2020-08-26 - Lake and Roen Bridal Shower/Stag Party

(NB: If your character wants to come to the stag party despite being straight and/or a woman, you are welcome to do so! However please be aware this is an explicitly gay party. Straight people are welcome but are required to be cool.)

Itzhak promised August that he and Ignacio were going to throw him a 'gay-ass Farewell to Dick party'. Were there any doubts that he and Nacio would come through? If so, let those doubts be laid to rest, because this is one gay-ass Farewell to Dick party.

Everybody gets a t-shirt (whether they wear it or not) in black, with GROOM SQUAD on it in rainbow letters. The back reads “Roen’s Stag Party 8/2020: Sorry Boys, He's Off The Market!”. August gets one that says GROOM with a glossy printed bow tie. Itzhak gets one that says BEST MAN in swirly sparkly magenta glitter.

He ripped the arms off it and cut it to a midriff-baring crop, because of course he did. That’s what he’s wearing, along with skin tight, butter soft black lambskin jeans. He replaced the laces of his boots with gauzy rainbow ribbons for the occasion. For personal armament, he’s wearing magenta shimmer eyeshadow, gold and magenta glitter nail polish, and a drag-style fan emblazoned with eggplant and peach emoji. Peak extra.

Drinking and dancing in Seattle’s finest Capitol Hill gay bars is on the menu, along with games (pinball, pool, arcade) and gay strippers. First up is a bar named Unicorn.

Since this is a very high-stimulation environment, not to mention a very drunken environment, Itzhak also booked a block of hotel rooms. He’s one of the people who might need to flee to one, after all. Partying all night is permitted, plus partying some and then leaving, or not partying at all--do what you gotta do, man. Designated-drivering and shoulder to drunk-cry on are provided by Ignacio.

Aight? Aight, let’s rock!

Getting Eleanor a mani-pedi is one of the kindest things one could do for her. She and her anxiousness and crazy work ethic are murder on her nails, so cleaning those up requires an expert for sure. Also, the foot massage that goes with the pedicure is like absolute bliss for the coffee shop owner. The real fun though, is just getting to talk with her Maid of Honor as they are pampered, catching up on their lives, reflecting on the past, and marinating in the cute stories of the bride and groom's relationship. Especially that epically disastrous first date that turned into something sweet and perfect in spite of all that.

The luncheon is delightful, with the daytime guests dining and drinking and gifting her with lovely things to start the new phase of her life with August. Ellie is absolutely aglow. Her mother, Gretchen, is as much a redhead as her daughter, and flew in from Florida for the festivities. The parents love August almost as much as their daughter does.

It's the Del Toro movie that shows just how well Hyacinth knows the bride. Eleanor is a horror movie junkie and this flick has some particular meaning for her and August. So to be able to see it as a screener before everyone else can? Well that has her veritably squealing with delight, and throwing her arms around Hyacinth in a fierce hug.

For the costume party, she dresses as none other than Daphne from Scooby Doo, which may be a stretch for literature, but in a pinch she can claim to be Nancy Drew. The Scooby Doo bit is a nod to Hya, as they had a very very WEIRD Dream once. Running around for a scavenger hunt like one of those lady detectives? AWESOME. Sexy Paul Bunyan and Sexy Sherlock Holmes? AWESOME and definitely things that make her blush scarlet (August will be proud of that). She takes a million pictures of the cake so her husband-to-be can marvel at it.

But it's the present from Hyacinth that floors her. The desk is everything she has always wanted and more. It is a perfect gift for them, for compiling, concealing, and organizing their Veil and Glimmer research. And it is a magnificent creation, by the hand of their dear friend, from the tree that was sacrificed to stop William Gohl. There are tears for that, then drinking and dancing and joy all around.

