The home of Miriam and Jedediah Thorpe: Two stories, 5 bedrooms, attic and basement, detached garage, along with a large backyard. Of course, there are the usual rooms as well: bathrooms (2), den (where Gramps escapes), and a large kitchen with a breakfast nook that opens onto a formal dining room, adjacent to the living room. The table there can extend to seat twelve, with room to put up card tables. The furniture may not be antique; but is warm, worn from a couple generations of Thorpes and their progeny. A China Cabinet and two matching buffet's line one wall, while a bank of french doors open onto a covered patio that can also be used when the weather is fine. It may get crowded, but there's always room for just one more.
Thorpe family Dinner at Gram and Gramp's place; held every Sunday, with an open invitation of all family members and any friends they'd care to bring. Just be aware that if a potential SO is present, they'll be put through the family wringer.
Grams already has the white lace table cloth on the table which which is pulled out to it's fullest extension, with card tables and chairs set off to the side, just in case. First few in get directed to 'set the table properly", with gestures towards the china cabinets and the good silver and glassware. There are already serving dishes set with crudites, olives, deviled eggs, etc; the smell of frying chicken wafts from the kitchen, along with freshly baked rolls and other baked goodness; warming dishes keep mounds of billowy mashed potatoes, three kinds of corn and two kinds of green beans warm, three kinds of green salad and dressings sit on the nearly groaning table as well. A voice from the kitchen calls, "One or more of you, please get in here and start taking some of this out there, while I finish up making the gravy!"
The multiple times removed cousin arrives for Sunday dinner on time with a small reusable grocery bag full of soda bottles, wearing comfortable jeans and a nerdy shirt proclaiming it a +1 shirt of armor. Haywood perks his head up at the voice from the kitchen "Arright, I'll grab that!" Shoving the sodas under the table with the food, he kicks his shoes off before he gets called on scuffing up the floors and heads into the kitchen with a smile. "Thanks as always for the invite. I'll try and figure out where I can put them, I think there was a small spot next to the green beans."
Owen was out playing football with the kids and adults. He comes in and grabs his trauma bag to tend to a crying five year old and her scratched up knee. Proclaiming her ok and with a prescription written on a sheet of paper for 'One slice of pie, ice cream, and lemonade after dinner as per Owens orders' he sends her off. He washes his hands and joins the rest in the area - jeans, tshirt declaring "Pew Professional' with the image of an assault rifle on it, backwards baseball cap.
Madeleine runs a business that's open 24/7, so the fact that she was working before coming over for dinner isn't really surprising. At least she doesn't smell like bacon and pancakes (or maybe that's a negative?) since she did shower and change before showing up. When she arrives she's in jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows. The red in the flannel matches with the red of the Chuck Taylor's she's wearing. Her arrival comes just in time to get put to work, and she just gives grams a smile and a quick, "sure thing!" Then she starts helping with ferrying things out to the table.
And where is Jen? Jen was sitting with Gramps, leaning against him, curle dup wit her head on his should talking about.....fish. And going and sneaking snacks for Gramps. Because, you know - Gramp's little girl. Thpppt to you Brodie whenever you show up! Peeking her head up over th eback of the couch when Owen coms in, along with the others (and at the sound of Grams voice - a sure indicator that true foodage is about to commence), she starts to hop up over the back of the couch before Gramps, merely says, without looking: Jenny. A sigh, then, she slides off the front of the couch and goes around to start helping bring out the food - after snagging just one more deviled egg with a cheery "HI!" to everyone.
"Well Dr. Owen, how come that wasn't a prescription when we were kids?
And Brodie finally shows up. He's freshly showered and in addition to jeans, wearing a grey t-shirt proclaiming Fallcoast Police Department, meaning he's probably fresh off shift and came directly from the station. At least he remembered to leave his gun outside. Last time he forgot to take that off before coming inside he got an earful from grams. He does however bring in his bag, dropping it off to the side of the door before making his way into the dining room. "Guess I'm just in time, huh?" He's not grinning, of course. Why would he, but there is a slight smugness about the fact he got to miss most of the set up chores. Because who likes setting the table.
