maskormenacelogs | Winter Gala

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Winter Gala

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: Jeopardy
WHEN: Saturday, December 21 from 5:00 p.m. onward into the early morning hours of Sunday, December 22.
WHAT: The Winter Gala Fundraiser for Jeopardy Relief Efforts
WARNINGS: Please include any necessary warnings in your TLs.
NOTES: This post will serve as a catch-all for logs for the entire event (though you’re also welcome to post things elsewhere, of course).

It's the most wonderful time of the year! Well, mostly. In the wake of a near-apocalyptic event, the city of Jeopardy is in need. What started out as an idea to advertise Rikki Chadwick's burgeoning business, after a little more planning and nabbing some ideas from Kenzi's post, she and Rupert have reconfigured and rebranded their idea to focus less on her and more on the relief effort.

Characters will enter the venue after giving a small donation at the door and they will be greeted by a large room lit in blues, soft pinks, and purples. From the ceilings hang snowflakes made of glass. The centerpieces are also made of glass. Come to think of it, nearly all the decorations are made of glass. Except, that is, the mistletoe hanging from several of the rafters and archways. A buffet-style dinner will be served from 5:00 p.m. to 6:30 p.m., at which point, the buffet tables and seating tables will be cleared away to make room for the makeshift stage for the DJ and a gigantic dance floor.

Drinks will be flowing, music will be playing, and people will be bidding on silent auctions to win everything from one of the centerpieces to a date with their favorite imPort and everything in between. So, eat, drink, and be merry until you can't stay awake any longer. Why not? It's all for a good cause, after all.

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He's found her in a rare moment of laughter. Sal's amusement doesn't falter at the unexpected company, however; it mellows to a gentler kind of amusement instead. The grin is small, but it's genuine.

"I should've expected you to show up somehow, huh?" There's a short moment where she bumps his arm with her own; for anyone else it might not be something to even remark upon, but for Sal, it's a rare show of affection. "You look right fucking at home in a party like this."

She makes a gesture to the people having their own fun below. "See how happy everyone is in this city now—so ecstatic they're even trying to flirt around under these strange plants. Fucking weird if you ask me, but it's a nicer scene than last time, isn't it?"

"Yep. If you're around, you know I will come, right?" It is said with warmth, but also a question. he wants her to know he will come because, well, she is his friend. And cute. That too.

He bumps her back, gently. He likes her way, and her smiles. At her words, he snorts. "This is my job look. Being the fashion model. it comes with shiny outfits and money that allows me the freedom to keep my other job." The one he has shared with her already. The one he actually cares about.

"Yes, well, its a tradition. Mistletoe is something from long ago, and kissing under it is considered good luck." he grins at her. "I could bring you a piece, if you want." There might be teasing there. Or there might just be a growing grin.

"A fashion model? You mean those people on billboards and magazine ads? Shit, considering how much I've seen you shirtless by now, I guess that isn't such a far reach."

Alright, so it is kind of nice to have someone to—be herself with seems like such an odd way to phrase it. She's been so many things; celebrated war hero, infamous outlaw vagrant, lover and enemy. What's even left of that eight year old girl who simply loved to fly? Enough to salvage some kind of decent fucking person here?

Well, that's the test, isn't it.

"As much as I'd like to drink and mess around like these people here," and she gestures down to a pair who have just forgone any sense decorum to trade spit, "I think I'm immune to good luck. It's probably a fucking wonder that I've been here so long and nothing's started on fire yet."

Remembering something else, however, she reaches into her suit jacket to dig through the inside pocket. "There's one other thing I know about this holiday, at least. You're not adverse to a little gift-giving, right?" She hands him a light package, hand-wrapped in a simple, thick parchment paper.

There's amusement in her blue eyes. If he takes and opens up the present, inside he'll find a simple leather bracelet, bound together with a single red, fiery stone.

"Why do you think that?" Superboy smiled at her and nodded as she spoke. Idly, he reached out and snagged a mistletoe from across the room with his tk, moving it around slowly, subtly.

"I don't mind at all. You didn't have to do that, but thank you. My present for you is at home still, wrapped and ready."

He grinned at her and lifted it, then looked at her. "Should I open it now?"

"Why shouldn't I? Soon as I got here, in fact, the world was ready to end. Nice save by us, by the way, but that's a pretty birdshit start in itself. Who knows what else is in store for us at this rate, huh?"

Sal shrugs; it's all a matter of taking personal responsibility, isn't it? It's far too easy to just come barging into people's lives, taking what she wants, and leaving with a smoldering ruin in her wake. "Yeah well, consider it a thank you present if you want. Either way, seemed right in the moment when I picked it up."

She makes a face, as if to say, well fucking obviously you should. "Yeah, who the fuck has time to worry about all of these special days anyway? Maybe some other weird monsters will pop up in the meantime. Go ahead, while we have a moment to ourselves."

Someone has time for patience and careful observation. That someone sure the hell isn't Sal.

"I really don't think that had anything to do with you." He pokes her, lightly. "Just sucky timing."

He grins at her. and opened it, then sighs happily as he lifts it to the light and then slips it on. "Thank you, Sal!" And, unless she dodges, she gets another Superboy hug.

