thisavrou_log | [closed] treat yo self!

[closed] treat yo self!

Who: Leia, Fiora, & the invited partygoers
When: 6/17, after leaving the resort planets
Where: Mess hall (following the regular dinner service for the crew)
What: Fiora throws a dinner party for Leia, cooking up a large variety of Alderaanian foods that they brought back last month thanks to the Reverse Ingress. Various Star Wars nerds and other nerds are invited. Potential drunken karaoke and chaos ensues.
Warnings: None yet, but we'll add one if ~~Kylo Ren~~ anyone gets out of hand.

It's later in the evening and the mess hall is quiet and mostly empty. The standard dinner for the crew had already been prepared, served and cleaned up, and the chairs are stacked in columns on the far side of the room to allow the sanitation crew to mop the floors. But there are a few tables - the ones closest to the door to the kitchen - that not only have their chairs still neatly arranged, but whose surfaces are slowly becoming covered in large platters of food.

Fiora emerges from the door to the kitchen, another large serving dish in her metal hands. She hurries to one table, sets it down, and rushes back into the kitchen. Although she'd started the meal hours ago, the prep is taking much longer than she expected. Perhaps she'd overestimated herself - she's an experienced cook, sure, but she should have known that cooking a bunch of unfamiliar Alderaanian food would be a bit more time consuming.

But it will be worth it. Returning to Alderaan meant a lot to Leia. She hadn't shown it, but Fiora could tell how emotional it was for her. They brought all these food items back just to throw a party, to celebrate her home instead of being sad about it, and Fiora will keep cooking through the whole night if she has to.

For those characters who are impatient, hungry, or just have nothing to do while waiting for the party to start, you might wander into the mess hall a few minutes before the agreed starting time. There are two long tables set for the party guests, each pristine plate accompanied by a full array of utensils. The mess hall's heavy-duty plastic cups look out of place next to the crystal wine glasses at every seat, but hey, Fiora is working with what she has.

Next to the set tables are two tables cluttered with a plethora of food. At the center of one table is a large cooked Gorak bird, its skin roasted to a beautiful shade of dark brown and peppered with something Leia had called "malla petals." Beside that is a pot of stew, with a cream-colored liquid and a strong smell of rosemary and cheese. The bird and the stew appear to be the main courses, but one could easily stuff themselves on everything else accompanying them on the table: bread, fruit, a selection of sliced meat arranged in a flower shape, a salad of beans and sliced roots, and fried homemade potato chips with a bowl of blue-flecked dip. Aficionados of Alderaanian cuisine would recognize the kebroot, oro bark and starblossom on the table, but you might have to try the chip dip before you realize it's made with ruica, Leia's favorite vegetable.

The other table is devoted exclusively to desserts and alcohol. The girls went nuts with the booze while on Alderaan and all of its most famous spirits are present: Ruge Liqueur, Alderaanian ale and brandy, chimbak wine, a pitcher of mixed l'lahsh, and of course, wine. Beside that are multicolored candies and cupcakes made from kebroot flour. And beside that, at the end of the table, is a platter of odd white discs made of something grainy and sandy - like large, flat, circular sugar cubes. If tried, they melt in your mouth and have the same chilling sensation as peppermint, but taste creamy and fruity, a bit like bananas.

Fiora is nowhere to be found, but clanking noises can be heard coming from the kitchen. Just have a seat and wait for the others to arrive!

((This is basically going to be as a mingle log, so I've provided this description to help set the stage! Comment in with your own top-level prompts, show up early, show up fashionably late, start drinking games, propose karaoke, start drama, go nuts!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[time to be a hostess!]

Leia hasn't been running around nearly as much as Fiora today, but she's still insistent on helping as much as she can. This is, after all, something she roped her friend into; as eager as Fiora was to make them all food, it feels like it's at her behest.

