Hot Potato (party log)

[desperate_times_right]

Who: Chloe Frazer & any and all party people!!
What: Harvest Celebrations/Halloween Party/Ruby’s Birthday/Rat Marriage/Big Communal Cooking Party so Chloe doesn't burn down her house
When: October 12
Where: At Chloe’s house on Greene Street

Content Warnings: Food descriptions, probably.
Other Notes: Feel free to make this a mingle and reply to other characters!

Chloe had wondered whether to go through with the harvest party once Lalo had disappeared, but as they say, the show must go on. There's still a lot worth celebrating, and people need something hopeful after the mess last month. Luckily her house had made it through everything all right.

The poster had said to wear a costume, so she's hoping to see a lot of those, and she’d recruited some people to help her put together the menu exactly to Lalo’s specifications, so unfortunately no one is safe from British Potatoes. There are even candles for the birthday cake.

Chloe herself is dressed as a sexy lumberjack, with one of Lalo’s old flannels tied in a knot under her breasts and denim cutoffs made from the jeans Kostya had gotten blood on (shh). She's got a fire roaring, because otherwise she’d freeze.

Comments

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe can't stay outside long in her crop top and short shorts, but she does have to pop out and see what's going on after the fifth person in a row mentions her weird bouncer.

“Hey dude. Do I know you?”

[unsheathedfromreality]

Illarion glances over at the question, studying her face before taking in the rest of her outfit at a glance. Must be a resident of the house, he thinks; maybe he should've declared his intentions to said residents before taking up his post.

Oh well. "No," he replies. "We haven't met."

[desperate_times_right]

“People keep telling me I've got a weird bouncer outside, but I didn't recall hiring one.”

This must be one of the last crop of new guys who’d arrived before the shit had hit the fan.

“You aren't gonna come in?”

[unsheathedfromreality]

He makes a low noise that's not quite scorn and not quite a laugh. "Wouldn't take payment, anyway. We're all Interlopers here."

For better or worse he's part of this haphazard little community; his skills are not for hire, as far as he's concerned.

He looks away at her question, back out into the twilight. "Someone should be watching," he finally says. "And I'd be a bad omen. In there."

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe snorts. “You think I'm not?” After everything she's done, and who her friends are, sometimes she feels like a pariah in this community.

“The guy who was supposed to be hosting with me disappeared into thin air less than a week ago. I doubt you can make it worse.”

[unsheathedfromreality]

The retort gives him pause. He looks her up and down again, noting the rise and fall of air in her lungs and the color of her exposed skin. She could be hiding it, he thinks; makeup, and fakery.

But far more likely she's exactly as she seems--alive--and hasn't understood the thrust of his objection. "Not the same kind," he explains, patiently. "I'm dead. The dead don't belong, where you celebrate life."

[desperate_times_right]

“Oh.” Chloe can kind of see how people who come from places where this sort of thing happens might believe that. “Well. There's already a zombie in there. I think it's fine.”

[unsheathedfromreality]

That gets a laugh--a small, dull laugh, but still a laugh--out of him. "Wouldn't dare tell him he's uninvited. He's got the best costume."

His gaze shifts away from her, back out to the night. Quietly: "This is better, for me."

[desperate_times_right]

“I’m proud of him,” Chloe says. It's easier to say it to someone else. “It's hard for him to let people see him like that. It's okay if you stay out here, but I really don't mind if you decide you want to come in. Tonight is for everyone.”