December Event: Pilot Ridge Holiday Bash

[Shane McLeod]

Well this certainly was a night filled with attraction.

The fascination and arousal between Clarisse and Jacob seemed like a fireworks display to Shane’s synesthized hormone perception. It was beautiful for the man to perceive as they struck up a conversation and the emotions from these two reserved people flared, danced, and exuded soothing aromas. Dalton reminded him again of a knight: something akin to the moment Parcival caught a glimpse of the Grail, and was made awkward and fumbling in his own eyes despite his natural grace.

Shane knew the best thing to do in a situation like this: remove himself from their presence. He needed to be away from these two, lest he contaminate whatever could happen.

He followed up on Jacob’s introduction, “You look lovely tonight Clarisse. Yes, I’m Shane McLeod.” He added at her slight confused look, “The new Physician at Hammel?" He suggested hoping that would spark her memory. He turned to Jacob, "We emailed and talked over the phone for my interview since I was in Asia when I applied.” He smiled as the recognition lit up her face and addressed Clarisse. “It’s wonderful to finally be able to put a face with the name.” He returned to Jacob and continued in an emphatic manner, “Mr. Dalton, would you do me the honor of getting Miss Prideaux a drink while I ensure Mr. Bernstien is alright?” He prayed the other man decided to take the opening Shane all but threw in his face.

Sean bustled into the group like an answer from God, asking for whatever Mr. Bernstein asked for. Shane assumed his doctor persona, “You know this man? Wonderful! Would you mind helping me move him away from the bar? I believe his medication is—“ Shane finally caught a good look at the fading bruises, “Oh my word. He’s been assaulted." It was a statement rather than exclamation to catch as little attention as possible. Shouting "assault" in a crowded room drew throngs. Not something Mr. Bernstein needed."That explains the drugs.” Shane gave Sean a look that changed from pleading him for an excuse to walk away to genuinely concerned doctor.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh hadn't expected the other man to either order or pay for his chocolate, but before he could object that he was perfectly capable of ordering and paying for his own drink Clarisse had made her way over and suddenly the British-sounding gentleman's attention was no longer focused on him.

"...I'm fine...." He muttered, when another stranger approached and noted that he was in painkillers. His first thought was that it wasn't that obvious, but then he reminded himself that probably ninety percent of the residents of Pilot Ridge were meta and his observation was probably born from some ability rather than simple observation. At least he now knew the names of the two men -- Jacob and Shane.

"I'm fine." He repeated, slightly louder and definitely more irritated as people continued to talk over him about his health. Fortunately for his sanity his drink arrived at that moment, which gave him something to concentrate on other than the fact that everyone was talking about him as if he were an invalid, including the two men he hadn't officially met yet.

He had come here to get away from his troubles, not to have everyone remind him of them. He already felt poorly; having people exclaim over how awful he looked was not helping. And regardless of how he looked, he didn't think that sitting at the bar drinking hot chocolate could possibly be negative. Was it too much to ask that they let him finish his drink in peace before dragging him away from his seat? Apparently it was, since the moment Sean arrived Shane brought up helping him away from the bar, as if he didn't have some say in whether or not he stayed.

"I'm..." He began for the third time, but his objections were interrupted by Shane's realization as to just why he wasn't feeling well. This wasn't something he felt like discussing right now, not when he was at a party with the intent to have fun. Fun did not include talking to strangers about his recent experiences with hatred or about his medications.

He sighed and gave up on trying to interject into the conversation about his well-being and returned his attention to his hot chocolate in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, if he ignored them the crowd around him would allow him to drink. What had been a lovely spiral of whip cream had melted while his attention was distracted, but even so the drink was rather delicious. He had to give props to the bartender for fixing something that was probably not the standard request, although she was probably mentally cursing him for starting a trend now that Sean had followed his example.

If this bothered her she didn't show it, smiling brightly as she pushed another hot chocolate with whip cream in their direction. "I think that's yours." He informed Sean, finally able to insert himself into the conversation. He hoped the arrival of hot chocolate would be a distraction from the topic of his health.

