fandomtownies | Graduation Brunch: The Park, Sunday, mid-morning to mid-afternoon

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Graduation Brunch: The Park, Sunday, mid-morning to mid-afternoon

A banner, the letters wrapped with fresh spring flowers, hung from the trees, spelling out CONGRATULATIONS, CLASS OF 2009! No missing letters or anything.

Spread out across the park were plenty of tables and chairs, some under the shade of picnic shelters, some out on the grass in the sunshine. For those who felt like getting back to nature, there were even red and white checked blankets spread out in a few areas for old-fashioned picnic-y goodness. Lack of ants not guaranteed.

The long table that ran along next to the picnic shelters was laden with a vast ~~moddable~~ array of traditional brillig-y food, including fruit, veggie snacks, breakfast pastries, sandwiches for the especially hungry or those who arrived more toward the unch end of brunch, and a wide variety of J,GoB-catered desserts. Drinks included coffee, tea, juices and soft drinks, and while there were plates provided, there were also wee picnic-basket-shaped trays for carrying things back to your seat, wherever that might be.

A space had been cleared for dancing, if people cared to do more than just listen to the light music being played through the speakers, and there was also an area set aside for outdoor games of croquet, horseshoes, or frisbee.

Everybody's welcome. Come celebrate with the Class of '09!

[OOC: ~~Wait for the OCD. Don't make Eliza Doolittle have to cut a bitch.~~ OPEN! And no one had to get cut! It's a good day!]

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Adah drifted, as well as one who limped as she did could drift, over to the Eel's table well after she'd spotted it, nodding a little as she stood. "Lee."

And, of course, a nod to the man with him, her stomach tightening a little and wishing she'd just stayed in the hotel room. At least, if anything, she could make the attempt to tell herself that she just didn't like meeting people in general. It had nothing to do with the fact that this particular person was the Eel's father.

"Adah, hey," Lee said, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste to get up and greet her. "Hey, hi."

He babbled when he was nervous.

Commander Adama didn't get up. He figured Lee had that covered what with nearly flinging himself to the ground while getting up.

Instead, he just eyed the new arrival quietly for the time being.

It was a little difficult to keep from grinning at a situation where she suddenly felt like the graceful one. It also helped to remind her that she'd have to mess up pretty bad for this brunch to be as bad as the last one.

"Hi," she said, quietly. "You mentioned someone I should maybe meet?"

"Yeah, yeah, sit down," he said, tugging a chair out for her. It gave him something to do and he wouldn't end up flailing like a child. "And uh, this is my dad."

He barely resisted the urge to point at his father since, by process of elimination, the other man had to be his father.

"William Adama," his father took the liberty of saying since his son seemed to be a mess of flailing limbs and nervousness. "Commander William Adama."

He was kind of proud of the rank.

"If you're not Toby and you don't look like Warren, you must be Adah."

A sudden flash of something, electricity across neurons, slashed across one side of her brain to the other, and it hurt, and she tried not to wince as the persistence of memory failed to connect with how the scene was actually playing out. It wasn't working out how she'd pictured it: the Father Adama remained seated while the Son stood, leaving her right arm twitching with unexpected inactivity. She'd been so focused on using it that she it didn't know what to do if it stayed still. She felt it twitch, just a little, but violently enough in her internal workings that she knew she couldn't hide the wince on her face, and she carefully sunk into the chair that the Eel had pulled out.

"It's nice to finally meet you, sir," she said, more quietly than she had wanted to, the nod of her head now feeling awkward. She curled up her right fist, tightly, and settled it into her lap, where she expected it would stay.

"Are you all right?" Lee asked, still standing but frowning in concern. "Do you want me to get you some water or something?"

"And you," his father said, nodding and settling his arms on the table. "Lee's talked about you quite a bit."

Adah's first response was to shake her head a little, very little, at the Eel's offer, to tell him that she was fine, she didn't need anything, but before she said it, she stopped, and reconsidered. If he went to get water, it would leave her alone with his father, which could either pass entirely in awkward silence, could pass in further introduction, or could cause disaster, but, either way it passed, it could pass judgments without the precence of the Eel looming over it.

So she nodded, just as lightly as she'd shaken her head. "Water would be good. Maybe some food? I haven't really eaten yet."

"Okay." He paused for a minute and eyed his father and then eyed Adah again. "Okay."

Hoping he wouldn't come back to...well, bloodshed, he headed for the food and drinks.

Adama waited till Lee was out of earshot before he turned his attention on the girl, face impassive.

"He talks about you a lot." Pause. "When he talks to me."

Adah watched the Eel slink off, too, waiting a moment before turning her own impassive, plaintive face toward the Eel's father. She wondered if she should have expected him to look so worn, and couldn't help wonder if Nathan was so worn now, too. Somehow, she couldn't imagine it. The idea that Nathan Price could be anything than a powerful force pumped up on the energy of his own importance was completely unfathomable.

She worked the fingers of her left hand into her right hand, opened slightly, smoothing out the unfamiliar tension in it.

"Good things, I hope," she said. Clichéd, but conversation was not among her finer attributes.

"We don't talk much," he admitted, rubbing a thumb over his chin. "But when we do talk, yes, they are good things."

Still.

"For all that he talks about you, I still don't know that much about you. Or why you've shown such an interest in someone like Lee."

Adah's eyebrow lifted slightly. "He's an interesting person," she said. "I suspect more people would look at the situation and think the other way, on why someone like Lee would show an interest in me."

"I don't know you," he said, keeping his voice even. "And I do know him even if he chooses to think I don't. I know very little of what he's done here for the most part."

Determined not to let her utter lack of social graces turn this encounter downward, Adah didn't say anything at all. It not her position to say anything either way about what, really, should be said between the Eel and his father themselves. She just tucked a corner of her lower lip under her teeth a little, and gave the old man another watchful look, as if following the creases and pocks on his face were a map to finding the key to him.

Adama looked away, checking to make sure Lee hadn't found his way back before turning back to her.

"You're in college?" he asked, changing topics for the time being. "In another state, correct?"

Adah gave a small nod. "Pre-med," she said. "Emory University. In Georgia, the state where I grew up."

"Mmm." He nodded. "Have you spoken to Lee about what he's planning?"

"He hasn't said anything to me yet," Adah admitted, biting back a comment about how, for someone she'd always accused of talking too much, he sure kept a lot back from people.

"And that doesn't bother you?" Adama asked briskly. "He hasn't spoken to me either but I expected that. We haven't spoken save for a few words since his brother died."

Adah's head jerked a little, her eyes blinking as they stared across the table at the Eel's father at those last words. She drew in a little bit of a breath, the sort intended to hold back words, and then she blinked again. Her head shook a little.

"No," she said, quietly. "It doesn't bother me. He'll tell me when he's ready. And, if he isn't ready...I'll find out eventually."

Funny how, in the blink of an eye, a few statements could suddenly gain a separate meaning for an altogether different topic.

"That's quite the well of patience you have for a sometimes infuriating boy," he said gruffly. "Has he told you about me at all?"

Adama figured the answer would be no or it would be yes but the details wouldn't be pleasant.

"Patience is one of the few virtues I have, sir," said Adah. "And he has told me about you, yes. Not much. Enough to glean that the two of you don't have the closest relationship in the world, if you don't mind me saying so."

She still felt the relationship between them, though, was infinitely closer than the relationship she had with her own Father. And she was just fine with that.

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