lestercraft: (Talking to himself)
Arthur Lester ([personal profile] lestercraft) wrote in [community profile] silentspringlogs2024-01-29 09:49 am

Part Two: The Dinner

Who: Arthur & Helly Lester and anyone who actually goes for the invite
When: Evening of Jan 29th
Where: The Lester Household
Open/Closed: Open! Come one and all from Haven Street.
Applicable Warnings: Discussion of January events, mass conspiracy (it's us, we're the conspirators)


It's even odds, he thinks, whether people thought he was off his rocker in making a post like that, or if people would believe he's actually trying to contact people the only reasonable way he knew how. It was certainly much faster than trying to contact people individually, especially in this weather, and hopefully between himself and Helly that they've met enough people to get a decent turn-out.

The more they can learn about this place, the more they can trust each other, the better. Right now, trust is all they have.

The lower floor of the house is well lit, even if all the windows are curtained and shut, and there's a record playing in the lounge, audible from outside - something jazzy and dated by the standards of the time, but a bit of Hoagy Carmichael and Billie Holiday is settling his nerves, if nothing else - and the kitchen is... sparse, clearly underused but for the stack of mugs by the sink, but with some effort the blind leading the blind he and Helly have at least put together a salad for people. Theoretically they'll be bringing their own food too, make it at least ostensibly a potluck.
wwrench: <lj user=proverbially> (pic#13703945)

Wrench (Smith) | Fargo TV | Husband

[personal profile] wwrench 2024-01-29 02:23 am (UTC)(link)
If there's one thing he hates more than finding himself amid a chatty group, it's... knowing he's been left out of said group? Neither option sits particularly well with Wrench, but the tall man ultimately decides he'll attend. Maybe it's because Arthur's playing host, or maybe it's because both his wife and former partner have spent the last several days wandering around like shells of their former selves. Whatever the reason, he's getting the impression that whatever's going on here can't be resolved by waiting it out, nor by the sheer force of one or two of them alone. It'll be far better for all of them if they can find some way to compile their knowledge and formulate a plan.

A dinner plan, he means. Because this is a nice, simple dinner. Not that Wrench has the first clue what to bring to such an event, but he hasn't arrived empty-handed. He'd had every good intention to bring a bottle of something strong, but a single trip to the grocery store had put that notion to rest. Why the hell is alcohol so expensive? He's arrived instead holding a pitcher of Tang and hoping maybe Teddy did better.

Once he's found a place for the powdered beverage somewhere around the salad Wrench might be found comparing the layout of the Lester home to his own or checking again and again to make sure their little soirée hasn't caught the attention of any neighbors who might take offense to not having been invited.
wwrench: growling @ LJ (pic#13397510)

[personal profile] wwrench 2024-01-29 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
It would be rude not to say hello to the host, and even ruder yet not to let Arthur know he's in the room. The other man looks like he's on a mission, though, and Wrench hesitates to interrupt that. Of course, stalling means he's lost the best window to approach, and as he watches Lester at the stove he waits for an opportunity that he hopes won't startle the man into burning himself.

Footsteps shuffling more than he'd normally walk, Wrench squeezes Arthur's left shoulder and taps the back of his hand, just like they practiced. With the other man's hand atop his, he takes the chance, thinking a half-salute for hello will probably explain itself.

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pharadyne: (beaming)

Norton Folgate | Torchwood | Husband

[personal profile] pharadyne 2024-01-29 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
Norton does not arrive particularly late, despite RSVP threats to the contrary. He knocks on the door at around quarter to six with a bottle of not particularly good wine in his hand and a loaf of bread from the shop under his arm. He hasn't a clue how to cook anything more complicated than eggs and toast and he can hardly bring the doggie bag from his lunch to a potluck.

