Gathering: Summer Party

[concierge]

Outside of the Nexus Hotel, waiters and hotel staff had begun to set up the umbrellas and the tables in the middle of the day. Soon, it became clear that something was happening in the shadow of the Nexus. White tablecloths were draped on the tables and drinks and food were brought out with the help of several waiters and servers, staffing tables with hot and cold foods beside bartending stations. Summery drinks in bright, neon colors are laid out one by one and soon, the afternoon light casts a radiant look on the scene.

Music plays faintly in the background and a note at the front desk invites all the Nexus guests to head outside and join in on the summer party, which promises to continue going as long as there are people to stay and continue keeping the warm atmosphere rolling.

On the lawn, social games had been set out -- lawn bowling, croquet, and tables were set up with chairs for anyone who didn't quite have the will or the spirit to get into such games. Soon, a small number of people had begun to mill around, but as with all parties, there's always room for more.

Comments

[seeorseem]

"It's more that I think my mother is going to end up popping out of the woodwork and shout at me for not calling her more often," Eames remarks with a slight degree of genuine fear that monsters in dreams and men with guns haven't been able to evoke. Then again, Eames has been ignoring his mother for months, now, and he didn't get his ability to handle himself from his Dad.

He does grin, though, for the way Arthur's taken his hand. Eames squeezes it and tugs him along. "She'd probably hit me with the bloody mallet."

[weighted_reality]

"Fair," Arthur says, grimacing. He doesn't dare consider how long it's been since he called his parents. If they ever knew he'd ended up in Chicago (voluntary or otherwise), he'd have been for a long earful of guilt.

"I can only imagine you got your fire from somewhere."

[seeorseem]

"Not my Dad," Eames is only too happy to share, given that he loves his father, but he's the most passive man Eames has ever come into contact with. "He's several generations into the riches and the houses and the estates." Also the title. "He's more than happy to sit back and enjoy it." He hadn't felt the chafing of it, hadn't wanted to escape it as Eames had. "These parties were regular affairs at the Eames household."

[weighted_reality]

"So you've always been imprisoned by such civility," Arthur teases. "I suppose then, there's no croquet or bocce to be had with you?"

[seeorseem]

"Unless you aim to give me flashbacks to a darker time," is his dry jest, bringing Arthur to the bar where he finally breathes easy. "Perfect," he announces with happy joy. "Somewhere I feel comfortable. I believe gin is called for, on occasions like these."

[weighted_reality]

"If I ever need to break your spirit, I know what to do." Deciding to play the part, he asks for a mint julep and glances toward the food and entertainments.

"I suppose there are worse places."

[seeorseem]

"Continuous besiege with manners and order," Eames concurs, though there are times in which he actually rather likes the idea of it, but those are the times when he's been home for a very, very long time and he's effectively forgotten how painful it could be. "You seem to be perfectly content in this sort of environment. Perhaps we could trade families, hm?"

[weighted_reality]

Arthur snorts then, shameless in his amusement. "I would love to see you try being in my family."

Love them as he does, he can't imagine Eames being as comfortable with the rest of Arthur's family as the forger might assume.

[seeorseem]

Eames wraps his fingers around the tall glass, his arm around Arthur's waist as he gets comfortable in a loose way that has all his limbs casual and relaxed. "I'm a forger, darling, I can get along anywhere and make it look good," he says. "Tense or not."

[weighted_reality]

"Yes, but you haven't met my father," Arthur teases. "He's an exceptionally crusty old man."

[seeorseem]

Eames gives Arthur a pointed look that implies that Arthur can be exceptionally crusty in his own ways and that he's had a great deal of time to practice with it. "And not only that," he goes on, like his look had yielded verbal words, "I've worked with a great many in the business that are likely worse. We're a horrible sort, darling."

[weighted_reality]

Arthur raises an eyebrow, effecting a man whose idea of getting his hands dirty is a cheap manicure.

"You really know how to flatter a man."

[seeorseem]

"I thought you liked our repartee," Eames replies, sipping at his drink with the casual air of a man who's so used to this environment that he settles back into it without even thinking. "I can flatter you properly, if you like. I'm good at that, too."

[weighted_reality]

"You? Flatter me? Are you sure either of us could condescend to such a thing?"

Shifting in his seat, Arthur lets his knee bump against Eames and pretends it to be a mere accident.

[seeorseem]

"I can be a very good boyfriend when I elect to be," is his offended reply, though the smile on his face is playful and full of mirth. "I think you might be terrified if I were to do that. I don't know that you expect such things of me."

[weighted_reality]

"Oh can you now?" Arthur asks, turning over his hand as an invitation for Eames to take it. "And when did we say we were? I think we need to have a meeting, Mr. Eames."

[seeorseem]

Eames laughs warmly and takes hold of Arthur's hand, following along with the other drink in his hand. "Well, if you insist, I'd hardly want to disappoint you," he murmurs, voice low and rumbling over the words. "After all, you do keep me striving for better."

[weighted_reality]

"You know me, I like planning. Details," Arthur murmurs, looking thoughtful. "We'll need a whiteboard, lots of sticky notes. I imagine there will be a fair number of bullet points involved."

[seeorseem]

Eames blinks, a bit taken aback by that much organization, but he thinks that he ought to allow Arthur to do what he likes. After all, it will make him happy. "I'd be more than pleased to ransack the office of the hotel manager," he suggests. "They had all sorts of post-its, there."

[weighted_reality]

Arthur laughs softly when Eames seems to take the sarcasm at face value. To presumptively sooth any rustled feathers, he raises Eames hand to his mouth and kisses it briefly.

"I am, of course, capable of joking."

[seeorseem]

Eames breathes out a bit, then laughs before the rest of it is exhaled, still eyeing Arthur like he's waiting for the joke to turn again and for him to be surprised. He does think the kiss to the hand is a good sign and he smiles a bit wider. "Sometimes, I can't tell with you."

[weighted_reality]

Arthur's smile is the barest lifting of the corner of his mouth, letting Eames laugh out his relief. "I like to keep you on your toes."

[seeorseem]

Eames lifts onto his toes as if to show that he's perfectly there. "Mission accomplished," he says, reaching out for another drink since he does really need them to cope with the garden party. "Honestly, this is all so dreadful. I keep expecting a sea of white clothing."

[weighted_reality]

"If I see so much as a white hat, I'll give the signal." His voice is so perfectly flat that Eames could take Arthur's joke for seriousness again. "Go running into the woods at full speed."

[seeorseem]

Eames presses his hand flat against the small of Arthur's back as he feels himself settle in, still a bit odd for thinking of Arthur mentally as his boyfriend, but pleased to have him at his side for events like this. "That means you earn a drink," Eames says. "Anything you like, darling, I'm buying."