fandomtownies | 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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"I'm sure my father will delighted to hear that I do, in fact, have a diploma, and that I conducted myself with all the dignity due our clan," Dōjima replied dryly. "I didn't even have to sleep with any of my teachers to get it, either."

If he wanted to play 'cover stories', she'd oblige him, but Dōjima wasn't going to pretend she believed that line for a moment.

"And," he added, "I wanted to extend my own congratulations."

He bent forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You've done very well, Dojima Yurika." He's proud of her.

To say that had been unexpected was an understatement, and Dōjima simply blinked, stunned for once into silence.

"Arigato gozaimausu, Colegui-sama," she said finally, giving him a small bow. "I'm very glad you were able to make it today."

"As am I, my child." His smile if fleeting but, for just a moment, completely genuine.

"And you know that we may not see each other again." She'd be deep under cover, so he'd wanted her to know that, underneath the games and the stories, he loved her.

In his profoundly twisty way.

"I'm sure you'll find your way to Japan again sometime," Dōjima replied. "SOLOMON never sleeps, after all, and I'm sure my father would always be happy to host such an honored visitor."

Yurika was almost relieved to know that there'd be an anonymous contact between the two of them. Plausible deniability was a beautiful thing, and it would be easier to manipulate some handler in the SOLOMON Intelligence Division than it would be reporting to Juliano.

For one thing, it meant fewer lectures about having Romeo around, not that she'd told him yet. Just... hinted. Gently.

She'd get there.

He nodded, but they both knew it wouldn't be the same.

"While this is true, I did want to suggest that if there was anything else that you wanted to bring to my attention," anything not in an official report, "that now might be an excellent time."

"You know how I feel about surprises."

"That they keep you on your toes and make you eternally young?" she tried, eyes dancing with mischief.

"I don't know that I'd put it quite that way."

Or even remotely that way.

Which doesn't stop him from being amused.

"How would you put it, then?" Dōjima asked. "I do so hate assuming anything."

"I suppose it would be fair to suggest that surprises should be kept to a minimum, then."

"Boring, Colegui-sama," Dōjima chided gently. "Then again, I don't think anything's a surprise, really. You know everything."

"One does do one's best," he admitted.

"Though you are correct. I do prefer boring."

"Unfortunately for you, I am never boring," Dōjima sighed dramatically. "I wonder how many white hairs I have given my Father."

Either father.

"I am sure the number is far too high for anyone's peace of mind."

"My peace of mind is intact," Dōjima replied sweetly. "I rarely regret anything I do."

"I might have noticed that, my child."

Then, more softly. "And I hope it remains that way."

"Mmm," she replied neutrally, giving him a sideways glance. "That includes continuing to associate with him as I have in the past, Father. After all, having a live-in gaijin boyfriend so very good at directing attention away from other things, and back on to the society pages my father loathes so much."

There. Direct, yet subtle.

"It increases your risk significantly," he cautioned. "You are not new to this. You know how difficult it is to maintain a story if there is anywhere you are not forced to tell it."

Reducing pressure tended to make people sloppy. Even if it did make them happier.

"I've considered that," she admitted. "But I think the advantages outweigh the concerns."

"Having Romeo around reduces the time I need to spend maintaining other parts of my story, and it's an easy alibi," Yurika continued. "No one will be shocked if I'm late to the office, or skip out early. Why think up a lie, when they'll create their own for me?"

"Know that I disapprove," Juliano said calmly. But he did not order her to stop. In this, for now, he would let her decide.

"If you didn't, I'd suspect you of being on Zaizen's payroll and setting the whole thing up just to keep everyone else at SOLOMON dancing to your own tune," Yurika replied sweetly, even as her smile turned somewhat sharp. "It's fine, sensei. Someone needs to feed the cat while I'm out all night."

"And I am not giving up Alea."

Juliano sighed. "Then I shall continue to pray that you continue to live a life with no regrets." He suspected that Romeo could end up being nothing else in the end.

"Have a little faith, Father," Yurika said, stepping closer and going up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I haven't disappointed you yet, ne?"

"No, my child," he smiled fondly. "You have not." He's prouder of her than he'll ever say.

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

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