August had told Cristobal he'd be dressed to impress, and he wasn't kidding. He shows up to the beginning of his stag party in a gorgeous, red and black suit, one that none of the rest of them there have seen (except his soon to be brother-in-law, though Lucas probably doesn't remember it so well since he came out of that Dream half-dead). If there is any doubt as to who the stag in question is, it's resolved the second he arrives. But the GROOM t-shirt Itzhak got him is pretty amazing, so initially he puts the vest, tie, and dress shirt into a garment bag and dons that. It's an odd look, but who cares? He's the stag, he gets to dress how he wants to.

And like he's warned numerous people, the clothes don't stay on.

It's not until they're at the strip club, where the doffing of clothes is actually allowed, that this happens. He takes a quick trip to the bathroom to put the shirt, tie, and vest back on when they arrive, which raises some eyebrows (those who don't realize what's coming), and gets a few smiles. He makes it through most of their time there without so much as loosening his tie. Either he really can hold his liquor, or he's bound and determined to make everyone in this strip club wait for it.

Eventually, the tie comes off, as does the jacket. The shirt gets unbuttoned. That lovely gash Joe healed is a long, thin, white scar on his chest, one of the only ones not graced with a tattoo. Now anyone who's never seen the figs just below his left shoulder and the spider with bloodroot on his belly can say they have.

He's like that a while, until someone finally challenges him to strip. "Take it off!" and "Where's the rest?"

"Fair enough!" he announces. He's had a few lapdances (and way too many Between the Sheets) already. What's sauce for the goose, and all that.

August is no professional. This isn't a high end dance number; he strips to, of all the things, a Sugar song from the 90s. Still, he's done more than his fair share of stripping for amusement, and he hams it up now. There's no touching allowed; any time someone tries, they get a gentle yet firm black leather boot for their troubles. "Nuh huh," he tells more than a few people, waggling a finger. "This isn't on the market anymore. You snooze you lose."

So everyone gets a nice view of the tattoos on his back, the elk skull and the vines with the moth, and if they know where to look, the scars they cover. They also get to see his calves, which show every sign of belonging to a guy who does physical labor for a living. Leg day has been every day, for a good fifteen years.

...but he doesn't show the ravens on his thigh. Only part of them can be seen, because he's in boxers; red silk boxers, with STRADDLE THIS embroidered in bold black letters on the front and back. He does tease the raven tattoo though, after someone offers him a fifty. (He makes sure to show it to everyone before tucking it into said boxers and exposing about half of that thigh.)

All the 'tips', such as they are, go to buying drinks for everyone. He puts the GROOM shirt back on, rejoins the party to enjoy a few more drinks and dances. His hair's damp with sweat and the euphoria of it all has him giddy.

It occurs to him later Eleanor is going to see so many pictures of this party. Hopefully a few of them with him shoving people aside with a booted foot.

Did Rekani get an invite to the stag party? Who knows, but the boy shows up. All you had to do was hang out a sign saying ’PARTY IN SEATTLE’, and he was in. Carpool? Sure, he drove. That mean E60 tore down the road carrying whoever wanted to ride along in a jet black streak of growling engine and bumping music. For this sacred occasion, Rekani had worn a plaid ushanka hat and mirrored aviators, since he felt it was on theme enough for hilarity. Itzhak’s pitiful attempt to get shirts was taken in good humor, Rekani stretching one over his form, then flexing and splitting it asunder. He wore the scraps 'til the gag was tired, then was back down to a simple white tee and some clean faded denim. The fresh white Adidas were essential.

As likely the youngest of the crew to show up, Rekani was enabling, making sure everyone had drinks, making sure people were pumped up and having a good time, and of course, keeping the pharmaceuticals available for the takers. This was Seattle, and he still had connections. He’d only been gone a few months, with some trips back every so often.

Did he mind the fact he was one of the straight in a sea of queer? It didn’t seem like it, and the offer he got was gracefully let down, then redirected deftly to another. That was his way, a modern day Bacchus. He really shined when they moved onto the strip club though. Sure, this wasn’t one of his venues, but he seemed to know a disturbing amount of the strippers, sharing jokes, getting hookups, facilitating a front and center VIP experience.

