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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Unfortunately, that "not looking at her" bit only lasts a couple more seconds.

Oh.

Oh, great, LOOK WHAT A VISION HAS BEFELL HIS EYES.

Of course, all he does is lift his glass and paste on his most obnoxiously sunny grin.

Edited 2012-12-05 04:40 (UTC)

Several things go through her mind very quickly.

The first, and the last, is: do not let him suspect what you know.

It's harder than she would have thought, trying to remember how she would react to his presence at a time like this if she didn't know who he really was. What he really was.

Very deliberately, she rolls her eyes at him, and half-turns away.

If he wanted to be a total jerk right now, he'd snap his fingers and get another sprig of mistletoe up in this joint.

Instead, he settles for being slightly less of a jerk, disappearing from his spot on the other side of the dance floor, and reappearing right next to Kali.

If he's gotta put up with her presence tonight, SHE'S GOTTA PUT UP WITH HIS TOO.

"Loki," she says, resigned.

"Kali," he says, smooth like butter. "Of all the gin joints in all the towns."

He swigs a bit more champagne.

"Well. She did invite everybody."

"And yet, the apartment remains uncrushed by six billion bodies and a couple extra million gods."

Oh so very cheerful.

"If you're here, it's probably only a matter of time before it gets crushed by something else."

"My sunny disposition and endless holiday cheer?"

:D

"Your latest prank, your latest prank victim, your towering ego ..."

"Aw, come on, give me a little credit!" He spreads his arms, indicating the party. "Have you seen one thing go wrong here yet? I'm behaving myself."

Beat.

"Well, mostly," he amends. "I did scoot the mistletoe around a bit."

But seriously, how could he not? He and mistletoe go way back, dude.

"Please," she says, "don't let me slow your search for someone who wants to hear about it."

Eyebrow.

"You're the one who brought it up, sweetcheeks."

Sweet smile. "And now? I'm putting it down."

She turns to walk away.

He lets her go three paces.

And then, perfectly casual: "Right, yeah, I forgot. You hate it when I keep the humans alive."

"Think you could say that a little louder?" She half-turns to raise an eyebrow at him. "There's a chance some of the humans here didn't hear you. We could open the window; you could shout it towards Times Square."

"Oh, please, like I'm the only one who's ever cracked a couple skulls around here."

He rolls his eyes.

She rolls hers, in tandem.

"If you're going to persist in talking to me, you might as well go ahead and tell me what you did with the mistletoe."

Why, he thought you'd never ask! Beaming smugly, he points up to a tiny green plant clinging to a rafter.

You know. The rafter directly over Kali's head.

Kali doesn't even glance up.

The mistletoe bursts into flame, and sifts down as ashes.

Somewhere in those ashes, if you listen very closely, you might here a tiny help meeeeeee! a la The Fly.

He knows it's going to be totally lost on her, but he can't help himself.

Still calmly: "Are you done?"

"Wait. Almost."

He snaps his fingers: three more mistletoe plants appear on the charred rafters, each one wearing a tiny mistletoe-sized Santa hat. In harmony -- squeaky, squeaky chipmunk harmony -- they burst into "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer."

(And this time, they're fireproof.)

"Now I'm done," he says cheerily, lifting his glass in a toast. "Happy winter, darling."

With that, he sweeps onward to find someone else to pester. ~~FOR NOW.~~

She makes a tiny irritated noise and moves off in the other direction.

(At least he doesn't seem to have guessed that she knows.)

Somebody should probably tell 'Dite about the new mistletoes before they get into the punch.

Edited 2012-12-14 04:32 (UTC)

holiday party post

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