Logs:Ritter-Byrne Reception

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Ritter-Byrne Reception

"Things are about to get less Catholic and more Church of the Latter Day Hangover."

Dramatis Personae

Jesse, Guy, Ritter, Violet, Tyberia, Howell, Kilo, Hoax, Sorin, Ignazio, Kouri, Myles, Butters, Deckard (ST)

29 August, 2016


The wedding reception for Godric Ritter and Jesse Byrne is a quiet, tasteful affair until Deckard shows up and does exactly what Jesse hoped he would.

Location

Laurel Creek Park


The epicenter of the party is the pavilion (plook 2), but it has spilled out all over the park. There are a lot of people here (NPCs) who seem to know the happy couple from work, their kid's school, the gym, and so forth. Did they invite everyone they've ever met, or do they really have that many friends?

Either way, the important thing here is that there's a grill fired up and a steady supply of steaks, burgers, hotdogs and, on a separate grill, (for you, GUY) grilled, stuffed portobellos and some kind of marinated tempeh. The sides are laid out on long tables. In the center of which there is a tall, elaborate wedding cake.

Music plays from speakers around the pavilion, and the floor in the middle has been cleared for dancing.

It figures. The big day arrives, and where's the other groom? This is the peril of marrying an ER surgeon. Everyone loves a pileup with several injuries on their reception day. Is it selfish of Jesse to just be glad it's no one he knows? As for Guy? Guy works on Guy time. Sometimes the fellow just needs to take a moment. Social situations and all that. It leaves Jesse in the pavilion with a beer in hand watching from a distance as his precious little girl clambers all over the climbing wall in the playground. There's a mother of one of the kids there watching them, but Jesse frets. Molly is there, NOT in her vest, because she's not at work. Sadly, it means she has to be on a leash unless she's in the dog park. Jesse has the leas tethered nearby so she can lay down under the table and supervise.

The Laurel Creek Park is only a block away from Violet's home. A short walking distance. She had a few meetings today so she actually was in business casual for her. Which was a light blouse and a pleated skirt. She had switched into sneakers when she had gone home and ditched her blazer. It was a warm day. She has her strawberry shaped purse in tow. She rolled up her sleeve and on her forearm her toxic cupcake tattoo was visable. She glances around and shocked to find it this hopping on a Monday night. She takes a walk on the trail around the pavilion. She pauses to take her hair out of it's bun, no sense of looking professional now. One half of her head blond and the other brunette.

Amidst the people grilling and eating and drinking, Jesse sits and watches. The street, the parking lot, the trails, for any sign of the people who are supposed to be here, who kind of have to be for this to be a wedding reception. That's how he spies Violet. Something about the strawberry purse strikes his fancy, and he waves her over. "Hey, you want a steak and a beer?"

Violet runs a hand through her hair and flips it to get it out of her face. That's when she hears someone talking. She doesn't catch the first part of it. She turns to look. It appears she is being invited to the party. Best way to see the competition.. party crash..She smiles slightly, she is far away enough her gap in her teeth is not apparent. She ventures over. "Hello.. did you say Beer?" She is short only about 5'4". She glances around the pavilion and sees her Missing person flyers had been torn down for the party. She frowns a little. She might put out new ones tomorrow. Honestly, Violet is comically short in Fallcoast, because their something must be in the water here, everyone is so tall!

Jesse rises to his feet to greet Violet, and he offers her his hand. "Beer, wine, soft drinks, champagne later if my husband can stop saving lives long enough to stop in at his own reception. I'm Jesse, by the way. Jesse Ritter-Byrne. For now. We're iffy on the name thing. Hi!" Jesse's not often a nervous sort socially, but there's a lot of energy flowing off him. Saying the word 'husband' seems to have amped him up a little.

A black sedan pulls up to the park, and out climbs Dr. Howell Sinclaire and then he helps out a woman that definitely isn't Isrieal. The good doctor is wearing a light blue summer suit, with light brown loafers and a light pink gingham bowtie. "I think you'll really like Jesse and Godric both, Dr. Royals. A social worker and an ER physician, they're good people, with their hearts in the right place, truly, and I'm very excited for them. If you're lucky we'll bump into Guillermo, as well. Here, I think I see Jesse over here." Howell begins, and then heads towards his newly-hitched friend with a bit of a spring in his step and a very wide grin on his face. "Jesse!" He exclaims as they draw near. "I'd like you to meet one of my researchers, Dr. Royals, she's just been relocated from one of our clinics in Montana, to continue her work at the Amity Island facility. I'm trying to introduce her to people, help her meet friends and settle in, and all that."

Violet smiles nicely and evenly to conceal her top row of teeth. "Well congratulations!" She is assuming it is a wedding now. She offers her hand and gives a firm handshake. "Violet June. Nice to meet you Jesse. I'm sure you'll work out the last name. Hyphening is a way to handle it." She pauses and holds up her hand. "Well, I couldn't impose. I'd feel like a dirty party crasher." Her gaze goes over the crowd, popular people and professionals.

Tyberia says, "Yes, hello. It's a pleasure to meet you." Tyberia beamed at the strangers. Her small frame was draped in a casual black sheath dress to her knees, and low sandals; she was not one for any type of festivity but the move to Fallcoast had been a solitary and rather unorthodox one, and she was glad to get out and have company. She was very pleased, in a strange way, to see they were both men. Her own closet as a lesbian was deep enough growing up she couldn't see the door--would it be possible to live that out here, unlike the farmhills and trailer parks? But she pushed the thought away. "It is such a wonder to be here and out and about, it's been a crazy few days for me! Congratulations on your nuptials. Happy for you both." She holds out her hand: small, no manicure, coarse palm."

Aaand here is Guy. He is dressed a bit differently from his usual white - though he does have a white cap across his head, which is stitched over with little cowrie shells. The short Cuban has a sort of bandelero of beads across from shoulder to hip, red, black, and white, and a bright, loose pair of red pants. His chest is otherwise bare, coffee coloured, and his hair has been braided back in complex patterns. He has a couple of cheap-ass sneakers on - white now. They've been painted white. With house paint. He bounces from place to place, peering around, trying to adjust things so that everything is 'perfect'.

It so happens that Dr. Ritter isn't at his own reception. The perils of marrying an ER doctor, sometimes accident happen even on one's big day, and those accidents land people in an understaffed ER. Of course Godric would choose saving lives over even his own reception. That's okay, though! Jesse's sitting in the pavilion, a beer in hand, chatting with Violet, though he turns his attention to Howell and Tyberia. Offering his hand to shake to each in turn, he says to the latter, "Hello, Dr. Royals, it's a pleasure to meet you. I would introduce you to my husband, but he's at the ER." Hastily, he adds, "Working. Not, you know. Anyway, please come enjoy the food. That's my dog Molly under the table supervising us. My child is the one over there on the playground, uh, making that other kid walk the-- Choloe! Sweetie! We don't cast other children the sea!" The precious golden-haired little girl waves, and she stops poking the other kid with a stick she holds like a cutlass.

So that's Jesse's life right now. He takes a deep breath, and he says to Violet, "Violet June. It's a pleasure. You're not imposing. You're officially invited." When he smiles, there are so many gosh darn dimples, and there really ought to be a lens flare off his pearly white teeth.

Howell puts a hand on Jesse's shoulder, smiling. "Textbook Godric." Then he looks over to Violet, and offers a nod. He puts out a hand for her to shake. "Hey there, Dr. Howell Sinclaire, I'm the director of the clinic across from the university campus, among other things." He says, introducing himself. "June, you say, Violet June? A delight to make your acquaintance."

Violet attention is tugged to the yelling at the small child, just to see her make another kid walk the plank. She gains a smirk. "Girl after my own heart. Looks like you have your hands full with that one." She has a jovial tone to her voice to Jesse. "Well I am deeply honored by the invitation on your joyous occasion. I usually never get to enjoy parties." True. It's usually work. She offers her hand to Howell. "Pleasure to meet you, Doctors. I'm Violet June. I run a professional party planning company. Nothing as fun as being a doctor. Sadly this joyous affair isn't one of mine. I need to get the name of their coordinator."

Tyberia made a second-too-long eye contact with his animal companion (what a wonderful creature, so wise to observe), bending to the side just so, before straightening up and turning to Violet with her hand extended. Two handshakes in a row. Must be a...four year record? "Hi! It is so nice to meet you. And the both of you, please call me Tyberia, or whatever you like. 'Doctor' is for the lab." She punctuated this with a reserved smile. Thank god there was a dog here; parties were far from her forte.

Finally, there's the other half of the recently leg-shackled pair. Ritter's got a good summerweight suit in pale gray, white shirt, tie of deep peacock blue, matching pocket square, dress shoes. He's got a bundle of multicolored roses cradled in his arm, as well as one of daisies. He looks weary, but oh so pleased, as he bee-lines for Jesse.

Jesse says wryly, "Her Papa encourages her. He says privateering is still a noble profession-- I'm still watching, sweetheart!" The second attempt at stick-poking ceases. She glances his way again, and seeing he's still watching, throws the stick overboard and jumps off the plank onto the climbing net beneath meant to break falls. She starts to flop around on it, flailing her arms. Then she goes limp with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Drowned no doubt. Upon spying Ritter, Jesse greats his brand new husband with, "Would you get your weird kid?"

The dog is an intelligent creature, those big dark eyes knowing. Just... knowing. She belly crawls out from under the table, her ears drooping in eternal sadness because she's tethered to the table's steel leg by a leash. For some reason, the moment the leash is in someone's hand, she's fine, but when she's tethered it's the most tragic thing. She gazes up at Tyberia and pads over to her, then sits at her feet.

Guy suddenly peers upwards, and then he checks his watch "Come on...come on..."

Right now, a sky writing plane appears in the sky above Fallcoast, right when the letters can most easily be seen against the setting sun.

Slowly a phrase appears:

INITIATE SEQUENCE

Then there is a pause.

SECHER NBIW

The plane loops around again.

ANTWERP

The letters are left to gradually fade in the air, for everyone to see.

