People In Glass Houses...

[neclectus]

Who | Timaeus Nadir and guests
What | Timaeus is hosting a picnic get-together/catch-up.
Where | The picnic will be taking place in the Tropical Habitat Dome.
When| We'll be using a bit of wibbly time so that people who want to attend can.
Warnings/Notes| None as of yet.

(This is an opportunity for me to make some new CR as well as catch up with ongoing relationships, but I also want to encourage tagging around between characters! Feel free to do whatever you like in the setting with whoever you like! Also I will be backtagging this so don't feel you've missed the boat if you haven't tagged in immediately <3)

Timaeus certainly knew how to organise a gathering- even if it wasn't an outrageously opulent celebration to be held on one of his own yachts. This one was to be held under the expansive dome of the Tropical Habitat- the entire location rented out for the day to Timaeus and his guests, a loosely private affair- formal invitations as such hadn't been extended, but those welcome knew they were. Naturally, all tributes and victors were included in this group.

The Dome was a beautiful piece of architecture in itself, though antiquated when compared with the technology used for the Arenas. Rather than invisible forcefields, the climate of the interior was separated from the outside by elaborately curving steel and glass. Inside, tropical plants of all types thrived- there was a still, green pond and, deeper inside, a cascading waterfall. Butterflies in hundreds of colours, sizes and shapes flitted about, tropical birds swooped between the trees, brightly coloured fish darted in the water.
Blankets and cushions had been scattered in the main clearing with hampers of food, but there was plenty of space for the guests to break away from the gathering if they so desired- the dome was full of winding paths through the greenery- some even climbing around the trunks of the largest trees and leading to viewing platforms above. In a temporary gazebo in the clearing, a string quartet played music that wasn't quite the classical pieces Tributes were familiar with. 

Timaeus himself seemed in a brighter mood than he had been for months, more than happy to make conversation with anyone who approached him- though he was certainly keeping an eye open for particular individuals. Some that he'd met, some that he'd lost and had returned to him, and others still that he had yet to meet.

Comments

[onlyimmune]

She laughs, to match his, and she hugs him back just as hard and she realises that's it's the first time anyone's hugged her since Joel and she has to shove that thought away right this second.

"No one ever thought to teach me," She complained through the grin, and isn't about to let go until he makes her. "Give me a chance, Doc, before you give up on me."

[swill]

So it went from glorious to heartbreaking in an instant, and for a second Hawkeye doesn't know at all how to react. He feels his heart pound a little harder than before and wonders dumbly if she could hear it. He found his own smile chilled and he wanted to squirm out of her grasp. Instead he, delicately, he supposes, pries her off an arm at a time. "Uh huh," he says, as if he was incredulous to any improvement that may ever come from her.

"You have two left feet and I need mine to not be swollen from being stepped on tonight," he continued. "I have very important business to attend to later." And the idea of her dancing, for some reason, didn't mesh well with him. Maybe he was awfully wrong in thinking so, but she wouldn't last a day in a charm school. And he'd be a pretty bad teacher. He glanced around- anywhere but at Ellie. "Been alone?"

[onlyimmune]

She lets herself be pried off (reluctantly) though it doesn't seem to dull her enthusiasm.

"Well then I promise not to cramp your style," She relented. She was still smiling, and she misunderstood the question, because really, she hadn't been. She'd never been alone, at least not for long.

People simply didn't last.

(Death always came too fast.)

"Nah, I was hanging out with Howard and Mindy and whatever," She replied instead. "Have you met them? They're both cool. And Orc. I haven't seen R around since I died or whatever but he's cool too. A little on the - uh - sluggish side, if you know what I mean, but he's still alright. Gave me some beans." She's rambling, but then again, she's talking to the master rambler so it's probably alright.

[swill]

"Too late," he said, chuckling despite himself. There wasn't really a reason to laugh anymore, but he couldn't see a reason to hold it back. "I cramp having to bend down to reach you." And when she starts talking again, giving him names that are familiar, he sways and bumps her. It took him a second to understand where she was going with it, before he realized it was what he had asked her. It was great to know names, for once. It wasn't so great that he remembered where she had been at the time.

But enough about that. He had had sleepless nights enough to think about her time alone. He hated that she was so flippant regarding her death. But what should he do? Break down in front of her? Tell her she was wrong in being casual, knowing she was?

It was strange to hear her talk for so long at one time, and Hawkeye finds himself raising a brow. He suddenly wishes he had a drink in hand, and huffs. "I know those first two." Both gave him enough to endlessly despair over. He moves his hand in a senseless gesture. "We got chummy, but at different times." He pauses a moment, and grins, and bumps her again. "Jealous?"

[onlyimmune]

The first bump widens her smile a bit, the second makes her laugh.

"Insanely. Howard's pretty great, though, he said he'd throw me a birthday party or whatever."

"He asked me who I wanted to invite and I thought maybe you'd want to come? You know, if you want. Apparently we're going to play laser tag, whatever the fuck that is. And there will be cake!"

Her cheer was maybe just a bit too obvious, a bit too forced, and she might be flippant about her death in conversation but that didn't mean it didn't haunt her at night.

(Hawkeye's haunted her worse. Wyatt's. She'd dream about them, and then she'd watch Joel die along with them and wake up with her chest too tight.)

[swill]

A birthday party, here? It's obvious that Hawkeye thinks of the idea as insane- strange, at least. It wasn't something he had expected, and the thought that the mundane aspects of life still cling on in this state of being leaves him furrowing his brows and pulling a face. Birthday parties, 'mundane'? Gee, he really must be slipping.

And for a second time, he wonders just what's up with the little ladies language. Not condemning, but curious. His perplexed expression only becomes more evident when he demands, "What the fuck is laser tag?" Just to parrot. "Why not just tag?"

And he finds himself fiddling with the sparkling blue coat he'd been given again, attentively dismissive. Against his better judgement, and no doubt the wishes of any stylist, he reaches out a hand to muss her hair. What else could he do? He wasn't trained for this, wasn't able to trust himself to say anything worthwhile. 'Yeah, cake', was the only thing he could think up, and it made his stomach churn. He patted her cheek once, like he would with Radar- like he wanted to pinch it and stretch it and make the girl's life miserable, but gee, wasn't he a nice person not to?

He supposes he should express concern at the cake thing, if he wanted to keep up the lie that he would die if ever exposed to a drop of milk. Nah. He clicks his tongue, pondering. "I'll go for the cake."

[onlyimmune]

She grins and bats away his hand half-heartedly and playfully, not actually minding the affection at all but feeling the need to put up at least a small show of pretending to mind.

"I have no idea," she assures him about the laser tag. "But if their cake is anything like the pastries in this place, it is guaranteed to be awesome. I'll count you in, then?"

She didn't even think about the milk, because she had no idea you needed it to make cake. Cake wasn't exactly a hot commodity, in the apocalypse, and the stuff she was used to was more like a fruit cake than anything else.

[swill]

That does it. He walks away. One step, two, strides too large and heavy to anything serious that made him lift his hands over his head and drop them in dismay. He was too used to being always on the same book, on the same page, on the same paragraph-- on the same word as whoever he was conversing with, serious or joking or sobbing or wanting to puke. So he turns on his heels with a flourish, the sigh too loud and long suffering. "What did I just say?" So yes, yes, yes of course, why did she even have to ask?

And if she follows him- he'll swing an arm around her and maybe teach her to dance Lindy, like any lady ought to know.