Special Event: Pilot Ridge Holiday Bash!

[Esme Bakus]

Esme was, in the words she’s used to her mother on the phone, nervous as hell. She’s anguished over her outfit and worried about how big of a fool she’d make of herself. She’d video called every last one of her brothers (well really, her sister-in-laws) and demanded to know how she looked and what she should do. She’d lamented to Ella how nervous she was and then she’d finally just gotten ready. It had been a while since she attended the Holiday Bash, but she was glad to be getting back to it.

Especially if she was going with Feivel. Which was really the only reason she was nervous.

The bell rang and she shot down the stairs faster than she’d gone anywhere in heels, no matter how expert she was at moving in them. With her hand poised on the door, she squealed in frustration, reeling into the kitchen to snatch up her purse and coat. She wanted the dress she’d anguished over to be a surprise, so the jacket was a must. She was snapping shut the last button on the high-collared jacket when she opened the door and offered Feivel a breathless “Hey!” She greeted eagerly.

She sighed softly as she closed the door behind her. “Wow, you looked really nice Feivel.” She complemented, smiling up at him sweetly. The heels helped, but a foot and some change was a lot of height and she still had to crane her neck to really get a good look into Feivel’s eyes.

Peering curiously to the empty spot where Feivel’s car ought to be, Esme nodded slowly. “Yeah! I’m ready.” She chuckled nervously, and curled the end of her flattened hair around her finger. “I’ve really been looking forward to this. Thank you for coming to get me.”

[Spencer Cox]

Parties like these, even if they were for a very good cause, weren't exactly Spencer's 'scene'. Mainly because of his social awkwardness and tendency towards being a motor mouth in such situations, but also because you were sort of expected to dance when a dance floor had been provided. And Spencer certainly could not dance. Not to save his life. Or anyone else's, for that matter. Actually, his 'moves' would probably have killed someone long ago had he been given the chance. You couldn't even really call what he did 'dancing'; more accurately it was 'flailing'. Still, he would give it a spirited try, were he asked. After all, why not make the most of a function like this one?

He had, of course, paid the admission fee - how else would he have got in? - and he'd brought a few paltry donations for the charity. Seeing what some other people had brought made him feel sort of... stingy, but he honestly couldn't afford more than what he'd managed. Not wanting to feel too bad about it for the rest of the evening, he went to the bar, bought a drink and went to the edge of the dance floor, absently swaying side to side in an arrhythmic fashion.

Looking around at the dancing couples and groups, he realised something that really should have been obvious from the start. He should have brought someone to this thing. Maybe he could pretend he was doing research for a novel in which a character went to one of these charity thingies, if anyone said anything. Except that would make him sound incredibly lonely... What sort of guy would need to go to a special event just to find out what a party was like? Scratching that idea from his mind (vigorously), he took a drink from his glass before venturing into the fray. After all, he would have to be at least semi-proactive if he was going to make the most of it.

[Sam Caraway]

Somewhat surprisingly, Sam had never attended a Pilot Ridge Holiday Bash. Sure, he had moved away before he had been old enough to legally go to one, but things like that didn’t usually stop Sam from attempting to do something he wanted to do. Somehow, Mason had managed to talk him out of trying to gatecrash during their school years, and a Christmas miracle must have happened: Sam had actually listened to him.

So for once, Sam was doing something completely and totally normal – and legal. He had bought a ticket, donned a suit (dusty blue, with a darker shirt and a silver tie, if you must know), and now he was leaning against the bar with a drink in hand, watching the world go by. Perhaps the most startling thing was that he technically had a date, if he chose to call it that. He and Josef hadn’t arrived together or anything, but Sam was here because Josef had asked him to be, and as a result he was feeling pretty good about himself. It was strange to think that an invitation could have this effect on him, but maybe that was because everything to do with Josef seemed to be totally new to him.

It was strange, for instance, to be the one who was asked – rather than the one who did the asking. It was strange to be just a little nervous about seeing someone – usually, Sam never felt nervous at all. In short, he actually felt as if he cared about the outcome of this, and that was something he had only felt twice before.