[Leila Gold]

“’Fraid I don’t remember you, sorry,” Leila said. “That’s just me though. I’m a bit of an airhead.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m Leila.” She shook hands with Savage. “If we attended school together I suppose you might remember me, though I wasn’t really that outgoing then.” She debated for a moment whether she should associate further with this person, but she really did want somewhere to sit down. The heels were killing her. And if something were to go wrong, well, Leila knew other people at this party. If the girl was evil, Leila was safe from physical danger.

And if she wasn’t evil but just a bit lecherous…Leila was a big girl. She could handle herself.

“Thanks for the compliment. I picked it out a while ago and have been dying to wear it. I just love the color. One of these days I’m thinking I’ll get some shoes dyed to match.” Leila could go on forever about shopping and colors and accessorizing. She also happened to know this, and thus forced herself to stop before she bored the other woman to death.

Leila couldn’t really think of a lot to say. She often fell into these situations. But she had read up on the subject once and discovered what was appropriate small talk. True, she’d read it in a girl’s magazine when she was ten, but surely all the same questions held true into adulthood. Right?

“So. What’s your favorite color?”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Aside from the preliminary scans he did whenever he went anywhere to orient himself, Sean wasn’t listening to people’s thoughts; certainly not more than happened incidentally. Instead he was concentrating on friends, the music around him, the fact that Josh had suddenly become the most popular person in Pilot Ridge, and his beverage. Which was cocoa. Since he was to be sober, he might as well go all the way and drink childish comfort drinks. The telepath smiled at the bartender and slipped her money for the drink, before thanking her and picking up his cup.

Just as he brought the cup to his lips, Shane made his declaration, and the psychiatrist was mortified. His expression turned into a frown, and he shook his head, prepared to admonish this man right here for going into that. While the telepath understood how discoveries through powers was inevitable – he was the poster child for that – he also understood that keeping confidences was necessary. “I don’t think this is something to talk about Doctor,” he replied, his tone making it clear that was the extent to which he would engage in this discussion.

And then he turned to Josh, hearing his friend’s frustrations; he certainly couldn’t fault him. But the telepath would make it his goal to keep everyone off his friend’s back, since they didn’t need to treat him like a charity case of a person with a disability. Caring for him was Sean’s job, and he didn’t do it from sympathy, but from loyalty and largely platonic affection. “So I figure I can probably buy us fifteen minutes of music we want to hear. Do you have a request?”

[Cobalt Weaver]

As the song ended, Cobalt dropped Elaine’s hands and hugged her briefly. “See?” He said, feeling only a little smug with himself, “Told you I could dance.” Really, he was happy it had gone so well, as it had been ages since he’d actually danced, be it with a partner or otherwise. “You were as graceful as always, of course,” He complimented her with a slight teasing grin. He really did think she was a fine dancer, but he enjoyed teasing her a little more, “Didn’t even get my toes at all.”

“Hey,” Cobalt ducked to look at her face, “You still worried?” He put a hand on her shoulder, “It’s gonna be okay. Nothing’s gonna happen tonight, there’s far too many people here, and neither one of those people seemed that stupid.” He knew that wasn’t that encouraging or reassuring, but it was all he could offer her. “Don’t worry, okay? If you’re worried, we’re going to have a terrible time, and it’ll be tragic” He made a face, showing her that he was teasing. “We can go anytime you want, you know.” He offered his friend, “Just let me know, okay?”

He scanned the crowd, looking for the suspect couple that had upset his friend so much, but what he actually saw was Josh. He blinked in surprise, not really expecting to see his friend here since as far as he knew, the other man was still hurting fairly badly. More than that, Cobalt noticed that Josh was surrounded by people and didn’t seem to be enjoying the attention. With forty-five years of wearing that look on his face, Cobalt understood the feeling. “Oh, Elaine,” Cobalt nodded in Josh’s direction, “You should meet a friend of mine, he’s over there. Ah…” Cobalt sighed, “If he looks a little… under the weather, don’t ask about it. I’ll tell you later, I promise.”