She's all shimmer tonight, having been unable to resist dressing up for the occasion, though her fine clothing doesn't keep her from arranging dishes or fetching and carrying whatever their cook needs.

"Thank you for coming," she says to each arrival in turn, greeting them with handshakes or hugs as the occasion calls. "It's so good to see you."

And eventually, she'll try the dip, which makes for a fine appetizer. If her expression grows slightly forced at the taste of the ruica, that's just, uh. Look, don't question it, she's eating it like a princess should.

[sitting down to a pleasant dinner]

Or...hopefully a pleasant one. As they tuck in, Leia makes cheerful conversation with the people she's sitting nearest, savoring the food with true nostalgia. It's a return to the flavours of her home, one so strong that it's nearly painful.

Mostly, though, it's delicious.

Eventually, she stands, lifting her glass of wine, and waits for her friends to quiet.

"I'm grateful that you could come and share this meal," she says. "Many of the foods we're eating represent the finest of my people's culture--but they couldn't exist for us tonight if not for the hard work and generosity of a good friend. Please join me in a toast to Fiora, whose culinary abilities have made this dinner possible for us. To Fiora!"

[a little tipsy]

No good dinner party ends with the food itself. There's plenty of liquor left to sip at, and the desserts are as delicious eaten standing, talking to others, as seated at the tables.

After an overindulgence on the Collective, Leia has no desire to drink to the point of vomiting again--but she can't resist a small (very small!) glass of everything she's fond of. She's not stumbling drunk, but the alcohol gives her voice a different warmth. Her gestures become more tactile: a hand set on someone's arm, a hug.

"There's no reason to end things early," she says. "Why don't we put some caf on?"

((OOC: Prose and brackets are both fine.))

When Leia stands, Fiora eases out of her conversation with her neighbor and turns her attention to her. She looks good tonight - happy and energetic and carefree. It makes her feel proud to know that she had a hand in bringing some levity to her life on the Moira.

But the explicit shout-out to Fiora and her efforts is a little unexpected. Fiora feels her face turn hot as the guests join in the toast. Uh, should she... join in the toast? Would that look egotistical, or would it be rude not to? The moment is over before she can decide, but hopefully her sheepish smile shows her gratitude.

"You didn't have to do that, Leia," she says once the glasses are lowered. "It was a pleasure. Really! I had a lot of fun working with all these unusual ingredients."

"And you didn't have to do any of this," Leia returns, giving Fiora a warm, rueful smile. "This is...I'm never going to forget this."

The taste of the food, the good company--she can nearly forget that they're trapped in unknown space, and that the conversation won't turn to the Alliance and their chances against the Empire. It's nearly as good as being home, and considering just how much time she spent there, a month ago, that's saying something.

"Besides," she goes on, a joking edge to her voice, "considering how good this is, everyone needs to know who our chef is. You might be able to cater other dinner parties in the future."

"Hah, yeah right," Fiora laughs in response. She's so glad to hear Leia so happy - that's enough thanks. This dinner didn't happen because she was searching for praise. "I do that every day already, if you think about it. No, I did this for you, Leia! For the both of us. We had to really pig out on everything we got."

Grinning, she leans over the edge of the table and rests her chin in her metal hand. "So. Did you catch where I snuck in the ruica?"

"Then just know that I appreciate it," Leia tells her, giving her a warm smile. Fiora works so hard for them all, day in and day out, without ever getting to try the fruits of her labor. And here, she's gone above and beyond for all of them. "This is spectacular."

It's like tasting home again is on her lips, but she can't bring herself to go quite that far at the moment. Better to stick to the general; they have something delicious before them, as transient as Alderaan itself ended up being. It's delicious, and they should savor it without dwelling too much on what never will be again.

"And if you aren't planning on advertising your services, maybe we can do this again sometime." This sort of togetherness is pleasant, as warming as the wine. "With any cuisine you like."

He's sorry about the ruica.