Sammy Caraway, you sound like a fourteen-year-old girl. He took a sip of his scotch and smirked at his own stupidity. Thinking like a dreamy youngster would get him nowhere – he just had to have fun, and ignore any instinct to think beyond the immediate picture. Living in the moment, wasn’t that what life was all about? He was wearing his favourite suit, he was surrounded by happy people, and he had the comfortable knowledge that at least one person in the room wanted him to be there.

Not that said person seemed to have arrived yet. Lifting his head, Sam scanned the hall.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh noticed the tenseness in Gerard's posture, though his assumption was that Gerard was simply an awkward introvert like Cobalt or Riley; it didn't occur to him that the other man's discomfort was due to his relationship with Sean because they were in Pilot Ridge, which was one of most gay friendly cities in the entire United States of America.

So he ignored the awkwardness in favor of smiling brightly as the bartender pushed round two in front of them, grabbing his drink and quickly bringing it to his lips as Sean denied all knowledge of him.

He tilted his head to one side, scrutinizing the telepath, brows drawn down seriously. "Goodness gracious!" He exclaimed after a moment, "And who are you? Have I accidentally swapped partners with someone else again?" He shook his head despairingly, taking a rather unnecessarily huge gulp of his cocktail. "This happens all the time," He assured Gerard, removing his hand from his partner's knee to rest both elbows on the counter, "If you see a tall quiet telepath wandering about do let me know as I seem to have misplaced mine."

A small grin, then he inclined his head as the other man gave his name. "Mr. Maybury. It's a pleasure. I can't believe there are still people I haven't met in Pilot Ridge even after a year. This small town is bigger than I gave it credit for." He laughed jovially, "So what do you do around here, Mr. Maybury, if I may ask?"

He assumed he didn't work at the school or Sean would have recognized him.

[Janice Adams]

Janice had missed last year's holiday party because she'd been sick. Thankfully, she was feeling perfectly fine this time, and ready to go out and have some fun. According to Leila, last year had been quite the party, and so Janice was eager to see if the bash would yield just as much fun this time. She didn't know if the younger blonde woman was coming along this time, but her roommate Kat had agreed to come with her. Honestly, it hadn't taken much persuading. Kat was interested already and they figured why not go together, since they were both going.

She glanced around the room, recognizing Josh and Sean (oh good, they fixed whatever drama they got into) and not many other people. That was all right. Let it never be said that Janice Adams was shy.

She raised an eyebrow at Kat, "So do we wanna hit up the bar, or what? That seems to be where all the cool kids are hanging out." And by cool kids, she meant most of the crowd at this point. It would appear that they were a little early, since the room wasn't even close to being even crowded. She thought about talking to Josh, but he seemed a bit preoccupied. Maybe later.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The telepath returned the handshake with the same eye contact and an equal amount of firmness. The other man was quite strong, and Sean made a mental note of that, the way he did whenever making observations about other people. Gerard was also muscular, which was uncommon for these parts; while Sean didn’t think his diet was typical, he did notice that more people tended to have a physique akin to his in Pilot Ridge than akin to Josef’s.

When the drinks came out, he passed one over to Gerard, and then reached for his own, taking a sip though not as large as the one Josh had. “I can only assume you’ve swapped again, but I’ll keep an eye out for him,” he promised Josh, a smile tugging at his lips.

Fortunately, he wasn’t an empath and thus didn’t actually feel the gray-haired man’s unease with his and Josh’s relationship. More was the pity for Gerard, or anyone else here uncomfortable with same-sex couples, because he and Josh had a track record with liquor and parties. One that Sean couldn’t guarantee they’d avoid tonight. Noticing Janice and Kateri, he raised his glass at them in greeting, before turning back to the two men with him at the bar.

He asked Gerard, “And how long have you been in town?”

