(mingle) It must be party time

[forethinking]

Who: Ren Amamiya, Wanda Maximoff, you!
When: 12th of September
Where: Good Harbor Beach
Summary: Here's the barbecue log! Eating, playing games, having a bonfire and sleep-over on the beach!
Warnings: Alcohol? Ghost stories?



ɪ. ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ

Congratulations, you've made it to the Good Harbor Beach September barbecue! With the weather cooling, but still pleasant enough, it's a pleasure to have a hangout involving ADI's residents and those who live at Bonnie's. There are still so many people who don't know one another, and many to strengthen bonds with, so the hours your dearest Wanda and Ren spend cooking and flipping and seasoning are nothing but rewarding! Seeing people enjoying themselves is great and it's motivating for them to keep doing these encounters every now and then.

On the menu, we have:
- Burgers;
- Steaks with jacked potato sides;
- Ribs;
- Zucchini-and-Pecorino fritters;
- Several different salads, including ovcharska;
- Aubergine kebabs with charred onion salsa;
- Salmon yakitori;
- Takoyaki;
- Cupcakes
- Apples and honey;
- Cherry dumplings;
- Sarmale filled with rice;
- Bundevara (pumpkin pie);


For drinks, there's a selection of alcohol, as well as coffee, water, tea, and a variety of sodas. Take in the nice view, jump on the ocean, sink your toes in the sand and enjoy yourselves. There aren't any usable tables, but there are several blankets on the floor for your perusal.

ɪɪ. ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ

With bellies full, now it's when the real fun begins. There are a few decks of cards being passed around, as well as one of their single tables now organized to a beer-pong competition. Individually, games such as Never Have I Ever, as well as Truth or Dare can be seen, and those who wish to use their skills for entertaining are more than welcome to do so.

A little bonding here, a little drunken chatting there, this is your time to shine!

ɪɪɪ. ᴀ ʙᴏɴꜰɪʀᴇ

With those who have a curfew to worry about in mind, a bonfire is lit, and a few tents are set around the beach (may have to be shared). If anyone's got a nice story, now it's the time to share it, or perhaps if anyone can play an instrument, it's about time to break it out of its case. The night will be lively until the early hours of the morning, and of course, mindful of those who couldn't stay up this late.

The next morning, everyone will be properly thanked for their attendance and tupperwares will be distributed with leftovers for those who'd like to take some food home, the beach will be cleaned impeccably and everyone will go their own way, hopefully with smiles and a new sense of unity and connection from the amazing night they've just experienced.

ɪᴠ. ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏᴏᴄ ɴᴏᴛᴇ

(Please put in your top-level subject line or prompt line whether it's okay to threadjack! Just to keep things more dynamic, we encourage it!)

Comments

III

[ployboy]

Night's fallen and the party isn't even remotely close to winding down. Great as it would be to stick around

camping doesn't exactly hold fond memories and so Tim's gravitated to Malcolm, red solo cup in hand. Wherever Malcolm is sat, he receives a foot bump. "I'm heading out," Tim announces and quickly looks at the crowd. "Meredith is staying. What about you?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm scrambles to his feet at the bump.

“You’re going back to the apartment?” he clarifies.

[ployboy]

Mmmmaybe. It's left unsaid, but Tim's sure the jerk will read that short hesitance in the way his eyes widen. Not much, but some.

Tim drinks, and hums. "Yeah?" He tries, testing out his resolve. And, by the way-- it's just cola with extra ice. "Yeah, I thought about staying at Bonnie's with a friend but I think I'll be more comfortable at the apartment. I keep an alarm on my phone for when I should start heading back."

Considering his love of nightcrawling. Not so much love for it, it seems, if he's in by curfew much more often than not. Wild revelation to have when in front of Not-A-Cop. "Besides," he jokes, "I don't want to be here when you all get busted for illegal bonfires."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm glances around, then starts walking towards Tim. "Yeah. I. Think I'd like to go back," he concedes. "I wasn't sure how I was going to manage... the idea of staying." No restraints, no warning for anyone that he might start shrieking like he's being killed, no medicine in the morning, no routine.

[ployboy]

Tim just hopes his sympathy extends to his expression; he nods shortly over his shoulder, towards the road. "We can catch the last bus back. Honestly I'm not too worried about everyone staying. There's still a good crowd."

Red cup and the last of his blessed caffeine get chucked in a trash barrel, the blue chipped-paint kind that like to dot public beaches.

Meredith, or someone would call if something went catastrophically wrong.

Right?

"Make any new friends?"

[abrightboy]

"I met one of the organizers of the event. He makes his own coffee blends. He was talking about just staying up all night to keep an eye on things, so I thought about joining him but... going home sounds better." He glances at Tim while they walk. "You?"

[ployboy]

"Oh." He perks up. "That's Ren," he states like he's proud of himself for piecing together the very obvious puzzle. "He's... sweet."

Nice, but too nice. Obliviously nice. Offer up his room to a guy he'd never met before kind of nice. Think nothing of it kind of nice. Tim couldn't think of another word to describe it that wasn't, like, mean-spirited.