"Of course, dear," Ritter hands off the roses to Jesse, with a kiss. And then he's heading to where the little pirate queen has apparently died to death, the bundle of daisies for her. "Flowers for the flower girl," he tells her. The skywriting catches his attention, but the phrasing doesn't mean anything to him. He glances at Jesse and Guy, as if in search of a prompt.

Howell waves to Ritter when he finally arrives, and nudges Tyberia, who is busy staring at the dog. "That's the groom, Dr. Ritter." But then he's off to grab a drowning pirate, and Howell looks up to see the sky writing. Of course, the message just causes him to raise a brow, and tilt his head a little. "This has Guillermo written all over it." He mutters. Which leads him to look around the crowd to see if he can spot his shifty cuban compatriot... which he can, easily, thanks to Guy's particularly loud sense of fashion.

"Tyberia, that is an unique and beautiful name. What is the country of origin for it?" Violet smiles to her, however, she is not checking her out. In lieu of a missing beau. Okay, maybe a quick scan. She glances to the dog. "You know.. if you need. I could take her for a walk.. if being tethered ot the table is to anxiety inducing." She offers. Her head turns to the sky where people are looking. ODD.

"Yes, it is. What a gentle girl. If it would be alright with you, of course," she said, looking at the groom...whose dog she was now courting. The dog knew. Animals were her normal kin but she still couldn't help but be pleased to know that her...magnetism, almost, hadn't retreated with the stress of the move. The unnamed adeptness her new supervisor had called paranormal and monitored. A doctorate she may be but her years of veterinarian work and rough, rural childhood had not left her. Her right hand pursed itself into a strange posture, as if she were offering a coin, and extended it down. God. She briefly flicked her gaze upwards following those of others, but took things as they came, and after everything she had seen in the lab? It was of little shock.

Sorin is LATE, so late. What potential trouble could he have gotten into to show up so late? One can only imagine. He makes his way through the throngs of party-goers that have spilled out of the pavilion and makes his way in that direction, in search of Jesse perhaps as well as a drink, and not necessarily in that order. Once libations have been acquired, he moves over toward Jesse and those gathered around him to lay a hand on his shoulder and says, "Congrats."

Guy grins up at the sky, and then he skids off, to where he can hear the music, so he can try shaking his money maker. He's surprisingly good at it - in that as he skids across, and then waves at Howell brightly, before dropping into a one-man samba. He sashays like a god damned professional, and calls out to Ritter "Welcome! Hey hey - look at all these amazing people!"

The little girl on the playground rolls off the net, trusting Ritter to catch her, and she coos over the flowers. Her pretty pink dress is askew, and her dainty angelic curls a bit disheveled, and that mysterious layer of grime children just seem to accumulate is starting to manifest, all because Jesse let her out of his sight for a few minutes and the designated child-watching mother was dealing with another kid. They work fast, kids do.

Jesse looks up at the sky, and his brow knits. Then he laughs and says to Guy, "You're such a dork." There's warmth in his voice, though, and no small measure of affection. A good husband would share his revelation with his spouse, but Jesse's just not a very good husband. Instead, he tells Violet, with a nod to Molly, "She's playing you." Her ears perk at the sound of Jesse addressing her, but she remains near Tyberia. To whom Jesse says, "She's a therapy dog, but she's off duty. If you guys want to take her to the dog park, I'm sure she'd be happy to escape the dreaded leash for a bit."

Ritter catches Chloe as if she weighed no more than a feather, kisses her soundly, raspberries one cheek, and sets her on her feet. The grime doesn't seem to dismay him. "Take me to the best food," he tells her, affably. "I'm starving." He lifts a hand in greeting to Howell, and grins at Guy. "Indeed. You not least among them," he tells the little priest.

The dog, meanwhile, sniffs at offered hands, and she's liberal with puppy kisses. Her tail gets going, whapping the pavilion floor and dusting it nicely. To say she was love in a fur coat would still be understating things.

Violet smiles, a glance to Tyberia. "We could take her." She looks down at Molly. "She is so pretty." She wouldn't think herself a dog owner but liked animals. She offers her hand to take the leash. "Give her some running around.. better than being tethered to a card table right?"

Tap, tap, tap... Myles - dressed like it was 1960-something and he was going to a very hip joint to dance to soul and take dexamyl with the cast of Quadrophenia - makes his way down the winding path, limping only sort of a whole lot as he walks, cane heralding his arrival. Expression? Open, content, and dreamy as hell - he's actually humming to himself as he sloooowly walks, cane tapping out a beat - observing the whole summery nature of the park with those big grey-blue eyes. He may not be looking where he's going, but he's making his way towards the party; even his head seems to be in the clouds.

Seeing Chloe gives Howell a pause, and he smiles tight, and looks to the ground, sighing. Fresh wounds yet to heal. He rolls his shoulders though, and starts looking around, expecting... something to happen, any minute. Of course Tyberia and the dog are coming to an understanding in the meantime, and if he weren't expecting weird things to start happening, he'd be paying much closer attention. He heads over to where the drinks are without saying much, and begins preparing himself his usual; rum and vermouth.

"I would absolutely love that." Tyberia smiles at Violet, before leaning down and giving the pup a small ruffle of the ears. She was not a big drinker, and parties had little hold beyond some good animal bonding time. "It would. Do her some good, what a tender girl."

Guy grins at Jesse, and salutes him, and then says to Ritter "Hahaha, I've done such a bad thing, but let's not worry about it." Uh oh. Then he calls out to Howell "Hey! I want someone to dance with me! Does anyone want some Cuban Chicken casserole? I killed three black cockerels the other day for this shit!" Guy is not a very _good_ vegetarian. Then Guy pauses, noticing Howell's look, and he bounces over and takes his hand "Hey, duder. Come with me. I know you can dance. You seem a bit low." He leans in and whispers.

Sorin smiles toward Godric when he appears, lifting his glass in his direction in congratulations as well. He doesn't seem to pay much attention either to the child or the dog, as though they are somewhat part of the scenery but don't particularly capture his interest. He watches some of the other guests as they come and go, occasionally taking a sip from his drink, but making no particular move to mingle.

Violet hand touches her own middle while looking at Chloe, she grips the fabric there. A slight introspective expression on her face. Her attention goes back to Tyberia. "Ah yes I feel just terrible to have her sit there, while the adults have all the fun." She is talking about Molly now. A glance to Howell as Guy makes off with him. She nods to Tyberia.. "Someone just stole your date." She mentions with a chuckle. Violet has a certain glow about her.

Jesse untethers Molly, an Australian Shepherd mix and pretty freakin' adorable, and her whole hind end wriggles with joy. The dreaded tether is released! She's perfectly happy to have him hold the leash. She licks all offered fingers all over again and comes to cleave to Jesse's leg for a few moments, because he is her human; there are many like him, but this one is hers. He ruffles her ears and murmurs to her what a good girl she is. Then he offers the leas to Tyberia and hands a little bag of treats to Violet. "She knows the basic commands," he tells them. She's already prancing in place. Sweet liberation! She eyes the dog park. She knows all about the wonders of the dog park.

Jesse just shakes his head. Dogs. Then he holds out one arm to Chloe so he can take his turn having his nice suit clung to by a grime monster. He's still holding is roses in his other hand. "Come here," he says as he gives her a cuddle. "Why don't you ask Shannon's mom to get you a hot dog?" He sets her down. She's usually social, but this is a lot of people and she's been through a lot of excitement today, so the child darts toward the designated food mom.

That done, Jesse pulls Sorin into a one-armed hug with much manly clapping. "Hey! You made it! Everyone, this is my brother, Sorin. He just moved into town. Sorin, this is, let me see if I remember these new folks." He gestures to each in turn with his beer bottle. "Dr. Tyberia Royals, Violet June, Dr. Howell Sinclaire, oh, hey! That's Myles Abernathy. He's a colleague." He glances back at Chloe, then at his watch. To Ritter, he says, "After she eats, let's get her home. It's almost her bedtime. We've got crankies in T-10 minutes."

The high-pitched growl of an Italian V8 heralds the arrival of Ignazio and Kouri, as he pulls into the parking in his bright red Ferrari. Climbing out, he's formally attired, befitting the occasion. Ignazio presents himself in a cream Italian wool barathea, one-button dinner jacket with shawl lapel, wingtip-collared dress shirt with black silk bow tie, pocket square and double-pleated midnight blue wool gabardine trousers. Polished black oxfords, of course. He moves around the car to get Kouri's door, handing her out gallantly as he looks about at the occasion.

Isrieal wanders in a bit late with her usual attire and a box in her hands. She made little ghost cookies, may not be wedding material but at least they're white and she tries! She glances around at all the people and carefully sets it down on a table while biting her lip. Crowds are never too pleasant so she quickly seeks out Howell and appears by his side.

The introductions seem rather to daunt Ritter a little. He's in a good gray suit, with accents of dark peacock blue. A pleasant nod for the circle of names, a particular smile for Sorin, with a "Glad to see you," murmured. To Jesse's suggestion about Chloe, he nods. "Indeed. I'll see to it."

Kouri steps out elegantly from the flashy Italian's car, providing quite the arm candy. The dark-skinned beauty knows better than to wear white to a wedding, but the bare shouldered light blue dress and matching pumps are perhaps a bit daring for church. Hopefully nobody here is too devout as the slinky thing elegantly takes Ignazio's arm, fluttering eyelashes at him coquettishly before they head in.

Howell nods curtly, and offers Guy a weak smile. However good he is at hiding what he does and who he is, he's terrible at hiding how he feels. "Sure, just ah, a moment." The good doctor says, and kicks back half of his drink, then lets out a sharp exhale. He sets it down, and then Izzy is with him! "Oh, hey, there you are!" He gives her a peck on the cheek. "Guillermo wanted to dance, why don't you go with him, and I'll finish my drink." He says, giving her a slightly serious look, if only for a moment.