[Josef Muller]

Why had he even thought of asking someone this Bash? That was the main thought that kept running through Josef’s head as he got ready. It had been more of an impulsive action than anything logical. When he had heard about the Bash—something he’d attended with William—he’d first considered not going. It would probably hold painful memories, and while he couldn’t lie and say that he’d never been fond of big parties, he wasn’t sure if he knew anyone well enough to have a good time. But Hart was going, as were others Josef knew, and he had eventually come to one conclusion.

It was stupid to let William ruin his future. So he bought his ticket. He found his suit—never something he’d worn a lot—discovered it still fit, and had called up Sam Caraway to ask if he wanted to attend with him.

And to his surprise, the other man had said yes. They’d agreed to meet there, and Josef had wondered what the hell he was thinking. He didn’t know Sam that well. But what he did know of him he liked. And now that he was reasonably sure he wasn’t in an abusive relationship and very possibly bisexual—after some rather nasty experiences, Josef had tried to hint without actually saying that this would indeed be a “date”—he did admit that he was attracted to the younger man. So, why not? After all, what did he have to lose? He’d already been married once, and it wasn’t as if he was looking for that again. So he dressed in his conservative black suit, having had yet to find a colored one that suited him, added a candy-cane striped tie for grins and because in a black suit and white shirt you had to do something to stand out, and then had waited for Hart to carpool over. He figured he’d watch his drinks just in case the other man wanted to enjoy himself more. After that barfight, Josef avoided getting too drunk. He’d found he had more fun anyways. And although he still preferred a t-shirt and jeans to this, at least he was sure he looked pretty good. Josef wouldn’t have bought the suit if he didn’t think it did something for his looks.

He took a look around as they arrived, admiring the decorations, when he spotted Sam near the bar, wearing a blue suit that looked more like it belonged in Vegas than in quiet Pilot Ridge. Mind, considering how often Sam mentioned luck, it probably was from Vegas. He thought the blue-eyed man would fit in there very well. He caught his eye and waved, then told Hart he’d see him later—and he would, if nothing else to set him up with whatever girl he could find to dance with—and crossed over to his semi-official date. And wasn’t that an odd thought after ten years of a committed relationship. But not a bad one.

“Hey,” he greeted as he arrived. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long. Nice suit.” He flashed the other man a grin, feeling almost like his old, forward self (but not quite, as his old self would have added something a little more flirtatious), and ordered his traditional beer. He was not imaginative when it came to ordering, but he figured there were worse sins to have.

[Gerard Mayburry]

Gerard shrugged his shoulders, wishing that the joke would end soon. “Well I can say that I can’t tell a telepath from a grocery clerk just by lookin’. You might have to find him on your own.” Gerard raised his glass to Sean and took a drink, glad for the social lubricant. “Though the one you’ve got doesn’t seem like all that bad a guy.”

Shaking his head, Gerard put down his glass and raised his other hand dismissively. “No, no. Trust me. This town is real small.” He put his hand in his pocket know, his face scrunching up as he searched for how to answer Josh and Sean’s question. “I haven’t been ‘round long. Just moved in with the new job.” He explained. “and since you asked, after I retired from the Marines I went back to work for Uncle Sam. Recruiting mostly, now I'm with Operation Patriot. If you’re familiar.”

Operation Patriot wasn’t really classified in any way, and news traveled fast in Pilot Ridge. With the head quarters opening up in town, it would have rather surprised Gerard to find someone who hadn’t at least heard rumors. Rumors which Gerard would be happy to dispel. He was here on pseudo-business after all, and any support he could garner would do quite nicely.

“What about the both of you? Whadya do for a living?”

[Quinn Collins]

Holiday Bash? That wasn't exactly the way Quinn wanted to spend her night off but it had seemed that the office had convinced her.... or well forced her. The pediatricians office felt that there needed to be at least one member of the staff in attendance to represent them and somehow, Quinn had gotten stuck with the honor.

She figured that it wasn't that bad though. The office was paying for her ticket, half of it went to charity and the bar was right there calling her name. Though she knew better than to get drunk around people that she wanted to see her as a professional. She wouldn't drop that easily, not even here.