Later, once everyone has arrived he'll flit around with a bright smile like the social butterfly he is. He introduces himself to anyone he hasn't met yet and says hello to people he has met. He'll act like this is a perfectly normal dinner party until he has a chance to get the lay of the land.
perceptual: (💾 149)

helly r. | severance | wife

[personal profile] perceptual 2024-01-29 03:00 am (UTC)(link)
001.hostess with the mostess.
Helly's trying hard to be a good host, but she's never actually hosted a party before, so she has no idea how well she's doing. She's learning she quite enjoys the sociable aspect of this kind of gathering, if not the preparation part, but that's all in the past now. And maybe she only enjoys the sociable bit because she knows it's subversive, that it might get something done.

So she makes herself known to just about everyone who arrives, offering drinks – she meticulously followed the instructions on how to make punch, and there's not a shred of alcohol in it in case anyone's concerned – and making small talk.

002.public service announcement.
As soon as she's sure everyone who's coming is actually here – and, more importantly, that nobody here is a native of Sweetwater – Helly clears her throat and clinks a glass with a spoon to catch everyone's attention.

The music's still on, and she doesn't talk too loudly, making sure that she's only just audible to the people gathered in the room. "Okay, so. Obviously we're here to do more than just – party, I guess. We wanted a way to get all of us together, everyone who's come here from someplace else, because we need a way of organising and sharing information without being overheard. I've been thinking about it, and we can't rely on the communication devices they gave us – at least not to say things out in the open – since it seems like they delete posts. Maybe if you're desperate, you can put something up there and hope that one of us sees it before they take it down, but we need another way to share information. And I'm open to ideas, but I think right now we need to make it a priority that we all keep an eye on each other and make sure none of us goes missing or – or ends up somewhere we shouldn't be. I think a lot of us had pretty shitty experiences with the doctor guy for just talking out of turn, so... I guess if you don't want to make this a habit because you're concerned about your own safety, then that's fine. But I think it's smart."

A pause, as she has a sip of her drink. Her mouth is very dry. The last time she talked in front of a lot of people, she was too riled up and angry to even really notice the amount of eyes staring at her. Not so right now.

"I think we should form some sort of club. Something we can advertise meetings for publicly, something any of us could host, and it's not like all of us has to come, because we can just pass things on to each other verbally. Behind closed doors, obviously. But – if anyone has any ideas on how this can work, and how we can make this happen without being caught out, we should discuss it tonight."

003.wildcard.
[ feel free to spot helly elsewhere later in the evening (or contact me [plurk.com profile] crowders if you want to plot a little). you're also welcome to threadjack the second prompt and have conversations related to helly's proposition without helly's participation! ]

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regulararmybrat: (06)

2

[personal profile] regulararmybrat 2024-01-29 04:15 am (UTC)(link)
Margaret listens to Helly speak, nodding carefully. Her hand is poised against her chin, fingers tapping against her cheek.

"A club would be a good idea, but how do we make sure that unwanted neighbors don't show up?" she asks. "Word seems to travel fast here, and I don't doubt that whoever's running this show might want to poke their nose into our business."

She purses her lips, thinking.

"It might be a good idea to have some sort of secret code or password to say when or where something is taking place. When I was serving in the army, we'd give our guards a password that was regularly updated to weed out any intruders." She pauses, then continues in a slightly grumpy tone. "Theoretically speaking, as long as you've got guards with integrity."
frauseufzen: (listening)

3

[personal profile] frauseufzen 2024-01-29 06:54 pm (UTC)(link)
It's later in the evening, after all the organizing, and a moment arrives in which Helly and Agathe are both in the kitchen; Agathe is washing dishes, keeping her hands busy, mindless of the fact that it isn't even her house.

"You are brave," she says in an undertone, cutting her gaze to the younger woman, "but." She extracts a plate, dries it, and sets it carefully in the rack. "I worry."
workingthenumbers: (Default)

numbers | fargo tv | threadjacking encouraged!

[personal profile] workingthenumbers 2024-01-29 04:24 am (UTC)(link)
[Numbers shows up at the dinner party, thankfully free from the effects of haloperidol and sleep deprivation. But both have taken their toll on him, and he looks more gaunt and haggard as ever, though his hair is still perfectly coifed and groomed. His sole food offering is a bag of potato chips from the store, which he immediately decides to keep to himself, shoveling them sullenly into his mouth as he sits and listens to other people speak.