Sorin is pulled into a one-armed hug and is careful to hold his drink away so as not to spill it on oneof the grooms. He does smile though when clapped heartily, good-naturedly enough. Brothers are allowed certain liberties. "I wouldn't miss it," he says to Jesse. Then he turns to dutifully take in the names of all of those who are introduced. He glances at Howell and dips his head in recognition. "We've met .. once before, I think." Then to the others, "A pleasure to meet you Violet, Tyberia, Myles." A nod to each one in turn. To Godric he says, "And you as well."

She gives a reserved smile to Sorin in response as she turns to Violet. "Ah, yes. My chaperone," she said, taking the lead from Jesse and giving a look towards her: a blend of exasperation and amusement. The party is growing increasingly more...loud, is the word, and occupied by unforseen strangers, she's glad to have a reason to withdraw and recharge. She pulls her scarf into thin grey stole around her shoulders and looks towards Howell, seeing his two new dance partners. She glances her chin towards her boss, now imbibing, "he may need one himself in a short while. Let's take her to that little plot of green."

Tyberia starts to proceed from the pavillion (to her relief), posturing herself open to Violet. "Still want to come play introvert?"

Isrieal kisses him back softly then pouts a bit as she looks towards Guillermo. "Alright...if you say so." She runs her hand down his arm as she slips away and heads towards Guillermo in her lacey black dress. "I heard you wanted to dance?"

Violet takes the bag of treats. "Aw, what a sweetie. A such a great personality." She mentions about Molly. Head turns at the sound of an engine, she spent sometime in Italy and she knows that is no moped. She turns back and waves to Sorin. She nods to Tyberia and walks with her. "So.. what sort of doctor are you?" She asks as they walk the dog away.

Wait, are people talking to him? Myles pauses from limping down the path, so he can turn away from staring up at the tree canopy and look to Sorin. "Hmm?" Oh shit, social interaction time - Myles attempts a smile, looking from person to person in the group, "Oh salutations - and..." He turns to Jesse now, big bright dreamy smile. "Congratulations, yes? Yes." A look to Ritter, and Myles bows his head in greeting, a ditzy and rather weird smile on his face. "Mazle tov."

Guy brightens as he spots Kouri and...Ignazio. Damnit! His expression turns into something firm - he is _going_ to be cheerful. Damnit. The little priest says to Howell "Why don't - " Isrieal is there now, and Guy's face gets a little flushed "Ah, hello - yes, that's right, you're -" He glances over at Ritter and Jesse together. And then he says "...I do want to dance, but maybe er, I think he's feeling a bit low? And it's a couples kind of night, haha. Wow. You're almost not...taller than me, heh. I think he might need you. I don't think he should be alone. And you're his, er...yes." He does offer her his hand regardless.

Ignazio offers Kouri his arm of course, and moves to approach the wedding party. If there's a gifts table, he takes a crisp vellum envelope from his jacket pocket, signed by himself and his date, and places it on the table. Looking to his date, he asks, in his crisp English accent, "Shall we find some champagne and give the grooms a little space until the crowd thins out some?"

Isrieal gets a smug little look in her eyes and nods then. "Well ...okay!" She shakes his hand. "I brought cookies by the way." She points then skips her way back to Howell. "He sent me back." She grabs his arm. "Why so sad looking?" She tilts her head.

Kouri nods to Ignazio, content to follow along on his arm and look gorgeous with him. Eyes lock on Isireal in recognition for a bit before fingers flutter in greeting from across the room.

Tyberia says, "Animal medical, primarily. But an academic doctorate in the zoological. It's a long story, and a boring thesis to anyone with much of a life," she chuckled. Walking through the slightly dewy grass, she unclips the lead from Molly's collar as they go, giving her some breathing room. Looking at Violet, she's curious. Tyberia had noticed her body language earlier looking at the groom's little girl. "What do you do?""

Chloe's occupied with her dinner. And Ritter, glancing around, notes Guy. He beckons the little santero over, with a lazy motion of his hand. Despite the swirling social whirl, faces he knows, faces he doesn't, he's like a pool of stillness. Not withdrawn or shy, but with a kind of pleasant, aloof calm. "Thank you," he says to Myles, mildly.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just thinking about something. We can talk about it later." He says, though the perceptive or familiar might very well know he's unsure about talking about anything later. "I'm glad you made it, though. I am. I brought one of our new researchers, by the by, I think I mentioned her to you? The transfer from Montana, Dr. Royals. She's becoming acquainted with the dog, at the moment, but you two should meet before the night is out, if you can." He adds.

Ignazio procures them a pair of champagne flutes, handing Kouri one. "Have I mentioned that you look lovely tonight?" He murmurs as they circulate. Spotting Chloe, he seems surprised, but pleasantly so.

Deckard had been waiting. He'd done more gathering than he had done research on wedding receptions. The research he had been doing was also more in the form of movies like 'The Wedding Crashers', 'The Wedding Singer', and 'The Hangover', so that was also a telling point as to why things were about to unfold the way they were about to unfold. Deckard wasn't able to stay long, so he was going to try and do as much as he could in the small amount of time he had to make Jesse and Ritter's wedding as memorable as possible, even long after Deckard himself had left.

There was a whistling noise. Where it was coming from was difficult to discern. Until the sirens started blaring. A voice came through over an amplified megaphone. Could it really be so loud? It was as if the voice was echoing everywhere.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY, GET OUT OF THE MOTHERFUCKING WAY!!"

It became clear right away once the voice was heard, where the whistling was coming from. There was a sea-can attached to a number of oversized parachutes, with Deckard on the top of the sea-can, riding it like a fucking bull. Oh yeah. It was coming down, and it was gonna crush some empty chairs. People who were just mucking about started running away from the mad-man on the sea-can, making space for when it landed. And land it did.

THUD.

The parachutes floated gently to the ground, the sea-can indenting the grass and dirt below. Painted on both sides of the forty-foot long steel shipping container were the words 'PARTY FAVOURS'.

In the sky, fireworks. But not just any regular fireworks. It was like Gandalf's fire-dragon explosives up in the air. Battles between fish and birds and treants were going on in the sky, as if the fireworks were alive. Where the sea-can landed, flowers began to sprout and grow at amazing speed. And over the unusually loud megaphone Deckard held in his hand, he called out the grooms. "Jesse! Ritter! CONGRATULATIONS!"

Isrieal narrows her eyes in thought. "Hmm okay." She frowns slightly then bounces on her heels for a moment as she looks around. "Well of course I made it, I'm not leaving you at a party alone." She pokes at his chest with a smirk. "Im staying by you anyway because there's too many people." She takes a step back towards the corner when Deckard comes crashing in. She clings to Howells arm but then pauses to watch the show he's brought with him.

Guy clears his throat at Isrieal's deservedly smug look, and he girds his, ah, loins. Then he smiles at her and says as sincerely as he can "I...I really hope you enjoy tonight! You're welcome to stay as long as you want - and enjoy everything! Let me know if you need _anything_ at all, okay? And Dr. Sinclair too - I know both of you have had a tough time, okay?" And then as Ritter speaks, he heads over "Can I get you anything? More champagne? You want me to bring over some food? Or put -" MEGAPHONE YELLING. Startled, Guy blinks like an owl, staring up "Holy fuck."

Violet nods in understanding to Tyberia. "Animals are a nice thing to take care of." She watches the dog go frolick. "I own a party planning company." She gives a nod, half of her head that is facing Tyberia is blond, other side is brunette. She has to look up to speak to her, only a mere 5'4". "I never went to school so I admire people who put it so much time into it. I'm a bit out of my depth with all the book learned people a foot." Those as a social cameleon she can keep up in conversation. She jolts when she here's explosions and ducks! After being at that Fourth of July party things haven't been completely the same.

Kouri stares with utter delight at the ridiculous extravagance, clinging close to Ignazio. The delicate thing applauds at the magnificent fireworks!

And that's when Ritter's face seals over like a winter pond. He's far too English and polite to show genuine dismay at what is surely a well meant gift and intended to delight Jesse more than him. But as Guy asks what he'll be having, he says, eyes fixed on the fireworks, utterly deadpan, "......laudanum, perhaps?"

Jesse glances between Kouri and Ignazio (who gets a sterling smile when Jesse spies him putting loot on the loot pile), then he glances at Guy. He shakes his head and tells Sorin, "He'd be going home with both of them if he had game. I've tried to pass it on, but this sort of thing can't be taught." He grins at Myles, then. "Thank you, and thanks for coming, man. We've got steaks on the grill, all kinds of sides. I heard something about cookies." Chloe must have too, because she's got one on her plate, untouched til all her 'real' food is at least tasted, behold her anguish. "Once the little ones are shuffled off, there'll be..." Deckard is on cue, and Jesse's eyes light up like a Christmas tree, and the observant might spy a certain lust for chaos rising to the fore. "Yes! Things are about to get less Catholic and more Church of the Latter Day Hangover."

And it is about that time. Parents are gathering kids. Now that there are fireworks and mayhem, there are tears from Chloe that she has to go. She says her good-byes with utmost tragedy. In the dog park, Molly has been running about, but then she stops to bark at the fireworks. Barkbarkbark! She'll save everyone from the dreaded lights in the sky!

Kouri actually perks at that, and before anyone can stop it including Kouri, the lovely one blurts out "Are you really serving laudanum?!" to Ritter, sounding excited.

Ignazio stares at the party crashing... shipping container!? Momentarily gobsmacked, he circles an arm protectively around Kouri, only relaxing when he sees the fireworks. "Well, someone knows how to make an entrance. I'd considered the helicopter, but thought it might be a bit much. Apparently I was vastly under-selling."

"You're very welcome." Myles chimes to Ritter, watching him for a moment before his attention shifts to Jesse, then the scene around: pavilion, grill area, cake, gift table, other people. All stared at, with a kind of slow, creeping appreciation that's probably a Abernathy Family secret: how to be weird, just by looking. Then there's all this noise - the megaphone, the fireworks, the -everything-. Myles? He's sort of zoned out: stunned maybe, looking over to Deckard and then Guy with low-key astonishment. Jesse? He eventually gets a reply. "...Yeah, my pleasure, really..." Blink, blink. Myles looks like has has no idea what's going on.