Carefully settling his delivered goods onto the table, Haywood turns and sees the other incoming foods. "Oh right, uh I think there is a slot over there, and there by the pie. We might need another fold out table for the food..." Shrugging sheepishly he offers a smile, and waves over the Jenny with her cheerful hi. "Is anyone on call tonight? We save places nearer to the door for them." His look is at Brodie, but considering the family it could be for anyone.
Owen grins at Maddie and Brodie gets a back slap, companionable like, "We're outta beer, man, and that pie you brought home from work, is GREAT!" he tells his 'roommate'. A grin at his sister as he settles down into his seat, "I was not medically trained back then, you know. I couldn't just go giving out powerful medications like that all willy nilly. That wouldn't be at all professional of me! I'm not on call Haywood! I'm JOBLESS."
Jenny returns from the kitchen with a platter of chicken, finding a place for it on the crowded table. "And" setting it down, sneaking off a piece of skin in advance and popping it in her mouth, "I shouldn't have to be on call; but you know how that goes," with a glance at the kitchen when "Jennifer Marie!" comes trailing out. Not so bad, only two names, right before she stops the downward sitting motion into an upward standing motion. "I'd better go help bring out the gravy. Hey, Maddy.." gesturing towards a miniscule empty spot, "There may be room there like Woody said." then she stops a moment, gives an delightedly evil look at Brodie and mutters something to Madeleine.
Jenny mutters "... ... engineer it ... ... and Evan do ... ... tonight." to Madeleine.
You mutter "We should engineer it so Brodie and Evan do the dishes tonight." to Madeleine.
Maddy helps cheerfully with bringing things out from the kitchen, then finds a place to sit down. "Out of beer?" she asks, giving Owen a sympathetic look. "That's a travesty. Who would let such a thing happen?" She gives him a smile, then turns to grin at Jenny and lean in to listen to what she mutters. With a laugh, her smile only grows wider and she nods her head a few times. "Totally," she agrees, out loud. "Everyone has to do their part, after all."
"Not even on call. They need to let me have time off once in a while." It doesn't hurt that Brodie's been volunteering for extra hours. Though he does stare at Owen with a bit of surprise. "It's your turn to buy the beer, I bought the last three times." Someone's putting his foot down, but he'll probably give in anyway, knowing Owen will just raid his liquor cabinet if he doesn't eventually bring more home. He pulls out a chair and drops into it with the loud sigh of someone who has had a serious workout, stretching his arms over his head.
"Thankfully I only have to worry about bringing a website back up and debugging. I have my laptop in the car..." Haywood grumbles a little at that but chuckles. "Better than having to go out and break up a drunk fight at the bar though huh?" His eyes tilt upwards a moment and he passes a finger forward and shakes his head. "That should be everything from the kitchen. I guess we're safe to sit finally..."
Jenny rolls her eyes at Owen and Brodie, Gramps moving to take his place at the head of the table. One of his sons is here and he stops to pat a hand on his shoulder, ruffle the hair of some of his grandsons, tug the hair of granddaughters and great granddaughters, suitably admiring the medical attention one small child had earlier. "I might have to get Dr. Owen to write one of those for me too, although your Grandmother will make sure I have some later."
At that time, Grams comes in and, he rises from his almost seated position to make sure she takes a seat before he seats her himself and goes back to his end of the table. Jen nods to maddy, "Yep, of course, they'll weasel out of it somehow. And yeah Woody," turning to him, " I May have to talk to you about helping me set up a program...once I clear it through the department, for inventory and property checks.
"Beer I can do, there's a smokin' new chocolate stout that's pimp, I can get that," says Owen with a nod to his cousin. "And I bet I can convince Maddie to get us some of those killer waffles, too, he adds with a grin. He settles into his seat and offers to Gramps, "Not doctor Grampa, but they'll at least call me mister, right? I'm going to clear it with HR to do a few rotations with the doc or two we have in the family. Plus I have a line at doing some time at a free clinic in town and the ER. I may try to double up my residency in trauma/critical care and emergency room care."