He took Elaine’s hand and wove his way through the crowd, making his way over to his friend. He released Elaine’s hand to wave at Josh. “Hey Josh, how’re you doing?” Josh was leaning against the bar, but judging by his petulant look, the other man was going to obey the labels on the back of his medication bottles and not drink. Poor Josh. His life was so hard. Cobalt smirked a little, but kept his thoughts to himself. He saw Sean, to whom he nodded politely. Just because they weren’t on the best of terms didn’t mean he couldn’t be vaguely polite. If only because Elaine would beat him. With her words. "Sean. How are you?" He asked, almost obligatorily, since he realized a little too late that he might have interrupted a conversation the telepath was having with Josh. He didn’t recognize the other man, and Clarisse seemed to be talking to some other, rather dignified looking man. For a moment, the sheer amount of people he didn’t know, coupled with a few (read: one) people he didn’t really like, with the pressure of trying to be pleasant, froze him up. The shadows sprang up around his shoulders.

Feeling more than a little ridiculous, Cobalt took a deep breath. One person at a time. He grinned faintly at Josh, “Hey, I want to introduce you to Elaine, she’s a friend from Hammel, believe it or not.” Cobalt nudged Elaine with his shoulder gently. “Elaine, this is Josh, he’s another attorney who actually agrees with me about things.” His voice held a clear I-told-you-so tone meant for his friend. He smirked at her, looking satisfied. He… didn’t know what to say to the other people he didn’t know. So he decided to wait for them to introduce themselves. There was only so much he could do in this kind of situation.

[Jacob Dalton]

<< “Lovely. That’ll chase away any aches and pains I think.” >>

Wait a moment: not only had she commented positively on his selection instead of giggling at him calling it a cocoa instead of “chocolate,” but if his ears did not deceive him, she had done so in quite a charming old world accent. He had failed to notice that fact earlier, being more focused on Mr. Bernstein’s condition than the subtleties of the lady’s voice.

<< She nodded slowly, her dark hair curled in loose ringlets bobbing around her shoulders with the motion. Her hand left Josh’s back as she looked over her shoulder… >>

It was something in the way she moved: something about the way he found his eyes following the grace in the curve of her neck, the flick of her eyelashes, the flow of her hair that made him suddenly realize he was awakening to feelings he had shut off for a very long time. Delia’s jealousy had been set off by even minor glances at other women: he had trained himself out of doing so.

But Dalton had no intention of making a fool of himself, embarrassing the lady and ruining the opportunity to see where this might lead.

<< She… turned her attention back to the conversation…

“I’ll let Joshua speak for himself.” Clarisse said politely… >>

<< "I'm fine." He repeated, slightly louder and definitely more irritated as people continued to talk over him about his health… >>

What was it Shane had said: something about Mr. Bernstein being on morphine? Whatever the cause, people placed on morphine were certainly not “fine:” it was amazing to Dalton that someone on such a powerful and controlled substance would even have been allowed to leave the hospital. But obviously he had managed to dress and make it here for the evening: and even more obviously, the lady felt he was in a condition to make his own choices for himself. Dalton would trust and hope that she was correct.

“Mr. Bernstein: please accept my apologies. I certainly did not mean to be patronizing, though I fear perhaps I have. I hope you will forgive me, and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

<< “Goodness, it’s an evening for new faces!” She murmured, laying her hand against her chest and removing it from Josh’s back. She smiled at the new face, but found herself studying Dalton instead. She shook herself when he prompted her for her name. “Prideaux.” She said suddenly, her musical French accent uttering the name as it was meant to be said. “Doctor…actually.” Clarisse gently corrected. “PhD. But please…” She extended her hand to him, tucking a lock of hair behind her small ear. “Call me Clarisse.” >>

It did not escape Dalton’s notice that the lady’s eyes seemed to be drawn to himself nearly as much as his own eyes were drawn to her. But what about her accent was so familiar? Once he heard her name, it snapped into place. Of course!

He accepted her hand in his, bowing formally to place a kiss on it.

“Enchante’, Mademoiselle. Etez vous vraiment Parisienne?”

*( Delighted to meet you, Miss. Are you truly from Paris? )*


As he straightened up, he suddenly realized he had failed to give his own name in return.

“Dalton. Jacob Dalton, at your service. Please, call me Jake.”

