neutral_omens | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Date: December 31, 2000, 9:00 PM
Status: Public
Setting: Bar
Summary: Free Alcohol!

Wensley walked from his kitchen to the entrance to the bar, sign under his arm. No one had planned any sort of Manor event for the evening, so he took it upon himself to give people who hadn't any plans something to do.

Pulling the sign out from under his arm, he propped the doors open and leaned the sign against one. "Open Bar, 9:00 PM- 1:00 AM," it proclaimed in large letters, then underneath, much smaller, "Entertainment Provided". He didn't actually have anyone lined up, but he was sure something entertaining would end up happening.

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"Yeah? I knew there was a reason I liked you lot." John chuckled. "You got a ways to go though, if all your name gets is an earful. Drop mine in the right part of Louisiana and you'll get a compost heap dropped on you." There were places where his name would elicit much worse reactions, of course, but no need to go into that right now.

"Give us time, we're still young yet," Pepper insisted. "We've only had time to form Inquistions and crew pirate ships. We've got a long way to go before we get all the way to Louisiana." She pressed her lips together and added as an afterthought, "I've never been to Louisiana."

"You're not missing much," John muttered. "Swamp, swamp and more swamp, mostly. With the occasional bit of marsh or wetland thrown in for variety."

"So you dun't like swamps, then?" she guessed, her eyes bright. "Bet it's nicer than your lettin' on. Don't they 'ave really good food there, or summat?" She tugged Adam over further to where John was sitting, glancing back to see Wensley starting to serve drinks. "Can't believe Wens was the only one who had an idea to do somethin' on New Years...."

Adam smiled mysteriously. He had plans for the end of February instead.

"Eh. Swamps aren't so bad, mebbe, in limited doses. It's what lives in 'em I don't always get along with." John made a humorous face. "The food's all right if you like your possum with a lot of celery and onion. ...Oi, can I get a g'n't over here?"

"Here you are, sir." It had taken him a long time to get away from the bar, but he finally made it to the trio. He frowned a little while handing the drink to its owner, as if trying to figure out how the pieces fit together in a difficult puzzle.

"Do I know you, by any chance?"

"Ta." John frowned slightly in turn, studying the kid's face. "You were at Adam's birthday fling, yeah?" he asked, knowing it wasn't just that.

A vague, fuzzy memory came to mind, something about food...? "Oh--think you might've brought some stuff up to my room once." And probably walked away with a nice contact buzz, he thought wryly.

The memory came to his mind, too. The man had reeked of marijuana. Both of them had, him and- what was his name? Mr. Crowley, yes. Content with remembering, he turned to Adam and Pepper.

"Anything I can get you two while I'm here?"

"Got any apple juice, Wens?" asked Adam. "If you got that sparklin' kind, I c'n pretend it's champagne. Or ginger beer, I guess, but apple's best."

Pepper blinked disbelievingly. "It's New Years and you can't 'ave any champagne? Not even a half glass?" Rolling her eyes, she turned to Wensley. "All right, so he doesn't feel alone, I'll do the same. But bring out one glass of champagne, would ya, Wens? I'll take a drink an' see if I can't the Saint to take a sip of it."

"I wasn't gonna feel alone, Pep. You go on and drink whatever you like. I'm stickin' with apple juice." He really, really hoped they weren't going to fight about this again.

No, they really, really weren't going to fight about this again. Not on New Years when they were all together. Pepper sighed and gave Wensley a withering look. "Same as I said, Wens." She turned back to Adam. "I know you're not gonna drink it, dun't get so worried; I'm just makin' a nuisance of myself."

He sighed. "Why does what I'm drinkin' or not drinkin' bother you so much, Pep? 'm still havin' a good time. Why does it matter?"

She frowned. "Stop bein' grumbly. It doesn't matter, a'right? Now hush up before I pummel you again and we stop 'aving a good time."

He stared at her a moment and then looked at John, his expression exasperated, as if to say, 'women!'

All right. If she wanted him to hush, he'd hush. Adam jammed his hands in his pockets and looked around at the others, wondering where the rest of the manor inhabitants were.

"Best get used to it, son," John chuckled, aware that he was likely about to get threatened with a pummeling of his own, but a bloke had to show solidarity. "They never stop not making sense."

John was lucky that he hadn't known Pepper for a wee bit longer. Really lucky. She hadn't known him long enough to label him for 'free pummeling territory', but she figures in a few months he'll have to watch out, so she let's it slide this time. The only reason Adam hadn't gotten it for that look is because she figured she'd make him all melancholy at this rate, and that wasn't going to make anyone have a good time.

That doesn't mean she doesn't have anything to say about all of it, of course. "That's 'cause we're smarter than you lot. Not our fault you can't make sense a things."

Adam gave John another mute, 'I'm omniscient, what more does she want?' look and continued to study the room passively. But by this point he wasn't really frustrated anymore, just bemused. Pepper was easy to mess with.

"And you can stop actin' like I can't see that," she muttered at him with a friendly glare. Pain-In-The-Arse-Extraordinaire, that's what he was.

Adam grinned and waited for his apple juice.

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