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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Chew chew chew chew swallow.

"Sure did. Why?"

He winces ever so slightly.

"You wouldn't happen to be super powered in any way, shape, or form...would you?"

"...not really?"

Voodoo is giving you all the suspicion, Mike.

"Yeeeeaaaah, you might not want to keep those down. Or at very least should probably start considering a nice comfy place to just kind of sit and be for the next...few hours or six."

Voodoo has just popped a sixth one into his mouth when Mike says this.

He looks at Mike.

Then at the brownies.

Then back at Mike.

Then back at the brownies.

"Oh, fuck."

"That'd be a fun way to spend the time too, though I'd recommend finding a partner sooner rather than later. And then, you know, explaining the situation."

"Well, you mind givin' me a head start in regards to the whole explaining part?"

Srsly Mike wtf.

His eyes narrow in confusion.
Did he just get propositioned by the guy who once tried to blow up the Lake?

...

OH.
Oh that kind of explanation.

"Those right there," he gestures towards the unassuming plate of brownies. "Are truly bodacious brownies of the magical variety."

"What the fuck's that mean?"

MIKE. WATER YOU DOING.

"Shaggy." He points to Voodoo.
"Scooby Snacks." He points to the plate.

Does that help?

Voodoo gets it, but...

...he's still staring at you for that analogy, Mike.

Mike just grins at Voodoo's stare.

"How bad'm I gonna trip?"

"Thaaaaat kind of depends on a number of things. Metabolism, THC levels already in your blood stream, susceptibility to magic...I mean, the weed itself was grown from seeds given to me by John Constantine when I then grew in the Forbidden Forest, so...your mileage may vary.

But if I had to give you a number between one and ten, that number would be balls."

"You're an asshole."

"What? Wait...why?"

"Gettin' people high without their consent? That doesn't strike you as an asshole move?"

"It's not like they weren't labelled!"

"With what, 'Rated R'? You couldn't write 'hey, these things have pot in them' and save everybody a lot of trouble instead?"

"If you don't like the text you can take it up with Bar, she's the one who wrote it. And neither of us told you to eat six of them."

"What, you couldn't write it yourself?"

He shakes his head and walks off. "Forget it. I'm sleepin' this shit off."

Voodoo gets all of three paces away before Mike follows.

"You'd be better off booting, you want my honest opinion. You try to sleep through this? You'll wake up and not be able to tell what's real and what isn't."

Voodoo scoffs. "Says you. Me, I'm gonna get shitfaced. Later, pal."

Mike blanches.

"That...that would be an extraordinarily bad idea, Ray. Of the Cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria, tell him about the Twinkie levels of bad."

Voodoo scoffs. "Whatever. I don't feel anything, anyway. That batch probably didn't have any THC in it, and I ain't about to go boot that shit over nothin'."

With that, he melds into the crowd, making his way toward the liquor tables.

Run while you still can, Mike.

Re: Food and Drink

mnt_mike - 2012-12-04 05:25 (UTC) - Expand