His gaze took in so many things about her at once: the bright red dress, the casual stroke of her hand pressing back the loose lock of hair, the one stubborn wisp that immediately sprang forward again. And suddenly it all fell together.

“If I may?” He raised an open empty hand, then with a slight flourish produced a rosebud of the same shade as her dress. Gently he stroked the loose strand back with the short stem of the rose, leaving the bud tucked above her ear, holding the lock of hair in place. It complimented her outfit perfectly.

“An American Beauty, for her French counterpart. My compliments.”

<< [Shane] followed up on Jacob’s introduction, “You look lovely tonight Clarisse. Yes, I’m Shane McLeod.” He added at her slight confused look, “The new Physician at Hammel?" He suggested hoping that would spark her memory. He turned to Jacob, "We emailed and talked over the phone for my interview since I was in Asia when I applied.” He smiled as the recognition lit up her face and addressed Clarisse. “It’s wonderful to finally be able to put a face with the name.” He returned to Jacob and continued in an emphatic manner, “Mr. Dalton, would you do me the honor of getting Miss Prideaux a drink while I ensure Mr. Bernstein is alright?” >>

While there were very few things Dalton would have loved to do more than to follow up on Shane’s suggestion, he had little doubt that Clarisse would not be comfortable leaving her companion under the watch of the overeager doctor who was all but tripping over himself and them. No doubt the gentleman’s intentions were good, but his timing left much to be desired.

“In due time, Shane: due time?”

<< …[Sean] called out before reaching the area and pointed at his friend, “I’ll have what he’s having, whatever it is.” >>

<< “You know this man? Wonderful! Would you mind helping me move him away from the bar? I believe his medication is—“ Shane finally caught a good look at the fading bruises, “Oh my word. He’s been assaulted." >>

Dalton had not realized just how mesmerized he had been by Clarisse’s gaze until that one word startled him back to the present.

A hate crime, here? Were the students safe? Was this something the security officer would need to know about?

No wonder Clarisse had been reluctant to discuss the situation. He turned a more troubled gaze her way this time.

“Whatever you need do to assist Mr. Bernstein, please do not let me be an interference. But I do hope we may speak shortly?”

[Charlie Bernstein]

Synagog had let out, and the service had been lovely. If not entirely traditional. It had still been lovely, however, Charlie had left her glasses and was having a rather difficult time seeing where she was going when she entered the restaurant her son had told her the Holiday party was being held. She wanted to surprise him. Everyone looked, she thought, lovely. If fuzzed around the edges... and all over. But Charlie was absolutely sure that they looked lovely just the same. Now... where was her son?

Peering around, through squinted eyes to try and counter-act the fuzz, the little, wrinkled, white haired old woman walked in. Charlie never shuffled, she was full of life for her 80+ years and would never admit to growing old. Her son was older, certainly, but SHE was still quite young. Never mind the wrinkles. Never mind the eye sight. And never mind that damned hacking cough that seemed to come up from her very toes to plague her.

Was that him, over there?

Yes. It had to be.

Making her way through the people, Charlie planted herself infront of who she thought was her son, but was in fact a rather pregnant woman in a dress.

"Joshua!" The old, very New York-Jewish-Mother tone came out, "You missed Synagog. You missed service, and you are here..." she sniffed, "Not drinking. Good boy," raising an age-softened hand she patted the woman's face. "Now, show your motha around, Boopkie Beah, and introduce me to your nice, new friends. But carefully! I don't want you hurting yourself further. How are you feeling, Boopkie? Mother's worried about her baby." The pitying expression that settled onto the woman's face was quite genuine, "My favorite boy, all those gangs out there, and here I thought Vermont would be safe from that sort of thing. It just goes to show you never know what kind of people are lurking around. But my ba-" A wracking cough interrupted the stream of chatter, shaking the woman to her core and sounding quite like she was about to hack up a hair ball, or at least a lung. "-by." the word finished as Charlie caught her breath again.