"There's nothing to be in depth with, really. It's very frustrating, that ivory tower. I'm fortunate that my field is more hands-on than most." The fireworks overhead distracted the dog as she watched on. "Party planning...what does that entail? I'm not big on parties, as you can see," she said. Tyb looks over at the petite woman, noticing her hair. How strange. But, like the skywriting earlier, charmingly normal here. What an odd place.

Guy says to Ritter "Hang on. If you guys can lose me for half an hour, I can get you just about anything. There's a police station just a few blocks away." He is not only a bad vegetarian, he is a bad _priest_ as well. A very determined priest! One who nonetheless pauses to go over and hug Chloe and kiss her cheek. He then says to Myles "I have no idea who you are - hi. And...hi you two." He salutes Ignazio and Kouri "Fuck, I am such a loser. Ah well! Shoulda checked first. Congrats," he adds to Ignazio. _Such_ a loser. Guy grits his teeth, suddenly, to himself. Nope, he has no game. "Okay! Does anyone need anything? I have a feeling that Deckard there can help you all out! If, uh, you need other, more mundane stuff, I can do that! I'm Some Guy, like - hello, hello!"

Ignazio glances at Kouri as she asks for laudanum, blinking, a bit taken aback.

Deckard cracked his neck. He knew what Jesse and Ritter were, purely by the virtue of what he was. Figuring they'd seen a fair bit of things in their lives, he was going to try and liven them up. At least, that was his thought process. Toning down the megaphone a little, fiddling with the dial for a minute or so, Deckard finally looked up. "Okay, so, for anybody who has not been traumatized, fainted, or is Ritter, gather round, gather round!" The fireworks were starting to simmer down, bit by bit, the fighting fire-animals disappearing altogether after their initial bouts. Only regular fireworks now!

"Godric, I know we've had our differences, but don't worry. I wasn't just taking Jesse into consideration when I did this. I got something special for you too, but you gotta wait on it buddy. I'm sure you'll appreciate it." Deckard started waving people over. "For anybody with a heartbeat and an ounce of courage, gather round! Some Guy, get your white-ass over here." Deckard stomped on the sea can. He looked a little confused for a moment when it didn't open. He stomped on it a few more times, and it eventually popped open.

"Inside is something special!"

Ignazio looks to her, and asks, "Are you really wanting something? I tried cocaine in Portofino once, but that's the extent of my expertise. But if you need money for party favours, just let me know." Arm around her, he makes for the circle of onlookers.

Howell looks to Deckard when he hears the need for a heartbeat and an ounce of courage. He's got one of the two, at least. Then he turns to Izzy, and quirks a brow, and jerks his head slightly toward the gathering crowd. He finishes his drink quickly, and heads that way with her close in tow.

"No, sorry," says Ritter, genuinely apologetic. "If you're in pain, there's ibuprofen and aspirin around." To Guy, "No, no, I was mostly joking. Champagne would be lovely." HE forces a smile when Deckard addresses him directly, but makes no move at all towards the canister.

Isrieal blinks at the pink glittery marker then scoots off for a moment to sign her name with a little heart and good luck. Because faeries can do that you know. Then she heads back to stick to Howell while watching the others.

Kouri laughs politely to Ritter, and then smiles apologetically at Ignazio. "Oh, no, I have no such habits in need of satiation. It's just been so long since I even thought of laudanum, you know?"

Shipping container? Ounce of courage and a beating heart? Jesse has those things! He tugs Ritter's sleeve and says, "Come on, sweetheart. You knew it would be utter mayhem." He doesn't force his husband to join him, though. Before he beelines, he tells Myles, "That's our... he's our Guy. His name's Guillermo. I honestly forgot his last name so I just started calling him Rodriguez. He hasn't complained so I think I nailed it." That introduction made, he's off to see what's in the shipping crate.

Violet smiles sweetly to Tyberia, even her gapped tooth shows on the top row of her teeth having a deep dimple smile. "Well.. Wedding planning is the bulk of my summer business. Rich kid birthday parties.. I did a Cat wedding once.. odd but it paid well... when I was in LA." She smiles with an amused grin. "I am paid to make an occassion a dream.. I am the fairy godmother basically.."

Sorin eventually slips into the background, having given his congratulations. He mingles a little with a few of the guests, says some polite hellos, and then once more slips out the way that he came in.

Guy stares in the shipping container, and then wriggles a little, before he (?) looks up and suddenly grins at DeckardST "Scuse me a moment, I need someone else." And he _freezes_ in place in front of the shipping container for a good long while...and then he darts inside "hahahahahahhaha-gimme that motherfuckin' pen who's got a knife, which one of you beautiful assholes -"

Howell takes the marker, and signs his name. Well, not his name, but a name he goes by. Then Guy scrambles in asking for a knife. The good doctor flicks his wrist, and suddenly he's holding a matte black throwing knife. For... medical stuff, and totally legitimate doctor reasons. "Will this do, Guillermo?" He asks, handing it carefully to the little priest.

Isrieal glances to the knife, then to Guy but just shrugs and keeps quiet.

"Oh! /That's/ Guy?" Myles sounds, well, frankly he sounds incredulous - him, really? Guy gets a quick once over, then Myles huhs and turns to observe Jesse and Ritter, head tilted as he attempts to make sense of what's going on, undoubtedly. Turning with his cane, he turns and starts slowly limping over towards the crate, trying to take a peek inside without having to attempt to fight through a crowd. Man looks like he couldn't fight off a cold, let alone more then a single adversary.

"Odd indeed. But cats are cats, I'm sure they liked the atteention." A dimple. How...cute? The clamoring of the party behind her distracts from the conversation, and she moves to Molly and rest a hand on her head instinctively. She looks over at Violet, perturbed at the interruption(s, there are multiple, and they are loud). "How bizarre. As an official party planner, what would you say about this one? It's quite riotous."

"Hernandez," Ritter corrects, gently. "Guillermo Hernandez." He does not explain further what Guy is to them. He finally starts slowly after Jesse. Not trudging, but pacing gravely. What is Jesse doing with an old fossil like this, let alone marrying him?

Ignazio blinks, but the spirit of the event is such, and he's getting a fateful of introduction to gay culture, that's for sure. He takes the marker though, and signs.

Violet smiles again. "It was a cute ceremony. The owners weren't bad and not the craziest clients I have had." She glances back to the party. "This is an example of how guests take over. I usually hire a security detail. Public venues are trickier to deal with. They bring in a public element to any occassion. Though I don't think those are party crashers I think they are guests." She mentions. "I did a gyspy wedding once.. now that is a rudy time and a pain.. no deposits back on that one." She smiles and pats the dog gently. "What's the coolest thing about your work?"

"Hernandez?" Jesse peers into the middle distance. "I've got some reflecting to do when I get home." But then he grabs a rainbow glittery marker with his name on it, and he darts inside the container after Guy. "Ha! Oh my..." He doesn't drop the G word. Not around Mr. Catholic. Correction: Mr. Catholic-Ritter-Byrne. He takes his time writing out a message. It's a long one. He has a lot to say. When he emerges, he goes to head Ritter off at the pass and holds him in his arms. "I love you," he preempts.

Something going on at the back of the crate has nothing to do with gay culture. Guy turns back and he says to Howell, his expression jittery and strange "perfect, i knew i could rely on you, you crazy motherfucker! i'll be back out in a while - okay? i got some serious stuff to do." Huh. He is gone in that shipping container for a _while_, is Mr Hernandez-Symbiote.

Jesse mutters "... ... ... I want you to ... this ... ... ... ... ... ... ... and Guy. ... Guy." to Ritter.

Isrieal leans over and peeks into the crate he vanished into then scratches her head and looks at Howell curiously.

Tap, tap, tap - cane echoes in the crate, and Myles has vanished in the back. What did he do in there? Goodness knows, but he hops out soon enough - hand in his pocket, expression dreamy to the point of seeming like a total ditz. "...It's very beautiful here." He says, to nobody in particular - taking a moment to entirely ignore everything around him save for the tree tops. He sways a little, humming.

"So, you're telling me people who pay you to juice their feline matrimony were not in fact the craziest people you've worked for? What even is the bar then?" She was right about the guests. She observed what looked to be a crate amidst the crowd, with a level of unrest surrounding it. How...extreme. Joyous occasions apparently know no bounds. "The coolest thing? The feeling of making things that change things, to put it simply. Every day is a new adventure in some type of biological impossible. But that's me waxing." Tyberia looked over and gave a low look as she scratched her temporary canine companion. "I'm being absolutely serious. Craziest client?"

Violet eye narrow and gets this cold distant stare off into the distance. Her little fist clench. "Courtney." She mentions with disdain. Worst client, bridzilla ever! She says the name like a curse and also hushed reverence. "She is a ..." She purses her lips and attempts to be polite. "current client.. Her wedding isn't until summer of 2017. She calls me at midnight or comes to my home, in a tizzy about napkin colors.."

Dr. Catholic. Ritter didn't spend how long at medieval medical school to.....anyway. He accepts Jesse's embrace, smiles tenderly into his face. "Of course, dear. Whatever you say, dear.' Clearly, he has this marriage thing *down* already.

Deckard was breakdancing on the shipping container of all things. Breakdancing. Once enough people began to make their way inside, Deckard grabbed his megaphone once more. "?Bien! Ahora que ustedes han conseguido todo para disfrutar...espera, algo anda mal aqu?. ?Qu? carajo? ajuste de espa?ol ? Maldita sea...que arreglar...hijo de..." Deckard pulled the megaphone away from his face, and began fiddling with some more dials. "Shit, okay, I have absolutely no idea what that was about. Anyway. Now that you're all inside, I see that the liquor is /PALTRY/. Not poultry. Trust me, I got those mixed up once. Bad idea. So my next gift to you all?" Deckard stomped once more on the shipping container, and another door from within popped open.

Inside, a couple of extremely tired and disgruntled Filipino men started to wheel something past everybody. Whatever it was, it was /large/, and it was covered by a sheet. Eventually the men wheel it out of the container, and disappear underneath the sheet. Some quick words in Tagalog were had amidst the sounds of wrenches torqueing nuts and hoses squeaking into place.