No one can really be sure when the music changed, but when they do, it’s most likely when it starts to level off, some strange lead in for the first 20 seconds. It’s likely the club itself gets a little confused until the beat drops, an absolutely choice dance mix. It had it all, a tempo that got the heart racing, bass that could be felt in the chest, tracks and drops that got those dancing club patrons going. The funniest thing, though was the fact the absolutely mad-lad had mixed voice lines from Monty Python’s Lumberjack song through it. Each one was well timed, and there was no question it flowed. Rekani was, of course, hand-mixing it from the booth, the screen briefly flashing, “Congratulations to Lumberjack Jesus!!” with a brief, smaller byline announcing special musical guest, DJ SuperMassive. The heat and the drinking had led to his own tee being discarded for the white wife-beater beneath, putting more of his ink on display than usual.

Those pictures? Absolutely Rekani taking them, cackling like some sort of olden-day jester, infectiously entertained by the experience.

He mixed, he drank, he smoked, and just had a night, away from the black dreams, away from the fear for his woman and his sister. It was a good night. It was a riot.

Cristobal promised a little loving chaos and just like August in his choice of outfit, he means to deliver.

Every groom needs to eat, right? Perhaps it's Cruz' connections with the Strip Club world, because somewhere in between Sexy Lumberjack songs and Sexy Lumberjack stripping, a special buffet has been arranged in the Champagne Room. But they're not having chicken wings or Chinese Food, no, Cristobal has brought in a couple male models and presented August with a full Nyotaimori experience. Sushi rolls and sashimi have been laid out on the nude bodies, wasabi and ginger artfully arranged amidst edible flowers and those daring enough can use the divots of navels for soy sauce.

There are also ample party favors for those that choose to partake. Poppers, a little GHB, Molly, THC vape pens, and of course, cocaine are all attainable. While discretion is not just preferred, it's ordered. No doubt SOMEONE (okay at least Cris) will absolutely end up doing a line or two off one of the sushi models' suggestive areas.

Strip clubs, parties, and Alexanders are things which really are never meant to go together, unless you like messy and sometimes violent explosions.

But Alexander was warned well in advance, and he has absolutely promised himself that he will BE GOOD. So, basically? He lets Isabella dress him, and he looks sober but sharp in a blue and black suit - although the blue button down shirt is exchanged for one of the t-shirts, which he just wears under the nicely tailored suit jacket. His contribution to the festivities is booze. Lots of booze. Where exactly did Alexander get literal crates of booze?

Look, he gets paid in some weird shit, at times, and keeps it in his closets and storage shed until he needs it. He's just never needed crates of booze before, so now here they are: whiskey, gin, vodka, cognac, brandy, even a crate of stuff best described at 'fruit-flavored paint thinner', which will definitely get you so drunk that memory becomes an issue. He even rents a minivan that looks like he's going to be abducting people so that he can haul all the stuff.

Socially speaking, he ghosts through the club, watching people with that peculiarly intense gaze that doesn't really make people who don't know him want to approach him. He becomes more animated when August strips, surprise giving way to encouraging whistles and grins from the safer edge of the crowd, where there's space. A couple of the other dancers smell a challenge - it goes...variably. There are a couple who he seems to greatly enjoy, even if they look surprised to be interrogated about their practice routines and other professional details rather than being flirted with or propositioned. Others, he takes one look at and proceeds to hide from in the crowd. There aren't really and noticeable differences in these two groups - except that the first gets really good tips, because he looked up on the internet how much you were supposed to tip a stripper, figured it was being conservative, and doubles it.

All in all, he's a weird ghost in the party, skulking around the edges of the festivities, more likely to watch than participate, but seeming to enjoy himself all the same.