[Emiko Nakajima]

Emiko watched the party and the people with a little more then a passing interest. She liked to people watch but she felt a little awkward, sitting and drinking water as everyone came up for beer and other beverages. She saw the crowd around the middle of the bar grow thicker and realized Mr. Dalton had missed her wave. She felt herself slouch only slightly as she lowered her waving hand into her lap, her hair brushed over her shoulders to frame her face in shadow. Eli was nowhere to be found as far as she could see, and she felt very lonesome sitting at the end of the bar. She had a lump in her throat begin to form and the thought that she never should’ve come arose in her mind. She wasn’t even in a religion that celebrated any holidays this time of year.

When Eli popped up out of seemingly nowhere, she was surprised. She smiled as the tall man made his way to the end of the bar and she smiled, the lump in her throat disappearing. Well, she had a feeling he was just as socially awkward as her, so if she was right, they could be socially awkward together. He looked nice- true, some men were wearing ties and she was certain she saw a tuxedo or two, but considering Eli’s usual attire that she had seen him wear around school, she was impressed. She couldn’t ask too much of him in the first place- this was a very last minute ordeal.

“Not long.” She assured him, shaking her head. Her hands were folded in her lap, but they rose to the bar as she took her glass and traced the condensation, liking the cold sensation on her fingertips. She looked over to the crowd of people on the other end of the bar, including the old lady who had inserted herself in, and was suddenly very glad she was not over there. She turned back to her date and smiled again. “You look very nice. Would you like anything?” She pointed with both hands to the bar, then looked at her hands, then lowered one slowly, leaving one finger rather then two to gesture for her. “They’ve got a lot of non-alcoholic… drinks, if you prefer it.” A moment of silence was made by her English failing her for a split second, and an unnecessary bout of nervousness overtook her as she first wondered what would happen if she blanked and forgot all her English, then realizing Eli spoke perfect Japanese anyway. Thank goodness she had thought to bring the smart man.

“Beverages.” She realized, snapping her fingers. “That’s what I was looking for.”

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse nodded emphatically when she finally recognized the name of the cowboy-esque doctor. All she’d needed was his surname. “Yes! Doctor McLeod, its so nice to finally meet you in person.” She said, moving to at least shake his hand. Before she could, Shane jumped the gun on Joshua. Immediately Clarisse had the desire to pull Shane aside and explain to him what it meant to have a bedside manner. Instead, she was forced to leave Josh floundering in a sea of ‘I’m fine’s.

When Sean arrived, Clarisse’s attention was immediately pulled back to Jake. Mostly because she feared stepping in on Josh’s behalf would offend the man’s already crushed sense of independence. And of course, because his warm lips were unexpectedly at the back of her hand. She turned her head to hide a shy laugh, a pink blush warming her cheeks and neck.
Her eyes grew big again, but this time in unadulterated, almost child-like excitement. He spoke French! No one spoke French! At least no one that she knew of except for Eli, with whom she didn’t speak much French, given his bookish accent.

“Mais oui! Je suis né il ya. J'ai vécu presque toute ma vie il ya.” (* Yes, of course ! I was born there. I lived most of my life there ) She laughed, shaking her head in astonishment, barely realizing she’d left his hand resting in his when he stood. After a lingering, curious (albeit impressed) look at him, she managed to withdraw it without blushing too much again.
She shrugged, still astonished. “How did you know?” Pausing between her question, the man offered his name. “…Jake.” She repeated, with the soft ‘J’ of her French roots. Those having names beginning with ‘J’ were almost always doomed in Clarisse’s speech. She tried so hard! But some habits were hard to kick.

If I may?

Clarisse blinked at him, her eyes narrowing as a smile cut over her face. “If you may wh--“ The rose appeared in his hand before she complete her thought, instead finishing the sentence with a gasp. “How did you…?!”

An American Beauty, for her French counterpart.

If she was impressed before, Clarisse was poised to melt at this point. Absently her hand went to gingerly run her fingers over the rose’s petals. Her lingering smile hosted a gentle, quiet laugh. She wanted to say ‘wow,’ but figured there were more dignified responses. She barely heard Shane’s suggestion to buy her a drunk. Like she needed it, at this point she felt light enough.