At some point during the discussion, Numbers becomes impatient and decides to interject. Loudly.]


I'd like to identify someone as a person of interest--the shithead to kidnapped me and injected me with God knows what.

[His voice comes out as a snarl, his teeth bared. For once, he doesn't bother with propriety or charm to dress up his words. From his perspective, Numbers has been slighted, punished for pushing for answers. Which means he'll only throw himself into the task with even more vigor.]

I don't know who he is or what his deal is, but I want that asshole dead.
pharadyne: (srsly?)

[personal profile] pharadyne 2024-01-29 11:45 pm (UTC)(link)
"It's a little early in the evening still to go straight to planning murder, cowboy. We should at least wait until after the pudding," he says dryly.

Norton isn't against murder per se, and finds the undercurrent of violence in the omme rather sexy if he's honest with himself, but he definitely doesn't know enough about this unknown kidnapper to be sold on the idea.

"Does this person of interest have a name? A description?"

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yupe: (pic#16873172)

the most pointless tag

[personal profile] yupe 2024-01-30 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
From where Jupe's standing, a soft but heartfelt: "Dude..."

also pointless tag

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inaxorable: (pic#16542683)

[personal profile] inaxorable 2024-01-30 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ Him too? Raskolnikov straightens, setting the the glass of water he’d been drinking aside. ]

Do you know why he kidnapped you? Did he say?

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ribticklers: (130)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2024-02-03 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[Sans listens to this guy talk about what happened to him--drugged, told he was acting subversive, injected with a drug when he struggled... He doesn't like it. It didn't just happen to Papyrus, then. He's not going to bring that up; that's Papyrus's to share, if he actually wants to. Sans wouldn't, but his brother has always been more willing to join in group activities with him.

Still.]


If they'll do that to you for being "subversive", what d'you think's gonna happen if you murder somebody? [Want him dead all you want, actually doing it might be a bad idea.]

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frauseufzen: (Default)

Agathe | OC | wife (ota forever)

[personal profile] frauseufzen 2024-01-29 06:47 pm (UTC)(link)
I. She arrives with her weaselly little husband in tow and a casserole dish grasped tightly in her thin hands, the grip of which somehow manages to echo her ever-present scowl. Agathe has received the invite, and she has made food (in the tradition of mid-20's Germany, so no jello unfortunately), and she is here.

II. She says very little all the while, perching herself on an empty chair and sitting like a tall, suspicious gargoyle, her periphery always on the nearest window. If she has thoughts on the "club"'s planning, she doesn't volunteer them, at least not to the group at large-- but by the consternation on her face, she definitely has a few.

III. Wildcard me babey
regulararmybrat: (09)

margaret houlihan | m*a*s*h | wife

[personal profile] regulararmybrat 2024-01-29 11:47 pm (UTC)(link)
i. meet your neighbors! (threadjacking encouraged!)
[Margaret has never really cooked before. Sure, she knows how to make toast and pour milk into her cereal, but when you've made a career out of being in the army, learning household skills are hardly at the forefront of your mind. She took home economics once in some errant high school while her father was deployed in the US, learned how to make chocolate chip cookies, but that knowledge had faded long ago.

So she brings an entire platter of scrambled eggs to the party. The eggs are most definitely overcooked and rubbery, but dammit, she's not about to show up to a party empty-handed. Even if that party is supposed to be for conspiring and covert discussion. She drops off her eggs on the table and turns to the others gathered, trying to identify people she recognizes.]


I think it might be a good idea to go around the room and introduce ourselves to each other. Where we're from, when we're from, our professions...that kind of thing. If we're going to be working together, we need to know where our skills lie and how we can utilize them to the best of our abilities.

[A pause.]

I'll start. My name is Margaret Houlihan, US Army Major. I was head nurse at the MASH 4077 in Korea--that's, uh, a mobile army surgical hospital.