"I hope my waffles aren't killers," Madeleine says, pretending to be offended by the notion. "I would feel terrible if anyone was hurt by my cooking!" Fortunately, it's pretty easy to tell that she's playing around. She makes a dramatic sniff and then turns back to Jenny. "Well, if they do we'll just have to find some way to make them pay for it later. Kindly, of course. With all love."
"Inventory is easy, just database look ups and queries. Property well, that's a human error minefield. You can just RFID tag everything, get a powerful scanner, and bam everything coming in and out of the building gets auto scanned," Haywood grins with a fork twirling like his brain is on autopilot and about to stab some food. Thankfully his upper brain stops him as he gets a dirty look instead of a call out and with a sheepish grin he sets the fork back down. "Err, but yeah it's not too hard. You guys are still using Windows seven right?" he asks somewhat blandly to cover it up.
"Seven? I think the computer in my car is still running XP." Brodie starts to load up his plate from the dishes that get passed by, anything with mushrooms passed over without even a glance. He's been like that since a kid. Chicken on the other hand, well, that gets loaded up. He looks over at Maddy. "Killer? I think I'll have to come investigate, a lot." Oh god, that was a joke. Still no cracking of a grin, but hell, it's something.
Jenny says, “Yep, they are. I know it's easy for me to adjust where what goes and who has it, on the screen; but a more secure way, like you mentioned with the fDID chips would be great. Make It a bit more automatic and easier to track." That having been said,s he's also been filling up her plate:chicken, (enough plates piled up with chicken where it doesn't have to get passed all the way down the table), green beans, deftly avoiding the green salad for now, take a roll and passing the basket thataway. Ok so she did eye the basket for a moment and Owen and Brodie before dipping her head and clearing her throat at a look from Grams.
"Get your plates filled and we'll say the blessing. I had hope Simon would be here but i assume he's tending to his flock today. I'll just have to send some leftovers to him to make sure he's getting enough to eat."
Everyone's at table loading their plate sup, jenny looked like she was going to throw a bread roll at Brodie until Grams said something; Owen finished telling Gramps his plans for training and maybe eventually becoming a doctor. Haywood was answering a question Jen had about computers and inventory while Brodie was being Brodie. And Maddy, she's being a good girl. What's wrong with this picture? And waiting to eat until the plates are loaded so the blessing can be said. Grams is sending leftovers to Simon
Owen passes stuff around. Two biscuits, chicken, gravy, mashed potatoes, gravy, some mushrooms, another biscuit, some more food. He's always eaten a lot and almost 20 years in the military didn't change that. He puts down his plate and puts his napkin in his lap and prepares to bow his head respectfully.
With plate full of deliciousness, Haywood thinks. "We could call Simon and put him on speakerphone? Ah, nah." He shrugs and looks around to see who is taking over the task for the night before bowing his head.
Anita comes in through the front door. "Sorry I'm late!" She calls as she meanders into the dining room and wraps Grams in a hug - possibly to the consequence of a sideways look and mild scowl at the interruption of the process. "I had to call someone in - we had a field-trip group check in right as I was about to leave. Did you get my pies, Gramma?" A kiss on the cheek and then Anita is off to find herself a seat.
Pies? Grams looks at Anita then at Jenny who gives a wide eyed look back, "They're over there...see?" *blink blink* all innocent. Ok, so a sideways glance at Gramps who also hurriedly lowers his head and folds his hands together. It could be there's a piece of pie missing from one of them. Possibly. (It's not always Jen's fault, see!)
"Heya Anita," says Owen as he drops his head and grins at the rest - he'll wait for the blessing before he's going to start digging into that hugely, hugely delicious mega food feast!
"Hey, Owen," Anita smiles brightly as she pauses in her own food gathering to let the others say grace - her own head bowed and her lips moving quietly, though not entirely in the same sync as the others'.
Harley is not dressed for a fancy family dinner. Then again, with being what she is and doing what she does for a living, she probably had to sneak to the estate, and be very careful about it all. Being an undercover, deeply invested police informant can complicate life when it comes to a cop-based family. The girl plucks off her backwards baseball cap as she creeps into view. She lightly chews her lip, turning to glance about and take everything in. Tight jeans and boots, along with an oversized WU TANG sweater and a white baseball cap. Usual Harley attire.