Mentioning some else’s name (read: Joshua) was enough to pull her back to reality. She looked dubiously over at Shane, hoping the slight glare would make him realize that in due time, he’d be receiving a very stern lesson about bedside manner and appropriateness. An over-eager doctor was almost just as unsettling as an underwhelming one. She shook her head and straightened herself professionally. It was about as close to a threat as Clarisse would ever come. “Mr. Bernstien does not need assistance. He, like everyone else, has come to have a good time with good friends.” She smiled over at Joshua and Sean, trying to keep the sweet gesture from turning into an excited grin.

“Joshua is a grown man. I simply came over to…” Her face fell. What on earth had she come over here for? She blinked and looked around her. “…to check my…” Then she saw it. She’d laid her coat on the bar near to her. Clarisse laughed a bit at herself. “my coat.” She finally finished picking up the garment. “I thought maybe the coat check was over here.” Out of habit she moved to tuck the stubborn lock of hair behind her ears, but her hand hovered just near her temple. Right. Jake had taken care of that. She sighed wistfully and addressed the small group they’d accumulated.

“Does anyone actually know where the coat check is? I don’t think I’ll be able to dance very well with this in my hand.”

[Eli Morrison]

Eli had never been much of a party goer. He'd graduated high school a month after turning fourteen, been working full-time at the library since he was fifteen, and living on his own since he was eighteen. Honestly, despite having been an adult--in the eyes of the law, at least--for a few years, he still sometimes felt like he had missed something. All of the other adults had gone to some sort of class where they learned how to dress like adults and keep apartments clean and what the hell he was supposed to do when they were at a party.

And it absolutely didn't help that his date was ten years older than him.

As he slid onto the stool next to her, he began shaking his head, "No, I don't....oh." Originally, he'd been objecting to the offer of a drink, but when she added that there were non-alcoholic drinks, he stopped. "Oh, yeah, okay then. Um..." He scanned the bottles the bartender had out. One of them had cranberry juice--which she was mixing with some other liquid that he didn't have any interest in--so when the blonde woman looked at him, he just said "glass of cranberry juice, please." It was red, so it was festive, right?

The librarian smiled at Emiko, nodding slightly. He never forgot what word he was looking for, but sometimes he just couldn't get them out in the right order. It wasn't exact, but he knew how it felt to not be able to communicate. "If you want," he said, his accent slightly better (He'd been practicing since they'd agreed on the date.) "We can just talk in Japanese instead. There are so many people here, I don't think anyone will notice." Even if he wasn't entirely comfortable with being there, he wanted her to be.

Eli turned slightly and looked around the room. There were couples and groups everywhere, and he was surprised by how many people he recognized. Every time he walked through town, it was as if he'd seen someone new. Now it looked like they were all in this room. "So have you met a lot of people since you've moved here?"

[Emiko Nakajima]

If Eli thought he had missed a class, it was probably the same class Emiko had missed at some point. She did have the natural ability to keep her apartment clean, but that came from a lifetime of sharing a room with her sister and living with a Mother who grew up thinking that dirty houses brought evil spirits. When it came to socializing, though, she was at a loss, which was part of the reason she had asked Eli and not someone more socially adept, like, say, Mr. Dalton, who was part of the crowd that she was still afraid to be seen near. She wanted to be safe and not be a dead weight on someone’s arm, because she really had no clue what to do at parties that didn’t involve her family members.

And yes, she knew full well Eli was ten years younger than her. That was part of the reason why she chose him to come along- it meant that he wasn’t as likely to ask her out on a date. Not that he’d ask her anyway, which was what she wanted. The truth was that she might have come without him just the same, (she figured she should as a part of her job) but she hated going to social gatherings alone, because she was just so very bad at socializing. At least they could be awkward together.

She looked at what he ordered and thought about trying some because it looked rather nice, but she decided not to impose. She’d finish her water first and then ask for a different drink. It was only polite. She probably wouldn’t like it anyway. She looked back to Eli as his drink was brought to him and he couldn’t help but notice he had a nice smile. He should smile more often. His next sentence made her smile, because it was very polite of him to ask her if she preferred it. To be honest, she did- even though she should be practicing her English. “It’s fine. I just have trouble sometimes, thinking in Japanese and speaking in English. I don’t want to impose.”[/i] Even as she said it, though, one could tell she preferred his suggestion- she was speaking in Japanese.