Okay, well, he's a little sorry. But not enough to not have not done it. He sidles up after her first bite of the dip, dressed in... her dad's clothes, that's not weird.

"It looks good."

Next time they're given a free pass into her homeworld's past, she'll remember to pick up some other outfits for him. For now, Leia just thinks he looks nice--that suit became Han's clothing once they left Alderaan, as far as she's concerned.

She swallows her bite of ruica and shakes her head. "Try some. I think you'll like it."

Wearing an unnecessarily fancy outfit is the least he can do to brighten her day. At the very least, Bail had comfortable taste. It could be much, much worse, even if it's not his tastes.

Obligingly, he takes a bite of the dip without flinching-- it's a little strong on the ruica, maybe, but he doesn't mind it. Actually as far as preparations go, he thinks, it's pretty good.

"I guess there was some left in the back of the conservator."

And if all he needs is to watch her try not to grimace over ruica, then she'll oblige him in return. She's not scooping up another bite until someone makes her, though.

"Or someone found my seeds." She almost wishes they had; they're just going to sit in their packets otherwise, going to waste. A little smile for Han, and the real explanation. "I picked up the ruica on Alderaan, actually. It isn't a dinner without a salad course--or dip."

They aren't portioning things out in courses, the way they did at home, but the thought is still there.

Of course she'd want to have some on principle, even if she doesn't like it. That's so thoroughly Leia that he can't help but smile a bit. It's decisively an important part of her history, of Alderaan. He shouldn't be the least bit surprised.

"Actually, it's not bad," he muses, taking another scoop of it. "You might have to tell me what everything else is."

"I can do that." And he can eat the bantha's share of the dip, thus saving her the trouble of smiling through a real serving. Sidling a little closer to him, she gestures from dish to dish as she speaks.

"Gorak bird in malla petals--like the one we had on Alderaan. The stew is from Fiora's world. That's kebroot salad, that one's a salad from Fiora's home...starblossom, oro bark...I won't be as much help with the food that isn't from Alderaan," she admits, "but it smells delicious."

Getting Han to eat isn't all that difficult. She's seen the kind of things he subsists on sometimes-- the deepest reaches of the deep freeze on the Falcon, the frost-rimed nearly unidentifiable provisions they'd rationed out on the way to Bespin.

"She went to a lot of trouble," he muses. Nice of Fiora to take all that on-- particularly when he hasn't seen her touch any of it.

"She did." Leia's already got the thank-you note half-composed in her mind; she doubts Fiora will find it necessary, but she'd like her friend to have a more permanent token of her appreciation than the hug she gave her upon arrival. "But she loves cooking the way you love to fly. I'm not sure it felt like trouble to her."

That earns her a deeply skeptical look. Han isn't sure anyone could feel like that about cooking, of all things.

"Well, the best thanks is no leftovers, right?"

She sees the way his brows shift and laughs a little. "Not everyone can be in love with Corellian freighters, Han."

It's enough that he is. And anyway, the sight of all these dishes speaks to the depths of Fiora's love of cooking. Leia can't imagine putting this together--her cooking is purely rudimentary, and her patience for learning more is low. "I think she'd like that."

Come on, Leia, don't be ridiculous. It's just the one freighter.

He doesn't answer except with a little smirk, bumping against her in what might seem an incidental way and grabbing another bit of bread. He's on it.

[ early guests ]

Following a particularly loud clank from inside the kitchen, there's a long moment of silence, and then finally the door into the mess hall swiftly swings out. A single robotic leg sticks out from the doorway, having sloppily pushed down the door handle and kicked it open. The cyborg cook in question emerges a second later, jutting her hip to keep the door ajar as she gently maneuvers yet another large serving platter out into the mess hall.

Her eyes are drawn towards the unexpected early arrival. Before she can say anything or temper her reaction, a subtle cringe flashes across her face.