Tim shrugs. "Met some of the girls. I mostly came for the food."

[abrightboy]

"I had... a few slices of apple. Which girls did you meet?" he asks.

[ployboy]

So did he. Bless Meredith for her patience with him swiping most of her plate.

"Uh--"

And screw you, Malcolm, for calling him out without calling him out. Tim smiles sheepishly, brings a hand to his neck. "Mmm...onica?" He's sure he can remember names if he puts actual effort into it. "And the... blonde." Crazy one, who advocates for murder.

[abrightboy]

“Blonde…” Malcolm shakes his head and shrugs. “I ran into a girl I already met. Kate. At the buffet.”

[ployboy]

Not Jeff, Tim nearly corrects. But, duh. Of course not Jeff. They're talking about girls.

"I don't know her," he says. Lo and behold, the bus rounds the corner. "Is she cute?"

It is a party they're coming from.

[abrightboy]

“Um, I guess? It’s academic, though, because I’m pretty sure she hates me,” Malcolm concedes.

[ployboy]

Obligatory: "What did you do?"

Because sue him, he likes the gossip. Bonus for the receipts being encoded with potential life or death information. Strange circumstances, wanting to learn who Malcolm pushed too far. Y'know. Potentially.

"--Academically, of course."

[abrightboy]

“I saw her terrorizing a mime at the fair,” he tells Tim. “She said she felt compelled to do it. I asked what happens if she feels compelled to do worse than scare people after a while. She didn’t like that.”

[ployboy]

Wow, his roommates are narcs. And here people worry about Tim tattling.

But, business it is then. Tim doesn't quite know it: his voice changes. When it's business.

"What do you mean? Was she just heckling the guy or...? I think we can assume, if someone has powers, they've done similar."

[abrightboy]

How could anyone assume Malcolm wouldn’t be a narc? He called the police on his own father at the age of ten. He’s worked in law enforcement his entire professional life. And there’s nothing he objects to more than someone using power of any kind to prey on someone vulnerable.

“She created a forcefield around him and made it smaller and smaller while he panicked.”

[ployboy]

Adding her to the hit list.

Tim makes note to scour files on her later.

Still. That's objectively... what? Frightening, no. Disheartening, maybe.

"Shouldn't ADI know?"

[abrightboy]

“I talked to her about it. I think I made her think. I’m keeping an eye on it. If she shows any sign of escalation, they may have to,” he admits.

[ployboy]

Not-A-Cop believes in reform. Sounds familiar. Tim nods, some aborted curiosity flashing across his face. What's the penalty for known abuse of power, he wonders. Does the fear of escalation bleed into the fear that feeds the entities?

"Yeah," he says. "If you went around insinuating my next stop was murder, I wouldn't like you much either."

Just sayin'.

[abrightboy]

“And that would be fair,” Malcolm freely admits.

They didn’t have to like it, but the people Malcolm accused of murder generally tended to have committed it.

“Happily, you don’t seem to be there.”

[ployboy]

He snorts, disgust at the idea coming through, popping the p in "Nope."

Too many people here get excited about the idea of killing, though. There was even a post on the ADI forum, for all to see: I'll Teach You To Kill. As far as Tim's aware, it was still up. As far as Tim's aware, ADI loves the thrill too.

And yet, if Boomerang showed his face in this place, he can't say he wouldn't reach for the nearest

"My father only had opinions on revenge and justice, and he said death brought neither. Preventative measures are a different story but it's looking about the same."

[abrightboy]

“My father was a death hobbyist. He liked that kind of power,” Malcolm says. “I’ve studied killers for most of my life. The things they say sound so familiar. That’s how it starts.”

Malcolm doesn’t go on the message board much; he hasn’t seen the post.

[ployboy]

Serial killer, the Surgeon right? Tim hesitates just long enough to remember Malcolm hadn't given him this information before. Right? The lullaby is wafting through the air again, mingling with the salt of the breeze. Tim hopes it's not brain fog telling him the knowledge is off limits.

The bus hisses to a stop. Tim nods for Malcolm to board.

Not-A-Cop still regularly consulted for an agency that exercises the power to kill for prevention of further harm. And of course it's not the same as killing for ego, for hubris, for fame. But sometimes it all sounds familiar.

"Death hobbyist, huh."

Because he's remembered he's been-- quiet.

"Beats archeologist on the eccentricity scale."

[abrightboy]

“While archaeology is largely robbery, not a lot of them go to prison.”

Unlike serial murderers.

“I told Kate why I knew what the path to murder looked like but she still thinks she can’t slide down it.”

[ployboy]

He's startled and shoots Malcolm a cutting gaze. It's short lived, because the truth doesn't care about the late Jack Drake's hobbies and stories, the riveting tales he would tell his son about the newest acquisition to a private collection.

But damn, dude, be a little less blunt about it.

Tim hums. "Maybe she won't," he says. Not everyone fits into a preconceived pattern, he almost says, but the hypocrisy would be too much. "Think you can handle being wrong about it?"