“Not very many, no. I don’t get out as much as I should.”[/i] She looked around the room, at all the people, and suddenly felt very insignificant. She crossed her legs and finished her look around. “In all honesty, the only people I know in here I know from seeing them around Hammel.” She spoke in English that time, trying to trade over from her native tongue as much as she could. She needed to be bilingual, even if it killed her. “I should walk around town some more and see some places.” She realized she was talking about herself, which she often saw as rude, so she directed Eli’s question back to him, this time in Japanese. She might as well help him out with his understanding of her language if she was to learn his. “You must know a lot of people, though. How long have you lived here?” She took a sip of her water again and was glad she hadn’t worn any lipstick that would smear on the edge of the glass.

[Mary Savage]

Savvy was disappointed that Leila wasn't flirting back, but it was always harder to find a woman than a man to take home. Which was a shame, really, because women were just so much prettier. "Meh. No worries. Don't remember you either, though I'm sure I would have if we'd met." She gave Leila's form an appreciative look. Hey, it was worth one more shot, right?

For all that Savvy didn't keep up with fashion or even really care, she was, for some reason, attracted to people who were. She enjoyed listening to them talk about it. It was just so... so... normal. She found it somewhat soothing, which might have had something to do with the fact that her first real, long-term girlfriend had gone on to become a fashion/design major. It also could have been because she needed something normal to balance her out. "It's cheaper if you dye it yourself. You can make custom colors that way too." She noted as she put her feet up on the table. Ahhh, getting your feet up always makes them feel better!

Savage was a little thrown off by the other woman's question. "That was... random. But, I'd have to say my favorite color is white. 'Cause it's all of them." She explained. She could tell the other woman was feeling slightly nervous and didn't know what to say, and was therefore making small talk. Instead of asking her the question back as any polite person would have done, Savvy put her feet back on the floor and stood up. She took Leila's hand and with a deep, over exaggerated bow asked, "May I have this dance?" in a really, really bad English accent. Without waiting for the other woman to respond, she pulled Leila to her feet and dragged her onto the dance floor. She placed one hand in the small of Leila's back and the other gently held Leila's hand. Savvy wasn't a great dancer, but she knew the basics.

"So," She said as she began to move her feet to the music, a mischievous grin firmly planted on her face, "what is your favorite color?"

OOC: Just discovered I can do this. An approximation of Savvy's outfit.

[Jacob Dalton]

<< Her eyes grew big again, but this time in unadulterated, almost child-like excitement...

“Mais oui! Je suis né il ya. J'ai vécu presque toute ma vie il ya.” (* Yes, of course ! I was born there. I lived most of my life there!* ) >>

Dalton smiled. “Il a ete’ longtemps que je n’avais aucune raison de parler Francais. Votre presense m’a donne’ une raison tres belle.”

(*It has been a long time since I had any reason to speak French. Your presence has given me a very beautiful reason.*)

<< She shrugged, still astonished. “How did you know?” >>

He laughed. “I do specialize in theatre. I would be remiss if I did not take into account the influence of Moliere on modern drama. Besides, I’ve a bit of a talent for both languages and music. I have always loved not just words but the way they roll off the tongue: not merely the meaning but the poetry of each, which changes with dialect. Thus, I have good cause to study both.”

<< “…Jake.” She repeated, with the soft ‘J’ of her French roots. Those having names beginning with ‘J’ were almost always doomed in Clarisse’s speech. >>

Dalton suddenly felt giddy. “Careful, my lady: speak my name that way too often, my legs shall turn to rubber.”

<< “I don’t think this is something to talk about Doctor…” >>

Dalton could see that Sean had moved to the rescue of Mr. Bernstein: apparently they were well acquainted. Small world.

He could also see the abashed look on Shane’s face, as the man was receiving criticism and harsh looks from several directions. The man had the social grace of an adolescent Great Dane, just through their growth spurt. It made little sense: he must surely have encountered objections to such blatant faux pas before now.