"Oh...!" she declares, shifting now into a smile. "Goodness - are you early, or is it already that late? Not that it's a problem," she continues as she walks towards the desert table. "Would you like a drink?"

[ buffet line ]

Once everyone has arrived - or, once everyone is done with waiting for any late stragglers - the dinner itself begins. It's buffet-style, with people free to get up and grab food from either table at their own pace, but during the first round Fiora lurks around the tables, happily interjecting as people linger to answer questions or make suggestions.

[ dinner proper ]

Fiora sits along with everyone else as they eat, but she hasn't taken even one bite of food for herself. Her plate is empty and her utensils are untouched. It might seem odd that she didn't take any of the feast she'd prepared, but she looks relaxed and happy as she sits and chats with everyone. Perhaps it's because her water and wine glass are being used.

"Oh, I wish I could cook for you lot all the time," she says within the flow of the table's conversation. "This was way more fun than regular daily meal prep, you know?" With a laugh, she adds, "And that's not even mentioning the kind of lugs I've got to cook for back home."

[ post-meal ]

One of the few great things about being a cyborg with no digestive system is that one's capacity to drink alcohol is not hampered by something like a full stomach. Fiora has drank more than a 5'1" eighteen year old girl has any right to be drinking, but then again, most teenage girls aren't, you know, liquid-fueled cyborgs.

"Ummm.... drinking game!!" she declares after finishing her most recent glass of wine. As she stands up to head back to the dessert table, she looks around at the other partygoers. "Whose knows a good one? Come on, I'm sure somebody knows? You old folks especially. Anyone want another while I'm up?"

"I'll take a drink," Kenobi says, hand lifted just in case she doesn't catch his near-mutter. He's been doing all he can to be civil and present and open, but as more time passes, he finds himself tiring out. A drinking game, perhaps, would do just well enough to wake him up properly. Adjusting his posture some, he sits up in order to appear slightly more focused. After all of that delicious food, it's a wonder he can move at all.

"There's at least one game I know of that has fairly simple rules, called two truths and a lie. One person offers three pieces of information about themselves, two of which are true and one of which is not. The rest of the people guess — we can each guess something ourselves, it doesn't have to be everyone working together — and whoever happens to be wrong is forced to drink."

It works for two players or ten, and it certainly allows people to get to know each other a little better.

"Oooh," Fiora coos, grinning at the suggestion. She stalks over to the drinking table and rifles through the multitude of bottles. Some are empty, most are half-empty. Hope you like wine, Obi-Wan.

"Alright," she smirks as she fills him a fresh glass. After making her way back tot he table, she sits in the empty seat next to him and hands him the drink. "Who goes first? I'll go first if you want. It sounds fun."

He'll take whatever happens to be offered by way of alcohol — anything to maintain that thin numbness he's been maintaining throughout the evening.

"Please, feel free," he says, taking the glass and cradling it carefully in his hands. It would be easy to cheat at this game — as a Jedi, sensing deception is part of the job description — but Kenobi doesn't think that necessarily follows the spirit of the evening.

Holding the glass at the ready, he glances around the room for a moment before returning his attention to Fiora. "I'm interested in what you'll give me to choose from."

"Alright," she says thoughtfully as she sits back down, crossing her legs under the table and folding her arms. She knows just what to say, and already she's wondering if it isn't a little unfair for her to be playing this game. But... here we go.

"Two truths and a lie. Number one, I know how to drive a giant robot. Number two, I used to be possessed by a goddess. Number three, I can make myself explode."

"Ah, well—" He has to admit, they all sound pretty outlandish, even for where he comes from. Expression pulled tight, he considers his wine, swishing it around in his cup as he stares at it intently.

"Number one sounds... more likely than I suspect it should. Number two feels like it can't be anything but true, and I should hope not on number three, but I worry it's true, too. So, I'll venture toward number one: You don't really know how to drive a giant robot, do you?"

