smelltheashes | The Reception

The Reception

In the depths of the bunker beneath the Greenbrier Resort Hotel is a massive, columned room, intended to be used to hold sessions of Congress in the event of a nuclear war.

Today, it's being put to a very different and much less somber purpose.

The wedding is over; the party has begun.

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The wedding party is standing in line to greet the guests as they enter. Well, most of them are standing. The bride is sitting in a folding chair because her feet are killing her.

The invitations specified that the reception was to be a potluck; not everybody brought something, but there's plenty of food to go around.

The far end of the room has a cleared space for dancing in front of a stage with a sound rig on it, playing a motley assortment of music from whatever media could be salvaged from Rowlesburg and the Greenbrier. There's even--God help us--a karaoke machine.

Gordon and Alyx said that gifts weren't required, but a space has been made available for them nonetheless.

Voodoo's not the first to come in, more like the fourth or fifth, but he is one of the more formally dressed.

It'd taken him thirty minutes, two razor blades, and a quarter of a bar of shaving soap to get rid of his stubble and get his hair within grooming standards, and another four hours on top of that to get his dress whites (along with his assorted insignias, ribbons, and medals) out and make quadruple-sure a picture of them could be used in a textbook, but he'd done it.

(He's going to have to find some way to make all that hair grow back most ricky-tick once he gets back to bar, but that's a bridge that doesn't need crossing just yet.)

His cover's off, tucked under his right arm (they are indoors, after all), and he nods to the wedding party by way of greeting as he approaches.

Edited 2012-05-10 07:37 (UTC)

It hadn't taken much to convince one of the senior chiefs to let Voodoo take a habanero pepper or sixteen from his garden - just ten bucks. It was easy enough to get the peaches, the molasses, the vinegar, and all the other ingredients, too. But the sauce wasn't the hard part.

The hard part was cutting the wings proper.

There's three huge platters of buffalo wings slathered in habanero sauce among the food. And an equally huge pitcher of water (along with some cups) right next to them. Whoever eats the former is probably going to need the latter in very short order, after all.

Edited 2012-05-10 06:19 (UTC)

At some point during the proceedings, when everyone's sitting and relaxing, there's a godawful SCREEE of feedback from the sound system that disappears as quickly as it came.

Except when it does, the sound rig is silent. And Voodoo's on stage, mic in hand, shiteating grin on face.

He's been conspicuously absent for the past half-hour. That's because he's been busy using his years of hard-fought commando training and experience...

"Attention people of Rowlesburg."

...to recon the area and determine exactly how best...

"This is the voice of your new lord and master."

...to make a total ass out of himself.

"One of you guys flip me a beer."

When he's absolutely, positively sure nobody's looking, Voodoo drops off a giftwrapped box and walks away whistling Dixie.

On the wrapping, a note, in bold yet developed penmanship:

Happy wedding day.

- V

And in the box:

two onesies.

...well, he thought it was funny.

Edited 2012-05-10 06:37 (UTC)

The bride's smile is muted, but sincere. "Glad to see you could make it."

Well, my default gift is a bottle of 18 year-old scotch, but Alyx isn't in condition to be drinking it and Gordon doesn't like whiskey. I hope this'll do. They're the only thing apart from whiskey I know anything about. If nothing else, they'll look good on the mantlepiece.

- Jim

P.S. Please don't tell George C. Scott I gave these to you.

Jim has brought ALL THE BACON. Like four platters worth. And a pot of beans on the side. After all, it can't possibly be a feast without the greatest food ever devised by man.

Jim inches down along the line with a small smile on his face. A bowler hat is balanced awkwardly over his untamed hair, and his double-breasted suit ensemble comes together at the top with a black clip-on bow tie.

Somewhere in the annals of history, there may have been a person who looked like he belonged in a suit less than Jim does. But if there is, Jim certainly hasn't met him.

Jim doffs his hat and smiles as he approaches.

Voodoo shrugs. "Glad to see I could make it, too."

Edited 2012-05-10 18:03 (UTC)

As Annabelle's cooking skills stretch to toast and boiling things, she's grateful for the convenience foods that Milliways can provide.

Which may explain why she sets a large bowl of instant ramen noodle soup on the table before darting back to her place in the receiving line.

Gordon hasn't stopped smiling like a dork in... well, he hasn't. "Thank you for coming," he says. "I appreciate it."

Really, he does.

Well, Ray probably counts. Usually if he gets stuck in a suit, Congress is involved somewhere. That never helps. But other than that...

"Hi, Jim," Gordon says. "Good to have you here."

Possibly.

The short, pudgy fellow with dusky skin, black hair, a mustache, and what looks like a faint line of scar tissue across his forehead extending into his hairline on both sides looks like he plans on getting through a couple of them without going near the pitcher, though. That's Mari for you.

Ellen believes in making the most of a bad situation. She has brought quite a lot of what smells, and looks, like very good char-grilled steak.

(Ellen's Brahmin herd became the target of raiders a few days ago. The steer was caught in a crossfire.)

There's a tall fella somewhere in his forties with a vague resemblance to Adrian who cups both hands around his mouth and calls out, "Gimme a reason!"

Oh, Dan. That was a mistake.

Once the bride goes through the line, there is a lot less bacon left.

(Fuck off, it's her wedding and she's 39 weeks pregnant. Alyx doesn't have to share with ANYONE.)

Edited 2012-05-10 22:27 (UTC)

We'd be lying if we said that didn't put something of a smile on Voodoo's face, too.

"I'm just lucky they've still got me on standby back home."

Alyx-

It took me a while to get this one up and running, but it should work just fine for household chores and maintenance. I've included as many repair notes as I could take and a copy of Dean's Electronics for when it needs maintenance. The charger station shouldn't be too tough to adapt to whatever you have for electrical supply here; it's programmed to park itself in the station and deactivate every night.

Its name is Godfrey. I took the liberty of removing the buzzsaw and the flamethrower.

-Ellen

"...holy shit, dude."

That's Voodoo, standing off to the side in his dress whites.

"I ain't ever seen anybody go through my DEFCON 1 wings that fast."

Excuse him, he's just going to gape for a bit.

"I'll name my daughter after you if you do, sir. How's that for a reason?"

Edited 2012-05-10 22:31 (UTC)

Mari grins. "Very good," he congratulates Voodoo. (He himself is wearing a serviceable maintenance jumpsuit with the lambda embroidered on it; his people have formal attire of their own but this is not a place or climate in which to attempt to wear it.) "Like mother used to make. But without the guarana."

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Page 1 of 12

The Reception

Receiving Line

Buffet

Music

Presents

Re: Receiving Line

Re: Buffet

Re: Music

Re: Presents

Re: Receiving Line

Re: Presents

Re: Buffet

Re: Receiving Line

Re: Receiving Line

Re: Buffet

Re: Receiving Line

Re: Receiving Line

Re: Buffet

Re: Buffet

Re: Music

Re: Buffet

Re: Receiving Line

Re: Presents

Re: Buffet

Re: Music

Re: Buffet