Quinn walked into the busy room. She was late, not that she'd exactly rushed to get there. She was dressed appropriately in high necked black dress and a pair of heels. Festive, but respectful. She glanced over the crowed. She didn't really recognize anyone. She felt a wave of self conscienceness roll over her as she looked for a place to sit. Perhaps the bar would be a better place to start.

She made her way over to the bar and ordered herself a drink already planning to leave once it was gone.

[Feivel Silverstein]

Over the years, Feivel had taken a few women flying, and it had always gone over well. Granted, they were always women he'd been dating for a while and were used to the fact that their boyfriend had a giant pair of butterfly wings sprouting from his back. But he hadn't brought the idea up with Esme before, and they weren't actually dating. This was his first time bringing it up on the second date, but it was the holidays, and Esme was special. (The wings didn't weird her out. On the same hand, knowing she could turn into an octopus didn't weird him out either.)

"You look really nice too." Feivel ran a hand over his hair. It had gotten mussed during the flight, but that was all the more reason not to fix it now. He'd worry about it when they actually reached the party. The editor smiled down at his date, noticing that she seemed a little taller, even if she was still so short in comparison to him. "So I was wondering..."

He held out his elbow to her and smiled. (No, Gideon wasn't the only one who knew how to turn on the charm.) "So I was thinking we could walk, since it's not too far away from here. Or..." He paused and shrugged his shoulders, iridescent blue wings flapping slightly, "Or we could fly, if you want. That is what I meant by picking you up."

[Kateri Rivera]

Kat didn’t think she’d ever been to the holiday Bash. She’d lived here for a while, sure, and she’d heard about it before, but normally she tried to head to Ireland for the holidays. Her mother would pout if she didn’t, and her father would tease her, which was even worse. So she’d always muster up the little spending money she had to go visit. But this year, with the economy being bad and it being a somewhat stressful year, she’d decided that she was going to stay in Pilot Ridge, and that her family was just going to have to live. She was thirty years old. It wasn’t going to be the last time, and she had to get a life of her own eventually.

When she’d found out Janice was going, she figured she might as well tag along with her roommate and see what was going on. She’d dressed up in a fairly nice blue dress—but a warm one because the one thing Kat didn’t mess with was cold—and had even put on some makeup and heels. And as they arrived, she curiously looked around. She knew a few people there—Dr. Sean Neville and his partner, a couple of locals she’d seen around, and others. No one remarkable yet, but hey, she didn’t think that mattered.

“Oh, why not?” she said. “Might as well join the crowd in getting drunk, I suppose. Maybe then I’ll get up the nerve to dance.” She grinned at her and gestured to the bar. “After you.”

[Malcom Black]

He needed to get out more. That was what his sister had told him. Not politely, either, but by giving him a look that said she was worried about him and thinking about interfering. So she’d bought him tickets—had bought him tickets!—and had told him to dress up, go out, and get laid.

Malcom wondered who had given birth to her. Really. She clearly wasn’t related to him.

But he’d obeyed. He’d dressed up in just a jacket and a green button-down shirt, and black slacks. He didn’t like ties. He always felt like he was being strangled. Dressed up, and armed with a cab number and a warning to his landlord—who had now asked to be informed when he would come home drunk and caterwauling—he headed to the party. And, once inside, had promptly headed to the bar to fortify himself with some hard alcohol. There was Dr. Neville, who he on principle avoided because sometimes he reminded him of his sister. There was a couple of other people, including a bespeckled man who he offered a nod to and a black haired girl who got a smile because she, well, wasn’t hard on the eyes. Then he’d made it to the bar and grabbed a drink, knocking it back without even tasting what it was. He could do this. He could so totally do this.

[Sam Caraway]

It was almost like being back in a casino – once again, Sam had that grounding feeling of being a still point in a room full of moving people. Some folks hated being surrounded like this, but Sam had always loved being in crowded places. It made him feel real, somehow. Kali had once made a quip about Sam needing people as mirrors in which to see himself, and she had almost been right – sometimes when he was by himself, Sam felt edgy.