[She clasps her hands together, looking expectantly around the room, painfully aware that this sounds like freshman orientation.]

Okay! Who's next?

ii. wildcard
[hmu for plotting @ [plurk.com profile] wolfnoir!]

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cw: mild ableism??

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Sorry for the delay!

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wwrench: growling @ LJ (pic#13345656)

[personal profile] wwrench 2024-01-30 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
Too many more of these "dinner parties" and Wrench is going to have to get himself a notebook like Arthur's. And maybe learn to cook.

Actually, he's not a half-bad cook, as far as he's concerned. Eating mostly from necessity teaches a man not to be too picky, but if fresh-caught fish or game offal had been on the menu, he'd have really shone. So maybe rubbery eggs or a single pitcher of mostly-unsweetened Tang isn't so bad after all.

They're going in a circle, and the blonde haired woman with the severe look about her seems to be the ringleader. Maybe Wrench ought to have listened to Numbers when he said he was ready to go. Maybe he ought to find him now and drag him back to handle this.

Sorry, Arthur. Evidently tonight you're both host and paper mill. Wrench is going to borrow whatever's closest to write both on and with and present it to Margaret with very little preamble, like she'll... what? Read it out? Keep it in her records?

Wrench. From Massachusetts, in 2016 last I checked. Mostly do odd jobs. Whatever people say they need.

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pharadyne: (who me?)

i

[personal profile] pharadyne 2024-01-30 01:10 am (UTC)(link)
[Norton has a pile of eggs on his plate because even rubbery and overcooked, it's still better than the powdered stuff he'd get in the tea shop round the corner from his office. And man can't live off wine and salad alone.]

Norton Folgate, London, England, 1954. I work for the British government. -ish.

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inaxorable: (pic#16542685)

[personal profile] inaxorable 2024-01-30 01:22 am (UTC)(link)
[ Raskolnikov, quite frankly, doesn’t want to introduce himself. He doesn’t even really want to be here in the first place, but it’s too late to back out now. So here he is, with what seems like everyone in the room looking at him, and he has to say something. ]

Uh. [ Very eloquent. ] I am — that is, my name is — Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov. I am from Saint Petersburg.

[ When we’re from, the army woman (a woman in the army!) had said, so with some trepidation, he adds, ] It was the year 1866 before I arrived here.

[ He decides not to share any of his skills. What would he say? I can speak some French? I killed two women? That would certainly not endear him to any of the people here! ]

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coefficiently: ([007])

i

[personal profile] coefficiently 2024-01-31 06:51 am (UTC)(link)
[When the series of introductions swings her way—]

Maureen Robinson. [She's one of those narrow women who seems to take up more space than she should. Even now, looking faintly haggard around the edges (a little insomnia is probably understandable under these circumstances), there's a sense of readied momentum about her.

She hasn't touched the eggs. Maybe later.]


I'm an aerospace engineer with the 24th colonist group. It was 2046, and I wasn't [it's complicated] in this galaxy.

[Is there a prize for furthest distance traveled?]

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ribticklers: (126)

i

[personal profile] ribticklers 2024-01-31 03:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[Sans has been slouching up against a wall or in a seat, variably, since he arrived. The introductions he listens to with a casual sort of curiosity, examining each person who speaks up. He's one of the, but not the very, last to introduce himself, which he does with a casual wave.]

The name's Sans.

[Sorry if you wanted more.]

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spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: BONE)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2024-02-01 07:41 pm (UTC)(link)
[Unfortunately for everyone, Papyrus has been continuing his culinary explorations into the local cuisine bringing a decorative gelatin dish. It is decorative, a few layers of color to the gelatin like a sky at sunset! It's only that the bottom layer is spaghetti and hotdogs, arranged like a little town of hotdog houses and spaghetti yards between them.

He's been loitering around it like it's an art museum, and he's the first time artist just waiting for someone to walk by and comment on the piece, rather than like someone who meant for this food to be eaten. Along with taking notes on the party, since it's not in the same style as that uncannily smiling one, and it sounds like he might need to throw one himself soon.