Ladies and gentlebeans, I give you?.The BOOZE FOUNTAIN!!!"

The two Filipino men, who had bags under their eyes and more than a five-O-clock shadow, unveiled the Booze Fountain. It looked quite a bit like a birdbath with a number of kegs surrounding it, glowing hoses attached in seemingly random places. Suddenly, golden liquid began shooting out of the top of the fountain. "This here is no /regular/ Booz Fountain." Deckard said. As if there ever was such a thing as a regular Booze Fountain. "No, here we have something /special/. If you take a sip, you'll find out?" Immediately the two Filipino men run off into the distance.

Tyberia chuckled. "You speak like this is a war flashback. How awful. Doing weddings, do you learn to read people very well? That sounds like a relationship doomed to fail." She was not one for relationships, really. Weddings always seemed so...risky. Taking a partner in general? Risky.

"i speak spanish motherfucker," comes Guy's altered voice from out of the shipping container. Of course he does - he is Cuban. Still, he comes back out, having had a good long think, and he says to Deckard "lo siento mucho por esto, pero toma-jesse va a volverse loco si mato a un puto sacrificar el tama?o de una vaca en su boda. ?l es un gatito-" he points to Jesse, and then he then reaches up to bro-fist Deckard. "you're a good man -"

Deckard looked quizzically at Guy. "I ain't got no fucking idea what you just said brother, but alright! Yeah! I love the enthusiasm!" He exclaimed, reaching doooooown to brofist Guy.

The very second Jesse sees the tired me, he eases back from Ritter and takes out his wallet. Time to start counting out a generous tip. How much does one tip for being overworked, delivered via air crate, possibly kidnapped, starved, dehydrated, or all three? He keeps counting out... "Hey!" he calls after them, and he waves the money, making his way toward them. Here, have money. It's not enough for a plane ticket to wherever it is Deckard acquired them from, but it'll cover a hotel and food. Or all the booze and drugs they want.

Kilo saunters in with Hoax at her side; such the little gangster power-couple! Tonight they are dressed socially acceptably, however, with Kilo in a black, summery eyelet babydoll dress with en empire waistline that -could- be hiding a baby if she were further along pregnant but considering she's only a couple weeks it's not hiding much more than a flat belly and a little promise of a future criminal. Her darling little dress, trimmed out with white gloves and starched white collar and trim is finished off with chunky black combat boots and white scrunchy socks. "You think the gifts will be ok outside, right?" She smirks as she whispers to Hoax as she looks around to get her bearings. "They are going to have cake, right?"

Violet smiles as Tyberia thinks it's funny. "Courtney is a serious customer. Honestly, I hope her groom leaves her at the alter.. they already paid the deposits." She nods. "I have learned to read people pretty well.. when it's business.. my personal life could use more insight." She frowns and her hand rubs her forearm, just lost a partner so she is rather broken up about it still. "For some it works." She mentions. She looks at her toes. "Say I should get home." A hand goes to her middle again. "It was nice meeting you Tyberia. I hope we meet again soon." She smiles again.

Mysterious liquids from unscrupulous sources? Myles is in - limping towards the fountain with unmasked curiosity. "...Oh..." Eyes glance up to Deckard, and he smiles rather wickedly. "If my sister reprimands me for this, it's on your head the blame." Next thing? He's moving to fix himself a drink, because yolo* (*terms and conditions may apply). "I absolve myself of all responsibility." Did he just do the sign of the cross? Yes - after dipping his finger in the liquid and flicking it on his face. Bottoms up!

Ritter finally deigns to enter the shipping container. He all but picks his way, wary as a cat. The fixed, pleasant expression does nothing at all to hide his unease.

Guy looks startled as Deckard apparently does not speak the language he just...came out with through the megaphone. Huh. Then he bounces over towards the fountain - and he ends up next to Myles "let's go!" he says "come on, come on, something has to cover up the burning shame of being me -"

Once the men are paid off and on their way, Jesse comes trotting back to the container. He rattles off to Ritter in fluent, flowing Russian, <<Wait wait wait read mine first.>> Into the container he goes after his beloved.

Tyberia smiles over at Violet warmly. "We all could, there." She relaxes back, watching the party unfold from the grass. It's nice to be out and about, even if it is more as a bystander than participant. Dogs are blessed company.

"Oh, no! Party planner leaving the party." Disappointed that her conversational partner has to leave, Tyberia pockets Molly's leash and watches her loll about in the grass. "It was good to meet you, Violet."

Socially acceptable attire? Ah fuck! Hoax doesn't really have anything along those lines, but he somehow manages to put something together. The mohawked gangster looks a touch uncomfortable in the black button-up shirt he pulled out of the depths of the closet, which he had Kilo iron for him, while around his neck he's opted for a dark, blood-red tie. Unfortunatelly that's the extent of his nice looking clothes, leaving a pair of low-waisted pants with a hole in the knee (all his pants have holes in them, sadly), along with some scuffed up combat boots that seem like he *tried* to clean up and polish. Glancing over at the Latina when she whispers to him, he replies, "I don't see why it shouldn't be OK? I mean, unless it gets loose..."

Violet up nods to the party. "I could escort you and Molly back if you want.. But I do smell a hint of introvert in you." She smirks and takes a sneakered step to the trail.

"Of course, dear," He'll just rely on Jesse to navigate him through this. He's in the shipping container, waiting for Jesse to lead him to the relevant whatever it is.

Tyberia chuckled. "You do. Only mildly, but I do." She gave a small nod and a tilt of her wrist upwards from her crossed arms--as casual a wave she could manage given the circmstances. "Take care."

Jesse hesitates, glances at Ritter, glances around the container, then Ritter again. After a moment, he takes Ritter's hand and pulls him into an embrace. Away from prying eyes, he kisses him. Not one of those nice kisses one does at the altar. This is the kind of kiss one could expect in a clandestine shipping container at a drunken boozeout. "Happy Reception," he murmurs to Ritter, and he pulls him closer.

Howell wanders back over to where the drinks are, and prepares another for himself. He looks over his shoulder to see if he can spot Guy and his throwing knife, but can't spot the little guy. Then he looks the other way and notices that Tyberia is all alone, so he waves for her to come over.

Violet smiles and nods back to Tyberia, she escapes the park grounds. A card to be future mailed to the newly married couple, sadly unable to find them in this large rowdy crowd. Her home only a block away she walks the short distance in the dark.

Ignazio leads Kouri to the fountain, procuring drinks for both as he watches the mayhem unfold around them, bemusedly.

Guy pushes back from the drink, blinking up at the sky "sk..." he says "sk...ha...ha..." He still has Howell's knife, which he has been wandering around with "...b'Ghdayen b' Tpaqtan..." Presumably no one else around speaks Ancient Sumerian, so whatever Guy is going on about will have to go unknown for now. Weird little priestly polyglot that he is.

There really is nothing to hide. Not if they're actually married. So Ritter yields utterly to the kiss, one hand coming up to cup Jesse's face, the other arm snaking around Jesse's waist. "Thank you, love," he says, when they can both finally breathe again.

The good doctor stays by all the normal alcohol, but eyes the Booze Fountain? curiously from where he stands. Then he hears some sort of ancient dialect, and, while he isn't sure what it is, he is sure that Guy is the only person in the vicinity that would speak it. Those mismatched eyes of his finally lock on the little guy, and narrow just a bit. "Guillermo, could you come over here, if you're going to drink you'll need to give me that knife back!" He calls out.

That's right, if they're married, it's okay. Jesse steals another kiss, then glances out toward the party in progress. "I just wanted to get some alone time with my man." He pouts at Ritter and deploys the Huge Eyes. "That mean old hospital stole you." He steals another kiss, and things are about to get more heated when he hears Howell call out to Guy for his knife. He sighs and murmurs, "We should go back out there before someone gets stabbed before we even cut the cake."

They do get more heated, if only for an instant - Jesse finds himself crushed against his new husband for a long moment. But then Ritter releases him, steps back to brush off his suit. "Indeed, we should," he agrees, taking Jesse's hand to lead him out.

Leashing the shepherd, she looks up and sees two things in succession from afar: gay people being gay, and her boss waving her over. Aware she looks to be an island she decides to proceed to the din and den of sound, giving a polite and gentle tug so Molly follows on the way to. At the pavillion she regretfully tethers the dog (the Dog that Knows) to the table they had all originally convened at, before joining Dr. Sinclaire's side and picking up a tinny of liquor. Tyberia is not a drinker, but she will need it. "This seems to be...quite, happening, is the word."

Guy comes back towards Howell, trying to focus. Which is something to note - Guy had a big drink and Guy? Has pupils like pinpricks. Also, his...various selves appear to be integrated very suddenly. He leans in tight and he says to Howell "Ki Hamzimit Sumerian? Right? Here's your knife." He offers it across "I've got. A great idea. A _great_ idea. I mean fuckin' awesome. You should sacrifice me! I mean, they aren't gonna run with the cow, right?" He waves his hands up at Howell "And it'll cure the date issue!"

Molly wouldn't even need the leash is the sad thing, but laws are laws. Then again, at this point, with the booze fountain and such? The dog seems used to lots of noise at least, and she only seems to know tragedy when Tyberia goes to Howell instead of staying with Molly forever.

Jesse emerges from the container with his hand in Ritter. Is the knife returned? Yes, yes it is. He relaxes a bit, and he calls out, "People! Before you get too drunk, we're going to cut the cake, and I have something for my husband." He laughs, more of a titter, really. "Husband."

Howell squints, as he takes the knife back and tucks it into his sleeve, back in the all-too-tactical straps hidden on his forearms. "I uh... no. I'm not going to do that. I... suspect it would very much make a mess of the evening. Wait... cow? Nevermind." The surgeon shakes his head a little, he doesn't exactly want to know. He makes a gesture to Tyberia. "This is Dr. Tyberia Royals, one of my researchers. Doctor, this is Some Guy. He lives with Jesse and Ritter."

