It's Swing Time~

[cipherspeak]

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out Elisha's motivation for organizing - or, honestly, delegating the organization of - a semi-formal dance party. Lucinda had suggested a ball, with stars in her eyes. She probably had already picked out ballgowns and themes in her head when Elisha had nixed the thing and - in a moment of desperation, with the memory of the swing-themed Fox wedding still in his head - suggest a Spring Swing, instead.

Everyone had run with it, and Elisha was pleased to say it had come out well. He was even more pleased to say that he didn't have to wear a suit, even if he stepped out into the lantern-lit gardens in everything but the tie. He paused near the raised dais provided for dancing and gave the small band the signal to start up the music before he attempted to fade back in the crowd. Not that that ever worked.

"Let the games begin," he murmured to no one in particular as he picked up a glass of champagne off a tray.

Note: Open to everyone and their brother; tag around, have fun!

Comments

[bluntforces]

"Solely on the basis of that performance, I imagine."

But, also, more importantly? Evan's got a light head-butt with Alasdair's name on it, somewhere in the one-armed hug and the wandering toward hydration (and cake--equally important).

"You're pretty okay, you know that?"

This is crucial. And hasn't been said in at least 24 hours.

[dreamsofwords]

"Damn straight. The cake police will probably stop everyone else from taking our cake." Something about dancing like that always loosens Alasdair's tongue - kind of like drinking does. He's not as serious and quiet after he's flipped someone over his back.

But then, who could be?

"Yeah?" He says, turning his head to look at Evan before giving him a noisy kiss on the cheek. "You're not half-bad yourself."

Also crucial. It's probably been at least 48 hours since he told Evan that.