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

Wednesday.

[retisense]

"There's like, a million ways to make tofu, man. It just soaks up all the stuff you put it in so the sky's the limit."

She hadn't bothered looking up before talking, and when she does, she blinks, eyes wide.

"Whoa. Hey Mr. Calhoun....er. Jeff."

[cacophonish]

There's a moment when Jeff's expression turns a little darker, and he gives a withering sort of look that can only be delivered to full effect by a disaffected Gen Xer under 25. It's when he calls him that-- Mr. Calhoun-- referencing some bullshit made-up future him she insists she knows. Or maybe she does; maybe she's from an alternate reality, where there's some Jeff Calhoun who went and did all the responsible things while all his dreams withered on the vine.

Whatever. Fuck Mr. Calhoun. That's not him, and he doesn't need to think about it.

The moment passes, and he lets his expression soften into something friendlier. It's not her fault.

"What's up, Abby. You live here?"

[retisense]

Ouch. If looks could kill, she'd be rolling in her grave right now.

"Sorry, sorry, god. And yeah, I live here. My palace, totally feels like home."

Hey, no point in not matching sarcasm and withering death glares with sarcasm. At least she's not trying to laser him dead with her eyes.

[cacophonish]

But hey, at least that sarcasm gets Jeff to crack a smile! "At least you've always got catered food, right?" He holds up a cube of tofu and wiggles it. (Yes, with his fingers.) "One of the perks of living here."

[retisense]

"Pretty much. Lucked out there, because I sure as hell can't cook but I like to be full."

It's a bit of an understatement. At some point, it would've made sense to learn to cook, but she can't quite bring herself to do it. At least the finger-tofu doesn't bother her. Much.

"Oh my god, do you have no manners." she says, but she's laughing.

[cacophonish]

"I was raised by wolves." A beat, then he shrugs. "Well. Hippies." Close enough. He pops the finger-tofu into his mouth before he goes into an impression of mom and dad, in an exaggerated stoner drawl. "Manners are just the Man keeping you down, man...."

[retisense]

"Is that why they're called MAN-ners?" she asks, her voice lilting, entirely too pleased by the bad joke. In fact, she spends a few seconds cackling to herself about it.

Then she spears a piece of tofu and pops it into her own mouth, making a pleased little noise at the taste.

[cacophonish]

The pun startles a burst of laughter out of him that's way louder than intended, and he covers his mouth to stifle it. That's good. She's good.

"Fuck, that's corny." But he says it like a compliment. "So you, um... You... settling in okay?"

Look. He may have a thousand misgivings about what little she's said about Other Jeff, but they're still from the same world, right? Kind of? Sort of? So, yeah, fuck it, there's an unspoken affinity there. He cares.

[retisense]

"Right?"

A laugh of her own, and she shrugs, "Not too bad, I guess. Could be worse, you know? Can't figure out what the hell I'm supposed to be doing with my life here yet, but that's not exactly unfamiliar territory for me."

She cares too. She's the one who knows him, but she's come to realize that the Jeff she knows isn't really the same as the Jeff in front of her. But she cares enough that she's willing to get to know this one.

[cacophonish]

"What, you can't think of a fun and rewarding career with people who hate magic?" he asks wryly. Jeff sucks some marinade off his finger before it gets all, you know, sticky. "What were you doing back home?"

[retisense]

"Hah! Right?"

Popping another bit of tofu into her mouth, she chews thoughtfully, then shakes her head, "Nope, can't think of one. Not that I was doing magic back home. I was an architect. Closest thing I can think of is facilities, but janitor seems kind of shitty compared to designing buildings, you know?"