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

SUNDAY

[abrightboy]

Malcolm doesn’t have the benefit of even one really good outfit to his name. The bloody sweater he arrived in is wrapped around the knife and stuffed in the bottom of his closet. He can’t make himself get rid of it.

But, he recalls vividly Neal’s comments about his dress sense when they met, so he recruits Meredith to help him find something that coordinates properly and classily in his cobbled together wardrobe.

No reason. No reason he has chosen this particular day to get help in looking as nice as possible.

It’s possible he’s shined his shoes.

They go with the thin black sweater they’ve settled on with a few buttons at the collar and he’s done all of them up. He’s wearing it with charcoal grey slacks. He spends more time than usual trying to tame his hair back without the usual odd flyaway.

No reason. Where he’s from, when one has company, one dresses for dinner.

When the knock on the door comes, he hangs back to let one of the others answer it. He doesn’t want to look eager. Because he’s not. He’s totally not.

[conning]

Neal does his due diligence as an arriving guest, sets out the spread, fidgets with it until his OCD is satisfied with the presentation. Not that he would call it OCD--it's just thoroughness.

He smiles warmly at Malcolm when he's in decorous speaking range. "Hey."

Neal gestures at the spread. "I figured if you couldn't eat much, it's only polite to make sure you could at least have a few small things rather than only part of a larger one."

[abrightboy]

Be cool, be cool, be cool.

“Hi,” he returns with something of an awkward wave at the greeting, but he’s still pleased with himself because that was a totally appropriate and proportionate response.

At the explanation about the food, though, he just stares for a second. At Neal, at the food, at Neal.

He swallows.

Say something.

“You… did that for me?”

Platonically, obviously. He’s not interested, remember? A friendship gesture. Be cool.

“That was… nice of you.”

[conning]

Neal is itching to undo Malcolm's top buttons, but that wouldn't be any kind of appropriate. He tucks his hands into his pockets instead.

He doesn't like it, the way little gestures of consideration seem to floor Malcolm. It makes him determined to make more of them himself. "It wasn't any trouble, I promise. If anything I should be apologizing for the quality of the wines I brought to pair things with."

[abrightboy]

“Well.” He gestures towards them. “That’s what they have at the store,” he says reasonably. “We don’t have access to my mother’s substantial wine cellar.”

Let's mingle the fuck outta this.

[henchgal]

Sunday (open)
Meredith might be grimacing slightly at the idea of cleaning up all the little plates and tiny bottles and paper cups--she knows it'll probably end up being her job to tidy and find all the stuff hidden away. But still, she's going to enjoy the food on offer. She actually sits perched up on the countertop, legs dangling over the side, watching the whole room as she eats.

Sunday (for Malcolm)
Meredith and Malcolm have gotten pretty good at their non-verbals, by now. So the way she raises her eyebrows at him when she catches how he's watching Neal when he thinks he isn't looking? That's mild concern, confusion, and sort of a check-in. Is she reading this right?

Wednesday (open)
It'd be rude to show up empty-handed to a cookout, so Meredith's made a corn-and-tomato salad (short of being a salsa by just a few scovilles) and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. As she arrives, juggling bowl and plate and cane, she immediately passes one of the former to the nearest person, not bothering to check who it is.

Wednesday (for Neal)
At least this can be said for her. She's subtle, in how she corners Neal--heading out to the patio while he's cooking, shutting the door behind her and clearing her throat quietly.

"Is now a good time?"

[abrightboy]

His eyes widen slightly when he meets her gaze, realizing she’s seen him and what she’s asking. He looks down at his shiny shoes.

Nothing. It’s nothing. Be cool.

He looks at her again and shrugs a shoulder and shakes his head. Nothing to see here. Just someone being totally cool while hanging around their new completely platonic friend.

TWO FOR ONE? WHY YES.

[conning]

Sunday
Now what kind of guest would he be if he made her pick up after the mess he brought over? When things have more or less wound down, Neal joins Meredith in picking up the bits and bobs that have been left homeless around the room.

"I hope that wasn't... too much," Neal says, almost apologetic. "I can get carried away."

Wednesday
Neal looks up in slight surprise as Meredith appears--or rather, not at her appearance, but at the fact that she closes the door. He goes back to turning the mix of grill items that he fully intends to take to Bonnie's if they stay uneaten here.

"As good as any. What's up?"

PASSERBY

[forethinking]

(Ren's just, as usual, going to A1, but he hears a commotion and the smell of food makes his feet move without his so willing, and before he realizes it, he's already poking his head on the apartment to see where the aroma is coming from.

Maybe he can nag a recipe and be on his way?)

[conning]

"Another reason to miss Paris," he says, tone ironic. He turns, picking up a tiny plate and offering it to Malcolm with a grin. "Can I interest you in some salmon and beets with an herb vinaigrette? It goes as well as can be asked for with the wannabe Sauvignon Blanc."

[conning]

Neal spots him leaning in the door as he brings a plate of various grilled things inside. He waves him over. "Come on in. There's more than enough."

[forethinking]

Ren doesn't really mean to intrude, but he's being beckoned over and he perks up a little at the invitation.

"Are you sure? Just the recipe is fine."

[conning]

"I would be derelict in my duties to a fellow chef if I didn't let them taste what they were going to end up with first."

Another little invitational jerk of his head, since his hands are now busy dividing things onto plates. "Please. I'm Neal--I've seen you around, but I don't think we've actually met."

[forethinking]

Ren gets that, it makes sense. Quite frankly, if he just tastes it, he doesn't really need the recipe -- but he'll still ask for it for bonding reasons. Calmly, he enters the apartment, bowing to the people and to Neal himself. Sure that he's rather Americanized by now, but it's still a habit.