When Josef joined him at the bar, Sam gave him one of his warmest smiles. ‘I haven’t been here long,’ he assured the older man, looking down at his suit when it was remarked upon. ‘Too Vegas?’ he asked, forgetting that he hadn’t yet told Josef exactly where he’d made all his money. Not that he’d even said a word about being wealthy yet, but it was all a matter of principle. Mason liked to call Sam paranoid, but Mason hadn’t taken as much money as Sam had from people who could very well leave him lying face-down in a canal somewhere. Sam grinned at Josef, relaxing a little against the side of the bar. ‘Believe it or not, this is one of my less garish offerings. I could have gone with the sky blue, but I figured it wasn’t very festive.’

That was the problem when you spent your gambling life pretending to be a rich idiot: you had to have a wardrobe to match. Sam had considered cracking out a red shirt for the occasion, but vanity had got the better of him – blue matched his eyes, and for the purposes of this event, that was not a detail to be overlooked.

Talking of suits – Sam allowed himself an obviously appreciative glance at Josef before the other man turned to the bar. ‘Nice,’ he said softly, tone becoming intimate for just a moment as he met the older man’s eyes and gave a small, almost feline smile. Then he took a sip of his drink, and let Josef order his beer. For a moment he felt ashamed of himself – it was a classic move in his flirting lexicon, and it usually worked. But using things like that on Josef felt strange: after all, Sam was usually flirting with people who had exactly the same things on their mind as he did. Josef was just a different kind of person from anyone Sam knew in Vegas, and he almost felt as if he should be playing by different rules.

So he looked over at Josef once they both had drinks, and raised an eyebrow at him. ‘I have to ask you the most important question of the evening,’ he began, tone full of a seriousness that his eyes belied. ‘Do you expect me to dance?’

[Joshua Bernstein]

The mention of Operation Patriot was enough for Josh to choke on his drink, slamming down his glass so that liquid sloshed over the side and onto the counter.

"....Really." He spluttered, patting at his shirt with black cloth napkin. So much for making a new friend; a Marine and recruitment for Operation Patriot were two black marks indeed against Gerard's name as far as he was concerned. "Yes, you could say we're....familiar."

If by familiar Gerard meant that everyone Josh was friends with was offended by their presences with very little information about their actual intentions, then he was familiar. And offended, of course: their name alone was enough to raise his hackles .

"I can't say that I much care for an organization whose members denigrate honest dissent." He considered his run in with Nicholas Kells to be another legitimate reason to dislike the organization Nick worked for.

He cut his gaze to Sean, giving the taller man a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He was aware of his partner's feelings on the organizations bloodless coup of Hammel's authority.

"I'm an attorney. Civil rights." He emphasized his specialization, tacitly warning Gerard that he considered the military and Operation Patriot to be inherently opposed to the values he championed. And with that he lifted his glass once more, draining his drink before calling for another.

He would need the alcohol to ease the tension he now felt towards their bar mate.

[Tarak Rana]

Tarak was resigned to the fact that his powers made him very easy to overlook. As such he wasn't particularly surprised when his greeting to Vikki was completely ignored; at least Gerard had noticed him. He gave his boss a nod before heading into the crowd, determined to mingle and have a good time even though Yizel wasn't there.

It was rather unfortunate that almost everyone else seemed to be at the bar, or at least with drink in hand. Another truth he was resigned to was the fact that he was usually the only adult abstaining from drink without some motivation (illness or pregnancy or picking the short straw for DD) forcing their hand.

So long as most of the other attendees were only casually drinking and not getting falling down drunk he would stay and enjoy himself.

There seemed to be a decent mix of couples and singles; he didn't want to bother anyone using the party as an excuse for a date. He also didn't want to approach any of the single ladies lest he be accused of infidelity.

As such he made his way to another bespectacled man who looked rather out of place and awkward, inclining his head in greeting.

"Nice place they have this set up in." He commented, gesturing vaguely around the restaurant. "Is it always held here?"