If it were up to Gramps, if he were allowed to say grace it would be short, simple and to the point: Good Bread, Good Meat, Good Gosh, let's eat. Grams let him say Grace one year, when almost everyone present was very small. it hasn't happened since. But Grams doesn't make it overly long. And only interrupted once by a "Jenny put that olive back on your plate!"
Olive, what....sighs. An olive appears back on the plate and Jen folds her hands back together. hang it all. A a head not to Harley, once everything is done and a "THere's a few places left...just find a spot."
"Wutang ain't nothin' to f..... with." calls Owen to Harley with a wave and a grin, "Get into these biscuits, holy cow. SO GOOD!"
Harley blinks when Owen calls out, and she grins a bit lopsidedly, briefly throwing up the Wu Tang symbol with her hands. She then moves a bit further into the room, chewing on her lip as she glances about, sniffing at the air for food.
As grace finishes, Haywood starts tucking into the dinner like he's been eating microwave noodles all week. Which he probably was. Between bites, he tosses up the 'W' handsign to Harley with a grin before wiping his mouth. "The chicken is soooo good," he says matching Owen's commentary. "Pretty sure nothing cooked in these hallowed halls are anything less than the best. I'd remember otherwise. And then wisely not say a word...." with the last said increasingly lower so only those beside him could hear.
"Hey, Harley," Anita scooches her chair to one side, waving to the slight opening before she reaches for the bowl of mashed potatoes. Her eyes shoot to Haywood as she *barely* catches what he'd said. "I need to spend more time over here, grams - figure out how to get that perfect coating.." she pokes at one of the pieces of chicken on her plate.
And yes, despite Anita's vegetarianism, she has that piece of chicken. Try telling Grams no.
Jenny glances over at Brodie, silently making inroads on his plate, while for once, Jenny wasn't the first one done almost immediately after the blessing was said. She starts to pass the potatoes towards Harley, pauses, takes one more spoonful then passes the plate. "Can someone pass gravy boat please. They both ended up near Owen for some reason." Ahh, the olive she was chastised for during the blessing now gets eaten.
Harley catches the gesture and greeting from Anita, and she makes her way over while she flashes Haywood the same symbol with a lopsided grin. She plops down into the chair and seizes a plate, beginning to shovel food on with nary a word. She probably doesn't eat too well in the squalor she masquerades in. "...This looks so good. Been eating fast food for so long..." She takes the plate from Jenny when it comes, flashing a smile.
Brodie remains perfectly quiet through grace, though once it's over the eating begins. He's content to sit back and watch the others, eyes wandering the table as he still remains mostly silent. But then again his mouth is full of food so it might just be him not being rude.
Sundays are sort of busy days for Simon. Busiest day of the week, in fact. They're lucky he got here at all! Still wearing his suit jacket from the evening service, Simon slips in to offer an apologetic wave to the table. "Sorry for being late, everyone, but my boss likes to keep odd and hours. I hope there's enough left for me?" He searches out a chair at the table before sliding in with a big smile.
Owen secures more gravy for chicken, biscuits, mashed potatoes, and then will relent and pass them along to Jenny. "Heya Simon. No worries, Brodie and I have held up the front for you. But Jenny totally ate an olive during grace and probably needs your help saving her soul." he says. Selling out little sister, brothers right since birth.
With a brilliant smile, and a gracious nod, Grams looks towards Simon, "Plenty of room, always room for one more. You just missed the blessing but we can wait if you'd care to say a few words of your own."
Jen's fork pauses halfway to her mouth, full of green beans since she can't put gravy on her potatoes yet. Ahh, there it is as Owen finally passes them back her way, and getting a glare in the process, muttering something under her breath.
Anita grins and starts to eat her meal in the same sort of silence that Brodie uses - though hers is less out of "face stuffed" and more simply that she is enjoying the conversations around her.
Jenny mutters "Snitch. ... till I tell Dad ... ... ..." to Owen.
You mutter "Snitch. Wait till I tell Dad what you did!" to Owen.