Fourty-six year old men with full-sleeve tattoos do not show up to gay bars in tee shirts reading GROOM SQUAD, tight black jeans and vintage combat boots unless they want a certain kind of attention. At first, he tells himself he's having a good time. It's a little like a return to the glory days (or what he thought were the glory days); strangers wanting some of this, and some of that, and if he just shuts his mind off it's all so easy. There's molly and THC and someone brought special K, and he doesn't tell Itzhak just how much he's using, but after that other night? He's got to know.

And there he is with that ridiculous fan with the fucking eggplants and peaches on it, hamming it up with a group of guys he's pretty sure know Roen, and where is Roen? When he finally spots him up on stage, he's got half his clothes off and gyrating, and is doing this thing where he's trying to tease the crowd with one of his tattoos. And it's almost working. Ruiz peels himself away from a guy half his age who wants to know if he's married, spots one of Alexander's crates of booze, and wends his way over to liberate a bottle of tequila.

And then? He's gonna get the fuck out of there. The glory days may have been overrated.

Speaking of the glory days. Joe's glory days were decades ago, in the heady era when he was a cleancut young naval aviator blessed with the good fortune of having earned his wings not long at all after Top Gun came out. Tom Cruise did most of the groundwork for him, let's be honest.

Even those weren't a patch on this, however ....and Joe looks more than a little overwhelmed. It's visible in the flare of nostril, the edge of white around the eye that's a hair too broad, like a horse that's about two seconds from throwing his head up and fighting the bit in earnest. Oh, outwardly he's calm enough, dressed in the black Groom Squad t-shirt and black jeans, mostly propped against the bar. A few bills have left his hands to come fluttering to roost in the g-strings of some of the strippers, but all he's partaken of is one of those Cuba Libres, and that one he's nursing to the bitter end. There's that professional smile granted those few who wander by to solicit in whatever fashion, but the flush on his cheeks is feverishly bright.....and as soon as he can in good conscience, he's slipped out for the cool of the summer night.

It was the next morning, and a suspiciously respectable amount of time after the boys had retired to hotels rooms for rest after their all-night bender. Don’t worry about it. It’s not weird. GPS location is easy.

First, there is a knock at August’s door, a concierge asking when he would be ready to receive a delivery. Once the groom gave the word, the other partiers would receive an invitation to join August in his room. Four large and one smaller covered baskets are carried in and set down. Accompanying the delivery was a gorgeously arranged bouquet of irises, something quite obviously professionally and individually commissioned.

Opening the baskets would reveal a true smorgasbord of breakfast items, all individually separated so those eating could pick and choose exactly what they wanted. Eggs, sausages, bacon, slices of french toast, pancakes, biscuits, spreads of avacado or sweet, jellies, fresh fruit. While it was all so neatly packed in, there were enough imperfections and mismatch of size to indicate this whole set of food was likely entirely homemade, though it was still hot.

One of the large baskets was actually lined and iced, and there were bottles of water, juice, and sports drinks, likely meant for rehydration and hangover relief. A carafe arrives soon after, along with creams, sugars, and whatnot to go along with it, conveniently timed to be just as people were wondering where the fucking coffee was. Looks like the sender was a bit of a troll.

The smaller basket contained mundane painkillers: ibuprofen, acetaminophen, aspirin. There’s also a little container with a face mask, wash, and eye cream. They were all going to look like shit, gonna need to put a good face on.

There’s also a card handed over to August, scrawled with his full name in a flowing cursive script. Inside, the cover is embossed with gold, reading ‘Congratulations!’ and opening the card is more of that handwritten, almost calligrapher's script. It reads:

August,

Hope this helps,

-Mac

P.S. I did my homework. Everything is kosher.