Deckard, after watching Jesse call the Filipino men back to give them money, smiled and nodded in appreciation, chuckling to himself for some unknown reason. He was still standing atop the sea-can, hands on his hips and his chest puffed out as if he was tring to pose to have a statue chizzeled in his image. That wasn't the case of course, and when the cow started to run out of the shipping container, his eyes went wide. He hopped off the container and chased after the cow. "God damn it, get back here!" Deckard called after it as he attempted to wrangle it in the parking lot.

Kilo scribbles something off on a piece of paper with a really nice glittery pink gel pen then turns to grin at Hoax as she passes it off to the person in charge of such things. "I really want a drink. I don't -need- a drink, but I sure as hell want one. So you have to have like, double... for both of us." She nods encouragingly. "At least one of us should be a stupid-fun time. So like... I'll have the fun time, you can have the stupid-fun time." Now she smiles sweetly at him. "You think the presents are still ok outside?"

Although she's a tender-heart, for some reason she cannot find the patience nor tolerance for the individual before her. Jokes about animal sacrifice are not to be taken trifles. "Hello, Guy." Her eyes narrow; it's a feeling of unwantingness levelled by the aftertaste of the liquor. It was unexpectedly quite delicious--not something alcohol should be. She flirts with the idea of getting a second. "Doctor, would you like some?"

Husband, indeed. Ritter gives Jesse a look of gentle bemusement. It's so strange to think, that they are married, now. He leads Jesse towards the cake. And then there's a cow. Why is there a cow? He looks to Deckard sharply, in search of an explanation.

Guy says to Howell "Aww, why not. Come on. Why don't - oh! Whoa. Dr. Tyberia Royals? What an amazin'ly awesome motherfucking name." Guy keeps staring off up at the sky. His eyes are flicking, and trying to focus on something above him. That seems to be talking to him, whether he wants it to be or not. However, as he sees the narrowed eyes, he says "Uh. Okay. I...you know, I...shit. I should. Uh. Drink." So far he appears to have kind of struck out repeatedly talking to anyone. He glances towards the happy couple, and then he says "Anyway. The fish need me." He sidles off to the side.

Well, you don't have to tell Hoax twice. When Kilo suddenly tells him to drink for the both of them, he does just that and takes two HUGE chugs of whatever booze everyone else is drinking. Which maybe or maybe not be the best of plans, but when in Rome, right? "Beb?, trust me. The presents will be fine, now stop fretting so much. OK?" He replies, then leans down to press his lips against hers and pulls her close by slipping an arm around her waist. "Have fun! Stop worrying about the gifts."

When he notices the Cow running off, Howell blinks a few times, but quickly comes to his senses. He doesn't want anyone getting hurt, or any property getting damaged... well, any more damaged. He tilts his head towards the cow, and then reaches out with a hand slightly, flexing a few of his fingers, and... the animal stops in its tracks. Completely. It freezes up, locked totally in place. Howell is nearly as rigid, totally focused, but through gritted teeth he speaks quietly to Tyberia. "Dr. Royals, if you could calm the animal, please. This is taking quite a lot of effort." He says. His psoture is a little weird, but he's off to the side so hopefully no one thinks it's that strange.

Ignazio finally finds his date and the two of them, with a wave for Ritter and his apparent husband Jesse, make their way out. An Italian roar is heard from the parking lot, and the red Ferrari pulls out, roaring down the way.

"There's a cow," Jesse tells Ritter. Like anyone could miss it. And then the cow's being dealt with. Maybe? Jesse has completely lost control over this situation. He smiles slowly. "Let's go cut the cake," he tells Ritter. He waves to Ignazio amiably and tugs Ritter toward the pavilion where there's cake.

Where did Myles get off to? After abolishing himself of all responsibility and downing that liquor, the perfectly ordinary person called Myles T. Abernathy went on a little promenade - very, very carefully tip-towing through the area around the pavilion, super delicate movements as he limps on with his cane. It's only when the cow starts being fussy about it's upcoming death that Myles turns his head back to the crowd. Holy shit, what's happened to his eyes? Those grey-blue eyes look practically black, his pupils are so huge they eclipse everything else. Is... Is a man wrestling a cow? Myles watches Howell, Tyberia, and the others with rapt fascination. "...Tender, fragrant grass - how hardhearted to trample them."

My god. There's a fucking cow. There's a cow in the party and she missed the cow. Looking at the mild struggle of her superior, she soothes it from afar, quietly so, and tells it very steer-nly (what a fantastic alcohol, for a non-drinker) to relax itself. It won't be hurt.

"Yes, let's," Ritter says. He's just....refusing to deal with the cow situation. Entirely. If he ignores it hard enough, it won't be there. Instead, he takes up position by the cake, looking to Jesse, patiently.

The cow seems to have not only stopped, but calmed down. Deckard, when glanced at by Jesse, damn near freaks out. "Not me! It's not me, I swear!" Deckard said, quickly and nervously trying to stuff it back into the container. Eventually, he finds his megaphone. "Err, ahh, ignore that situation people..." He coughs nervously a few times, and turns it off, going back to chilling on the party can.

Guy moves back around away from folks, trying to maneuver to where he can see the cake, and see Jesse and Ritter and raise his phone up to take a photo of _that precise moment_. His eyes are very, very flickery, and he tries to shoot Deckard a bit of a look. What was _in_ that? Myles goes past, and Guy is utterly determined to make _a_ friend somehow "Hey, duder. Come and like. Be some. Ablative armour."

With the cow contained, Jesse whistles sharply, which makes Molly's ears perk, and he calls out, "We are going to cut this motherfuckin' cake." He looks to Deckard, who he did leave in charge. "You got anything else to throw at us, you glorious train wreck?" He takes up the cake cutting knife, and when Molly sidles up to his leg, he makes kissy noises at her. Mr. Domestic.

Howell untenses, and breathes heavy for a few moments, once Tyberia relaxes the cow enough for him to release it. He leans back on the table, a bit winded. He'd never used his powers to restrain something that strong, and frankly he's a bit surprised he was able to. He pulls out a notepad and makes a few quick scribbles some might call notes, then tucks it away, deciding to log this impromptu field test when he returns to the facility. "Thank you... Doctor... that was excellent work. I didn't mean... to put you on the spot. But... well. Thanks." He says, still rather quietly, and shoots Tyberia a knowing look, that verges on daring. "I really hope no one is going to try and kill that cow." He adds, now gazing at the shipping container curiously.

Deckard, after shoving the cow back into the party can for later use, whatever that use may be, decided to finally grab both of the things he wanted to give the grooms. He'd had enough laughter at the expense of one man, but the second present should more than make up for it. Some time later, Deckard came out and walked up to grooms. carrying a box in hand. "In fact, I got one more thing Jesse." He turned to Ritter. "Yo. Like I said before, you and me? We've had our differences. But that don't matter right now. What matters is that you and him love each other, and that you're celebrating! Anyway, here you go." Deckard waited until nobody was looking, and seemingly from nowhere pulled a box out of thin air. To Jesse he whispered "Shhh...Give this to him after. He'll hate me now, but I think he'll reconsider."

"You're welcome. It was necessary. How...messy. I really do hope they're not going to do what usually happens; she's gentle." Tyberia moves to get a second, more full glass of the fountain and returns back to Howell, watching the ensuing social chaos. A pause. "Dr. Sinclaire, there is a very upset cow caught in its mortal coil in that shipping container. And these people are all having such a nice time, and I keep hearing foreign tongues. What a strange event this is." Tyberia drinks. "I feel a responsibility to tend to it."

Jesse tips off a salute to Deckard with his knife-holding hand. "Thank you, man. This was everything I was hoping. You exceeded my expectations." He looks around, and he sets the knife down and picks up a microphone hooked up to the sound system playing music. Which he pauses. He taps it a few times. Yes, this thing is on. "Okay. That's better. Thank you, Deckard! Rick--" Rick is standing near him though so he lowers the microphone, "Rick don't open these yet. Put them on the loot pile." Which he does with his box. "We're cutting this cake." He's not a bridezilla, but damn it, there are forces keeping him from cake.

Ritter accepts the box with murmured thanks, and obediently sets it aside. He's produced a knife from somewhere -a beautiful pocket knife, inlaid with lapis and motherof pearl, a bit of male jewelry. Surely a gift from someone. And athen, waiting for Jesse to lay his hand atop, making sure those taking photos are ready, they cut the cake.

"...Ablative armour." Myles' attention has been refocused onto Guy - *really* focused, like Guy is the only thing Myles is at all fussed with at the moment. Look at those big and totally normal human eyes? They absorb so much - and only look kind of wild. Hush, those blown pupils must be the lighting in the park - or maybe the Crazy Booze. "Hey, can you, uhm, help me and, uh..." He looks around quickly, seeming kinda overwhelmed himself. "...Stay with me while this cake is cut? I came alone, also I am concerned about the grass..." Grass is eyed carefully, then attention is returned to Guy. Aw. Look at that face. "Do you think you can do that, for me?"

Guy has a camera up to record dutifully - though not at all because he _has_ to. He seems relatively happy to, frankly, or at least, he seems amazingly intense about making sure this all goes perfectly And then...holy crap. Changeling eye-game is strong. "Uhh, sure," Guy says to Myles "I can...yeah, they're married now, isn't it _great_? I'm so happy." He looks at the grass too, worried for a moment "It's the fish that have been telling me about the true realities of life here...uh. Wow. Okay. Sure. Can I help you? Maybe get you a chair? We can just...uh. Sure. I can wait here." Blink. Blink.

While all this is going on a courier shows up. There is a case with him - and he is wearing a rather neat outfit. A Christies Auction outfit - a red pillbox hat, and a red jacket, with a very nicely presented case of what must be a dozen wine bottles. Krug 1998 Clos d'Ambonnay. $2000 US for a single glossy, perfect bottle if anyone is counting. He looks around the gathering "I have a note for...Jesse and the Old Letch?"