Raising an eyebrow at Simon, Haywood chuckles. "Even your boss rested on the seventh day. Perhaps you should take his example hrm?" He smiled at that, hoping of course that he wont get yelled at for possible sacrilege. "And when has there ever not been enough food?"
"Oh, I'm sure one blessing is as good as another if everyone's hearts were into it," Simon says with an 'and I know yours wasn't, Jenny' look her way, even as he begins serving himself food. "And if we lost anyone along the way, the can lead Dessert Prayer." Dessert Prayer, is that a thing? Apparently it's a thing now. "You remember that, don't you grams? Go around the table, saying what we're thankful for, hoping the ice cream doesn't melt..."
Running late, surprising no one is one Stephen 'Tank' Thorpe, who should be a well known face around the family has he rarely leaves the area except for short trips to training. As always he smells faintly of fire and smoke. While he's come in his blue FD work uniform, he thunks down his set of irons by the door, and is wearing his radio. "Sorry I'm late, some schmuck started a brush fire. Fortunately we got to it quick enough... food. There's food right? Tell me there's food." Unfortunately for him, Gramps gives him some food. Spoonful of mashed potatoes straight to his nose. "Aww man, come on Gramps. Here I was gonna give grams a smooch to the cheek and you go all smartass." The elder man gives Tank a hard look. "Where do you think you got your smartassery from?" Tank blinks at this, and sketches off a salute. "Excellent point, carry on Sir." He plucks up a napkin to try to get presentable again.
Even Jenny goes silent at that one, even if she was about to reply to Simon. Dessert Prayer? Dessert Prayer? Say it's not so....as she looks momentarily back at Simon. Dessert prayer, over one measly olive? Ok, one olive and that piece of pie before dinner? When the potato goes flying and lands unerringly on Tank's nose, her mouth hangs slightly open and a sideways glance at Grams. Then, lowering her head to her plate and a quietly muttered, "Alright Gramps!"
Grams just looks down the table at Gramps, one eyebrow elegantly lifted before she lifts her cheek slightly to Tank. "Jedediah. Stephen. You do realize who'll be doing the dinner dishes tonight, yes? And, if you gentlemen make a mess, everything else as well."
"Firefighters get in all the trouble," mutters Owen as he takes a bite of his mashed taters. A grin at his sister, a wink, and he dips a biscuit in some gravy and takes a few more bites from it. Om nom om nom om nom. SO GOOD.
"Hey, Stephen. You've got something on your face, there." Simon gestures vaguely at his own nose, ministerial deadpan, but not without a sense of humor. He resumes slicing up his own meal with a great deal more fastidiousness than is probably necessary for a family dinner. "So what's the new and exciting family news? This is the only way I can catch up with half of you."
Snickering as Grams calls them on their behavior, Haywood's plate rapidly becomes cleaned, down to wiping up the gravy with a biscuit. "I finally got things settled with the condo. No more leasing an apartment for this guy. Just waiting on them to put in my fiber connection." He smiles at that, glad to actually Have news for a change.
Jenny says, "Condo?" waiting until the mouthful of mashed potatoes is done away with. She scoots over her chair, making even more room for Tank, while looking to Simon. "Well, let's see. Own and Brodie are sharing an apartment and Brodie's failing on shopping detail. Meanwhile, I get to bang on my ceiling with a broom when they make too much noise because I live downstairs from them. Workwise, it's been fairly quiet except for a strange call on the 4th. You know. How goes the God business?"
There's an elbow to the ribs from Brodie to Owen, the younger of the pair looking to his elder cousin with a raised eyebrow. "Look at that, Haywood got a place." Okay, so maybe that was a not so subtle nudge, not that Brodie really complains about his cousin's presence too much, not when he spends most of his time not home anyway. But there is a slight smirk on his lips, which is quickly hidden when he puts another bite of food in his mouth.
"You see, Brodie LOVES have a service guy around, for reals all the cute girls want to visit us now," says Owen to Simon. "I'm coming to the end of physician's assistant school," he adds, "And then a year and change of residency. But it's all good. Brodie, all jokes aside, has been super awesome about my crashing with him."