It doesn't escape his notice that she's not eating-- after all, she's not trying to hide it-- but the probable is pretty obvious. The weird part isn't that she's not eating, it's that someone who doesn't eat has done all this work cooking and arranging.

"Not bad at all," he says, in a tone somewhat more complimentary than the lukewarm words. "You even got the ruica."

"I did," Fiora says, winking at Han. She's been particularly interested in getting to know him better this evening. Fiora knows him mostly as Leia's extremely attractive boyfriend, but she didn't know what else to make of him aside from that.

"You know, after you'd built it up as rubbish, I was surprised to find it wasn't half bad. It was just about finding a proper use for it."

"I didn't say that!"

Maybe his backhanded insistence kind of implied it, but, well. It's the principal of the thing. The principal of teasing girlfriends.

"You do a lot of cooking at home?"

Prying question, but yeah, he's curious.

Fiora jabs a friendly finger in his direction. "You did, I remember. No plausible denial! That's why I told myself I had to get creative in the first place."

Smiling, she takes a second to sip from her water glass. "I used to cook a lot, yeah. My brother is a solider, so it was up to me to take care of everything at the house. Especially after he got injured a couple years ago." She shrugs her shoulders. "The Moira has been nice in that small regard - I get to spend my time doing something mundane like cooking again."

"I just said she had strong feelings about it."

Which is hardly untrue. And, still, teasing girlfriends is a time-honored tradition. But really, the dip isn't half bad-- at least he thinks so, though he's pretty indifferent on ruica overall. Leia might just be putting on her polite dignitary face. She's awfully good at that-- but either way Fiora's done well with what she had.

"Pretty much everything I cook is just heating up something frozen," he answers with a slight shrug. You could say he never had a chance to get the hang of it, living like he does, but he's never made much effort, either. "I'm impressed."

For many of those present, this may well be the first they've seen of Lando since the crew were given unlimited credits and set loose on the Collective. He's only just come back to the ship, ensuring his purchases were stowed and touching up his own presentability before turning up at dinner. He never has been one to decline such a kind invitation, after all.

True to form, he doesn't show up too early or too late, his arrival timed by social instinct rather than conscious deliberation. He's wearing a previously unseen cape this evening, in a charcoal grey that subtly glitters when the light catches its folds. Its fine silver clasp is secured on either side with small red gems set into delicately ornate medallions, the chain that runs between them peeking out under the collar on his rich purple shirt. His pants are in the same charcoal, falling with a subtle flare over his polished shoes. For anyone who didn't immediately assume he'd been shopping, that's certainly proof enough.

Prior to dinner, he'll mingle pleasantly, exchanging warm greetings with those he knows and equally eager introductions with any he doesn't.

Even once he has secured his own serving of the offerings on hand, the meal cannot truly be said to be his focus as he pursues conversation far more actively than he does his moderately filled plate. Of course, he would never dream of speaking with his mouth full, nor any other such social breech - his table manners don't suffer even as he maintains a relaxed, friendly air about himself.

Naturally, that sort of relaxed air is easier to maintain when you have no idea what's been going on lately.

[ ooc: open for anything at any time ♥ ]

Although he can (contrary to popular belief) behave himself at a formal dinner party, it's not exactly the kind of thing Han does when he's got a choice in the matter. Right now, though, this is about as good a cause as you can find, so of course he's showed up-- dressed in ~~stolen~~ borrowed Alderaanian clothes that he's carefully trying to forget belong to Leia's father, since that feels a little weird-- and looking remarkably at ease, considering how out of his element he is.

Lando, of course, pulls the cape thing off much more naturally. Figures.

"I was starting to think we'd lost you," he says, amusement evident, when he catches up to the other man. Clearly Lando's had fun on the Collective worlds.

Well this is a difficult position Lando's found himself in. Han has begun a clear conversation, to which he of course should reply, but he's also shown up in an outfit that's just begging for commentary.

Of course, that will keep.