Jesse puts his hand on Ritter's hand, but his other hand takes up the microphone, and he says, "Before the cake is served, I wanted to say a few things." His hand slips away from the knife and he comes out around the front of the cake, because it's pontificating time. "First of all, thank you all for being here. This means a lot to both of us. Thank you Deckard for making this completely unforgettable.

"I've known Rick here forever. I, uh. I got married young. I mean young. I had a family before most people are thinking about what they want to do after college." He takes a deep breath, lets it out, and says, "And I lost them. My wife and two little girls. I met Rick right after that, and he was there for me." He smiles at Ritter. "I don't think I would've made it without him. So there's a lot to love.

"Guillermo here," He gestures at Guy, "he's been with us for the past year or so? He married us. He's a Santeria priest, real and bona fide. Don't worry, no one is sacrificing anything. I will see to it personally the cow will have a happy life. Things I never thought I would be saying in my wedding speech."

He comes back around to the cake and to Ritter. He puts the microphone down and raises his voice, "Now let's have some motherfucking cake!"

"Witnessing the union between two people is always interesting, yes." Myles reply to Guy, accompanied by a slow nod and continued staring. He lowers his voice now - muttering something to Guy, and leaning in just a bit to do so. Man smells subtly like liquorish and sandalwood - interesting combo. "I don't need a chair, thank you - I wouldn't want to inconvenience you further. Mm. The shells upon your hat are inspiring -- what's the story then, mm?"

Myles mutters "...If we ... ... ... I ... ... ... the interest in ... Archaic ... Something for ... land rights ... trade agreements ... ... ... I ... concerned. Handfasting ... ... ... only ever ... ... a ... seasons ... most ... seems... Unduly ... One would not be at ... if ... at ... prospect ... ... wane ... Theoretically." to Guy.

Jesse's said his piece. Ritter....he's silent. But the cake is cut, and he feeds the first bite to the other Immortal with a kind of tender delicacy, murmuring something in French as he does.

Guy looks at Jesse, and for a moment, he goes sober at the talk of the lost wife and girls. Serious, not unhappy, but...some things _are_ rather serious. And then he blinks up as he is mentioned, and he claps suddenly. Yes, he will not sacrifice anything...today. Then he says to Myles "I like marrying people. And the shells are cowrie shells - I'm consecrated to Ellegua, the Saint of the Crossroads. I'm kind of...like a doorway? I mean, the fish tell me this, too - once you open something, you can never really put it back the way it is." Though as Myles speaks, in more of a whisper, Guy is nodding, despite himself, and then he says "Theoretically." And, oddly? He smiles, a bit wryly "Hey, so what's this about the grass -" Though he takes another quick photo.

Because, after all? Cake.

Ritter whispers "May it always be so sweet."

The messenger with the horrifically expensive champagne looks around, and then says "I just have a note here for those..." He looks down at it "It says 'May Jesse and Godric have a happy eternity together, just the two of them.' From Mr. 'Angel Ortiz'." He smiles around, and goes to put the crate down with the other presents. He likely has more expensive purchases to deliver to others.

He absolutely recognizes a backhanded gift when it's handed to him....and for a moment, that almost dreamy air Ritter's been wearing vanishes, replaced by that hawkish glint. His green gaze darts to Guy for a moment, before he calms himself and turns back to Jesse, raising the younger Immortal's hand to his lips.

"Yes, like Pandora's Box." Myles agrees with Guy. Poor Jesse and Ritter -- Myles' attention is somewhat fractured, between chattering to Guy and being distracted by the sensory explosion which is observing the grass and trees, only a small sliver of focus is reserved for the actual centres of attention. Are people clapping? Myles cannot, because one hand is fixed on that cane so he can keep upright - but he does smile dreamily and bob his head. "...Cake." Quiet exclamation. Wait, what did that messenger say? Myles tilts his head to the side, blinks, then turns and looks at Guy - lost. "The... Grass? Oh, ah, it's just -- so precious, you know? Wouldn't want the, uhm, party to get it down or nothin'... So, when someone opens you up, Guillermo, where do you go?"

Howell shakes his head a bit, and rubs his face. If he was ever truly tired by that feat of mental power, he certainly isn't now. That unseemly spring is back in his step, quicker than it has any business being. "Actually, Doctor, our ride is about to be here. I have a meeting with Dr. Osgoode and Dr. Fullton back on the island about something sensitive. You're welcome to come with me." No sooner than he says this, the sound of a helicopter can be heard in the distance. "I figured I'd rather use the chopper, as opposed to the company car and then the yacht, to get back. Quicker and all that, allowed me to spend more time here enjoying the festivities." He clears his throat, and waves over to those around the cake. "I really am happy for them, what they have. It's rare. Special... Anyways, much work to be done. Science never sleeps!" Then the chopper is in view. It's a matte black V-22 Osprey, with the HDWF logo on the side. The pilot is wearing grey fatigues and aviator sunglasses. Another man in grey fatigues slides open a big metal door in the side for loading once it touches down, revealing a sizable and intimidating looking machine gun which is totally legal and for medical doctor things. Howell begins strolling towards the helicopter, whistling the tune of 'Time is On My Side' by The Rolling Stones, hands in his pockets. Tyberia does get a glance from over his shoulder.

Jesse feeds Ritter a piece of cake with surprising delicateness. It's not that he doesn't want to smash it into his face, but he's being good. For love! And then the champagne arrives, and of course Jesse recognizes the backhandedness of it. Unlike Ritter, he smiles and says, "I know it's a dick move, but look at that fucking label. I'll make being thrilled about this up to you, Guy, I promise." He gives Rick a kiss, then he starts cutting off slices of cake and setting them out. There's chocolate on one tier, vanilla on another, marbled in the center. Choices! And it's good. Very good. Because Jesse doesn't fuck around about wedding cake.

Jesse calls to Howell, "Hey take some cake to Osgoode. Tell him I said hey."

Guy has gone a bit pale at the message from Angel. Not that his skin tone lets him ever get _too_ pale. But he does look a little skittery, and after a moment he says to Myles "I don't know. Maybe if we're truly open, we're like...reflections of other people or some shit like that. I'm not sure. Maybe it doesn't matter. I dunno if I'd want to see it, you know." He glances at the gift, and then after a moment, he says to Myles "You are high as fuck, my friend. Do I _recognise_ you from somewhere? It's like I've seen your name before. Are you a doctor of some kind? Let's go get cake. I keep thinking: I need some cake."

What a wonderful reception, save for the shifting glances following the booze bellhop. Strangers are stranger still Her current accommodations however called for her return and the events of the night--that poor cow--were suddenly startling on her conscious. A slight migraine was developing. "Yes, I do believe I will." Tyberia smiled softly at the happy couple and Molly (bless her paitence, perfect creature) tied to the rail, and starts to walk out towards the helicopter, pulling her stole tightly around her shoulder under the swift, battering wind of the blades. She yelled a goodbye behind her in a poor attempt to not to be drowned out. "I had a wonderful night, thank you. Congratulations!"

Butters is a late arrival, but late is better than never. He has taken the time to get a gift for the newly weds, which... Appears to be a life sized cardboard cut out of Han Solo holding his gun. The cardboard cut out is at least dressed for the occasion, with a print out of a tux taped over Han's usual clothes and a bowtie dangling around the neck. Butters, on the other hand, is the standard model.

Ritter's eyes go half-lidded, at that. But he does not presume to argue with Jesse. Instead, he helps with the handing out of cake.

When he hears Jesse call out to him about bringing cake to Osgoode, Howell grins, and turns around. The chopper is close, but not close enough to totally drown out his voice as he turns to yell back with both hands around his mouth, still moving as he was. "Do you think he's earned a slice of cake this week, Jesse?" He shouts, cocking a brow and smiling broadly. He waits, and then shouts once more. "I'll get your gift to you soon. International purchases, you know how it is. Have a good night. Be safe! Don't let Guillermo hurt that cow!" He adds. Then he's helped up into the chopper by one of his henchm- lab technicians... and he helps Tyberia up as well. Then, the Osprey takes off, looking more like it belongs in a Metal Gear Solid cutscene than a wedding reception. But such is life in Fallcoast.

"What are we, indeed, but reflections of the world around us? Mm, Aristotle argued that there is some kind of, mm, essence within each of us - the what it was to be - which remains, regardless of our environment... I am not sure, but mm, perhaps so - all is interconnected." Chatty Myles Abernathy speaks to Guy with a dreamy, distracted air - but those eyes? Yeah they remain intense, soaking up the surroundings. Then? A subject change. "Cake. Yes. I require cake as well. Will you accompany me to the cake?" A smile to Guy, it is given -- but a reply about his name or profession, an admission about being high? Nope. Just a smile.

There is booze, there is drink, but the reception is otherwise winding down about now. Guy is talking to Myles, and heading for the cake that has just been cut. Doctor Ritter has gone to sit down for a moment or two - his fiance is better at handling large crowds. People are distributing _something_ from a vat - and that something, apparently, is pretty noxious. At least, it has _Guy_ drugged, which is pretty hard to achieve. Guy says to Myles "I...hmm. Do you think so? I think...spirits would be like that. Here." He heads for the cake and he offers Myles a piece, and then he says to Jesse, looking him dead in the eye "I'm gonna thank Angel _so hard_ for that gift. I'm gonna buy him tickets to a sea and sun cruise, a bucket of tanning lotion, and also a tanning bed ticket at a day-spa in order to get beach body ready."

Jesse sees to it that cake is distributed and the glorious expensive anti-Guy champagne is poured into enough flutes to go around. He takes over social duty while Ritter retreats to some downtime. He finds himself at a table with Myles and Guy, whom he will frogmarch to one if needs must. "This party is amazing," he says. There's plenty of room to sit. The few stragglers that remain have spread out. There's a spa here with a soaking pool and the party has definitely lost some people to that. Jesse gives it a longing look, himself.

Butters makes his way through the room, looking over at the departing chopper with a deep frown. Attention shifting back towards the others present, he eventually reaches Jesse and sets the cardboard cutout on the ground next to himself. "Congratulations, happy for you both." He is still frowning, but maybe his face just forgot what smiles are and is ad-libbing.