"You don't say, Simon." Tank responds dryly. He blows his nose clear of the taters and finally starts fixing himself up a plate. "Renovations on my place out in th' sticks is coming along." Tank has himself a nice traditional Maine Log Cabin in the Crow Hollow Woods, near the reservoir. His current assignment is the Hanging Hills Fire Station that doubles as a Wildland Fire Station.
Jenny sits back for a moment, taking a sip from her glass, the usual iced tea with lemon while watching the others talk. If her question gets answered, she'll be happy; if not, no problem. Besides if she really wants, she can go visit the man and find out how the God business is going.
"It's probably better to have a roommate, but I do better on my own. I mean I'd probably change someone's phone password if they deleted shows from my DVR. I still haven't had time to catch up on the last season," Haywood says with a slight grump. "But then I also do a lot of working from home anyway, so like office space and all that in my place is easier than having extra rooms."
Harley has been sitting quietly, stuffing her small body with home cooked food. Finally she sits back, letting out a faint sigh of happiness. She wipes her mouth with a napkin and takes a long sip of whatever there is to drink. The girl glances about curiously, as now that she is sated she can socialize.
"I can't imagine having a full time roommate." Tank's been known to loan a bed and or couch at his place to family now and again. "I like wandering around the house and yard freeba-" He coughs to cover up what he was about to say in front of the grandparents. "Err you know, in my skivvies, all comfortable and such. Harder to do with a roommate around."
With a look at the Brother still talking, Owen having finished and wandered off, probably post feast food coma, "Do tell Bib Bro. I just like to have my own place because I have stuff that I don't want people getting into. And if I wanted to walk around mother.....well, anyway," casting a quick look at Grams who's quietly down the table talking to Anita and Maddy probably about baking Again. Something she just doesn't get. Unless it's to eat. Then it's different. "And, I don't have to worry about anyone eating up all my groceries but me." She leaned over to Tank, "I have heard more about how much ice cream and beer they went than...wait, ice cream and beer float? I wonder how that'd be with one of those chocolate stouts I've heard about," gaze going off in the distance as she picks up a chicken leg.
And in walks Tristan. He was always the quiet one... but always incredibly friendly and helpful to his cousins. His parents were ripped to shreds before his eyes at the age of 6 - nobody ever caught the culprits - but after 3 years of near-catatonia in a mental institution from what he saw, he made his way out and lived what appeared to be a relatively normal life. As normal as one could be when being raised directly by one's grandparents. And yet he graduated high school with straight-A's, went to med school at Columbia... and has returned back (staying at a local hotel while he finds a place) just a few weeks ago, now working at the same hospital in which he was born - as an ER doctor. Coming off of a shift, he's already dressed somewhat nicely for dinner, his doctor's bag overstuffed with his gear and scrubs, as he drops his bag by the door and smiles broadly at his assembled eating cousins. "Hello everyone." The 27-year old of course first comes over to do what is proper: Grams gets a kiss on the cheek and Gramps gets a good strong handshake, both with warm smiles exchanged.
Offering a wave to Tristan he offers a smile. "Hey what's up doc?" Someone had to say it, and so he said it. "You're not still on call are you?" Tilting his head with the inquiry, he glances back along the table of peoples which thus far had managed to escape that fate.
Jenny waves, with a chicken leg when Tristan walks in, thankfully putting the leg back on the plate before being caught by Grams using it as a prop. "So Tristan...rolls" picking up the basket of rolls with the free hand and offering.
"Augh, you're not allowed to talk about being naked. Also you still cannot date until you are uhm, like 50." Stephen 'Tank' Thorpe nods sagely at this. "I can't risk you running into some guy like uhm.. er. Well. Me." Clearing his throat, he dunks a biscuit into some leftover gravy and makes it vanish in two bites. "Also, chocolate stout and- no wait! There's this new stuff called Not Your Dad's Rootbeer or something. Tried it at a tasting, beer tastes just like rootbeer allright." Settling back he waves at Tristan. "For once I like Doctors, you've made me look less late."
