and he accepts the hand, shaking it. "Vyvyan Vydal," he says, the smile rising a touch, though remaining crooked, "You may have heard. Pleased to meet you." The nearby nerdening gets a sidelong look and arched brow, but no direct comment. Yet, anyway.

Elliot grins and says, "You just told me to go fuck myself, didn't you?" Because he has no idea what that means in Elvish, and he's highly amused. Though when Ethan produces a ring, and Noah identifies it, he can't help but laugh, shaking his head, and goes back to drinking his beer. "Nerds," he teases, though it's affectionate. He seems to be pleasantly amused by all of the goings on around him, and content to just watch everyone else interact for the moment.

With a big grin and a bigger shrug, Ethan informs Noah, "What can I say? Bells know how to treat their men." He puts the ring - sorry, the Ring on, even. He does not turn invisible, just so everyone knows. Then there are two snaps, one from each finger, and he points to all the people who definitely are not nerds and the people that are nerds (you guys decide amongst yourself who's who). "I'mma go take some pictures," since there are people queuing up over by his awesome tropical setting.

"I have the whole Fellowship in Funko Pops," Noah tells Ethan proudly, as though that was something to actually be proud about. "But the Ring is awesome, I'm jealous." And then he sinks back down into his chair to gasp at Elliot. "What? No! The Elvish language isn't so vile. If I was going to insult you, I would have told you to go French-kiss an orc," and just for the flair, he says it in Elvish: "Eca, a mitta lambetya cendeless? orcova!" That's a real phrase, ya'll. It makes Noah laugh. "I just told you that I speak Elvish."

"I think that he just said that we're all idiots." Angela offers towards Elliot, reaching for her drink once more for a sip off it before she continues, "Charge double." She calls after Ethan when he goes to take pictures of people. "What brings you to our sleepy little town, Mister Vydal?"

Vyv looks for a moment like it's Noah that's speaking a foreign language, and that's just at the part about his pride and joy, well before he actually /is/. Thankfully, he has a perfectly good excuse to pretend not to notice, though it would have been more convincing before that expression. "I decided it was time to open a patisserie of my own," he answers Angela, "and after looking about a bit, Calaveras seemed promising. About right, in most ways. Not too terribly sleepy, really. But not three days into a meth bender, either."

Elliot lifts a hand to wave to Ethan as he heads over to take some pictures in front of his fancy luau backdrop, chuckling, and then he looks back toward Noah and grins, "I like your funko pops. They're pretty cool." He doesn't have any of his own, but he has admired Noah's collection. He then laughs at Noah's gasp, grinning as he is then told to go kiss an orc. "I see. I'll remember that." He gives Noah a little nudge with one shoulder, "I know you did. And I believed you. But there is definitely no doubt now." He looks over toward Angela and chuckles, pushing her drink back toward her so that she can reclaim it.

"I don't think there is a word for 'idiot' in Elvish," Noah remarks to Angela, but it's a thoughtful sort, a finger quickly tapped to his lips. Then, he simply smiles to her. "But even if there was, I wouldn't say it about you," and that seems sincere. As Vyv talks of pastry shops, Noah slides out of his seat, shyly taking Elliot's hand again. "Do you want to go maybe take some pictures?" He points to where Ethan's run off to. He's going either way!

"Well, that sounds like a grand idea. Your own place." Then because she's less than sober, and despite it being the most obvious reason to give out business cards, she asks, "You do do wedding cakes, right?" That card is waved, in case he forgot he handed it over. This is what happens when drunk people are left to continue conversations.

Vyv's seen drunk people do worse. Even now worse is threatening to break out here and there, but as long as it's not near /their/ shoes, whatever. This, he just half-smiles at again. "I do," he confirms, appropriately enough to the topic. "Particularly good ones, too." No 'if I do say so myself'. He just does. "Is it a recent engagement?" he asks, and gets a bit further through that drink.

"Christmas." Angela replies, since that is quite a recent thing, in fact. "I wasn't actually expecting it." She waves a hand towards where Ethan is over there doing things with cameras. "But he surprised me, and it was wonderfully romantic, but the flowers got a bit dinged up in the process. There were these Viennese cakes he brought home, pink…rum…Some sort of apricots. Don't suppose that you'd be able to replicate this?"

Quite recent indeed! Vyv arches a brow at the note about the flowers, and for a moment one can just about see the war between the desire to ask and the suspicion he might actually prefer not to know. But then it's moving into cake, and he's saved by that distraction. A slight furrow in his brow, as she describes it, which clears up as he asks, making a space about an inch and a half wide between finger and thumb of his free hand, "Around this big? That sounds like a punschkrapfen. If so, yes, I can make those. If not… I'd need more information, but I'm quite sure I could replicate it given that and a bit of time, yes."

"Yes…that. Punch cake." Angela tucks the card away finally, which proves harder than you'd imagine since she is unlucky enough to be wearing the coconuts. "If you can make that, I'd buy it from you. I think that I might surprise him with it, just for laughs."

Does it really count as unluckiness if one presumably had to cooperate? Vyv can't quite help watching the procedure, though it looks intrigued and a little bemused again, rather than anything untoward. "Punch cake," he agrees, slightly too solemnly not to be a touch amused; he pronounced the German like someone who knows the language, if she's still sober enough to note that sort of detail. Or at least like someone who knows his cakes, which is probably more important in this context. "Do you have a particular time for it in mind?" he asks, but there's no time really to answer before a thought strikes him, and he gestures vaguely toward the card, or at least where it's been housed, "Feel free to call and let my assistant arrange things. Just let her know you've spoken to me about it already, since it's not one of our standard offerings."

"That I don't know yet." Angela shakes her head, "But I'll give your assistant a call to arrange things, also to arrange a time to come speak with you about wedding cakes." Also no telling when, since she seems to be lacking any sense of dates at all. What she does know, though, is that it might just be time to find a place that isn't spinning. "If Ethan comes back, tell him I went to lay down upstairs. It was really nice to meet you."

As long as it's not before that alcohol finds one or another way to leave her system, it'll probably work out fine. Vyv, at least, doesn't seem worried about it, and whether or not that has any relation to nearly being at the end of his drink seems unlikely to matter in the long run. "If he does, I shall. And yes, a pleasure meeting you as well. Do feel better… and happy new year." He gives her a small nod of farewell, and polishes off the last of his drink as he turns to set the glass on the bar, and lure the bartender over for another.

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