Say When (A New Year's Brunch)

[eliotwaugh]

Eliot had been warned by various people that New Year's often brings some kind of supernatural mischief to Darrow, and this news had only made him more determined to stick to his plan. No power of god or man or eldritch entity place-spirit or army of fish people will prevent him from throwing a damn party. 

It made sense, really, and part of him wishes he'd done something like this before now. He needn't frame it as a sort of surrender to this imprisonment, but rather just indulging in something frivolous because, as far as his understanding of the metaphysics goes, none of this really counts. So why shouldn't he enjoy it? He's been here long enough to decorate the apartment some, and it really is a marvel the amount of things available through Nile. There's more comfortable furniture, potted plants, and a series of apothecary cabinets and display cases for magical components that give the whole place the air of some eccentric explorer's gallery of curiosities. 

He's even managed to get enough appliances that the little kitchen is decently functional, and has spent a few days stocking up and preparing for what he hopes will a successful brunch. He has enough eggs to feed an army. There will be copious crepes. There will be mimosas for days. 

Eliot's used to working through a wicked hangover this time of year, so he built that into consideration in his prep time. Thanks to the night's adventure, though, he spends his downtime sober and scrubbing mer-blood off of himself, and still feels a bit frazzled by the time the first guests arrive.

[It's time for brunch! Brunch is a state of mind, not an actual timeframe, so please feel free to have your pups show up whenever in the day, honestly. Tag in, tag around, chase the memory of merman horror away with a mimosa, air your grievances and dirty laundry in the neutral ground of Eliot's apartment. This is a safe space. For Drama.]

Comments

[annebonny]

"He's what?" She blinks at him, her mouth full and her question muffled. She might've wanted to venture something about how there's more to Greta than he thinks, but something tells her that would be a mistake, and now it's all but forgotten. Eliot, a king, and Jack smiling about it like it ain't even surprising.

She looks across the room at Eliot, who seems to spy them looking and lifts his drink toward them in some half-hearted toast with a crooked smile.

Anne turns back to Jack at once. "He's a king?" she all but sputters.

[jackrackham]

Jack keeps his eyes on Eliot, and it's almost as if Eliot senses them watching, because he turns around and acknowledges them with a smile. Jack straightens his posture, feeling a surge of something like pride gathering in his chest.

Anne's reaction makes him turn back to her. He chuckles and nods. "He's a king. I can see it-" He lets his attention drift back to Eliot as he holds the attention of the people around him. "I don't think what he is is like being a king of England. More like a king out of a fairy tale. You see how he is with people, he has a talent for it. "

He looks back at her, a faint smile lingering at his lips. "He was afraid to tell me. He didn't think that a pirate would approve." He's still incredibly charmed by the idea that Eliot cared that much about what he thought. It's funny, and also it feels nice in a way that he can't properly describe to know that Eliot is invested in their friendship.

[annebonny]

Anne's expression changes minutely as she watches Jack notice Eliot looking, watches him shift his posture, watches his smile change. By the time he's looking back at her, she's as guarded as ever, but she recognizes all of this. She's seen it before. She saw it when they first appealed to join the Ranger's crew, she saw it when Jack spoke loftily of Teach's brilliance. Here again, over this fairy tale king who's made his own interest clear, if not plain.

Fuck's sake.

She scoffs softly, turning to look back at the food, though she's lost her appetite. Jack wouldn't like it if she challenged his ideas about Eliot and his 'talent for it', or if she questioned why he was wrong to think Jack wouldn't approve. She doesn't want to sour his mood, and she supposes she probably shouldn't insult their host. But she has to say something.

"Awfully hands-on for a king," she says, thinking of how he'd fought alongside them last night. It wouldn't be a bad thing, and she might even agree with parts of Jack's assessment if she had a better sense about what Eliot wants to gain from it all. Jack doesn't seem worried about that in the slightest. She raises her eyes to him again. "You trust him?"

[jackrackham]

Jack hums in agreement to Anne's assessment. It was surprising to see Eliot in action last night. He knows that Eliot had been in some sort of battle, but how he had talked about it, it didn't seem like a common enough occurrence for him to become skilled at fighting. The creatures were easy to kill, but all the same, Eliot had settled in beside him and Anne naturally. Jack wonders if it seemed like second-nature to Eliot because of his experience...or just because they work well together.

He meets her eyes. "I do." He glances back at Eliot for a moment before redirecting his gaze to the spread of snacks instead. Maybe he shouldn't trust Eliot. The fact that Eliot hid information from him might be reason enough to doubt his intentions, but he doesn't doubt Eliot's sincerity. If anything, he feels like he might trust him more now that he knows Eliot had been worried about what a pirate might think of him.

Jack reaches out and adjusts one of the plates, feeling like he needs something to do with his hands. The party really is remarkably put-together for how long they'd been fighting last night. Eliot must be exhausted. "He likes to make people feel welcome. That's all."

[annebonny]

Anne keeps her eyes on him while he answers, his gaze traveling to Eliot and then away again, reaching out to neaten the table with that constant, contained restlessness of his. And then he explains, only he don't explain the trust; she's not sure what he's answering with that. Several steps ahead, like he needs to outpace his own thoughts or something awful will happen.

He's been like this before. Brushing aside looks and questions with assurances and answers to questions that ain't been asked. It's all familiar, but familiarity's not much good when she has no more idea now what to say to it all than she ever did. When this, more than it ever has before, leaves her wondering if she's going to lose him.

She has no idea how to venture that subject, and thinks even if she could that it, too, would be a mistake. But it digs at her, the sense of a widening gulf between them, and no idea how to mend it.

In the end, she just turns and leans back against the table, arms folded as she lets her gaze drift over the rest of the people, most of them strangers to her. She settles on Greta as a familiar signpost, still talking to that massive Irishman.

"That one there," she says, nodding her chin toward him. "Says he was a king as well." He said far more than that, and she wants to tell Jack all of it, but later, when she's had some time to sort it out, when they can talk quietly just the two of them. For now, she offers Jack a wry smirk. "Didn't know we'd ever be in such fine company."