Tristan reaches into the basket even before he's sitting down, grabbing a roll with one hand - and then taking off his sport coat, he pulls the roll through the sleeve and puts it in his mouth before taking off the other sleeve. Settling the jacket on the back of the seat, he moves to sit down, grabbing a chicken wing - clearly at home with his family. "Alas... I am not on call thankfully... I actually get a night off. Not running the ambulance tonight either. Which is good." And picking up a chicken leg, he waves at Jenny with it - after all, like belikes like. He grins at Tank, saying, "Yeah, well... work calls..."
Harley has polished her plate off. She stands and begins moving about, the girl attempting to sneak a glass of something alcoholic, regardless of being underaged. She's a sneaky sort.
Jenny rolls her eyes and snorts at Tank. Well what do you expect, growing up with three older brothers. "That ain't happening. The not dating till I'm 50." She Smiles beatifically, "Besides, you weren't watching when I was away in the Army and overseas. Besides, Dad said I could. Date. So..Nyah. And Tris, maybe you can help Owen get hooked up at the hospital with some part time work or training or something. He was talking about going for his PA. But.." she looks about, "I think he went to sleep off a food coma already.
Unless it's stronger than a single glass of wine, Grams probably wouldn't say anything. A good glass of wine is always appropriate; Beer, probably not either. However anything else, gets a harsh look and the LOOK. Of course, there's not much stronger than beer and wine here. Unless Gramps has something, hidden away - somewhere.
Harley grumps a bit and ends up grabbing a glass of wine...and a bottle. She makes her way back over to the table and plops into her chair, filling her glass and taking a long sip. "I don't really date. The whole scene is kind of weird. I'd like to date but...you know."
"Just wait until the day I get to drive your rig if you're doing the EMS rotation." Tanks grin is an evil one. "It'll be... educational I promise." He even makes a halo over his head with his fingers. Then he's frowning at Jenny. "Ew, no. What happened on deployment can stay there. I'll stick to my memories of my pristine sister not being a hussy apparently." Harley is eyeballed briefly making a play for the wine, and then commenting on dating when he looks stern and makes pointing and snapping fingers at the bottle. "No no. I'm not dealing with holding hair while someone is being sick, nor Gramps famous alcohol lectures."
Tristan can't help but smile as he says to Jenny, "Of course I can try and help, although I'm not yet sure which end is up there... I only just finished my second week on the job, but I will ask around..." He looks over at Owen in his food coma, and chuckles, biting into a big piece of chicken, chewing for a moment before saying, "And yeah, Harley... I get it. I also am a bit unusual. Anyone from around here won't date me, I'm sure... nobody wants to date the guy that was in a mental institution for awhile... but you'll find the right person, Harley. It just takes time..." His smile is warm as he looks on at his cousin. The one he's talking to. Then he looks around to his other cousins. To Tank, he says, "That... will be scary... I'm going to hold on VERY tight if you and I have the same shift. Either that, or I'll make sure to drive." He winks at the man.
Jenny half sit up, reaching over to pat Tank on the cheek. "That's ok, Bro. I Wasn't a hussy. Besides, I never had to get the Gramps lecture about alcohol like SOME people." *patpat* She sits back down and grins at the others. "That's another reason to have my own place. If I wanna drink myself into a stupor....' and lowering her head at a throat clearing from one end of the table, lowering her voice to barely a whisper, "Then I'm safely at home.
Harley wrinkles her nose at Tank and takes a long sip of her glass. "I drink way worse than this at home. I have to, sometimes. Part of the job. Had a long week, okay? Lemme relax a bit..." The undercover police informant hmmphs a bit and takes another long sip of her wine before glances towards Tristan. She shrugs. "It's complicated. I want to find a nice, cute girl but...my whole situation makes it difficult. That's life, though, right? Nothing can be easy. Especially not if you want to live as yourself."
Tristan looks over at Harley for a long moment, before saying, "Harley?" His voice is gentle. "You made a choice. Oh, not the choice that you are a girl... the choice to be honest to yourself and others about it. It's an incredible choice. A brave choice. A choice that I respect so much... and that anyone worth a damn will respect, as well. There really /are/ girls out there understanding about that... I'm sure of it. Not that I can give you dating advice... it's not like I get any offers, myself... but I can tell you this - I have faith the right one is out there for me and I have faith the right one is out there for you. Not despite the fact you live as yourself, but BECAUSE of it." He seems unusually adamant, but then again, ever since he returned from his 'time away resting' (that's all anyone tends to call it), he has been for some reason a vehement defender of even imagined slights against his family. It's landed him in quite a few fights during his childhood, as well... fighting bullies who he even suspected disrespected /anyone/ in his family.