For the time being, he pursues the offered commentary with a soft chuckle and a roll of his head that functions as a more refined take on a shrug.

"I can't say there wasn't a strong temptation to be lost. I'm not sure I made the right call."

"That might be a question of how deep the captains' pockets are," he reasons.

Not that he isn't glad to see Lando, but a place like that and all the money you could possibly spend? If Han didn't have company he particularly wanted to keep he might have vanished just as thoroughly. And thought twice about coming back.

"I won't ask if you had fun."

(But maybe he won't say no to listening to it, if there're any good stories to be told.)

"I did consider it my personal responsibility to try to find the bottom of those pockets," A quirk of his smile and a slight tilt of his head punctuates the statement somewhat rakishly, before settling once more on the good but somewhat mischievous humor that suits him best.

"So, whether or not you're asking, I can confirm that I most certainly did."

"Don't you always?"

Maybe not always, but close enough. Casually he looks over the spread, dishes he doesn't always recognize-- Alderaanian cuisine filtered through wherever Fiora's from, he supposes it's to be expected.

"You'll have to give me the highlights."

"At a nice dinner like this?" If he could quite pull it off, he'd look scandalized, but even he has his limits. "I thought it might be encouraged to keep the conversation polite."

That makes him break into a broad grin, one he'll have to stifle before someone asks him what he's grinning about. Of course the high points aren't going to be good dinner conversation.

"You'll be stuck talking about the weather, I guess."

Which was uniformly lovely. Poor conversation fodder, there.

It really is poor conversation fodder. It almost always is, but particularly coming from a place like this.

"Not much to be said there. It was quite pleasant, as was everything else. Accommodations, shopping, new acquaintances..."

That's still polite, right? I mean, unless you're Han since that means you know Lando.

"Right."

Oh, he knows. That shows pretty clearly on his face.

"Nice rooms."

At least Han saw his share of those.

"That they were."

Nah, that's not a smirk.

"And how did you find your stay?"

"We had a pretty good time."

Likewise, Lando can infer what he wants to from that. These days Han is pretending to be a gentleman, after all. Which means not mentioning anything directly about those myriad fancy rooms or what happened in them.

Yep.

Why, there's nothing untoward there. Nor in the smile he responds with, or the knowing nod.

"Sadly, I have a feeling it may be a while before we get to make a stop like that again."

Fiora is still hovering over the two serving tables, fussing over the arrangement of dishes and garnishes, when Lando wanders into her peripheral vision. She turns her head to discover someone she has not met before. Well! A chance to meet some more of Leia's friends. That is a bonus of putting on this dinner, after all.

"Welcome, welcome!" she calls out to him, beckoning him over. "My, you're dressed proper, aren't you? The drinks are over here if you'd like one."

Lando turns toward her greeting with a smooth turn rather than a sudden snap, a bright and beaming smile breaking across his face as he follows through the motion with a few strides to approach.

"Of course. It only seemed befitting of an occasion that's been so graciously arranged. I take it you must be our other lovely hostess this evening?" He bows his head slightly, and reaches for one of her hands with his own, extended palm held up and fingers loosely outstretched, in the hope that she'll allow him the opportunity for a proper greeting.

Oh, he's the flashy type, isn't he. Walking and talking all smooth. Fiora grins with a hint of skepticism and offers her hand - her metal, robotic hand, with its exposed wrist joints and its gold, flattened, squarish, segmented fingers.

"I guess you'd call me something like that," she says casually. "My name is Fiora, I'm one of Leia's roommates."

Well, he might be slightly the flashy type. Though, he's hardly bothered by the skepticism behind that grin as he takes her hand and, bowing his head, touches it lightly and momentarily to his lips before releasing it. While the metallic arm clearly doesn't escape his attention, he'd never be one to be rude about it.

"And I am Lando Calrissian. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Fiora."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[closed] treat yo self!

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post-meal

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properly dining

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