"I like it, a lot. Hold on just a second." And he blurs, gone for a space of breaths, before he is right back where he was, and grins, holding out a slightly larger package. Inside are two items. First, carefully folded around the second, is a t-shirt that says 'I saved the world and all I got was this lousy t-shirt'. Second, nestled in that, was a small piece of hyper-compressed stone, not diamond, but very close, and carved in it was a simple statement. "To Sal, who saved my life and my family. Thank you.'

She doesn't dodge the hug. For him, she'll consent to it, but that doesn't mean she's really used to letting anyone hug her casually. Her posture is a bit stiff because of this, but she does manage to reciprocate with a small pat to his back. "Yeah, no problem," she says, accepting the thank you with a characteristic curtness.

She takes a breath and allows herself to relax again, feeling a little more confident by the time he shows back up; it's nice that she's had time to get used to his lightning-fast speed. Maybe not so used to receiving heartfelt presents in return, however. She examines the items with a serious look of attention.

The shirt makes her snort out a small chuckle. "Definitely going to wear this," she declares, rolling it up to put in her jacket. The stone, however, gets a more serious examination. And maybe in another time and place, she'd go and try to sell it for some coin. Back when she had one priority and everything else was a casualty of it.

She rubs a thumb over the engraving. There's a frown, because she can't help it. Words of praise and gratitude...for anything that she's done? It's hard not to let that guilt creep in. The voice in her head saying that she doesn't deserve something like this. Gifts, a friend. Real kindness.

She isn't sure what to say.

He notices the stiffness and curtness and reminds himself to pull back on that more. He's not always the brightest at picking up clues. But he will try, for her.

At her reaction to the shirt, he smiles. "I saw them and couldn't resist." He glances down and then unbuttons his dressy shirt to reveal that he is wearing one of the t-shirts under his finery.

At her look at the other present, he smiles softer. "I helped a kid make that for you. remember the day we met? The fire? That is from young Tiffany Mays, age 10. She wrote to me, because she did not know who you were, and asked my help making you a present to thank you. I was glad to help."

His voice is gentle, and warm, but he leaves it there, and glances down.

"Want to get some fresh air?" he waves upward and outward.

Edited 2019-12-22 23:04 (UTC)

The question pulls her out of her thoughts. Ignoring the stinging in her eyes, tears that won't be shed, she takes stone and places it in her pocket with the shirt. It's funny how happiness and sorrow always so easily come hand in hand.

Without turning to him, and really to hide her expression, Sal nods her head. "It doesn't sound like a bad idea, does it?"

A moment later and she floats back down to the ballroom floor in a gentle flutter of wind. Her hands move up to adjust the fit of her jacket, wanting to handle something solid. It's unfortunate that such intense surges of emotion always give her the urge to run; maybe she's grown used to avoiding them at all costs. Any excuse for revenge and any wound to herself she could suffer.

She knows he'll come down and join her, so she waits before walking outside.

He is there, behind her, shrugging into his jacket as they go, and reaching out with his telekinesis to collect two drinks as they pass, and walking after her to the outside. He can tell she is bothered, and he is worried he has fucked it up, fucked... something up, but he pushes aside his own anxiety as much as he can, and focuses on her.

She is important to him, and he is not about to leave her alone.

Outside, he holds out a drink to her, his telekinesis offering it in midair as he moves to stand beside her, looking upward. Giving her an illusion of privacy, anyway.

He concentrates, and with gritted teeth, manages, for the moment, to pull his senses in completely, shutting off the noise of the world for now, and giving her privacy from his superhearing and senses. He can't do it for long, but he can give her this for a moment.

Sal takes the drink. It's not a slow, thoughtful sip she takes, but the sort of desperate toss-back of the head, ready to feel the burn of alcohol down her throat. A distraction, which she's practiced in. There's been enough years that she might've wished to dull away her own senses; though things aren't, or haven't been, as bad after coming here. One of the reasons for that, being—

"It's a good gift," she says. Sal's not really well-versed in kindly thank yous, but it's what she can grasp at. "It means something."

She's not willing or ready to get into the reasons why. Not now, not at a nice, fancy party. Everything should be happy. Sal looks over to him finally, but there's not an easy indication into what she's thinking about. A small shrug and faint upward tilt of her mouth is meant to sooth his concern.

"I'd like to try again," she says softly. "What we did back at the building. Or here in Jeopardy. Helping out, I guess, somehow."

Superboy nods, glancing sideways at her. "It does." He nudged her a little, and smiled faintly, eyes worried still, but he does not push.

"Anytime you want, I would welcome you with me. And I think you would be awesome on your own as well."

He smiles softly at her. "You give a damn. There's nothing wrong with that."

She nods her head, even if the smile falters. Sal can be thankful that he has faith in her, to do or be good. That kind of heroic feat she hasn't yet learned to do for herself. Maybe the stone can do well to remind her not to lose sight of things.

"You're probably right," she says, trying to believe it.

The celebration is still in full swing, and people are passing by in clusters, laughing and exuding the kind of resilient human spirit she isn't used to seeing. Not back home, anyway. She needs to learn to get used to this sort of thing.

"Come on, there's still hours to go before they kick everyone out," she says, touching his shoulder lightly. A gentle touch for someone who's gotten too accustomed to fighting. "Let's go have some more fun before this night ends, huh?"

"Lead on." Superboy grinned at her. He might just try to kiss her under a mistletoe at some point, but he would make sure she could duck aside if she wanted.

A tradition was a tradition, after all.

He chuckled, finding himself cheered, and ready to deliver presents a few days later.

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Winter Gala

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