log - too tired for title whee - closed to B1 and A4, open to those likely to wander by

[conning]

Who: B1: Closed to Neal and residents; A4: open to B1 and those who wish to poke their heads in because socializing and open doors
When: Early September--on a Sunday and then the following Wednesday. Why the following Wednesday? Idk man I just picked something.
Where: B1 on Sunday, and A4 on Wednesday IG???
Summary: Meredith invited Neal to visit, and Neal suggested making it a mingle for both apartments. Then Malcolm invited Neal over and Neal decided to do a solo trial run or something like that.
Warnings: Not at the moment. except possibly meredith giving neal a shovel talk


B1 - SUNDAY

Okay, well, he meant to make it simple. But then he got carried away, because that's who he is as a person. So here is Neal managing two coolers, one slightly smaller than the other. He has to set one down in order to knock on the door.

The coolers themselves contain tiny servings of about a dozen different dishes, from tiny seasoned steak slices of varying doneness to little onigiri stuffed with lightly salted salmon. If it's stupidly elaborate, feel free to assume there is some dressed-down (read: locally available) version available in miniature.

The other cooler has small bottles of cheap wine and those little paper cups that barely hold a mouthful. He sets the wines with the foods that pair best.

Look this is who he is as a person, okay? At least he's dressed normally--turquoise sweater, close-cut jeans.

[ SUPPLY ACTIVITIES AS YOU WISH, both with Neal and each other. ]


B1/A4/Passerby - FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY

Okay, so the tiny food was a bit much. Only God can judge him.

At least this time it's a plain old cook-out with a grill on the patio of A4. Yes, the grill items include salmon, chicken, and... tofu in several marinades including citrus-chipotle.

Only God can judge him.

There's also a spread of perfectly ordinary salad-shaped objects and tiny pickles et cetera inside on the kitchen counter.

[ SUPPLY ACTIVITIES AS YOU WISH, both with Neal and each other. ]

Comments

[abrightboy]

“…Same way Meredith did, I guess. Just. Ran into him in town.” He looks at Tim. “She invited him.”

[ployboy]

"Cool."

A likely story.

"He seems nice," he adds. Because anyone who brings food to B1 is, by definition, nice and bonus for the dude doing that whole elaborate setup thing. Presentation matters and yeah, Tim figures some people would dress well simply because they feel like it but--

"Picnic date without the ants. Smart."

[abrightboy]

“It’s not a date. He’s been very clear about that. It’s a… get together,” Malcolm informs him.

[ployboy]

And then, at last: understanding.

"Oh."

Maybe.

Tim shrugs to shake off the awkwardness, his gaze darting to his door and returning to Malcolm to offer him a mild but apologetic little smile. "His loss. Try some of that red for me?" The wine. "And let me know which one is good pickings."

[abrightboy]

He’s not sure that it is Neal’s loss, choosing not to saddle himself with Malcolm’s litany of mental complaints, but Tim is sweet.

Malcolm reaches for a particular paper cup and plucks it from the table to set it in Tim’s hands.

“Of the reds, this one is the least objectionable.”

smh cw: underage drinking

[ployboy]

He did it, the crazy son of a bitch did it. Malcom really is too sweet.

Tim can't help the figurative somersault of boyish glee at, well, being handed a cup of wine. His eyes widen and there's a shine of mischief after he secures the little paper cup in his hold.

"'Least objectionable'." He lifts the thing up in a mock salute, "High praise. Prost!"

And, uh... down the hatch? No, you're not supposed to shotgun these things, right? He's supposed to be fancy about this? Tim sips the... wine.

"Oh my god, that's--"

gross.

[abrightboy]

They’re the smallest cups of wine in the world and, based on Tim’s face, it’s served its purpose.

“It’s a moderately dry red but I think the black currant undertones really make it,” Malcolm muses casually.

[ployboy]

Yup, definitely made a face.

"I will never understand drinking this stuff for pleasure," he grumbles.

But as a member of polite society in polite company, he can't just leave the thing. Tim finishes off the sampling with nary a flinch. Success. It's like he's never grown chest hair before right now. Thanks, Not-A-Cop, for being a pal.

"The last time I tried a, uh... white wine. My brother and I were in Nice. On a yacht. He was pretending to be James Bond at this big ol' party. I was pretending to care. ...I didn't know all wine tasted exactly the same to me." Moderate. Severe? Dry. Wet? Sweet. Undertones of currant? Nein.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm laughs, but not unkindly. “I guess trying more than one is the way to find out. Though I expect you sampled a better vintage on a yacht.”

[ployboy]

Malcolm's got a nice laugh and Tim, for the love of whatever is good in this world, relaxes. "You mean Spring 2021 isn't a good year?"

But he slips a sidelong look at Neal, at the assortment of new guests, and he's back to his baseline, resigned sort of feral.

"I've got work--"

Tim, it's a Sunday.

"So, have fun? You look nice." is that weird.

[abrightboy]

It's not weird, but it does take Malcolm by surprise, which cuts off any questions he might have about the 'work' excuse. He looks down at his outfit and then in Neal's direction and then at Tim.

"...I do?"