fandomtownies | Come As You Were Dance, Community Center, Saturday Evening

Originally, this was going to be a much smaller event, but then Fandom had to be Fandom and Portalocity had to be Portalocity, and now Zoe was wondering if there would be enough food for everyone or if she'd have to get things from the local restaurants.

For the moment though, everything was set up nicely. There were tables and chairs set up with blue and gold tablecloths, each covered with glitter from years of use. There were balloons, streamers, and other slightly tasteful decorations, also covered in glitter from years of being stored with things that were also covered in glitter. Don't worry, no one had died from a glitter overdose yet.

Once the food was set out and the (non-tainted) punch was ready, it seemed like things were as good to go as they'd ever be. If things got too crowded, hopefully a fire marshal wasn't among the folks who had come back to town.

[We appear to have broken the post, huzzah! Please use these links to get around: Arrive/Mingle | Food/Drink | Dancing | Shadowy Corner | Corner of 2005 | OOC]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The eyebrow arched. The mouth tightened. Nothing was said.

And nothing needed to be said.

Except when Marty had an appointment with his therapist later.

He turned away and texted Angela:

"Bristow is here. The principal not your roommate. You made the right decision staying home."

Bristow was somehow directly behind Marty. How had he closed the distance? WHO KNOWS?

"Mr. Blank."

Marty's phone popped up into the air and he scrambled to catch it and put it into his pocket.

"Principal Bristow!"

Marty's voice had not cracked since puberty. And yet tonight it cracked like he was twelve.

"How are you? You look good! Very good."

...

"How are you?"

You already said that Marty.

"Busy. And you? Are you still killing people?"

This sounds both like a threat and a job offer. Somehow.

"Nope!"

That popped out of his mouth immediately.

"Nope! Nope! Nope. Went the other way. Domestic bliss with high school sweetheart. Two kids and the longest engagement ever. I don't even own a gun anymore. I have fork and a pen for self-defense though."

Even as it came out of his mouth it sounded lame.

"A fork." Deep within his eyes, a fire burned. You could see it. It looks like the beginning of Armageddon Today. "How do you expect to protect anyone with a fork? For the sake of your family, switch to a more reliable utensil."

Marty's self-worth was completely gone. Like a stiff breeze had blown it all away.

"Yes, sir. Right away sir. Any suggestions, sir?"

He winced. He knew what he should have chosen.

Marty wondered if Dr. Oatman was still around and taking patients.

The fire calmed to an ember. "I'm aware of your use of the fork during the Paraguay mission and I can see why you might have..." A moment of discomfort and then, "...sentimental attachments to it."

"But you are a family man now. You would do anything to protect your family."

Bristow pulled out a spoon. "This is the spoon that I first acquired when I took out the Spoon Ninja by the blunt edge. Do you see the discoloration?"

"Um. Yes?"

Marty wasn't liking how this conversation was going.

"Gremlin blood. It doesn't entirely come out. It gives the utensil a certain theatricality that I find useful." Bristow flipped the spoon with lightning quickness, the handle now pointed at Marty. "It's yours."

Marty blinked and took the spoon gingerly in his hand. "I..."

He swallowed his words. Nothing came out for a second.

"Thank you, sir. I'll use it judiciously."

Judiciously? Marty winced. What was with him this weekend?

"I hope that you never have to use it at all." Bristow turned to go, but then had a thought. "Oh, and Mr. Blank, it may go without saying, but don't eat anything off the spoon. Some of that gremlin blood is from earlier today and I don't know how long it will remain potent."

"Yes, sir," Marty said with a serious nod. "No eating with the spoon ninja spoon."

He gave Bristow what he hoped was an almost imperceptible nod. "Thank you sir.

But Bristow was gone, his ability to avoid emotional moments deftly put to use. Where was he? And who was that oddly familiar DJ?

Come As You Were Dance, Community Center, Saturday Evening

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]

Re: Arrive/Mingle [Anniv.]