Certainly the man’s current discomfiture showed him not to be callous to such objections: why, then, would he not have adjusted his behavior years ago? It was a mystery, but one Dalton was intrigued to investigate. But not now: another time, another place.

<< She shook her head... “Mr. Bernstein does not need assistance. He, like everyone else, has come to have a good time with good friends.” >>

So, she would not be interrupting their acquaintance to tend to her friend. Dalton couldn’t be more pleased to hear it.

<< “Does anyone actually know where the coat check is? I don’t think I’ll be able to dance very well with this in my hand.” >>

Dalton grinned. “Indeed I do: I checked mine as I came in. It would be a dreadful shame to allow such an inconvenience to prevent dancing when you clearly came prepared. It would be my pleasure to have it checked for you: then perhaps I might offer you that drink, or some company on the dance floor, or both?”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh shifted in his seat in order to look up at Sean gratefully. Music requests were a perfect change of subject. "That is a very good question." He mused, furrowing his brow and sipping his chocolate while he attempted to think of a song to request, but the songs that immediately sprang to mind were decidedly not festive: Somehow he doubted that moody songs about heart break were what Sean had in mind, which left out just about everything by The Mavericks or The Mamas and The Papas or any of the other bands he listened to regularly. He contemplated bringing up Paul Simon just because he knew how much the telepath loved that particular musician, but that didn't seem particularly party friendly, either. "Hmmmm..."

Before he could mentally sift through songs to choose something appropriate for a party Cobalt and his date had made their way over. "Cobalt." He greeted the other attorney, noting the frosty greeting his friend gave Sean with bemusement. Although he hadn't expected them to become bosom buddies he hadn't expected even veiled hostility; they'd seemed to get along well enough last time he'd seen them both together, although admittedly he had been distracted at that point. They'd gotten along fine at the poker party, though, unless something had happened he didn't remember, which was rather likely seeing as he didn't even remember leaving. He could remember arriving and he could remember waking up the next day with a hangover and in someone else's bed, so obviously he had left, but there was an unfortunate stretch of time where anything could have happened, including hostilities erupting between his two best friends.

"I'm doing well." As well as could be expected. "Elaine from Hammel." He placed his drink back on the counter and extended a hand to the woman in greeting, "I'm Joshua Bernstein but you can call me Josh. It's a pleasure to meet you. Ahhh. I don't know if you've met Doctors Prideaux and Neville?" Of course, if she was from Hammel she probably already knew both of them, but it was only polite to be sure.

[Eli Morrison]

He shrugged a little, smiling. Eli had never even really considered what language he did his thinking in, mostly because he never stayed on one thought for long. His mind just processed everything so quickly; now that he was thinking about it, he kind of heard his voice in his head, only he was certain his voice didn't sound quite so monotone in real life. "It's not imposing. I process it the same, and I guess it's good to practice. I don't really get to use my language skills often." He wasn't bragging, honestly. His brain just didn't have the translation gap.

When she switched back to English, Eli just tilted his head slightly and didn't comment. It really didn't make much of a difference for him. He did pick up on what she was doing, changing the topic so it wasn't exclusively about her. At the same time, he didn't really want to talk about himself either. Not only was it rude, but he wasn't very interesting. (The most interesting thing about him was that his best friend was pregnant.) "Well, I came here when I was twelve...and I never left. It will have been twelve years since then this spring. So..." He looked around again, but didn't point, just giving directions on who to look at. "Do you see that woman, over there, with the short, dark hair? She's Ms. Kovacs, and she's one of the recruiters. We went to school together." And despite an age gap--though not as large as the one between him and Emiko--he'd graduated first, with a higher GPA. "The woman in the short, black dress is Ms. Savage, who is on the Hammel maintenance staff."

It's a good thing they were speaking Japanese, because even though they weren't gossiping, he was talking about other people there. "The woman she's dancing with is Ms. Gold, who was also a classmate of ours. I believe she's a lawyer now. And over there..." He turned his head once more towards the group including Dr. Neville et. al. "Is a lot of the older Hammel staff, and a few people I actually do not know." There, that took the conversation off of both of them, and replaced it with something that might actually be useful for his "date."