Not that he ever won those fights. He's a nerd. But he tried!
"Lecture? Try Lectures!" Tank is proud of this almost and strikes a little hero pose over it. Then he catches a biscuit to the head from Gramps. "Oh hey, food!" Tank plucks it up as if he wasn't daring the lecture fates at all and gives Harley another long look. "Don't give a shit. You ain't home, don't be blatant with a full bottle. You'll learn, you'll learn." Then Tristan is there to help undo some of the learning. "Well yes sure, there's always someone out there for someone else..." He mumbles softly aside. "In my case several..." Cough. "But no sense rushing, it's a bad idea. Ask me how I know. No wait don't it's a boring story." Tristan may have gotten a few ass-kickings in his time, but any time Tank was around town to observe this. People got... thrown. In one case he dove off a moving fire truck to help out another family member in the fight. It's good to defend one's family.
Jenny...Jenny makes people laugh. And pulls outrageous pranks designed to make people laugh. Or pay them back for slights, real or imagined. Again, that incident in high school was never proven even if the story circulates from time to time. And amongst the family, it /may/ get talked about. Then, fluttering her eyelashes, resting her chin in her palms and risking the ire of Grams, rests her elbows on the table. "Do tell, brother mine."
Harley blinks at Tristan's little speech, and she sinks down in her chair a bit, clutching her glass. "Um. Thanks." She obviously isn't quite sure what to say to that, but there's a brief, thankful look tossed his way. Then there's Tank. The girl glares a bit and sips at her glass, as she isn't drinking out of a full bottle, she just brought one over to the table with her.
Tristan is busy eating... Gram does make the best chicken in town, after all. No matter how much Tristan eats he never seems to gain weight. Well... it's because he's a Lifemage, but most people just think he has a great metabolism! He settles back in his seat after eating his fill, reaching for a glass of wine, as well, before saying, "It really is good to be back..." More to himself than anyone else. As if the craziness at the Thorpe family table is exactly what he needed to feel at home.
"I don't kiss and tell more than I have to." Tank mutters at his Sister to avoid getting his ear twisted off by his grandmother. "But I'm allowed. I do run -into- burning buildings you know." Usually with half the safety gear not properly in place. His method is speed and strength. Get in. Get the victims. Smash the fire if possible! He chooses to lean back into his chair and consider. "Ah you say that now, Tristan, and then we involve you in one of our mad family schemes, and you'll want to brain us with something fitting." Tanks fire pager vibrates and he reaches down to tap it accepting to hear the dispatcher talk on low volume. "Annnnd, some other idiot decided it's a great idea to not pay attention to his brush pile fire. I need to give th' ground crews a hand. Excuse me folks." Harley gets ruffled hair, Tristan a pat to the shoulder along with Gramps. Gram and Sis get quick kisses to the cheek before he's grabbing his irons and heading out.
Jenny watches as Tank runs off, even as a smile washes over her face. "See, he /never/ has to stay to do the dishes. Never!" Then with a look at Tristan and Harley, "We're glad you're back to stay Tristan. I know grams was a little upset you didn't want to stay with her. She won't admit it but she's missing smaller.."making the gesture of two hands only so far apart, ".....grandchildren around. So, not saying you're a smaller one but...you'd have been here, for her to take care of. And you too, Harley. She loves you no matter what.
Harley wrinkles her nose and sticks her tongue out when her hair is ruffled. "Alright. Don't die." She takes another long sip of her wine. Her look shows that she actually hopes he'll be safe, but she won't go and -say- something like that, afterall. She looks to Jenny and blushes a bit, nodding."Um, thanks...."
Tristan can't help but grin at Jenny, the man saying, "I grew up here in this house, Jenny... she gets it... I just need my own space now, that's all..." He speaks quietly enough it doesn't travel all the way to Grams. Who probably hears anyway. She Hears All(tm).