Myles' expression gets lost behind cake as Guy starts talking about Angel and all the wonderful gifts he'll be receiving. Mm, cake - and how champagne? Myles looks de-fucking-lighted; accepting the glass with a grateful bow of his head. "Many thank you, Groom. To your health!" Grin! It has a lot of teeth. Butters' approach catches his interest, and he turns and raises his glass in greeting. Myles' perfectly normal humany eyes? Those pupils are blown out. Obviously he is intoxicated. "Mr. Butters! Salutations and good day - mm, you have missed the rodeo, but do be careful on the grass." His tone becomes a whisper, as he adds; "It is painful for them, to be trampled."

Guy is left to mutter over his anti-vampire gift. But he has champagne, and cake, and he maybe is calming down now that the majority of happy couples who are _quite_ so happy without him are gone. He looks up from the cake, and then he says to Butters "Hey boss-man. How are you doin'? Did you know the entire sky is full of fish that are talking to me? Basically I think Dexter put LSD in that stuff." Finally, now people have spread out, he says to Jesse "Do you like my outfit? Huh. Huh?" He wants approval so badly "Man. Jesse? I'm glad I'm a priest."

Jesse beams at Butters. Jesse's positively aglow with happiness. It's ten times more disgustingly warmer than his usual outwardly optimistic regard. "Hey, Abraham! I'm glad you could make it. Have some cake and champagne. Rick is taking a call from work. They had him at the ER earlier because of a pileup. Have you met Myles Abernathy? He's a colleague." And? When Myles toasts him? Jesse's cheeks actually color, and he ducks his head as he says, "Thanks. Guh, I'm a broken record, but seriously, thanks." He lifts his head to look Guy up and down. "I think you fantastic," he says.

The commentary from Myles, and then from Guy, does nothing to alleviate the frown Butters has on. "I'll pass on the refreshments, thanks." He points to the bowtie on the cardboard cutoff. It is a white one, if that matters. "That is for Godric, maybe he'll appreciate it. I guess the Han Solo is for you." He frowns at his own gift now for a few moments. It isn't a recent print, might be a slightly battered collector's item. "You'll figure out a use for it, probably."

"Mr. Butters, you are one strange cat - who brings a practice target to a wedding reception?" Does Myles not... Recognise Han Solo? Apparently not - maybe he's face blind or something. Looking to Guy, he speaks in a sotto voice, "I don't think it was LSD - it was too quick, I think it was... Something else, designer probably." A sage, sage nod - then Myles' attention focuses in on Jesse, peering at his face, that blush. Does he add anything further? Nah, just stares.

Guy says to Jesse "Thanks, I think I'm fantastic too - oh, you work with Jesse, Myles? I work with Butters - I'm like, I hold an important position at the law offices." Riiiight. He eyes the cardboard cutout thoughtfully "That's actually weirder than my present. Well done." Finally, he seems to be relaxing - Myles has managed it. Guy feels needed around by someone, and that is - for him - a good thing. He rubs the back of his neck "Phew. Okay. This...this is more my speed. Man, fuck Angel - in the ear. Seriously, what a wanker." He stares at the fish, that only he can see "...oh. Actually, you have to be right. But it must be _super_ strong. I have the constitution of an ox. Like. Nothing usually can affect or do anything to me. Dunno why I'm so...like. Thin skinned tonight."

Jesse's eyes widen. "You will not make target practice from Han Solo." He draws the cardboard cutout closer to himself, and he smiles at it crookedly, one brow lifting. "Hey, you wanna get out of here later? Maybe go somewhere?" He leans in as though for a picture, putting an arm (carefully) around the cutout. "Guy, do that thing that's like a selfie only someone else takes the picture. Don't let Angel bug you. He just sent us an amazing amount of fantastic champagne, and you're still with us, so who gives a fuck what he thinks? Though if you could kind of keep this rivalry going, I'm holding out for a yacht."

Butters nods slowly. "Guy does indeed play a role that is invaluable for our offices. Which, by the by, have moved into a new building." The frown is stubbornly hanging on his face. "But you knew that, of course." He takes a step back so as not to end up in the frame of the photo, shaking his head faintly to himself. "I'm glad you had an exciting night, Jesse."

"Oh, do you Guillermo? That's great -- mm, the new building is rather special..." Myles looks up at Butters, bobbing his head slowly as he watches the man step out of the way of the camera. "You've all settled in well downstairs, yes?" He says this, but his eyes wander - distracted by the shifting breeze in the grass, if the way he stares is anything to go by. "...So many leaves of grass. Mm... And what I assume you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you..." He fades off for a moment, dreamy and content to smile off at... Nothing at all.

This night has been the best," Jesse says. "Rick's calling the animal rescue to pick up the cow, I think." He glances at a storage container on the lawn. "I wouldn't trust the booze in that fountain, but it looks like a lot of fun. And Rick looks so handsome." He sighs softly. Yeah, he's got it bad. He glances off in the direction where Ritter is off to one side making a phone call. Probably several.

Guy says "I don't think I can _stop_ this ruin of a juggernaut, Jesse." He then picks up the camera, and he says "No, no, I got this - Myles, lean in. Champagne, everyone, okay? Butters, please? Come on." Regardless of if the lawyer does it or not, Guy heads around so he can pop a selfie of whoever he can get in - and himself. Screw it all! He has friends, right? Look at this gosh darned internet worthy proof! Even if he has He then says to Jesse "No yachts. That'd leave him broke, I don't want him broke." And then he says to Butters "I dig the server room." Of course he cares about that. And then he tells Myles "You're cute - ignore me. Jesse? You know too many nice people."

"Mm, the fountain is not for the faint of heart..." Myles agrees, bobbing his head as Jesse speaks - only a little bit of cake frosting caught on his face, as he finishes the last of his Unbelievably Expensive champagne. The bottle? Yeah, it's eyed carefully - Myles' pupils seem to be returning to normal, albeit slowly. Blink. Did Guy just tell him to lean in? His champagne flute is offered up for a refill. "Why thank you kindly..." Oh! A selfie? Myles may not know Han Solo, but he does know how to take a photo apparently. Beam! He leans in, gives a big ol' grin, looks up and over to the side, and even throws up a peace sign. Mad kawaii and totally Mod. He glances to Guy afterwards, his only reaction to the compliment? A wide and somewhat secretive smile.

Jesse laughs and slings an arm around Guy once the picture is taken. "I'm sure for you he'd buy me a yacht." He claps Guy firmly on the shoulder. When Guy tells Myles he's cute, Jesse snorts and shakes his head in amusement. "I know lots of great people," he says, and he idly reaches down to scratch Molly behind the ears. She counts as people. He then refills Myles' flute, and he tops off glasses all around. "Gentlemen, I am utterly fucking married. Haha, oh god, now what?" Around this time animal rescue is arriving for the cow, and various heavy detritus is being hauled away. BWEEP BWEEP BWEEP goes the backing up horn of the flatbed come to carry away the evening's chaos.

Ping! Photo taken, and then Guy is sitting back and he says to Jesse "Yeah, I know," at the shake of his head "But I think I've just decided to embrace the fact I don't fucking know anything, okay. Or, at least, that my area of knowledge is: a) computers and b) Santeria and c) cleaning Butter's office." He shrugs a bit. People, not in that category. He enjoys his champagne, and he says to Jesse "You are. I married you. Never getting tired of that stupid pun, ever. Man, I invited Kouri, and she showed up in that Italian dude's car. Do you think an expensive car would help? Probably not, right?" Then he says to Myles "So what...that's right! You're a psychiatrist, right? Wow!"

"I believe it is traditional to start complaining." Myles replies to Jesse, only smiling just a liiiiittle bit. Didn't he absolve himself of responsibility earlier? He's got a carte blanche, right? He acts like it, sippin' some champagne like a right cheeky bastard, content to just listen and observe and engage as the trucks pull up, the cow get carted off. Guy gets a somewhat incredulous look. "Those are three essential life skills - why are you undermining your aptitudes?" No irony, he tilts his head to the side -- then smiles. Wide. "No - but close. I am a analytical psychotherapist. Why do you ask?"

Jesse grimaces and says, "Woof. That's rough, man. Maybe hitting on a better class of people would help. She's not worthy of you, my man." He offers Myles a sweet smile as he lays a hand to his chest, "Me? Complain? Mr. Abernathy, every day is a gift and each moment a treasure. I'd never complain."

Guy eyes Myles, but he clearly simply doesn't really believe what the man says - to the point where he does not even address the comment "I'm curious about that shit. It's interesting, and weird. Brains are, I mean. The way they can make shit up that protects or betrays you. It's something fascinating for me. I guess everyone's interested in people." He grins wryly at Jesse "Yeah, well, Howell sent me a pity-dance from Isrieal, and...you know, the way you put stuff is awesome. You really should go into something where you get more of an audience. Like! Like a show!"

"Mm, is that so?..." Myles looks to Jesse - peering at the man over his champagne glass. Smile remains, but the eyes? They pry - oh how they pry, watching Jesse's face rather carefully for someone who is obviously turnt the fuck up. "...Must be charmed, to never feel doubt or, mm, pressed into obliging others - really, an enviable position." He squints a little bit, like he was either genuinely envious or coming to some kind of conclusion. Next? Jesse get's ignored, and Myles turns to look at Guy, raising his eyebrows, expression all mirth and goodwill. "It is interesting, no? I mean, it absolutely fascinates me too - you can learn a lot about a person, just by speaking with them a little... So you tell me, mm? What's the most interesting thing you've learned this evening, then?" Did he just reach out with a spindly hand to pat Guy? Yes. Just for a second, then back to his champagne.

Jesse glances between Myles and Guy, then he glances back at Ritter. He licks his lips, then knocks back the last of his champagne and says, "It's getting late, and Rick's looking pretty tired, so I'm thinking I'd better grab him and make sure he gets some rest." Yeah, right. The way he's looking at Ritter, one might imagine a steak superimposed over him. He gets to his feet, stretches, and grabs a couple bottles of champagne. He'll also be making off with some of that cake. "You guy stay as long as you want."