In the meantime, introductions are... probably a good thing, but there's a lot of info Margaret's asking for. A lot of info that others are sharing, that would be... a little difficult for him to match.]


...And I'm Papyrus! From a little snowed-in town you won't have heard of.

[Heh. Except for his brother, anyway. Whose approach to this is probably for the best, except for how it could raise extra questions with its pointed silence, and they're both still working on their poker faces here.]

I was something of a sentry... and then, an elected community leader!
Edited 2024-02-01 19:42 (UTC)

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m1895: (they taught me everything)

wildcard! | closed/private

[personal profile] m1895 2024-02-04 04:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He'd showed up to the party because it would look suspicious if his lawfully wedded assigned wife attended alone, and furthermore, because he likes Helly's company, a hell of a lot more than Margaret's. He's isolated here, and while he doesn't quite consider the woman he met on the pond a friend, she's at least friendly.

But Vasiliy hadn't realized the incriminating nature of what he was walking into, and he watches with horror as Margaret wholeheartedly throws herself into all of it, saying any number of things that could get her jailed or worse in a country society like this with careless abandon. Did he not give her a talk about what they have to do to survive in a place like this?

He thought that they were at least "on the same page" about keeping their heads down. He burns with frustration—and, more importantly, tension and worry as he approaches her once she's separated from the other partygoers for a moment, keeping his voice low. ]


We need to leave. Now.

[ If they're lucky, they won't be placed here. But simply having been present where the conversation about killing a man took place could still be enough. It would have been during his time. ]
Edited 2024-02-04 16:03 (UTC)

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puzzleking: (Default)

Edward Nashton | The Batman | Husband

[personal profile] puzzleking 2024-01-30 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ The whole thing feels like a setup, but ultimately Edward reckons that he'll want any and all information their adversaries could be gaining through bugging the residence ahead of time. It couldn't be much worse than any company party, really. He rallies himself, dresses in his best approximation of Contented Period-Appropriate Man Who Parties, and arrives promptly as instructed and with a smile on his face that dims immediately after the door is shut behind him. Not absent entirely, he takes care to not look dour, but the performance isn't permitted to eat more of his energy than necessary. He needs to focus. He sets his offering, a supermarket deli platter, with the rest and winces while doing so — clearly no one present is overly accustomed to even normal parties of this nature. There are no bake sale moms or church potluck types here.

Cup of Tang in hand, he selects a spot on the wall and plants himself with his free hand in his pocket and eyes lowered to the ground. There's no shrinking in a crowd so small and that isn't wholly his goal, but he wants to be unobtrusive. Let others talk, mill about as they might. He's silent as groupwide introductions are made, pretending to busy himself with a topping off his drink or making a stop by the restroom while people have their separate conversations, eavesdropping as best he's able. It isn't actively suspicious so much as his default. He's polite in passing, quick with an excuse me or sorry.

When talk suddenly takes a sharp turn toward premeditating murder and other crimes, however, he decides both that the risk outweighs the reward and that he'll obtain little of use until the topic shifts. Again he excuses himself, this time to the porch. He's reluctantly acquiring the taste for cigarettes, which he deems an easy ticket to hitting pause. Coat abandoned, a sign he'll return, he immerses himself in the bitter cold and focuses idly on the positives. The moonlight glinting off of the snow, the way the slight discomfort helps him think. ]


Needed some air. [ He's quick to explain, should anyone join him then. If they seem amenable he'll offer his pack of cigarettes. ] Doesn't it seem warm in there to you?
frauseufzen: (listening)

[personal profile] frauseufzen 2024-02-02 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)
[It does feel like a setup, doesn't it?

Not long after he absconds, Edward is joined by Agathe, who closes the door behind her so quietly that he might not even notice her presence if he isn't actively looking in that direction; when he speaks, however, it's clear any stealth was unintentional.]

Quite.

[She holds a cup of tea in her thin hands, perhaps more for warmth than for drinking.]

People speak so loudly here.

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