"I'm Ren. Pleasure to meet you."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiles down towards the table before looking at the little amuse-bouche. “Salmon and beets. Look at me eating two things at once,” he says, picking one up and popping it in his mouth. His eyebrows go up faintly. “It’s really good.” He was expecting himself to somehow object to it. Still, he’d let it lie a few moments before trying anything else. “What all did you bring?” he asks, glancing over the table, then he pauses and looks at Neal. “Oh, is it supposed to go in a certain order? Am I asking for… spoilers?”

[abrightboy]

So maybe Malcolm takes a little long to get ready because he has to find another outfit that matches properly and he’s determined to do it himself this time, because Meredith has Suspicions about his feelings for Neal, which are totally and completely platonic, he reminds himself.

He brings wine, however meagre the offerings are at the store. Red wine. He’s clutching the bottle nervously as he pokes his head inside the apartment. Neal’s outside. He recognizes the angle of his shoulders through the window.

Not that he’s ever looked.

Then he spots Ren and his face lights up. “Ren! Hey, how are you doing?” he asks as he walks over.

[conning]

Neal bows politely in response, speaking in simple Japanese, the slight accent of American English at its edges.

"I was starting to think it was only Americans and British here."

[conning]

No. No, no, no. He might be fine staying in this world, though it would be a wrench, but Malcolm has a whole life to get back to, he's sure. That his mind jumps immediately to that kind of commitment as far as Malcolm is concerned tells him that it's an even worse idea, and that he needs to find a dalliance or two to get this man off his mind.

"No order required. It's all stand-alone, in case you could only, you know." A gesture at the air around them. "Manage a little."

a bard drops in

[cacophonish]

I. SUNDAY FUNDAY (CLOSED: B1; gatecrashing with ooc permission)
It's purely by chance that Jeff shows up, totally uninvited, several hours into the soiree. He's just kind of barging into the apartment with a DVD copy of The Lost World: Jurassic Park in one hand, looking like an excited, overgrown puppy.

"Dude!" The dude in question being Tim. "Why didn't you tell me they made a sequel to Jurassic Park?! I only had, like, three bucks on me, so I basically had to give the dude at the store a handjob for this movie."

Oh. There's respectable adult people here. Jeff stands in the living room for a moment, before he feels the need to clarify, for the sake of polite company: "I didn't really give the guy a handjob."

II. WEDNESDAY'S... OKAY? (OPEN)
This time, Jeff's hanging around on purpose. Like hell he's going to say no to free food. As someone who can barely cook, he's always willing and eager to try others' culinary creations.

Right now he's hovering over the food, looking at the spread curiously.

"Huh. I didn't know there were so many ways to make tofu..." A beat, then he lights up and snaps his fingers, turning to whoever's closest. "Though-- oh! Did you know they can make, like, milk out of tofu? It's pretty good. I don't know how they do, it, though, maybe they just squeeze it out of the blocks..."

ANOTHER TWO FOR ONE DEAL

[conning]

SUNDAY
Neal looks up in surprise from his own more normal-sized glass of terrible wine, having finished sampling his own work and the teeny tiny pairing cups. For a second he stares at Jeff. Who doesn't know there are sequels to Jurassic Park?

Okay, that thought immediately gets confronted with the reality of where they are right now and the kinds of people he's met and things he's seen. "Trust me, it's not worth a handjob. Though that wouldn't be my opener in someone else's apartment."

WEDNESDAY
"Drinking what gets squeezed out of tofu blocks would be..." Neal makes a slight face from where he's putting together a spiced tofu salad for himself. "That would just be cruel and unusual punishment. Soy milk--'tofu milk'--is actually a midstage of the process of making tofu itself."

sunday (gotta split these up for my sanity!!)

[cacophonish]

Don't you judge Jeff for being an innocent flower from 1995. It's not his fault you're all from the future and already know how bad all the Jurassic Park sequels are.

(Don't tell him about the Terminator franchise post-Judgment Day. His spirit won't be able to take it.)

He looks down at the movie with a little frown, some of his enthusiasm dampened. Hope you're happy, Neal! Then he shrugs.

"They all know me already." Jeff looks around thoughtfully. "Did you just move in?"

wednesday

[cacophonish]

"Oh. Soy milk, yeah," he nods, as if he didn't just call it tofu milk. "They make it with beans, right? Like coffee. It's all just bean juice in the end."

Deep.

"So you're like, a chef or something?"

look it’s better than being disappointed AFTERWARDS

[conning]

Neal catches that little dip in mood and decides to tap into his seemingly endless well of meaningless trivia. “You want some good action-adventure stuff from that year, you’ve got The Fifth Element, Dante’s Peak, Men in Black. I feel like you’d enjoy Austin Powers.”

Neal offers Jeff a hand politely, his OCD internally screaming at the what if of this kid actually giving someone a handjob for that movie. “Neal Caffrey, neighbor, not resident.”

He’ll just wash his hands when it’s polite to do so.

[cacophonish]

On the one hand, Jeff definitely didn't give some thrift store clerk a handjob in exchange for a DVD. On the other, Neal's wise not to trust the cleanliness of his hands anyway.

"Oh, um. I'll try to, uh... remember those..." Though he thinks Austin Powers sounds like a football movie. Pass. "I'm Jeff. I don't live here." A beat. "I mean, I live in town, I guess. Just not here." He waves a hand, still clutching the DVD. "I stay at Bonnie's."

[abrightboy]

He dips his head in concession to that point and examines the offerings with a sort of curious intensity usually reserved for autopsies.

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing at something brown and pink.