Part Two: The Dinner

[lestercraft]

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.

Comments

i

[ribticklers]

[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.]

[regulararmybrat]

[The lack of detail illicit a sort of annoyed reaction from Margaret. Her smile tightens a bit, and she crosses her arms, tapping her fingers against her upper arm.]

Sans what? Sans name? [As in, without name?] Is that a nickname? What do you do?

[ribticklers]

[Sans shows no signs of being the least bit ruffled by her annoyance.] Sans Doe, if you believe this place, but if you call me Mr. Doe I'm not gonna answer to it in here. [Doe is not any actual part of his name, after all.] I mostly take naps and tell jokes.

[lestercraft]

[Arthur visibly perks up in surprise.]

Oh- you're Sokka's guardian? He mentioned his surname to me a while ago, he seemed somewhat alarmed by the concept.

[ribticklers]

[So does Sans, judging by the way he looks briefly alarmed at being directly addressed as "Sokka's guardian". It's only a second before his face returns to what seems to be its default grin, though.] Yeah, also if you believe this place. They just kinda dropped him into the house with me.

[spaghettimonster]

[Papyrus has been rolling his eyes, just a little, through Sans's unhelpful not-answers. Margaret's annoyance is entirely too relatable... But, then, he can see where his brother's coming from. Actual answers to a lot of the things these people are talking about would entail... revealing entirely too much. This kind of secrecy at least hides the kinds of secrets they're keeping.

But that's a lot to hold back, and a little honesty can go a long way in making a convincing cover story, so:] You don't need to tell any jokes here! I don't think 'stand-up comedy club' is the kind of club anyone's planning.

[ribticklers]

[Sans appreciates you, Papyrus. But of course Papyrus already knows that. He also already knows what setting Sans up like this means.]

Well, maybe they should. This place could use a sit down at some stand up where I lay down the jokes. [This is extremely stupid wordplay and Sans dances through this stupidity like he does it every day. Because he does. Sans being a stand up comedian isn't even actually a lie.] I don't have to worry about bombing when everybody here is so worked up about bombings.

[spaghettimonster]

Oh my god. [Now he outright rolls his eyes, with a long-suffering expression and tone.] Nobody needs that! That's the exact opposite of what I was saying!!

[But exactly what he was hinting at, and he's a little relieved his brother picked up on it and rolled with it right away - and managed to do it without ribbing him with a skeleton pun along the way. But of course Sans is being very careful, here. If Papyrus is exaggerating his performance of annoyance to try concealing amusement or relief, well, that's exactly the kinds of muscular micro-expressions of that poker face he's still working on.]

[regulararmybrat]

[Margaret can think of quite a few of her coworkers whose talents also lie in taking naps and telling jokes...a Dr. Benjamin "Hawkeye" Pierce and Dr. "Trapper" John McIntyre come to mind.]

Surely you can offer more than that.

[Something something unstoppable force vs immovable object]

[ribticklers]

My brother's here. [That's no secret. Sans gestures loosely in Papyrus's direction.] He's pretty cool.

[That's what she wanted, right?]

[regulararmybrat]

Your brother?

[She looks towards Papyrus, then back to Sans. Ah. Her mouth twists to the side.]

I see. Well, thank you anyways, Mr. Sans.

[Even though it's clear from her clipped tone that she's displeased with what Sans has given her. It seems that, in Margaret's mind, Sans has been neatly categorized as a no-good, evasive lazybones. Just like Dr. Pierce.]