callipygos | holiday party post

Aphrodite's New York loft is done up to the nines.

The first good look as one enters is of twinkling Manhattan through the big windows, lights bright against a dark winter sky. The windows take up most of two walls; the rest of the space is largely empty, the star of the show a glowingly polished hardwood floor perfect for dancing.

There's a cluster of low-slung couches and chairs at one end of the room, velvet and leather and very inviting. They're situated by the fireplace, which lends them a cozy glow-- though it isn't cold anywhere in here, despite the windows.

Aphrodite is very proud of a few things about tonight:

1) The music, which spans a decent range of time periods and tempos, and will be playing for most of the evening.
2) The decorations, understated but quite lovely: softly glowing lights, silver and gold ribbons wound around columns and draped from the ceiling ... the occasional strategically placed bit of mistletoe.
3) Her dress.

And yes, darlings, there is a very well stocked bar and counter full of snacks.

That's what happens when you enlist the Three Graces to help you plan your shindigs.

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John nods. "There is that."

He strokes his chin, then lets his hand fall to his side.

"I say we go on about our leisure and try to forget that this ever happened.

"With alcohol, if necessary."

"Alcohol. Yes. That's a marvelous idea. In fact, there's a whole dang counter full of it."

The blush in her cheeks betrays just how young she really is.

Beat.

"Y'don't think it's bad luck, though. Do you?"

John is giving you all the confused looks, Kate.

"Don't think what's bad luck?"

Edited 2012-12-04 03:27 (UTC)

She points up.

"Isn't there somethin' 'bout black cats, an' not walkin' under ladders, an' what happens when y'don't toss salt over your shoulder when you've spilled the dish? When y'walk away from mistletoe, s'that like spillin' salt an' not tossin' it over your shoulder?"

Yes, Kate's superstitious.

"I've...never heard that one before, Miss Barlow..."

"All right."

She takes a breath, and nods.

"Y'sure?"

Damned if you do, damned if you don't — that's Kate's modus operandi.

"Well, if it'd make you feel better...I...suppose I could...kiss you."

Awwwkward.

"Oh god. No."

Her words are slightly muffled. It has a lot to do with the fact that she's just covered her face.

"No, I'm — I'm pro'lly overthinkin' things, an' — an' I've had one too many sherries, I think. It's fine. I'm sure it'll be fine. My luck ain't all that good anyhow."

This is why Kate runs away every Christmas.

What are holidays.

John nods, then gently lays a hand on her shoulder in full-on Dad Mode.

"How about this - we walk out from underneath this mistletoe, we tell a few jokes, we enjoy the rest of our respective evenings, and we put this particular...incident - at the back of our minds and keep it there. Sound good?"

Beat.

"And should the worst come to pass...well, it ain't like my luck's any better than yours."

Edited 2012-12-04 07:08 (UTC)

So, John has a hand on Kate's shoulder and they're talking kind of closely while standing under a sprig of mistletoe, and from across the room, Tommy is completely fine with this.

Except that last bit would be a lie.

All right, so he knows John is married and Kate says he's just a friend and blah blah blah, but Tommy is Tommy.

He makes a beeline for them.

"Hi!" he chirps, his smile a little sharp, as he glances between them. "What's up?"

Kate starts.

"Tommy."

Um.

She smiles, just a touch nervous.

"Nothin'. Jus' talkin' silly superstitions."

John nods and takes his hand off Kate. "Mr. Gavin. Hello again. It's as Kate says. Nothin' to worry about, I assure you."

He huffs out a short, sharp chuckle. "Pff, worried? I wasn't worried about anything. What would I be worried about?"

Glancing upward, he arches an eyebrow and points up at the mistletoe.

"Superstitions? You mean this bullshit? What about it?"

Blink.

"I, ah. Asked if there was any bad luck associated with it."

John nods, clasping his hands in front of him.

"That she did."

Discretion seems the better part of valor at this point.

Again, he glances from one to the other.

"Bad luck? Bad luck...how?"

"The ... tradition is y'kiss. So. I was curious if it was bad luck ... not to. Kiss. Which we haven't."

She's under the impression that last bit is important to Tommy right now.

She fixes him with a stern look.

John nods. "I have a wife and a vested interest in not unduly angering her, Mr. Gavin. It's as Kate says."

"...Right."

Tommy can identify with that. In fact he's always had a vested interest in not unduly angering the women in his life, and he'd definitely added Kate to the list. He regards Kate's familiar expression.

And he shrugs.

"Of course." He chuffs out another laugh with a dismissive wave. "You think I thought--? That you two--? Pff, c'mon. Whatever. That's-- no."

Jerking his thumb over at the buffet table, he turns to Kate. "I'm just gonna-- uh, go back over there. You want anything to eat, hon?"

He's trying.

"No, thank you. Jus' go away now."

She smiles sweetly.

Well. What's a third wheel to do?

"Uh - always a pleasure, Mr. Gavin. You take care now."

"Alright..."

Tommy is about to leave, when he abruptly turns back and plants a kiss on Kate's lips. It's short and no-nonsense, salty and sweet at the same time.

"See ya later," he murmurs.

With a nod to John, he then makes his (fateful) trip to the buffet table.

"Mmph!"

Quite taken by surprise, there's little Kate can do but let it happen, all the while thinking oh god, the impropriety!

She dabs at her lips when he pulls back, her face rapidly heating to nearly the same color as her red lips. She clears her throat, avoiding all eye contact until well after Tommy's walked away.

Awkward.

"So. How 'bout that alcohol?"

What kiss? There was no kiss. Everything is normal. Kate just wants to have a friendly drink or five with a respected friend. That's all.

And John, you know, nods. Like the respected friend he is. Who totally didn't see that kiss.

"My thoughts exactly, Miss Barlow."

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