Vyvyan Vydal does not wear special event t-shirts, thank you very much. Does he ever wear any sort of t-shirt, outside a workout room? Still, he accepts the one he's given, even if he's not about to put it on, and he has made something of a nod to festivities in general; the pale cream linen-blend three-piece suit is worn over a turquoise cotton aloha shirt printed with birds of paradise in their hues of orange, indigo, and green. It's a well-done pattern, if only saved from being Decidedly Loud by being mostly hidden beneath the vest and jacket. The points of a turquoise pocket square with tiny orange polkadots emerge tidily from his breast pocket, and on his feet are brown-and-beige brogued oxford spectator shoes.

Granted, he does not entirely look as though he's intended for most of the venues they hit, nor simply as though he's there to provide some cake, though he seems comfortable enough with the various spots they end up and he has, in fact, brought cake. Individual ones, not cupcakes because there is no cup; instead they're perfect jewel-like little things, delicate and detailed in their shaping and decor. Half are very clearly eggplant emoji, half the peach one. The former are a moist and rich eggplant-chocolate cake, and the latter a light, summery peach one with the fresh fruit within, and both, when bitten into, prove to also be filled with a delicious, mildly-vanilla cream which cuts the richness of the chocolate and supports the fruit in classic peaches-and-cream style. And surely for no other reasons at all.

Surely surprising few, he is not precisely a party animal. There is no screaming or hooting or declaring anyone his best mate. It takes a few random drinks before there's even dancing, though it does happen, along with a reasonable amount of chatting that for Vyv (if perhaps not most) broadly qualifies as cheerful and friendly, and rather a fair bit of quite definitely flirting with various attractive strangers. Always nice to feel appreciated. Sushi is eaten from its particularly alluring plating. Strippers are quietly but shamelessly appreciated (and tipped)... not leaving out August, who manages to elicit a genuine if brief and slightly tipsy laugh with his chiding of the audience. There's even some playing of the various games, including a pinball game he pretends not to be surprised to do decidedly well at, and a couple games of pool at which he most certainly does not, and declares simply not worth his time after a cue ball manages to jump off the table all on its own, leaving him exchanging several rounds of catty remarks with his erstwhile opponent about respective cue and ball handling skills. At least that game he's reasonably certain he won.

And through it all, the phone seems to spend an awful lot of time out enjoying itself as well -- somewhat more than half taking pictures or videos, and the rest sending various texts, largely to Bax. Whatever reply he gets to the one inquiring whether the skater thinks one particular stripper would make a good valet, it doesn't result in an immediate recruitment attempt; he'll probably be glad of that in the morning. At least, once he reads it and remembers. Taking things off is no guarantee of any facility at putting things on.

Tomorrow there's probably ibuprofen and mimosas and comparing notes with Hyacinth. Tonight, well, even if one is more or less behaving oneself, one does have one's responsibilities in abetting a properly gay-ass Farewell to Dick.

August's mother Ilana and sisters Zelda and Hannah are all in attendance for the bridal shower/bachelorette party. Hannah is especially excited to meet Hyacinth, being the sister whose primary focus is restoration of historical homes and tenements. Ilana makes her promise to not attempt to abscond with Hyacinth to talk shop endlessly; they have to settle for an exchange of emails. She's fascinated by Addington House, and can't get enough of its truly eclectic and engaging history. Of course, she doesn't Glimmer, so Hyacinth can't exchange any knowing looks with her about said history and its true meaning. In fact, Zelda and Ilana don't Glimmer either. So unless August's father does, Elenor's fiance is alone among his family.

Hannah and Xavier's gift for Eleanor and August is a lovely new set of custom tile for the cabin. Hannah explains she'd asked August for some ideas, and accordingly the tiles future an elk stag and a fox running around in various settings. They'll work for the kitchen or bathroom.

Zelda's a nurse, and a gregarious sort; she's more inclined to mingle among the attendants rather than to focus on any one person specifically. She's delighted by the film, being a del Toro fan herself, and just about squeals when the opening credits begin. "Joachim will be so jealous," she murmurs to Eleanor.

(Later, have a text conversation about it:

I got to see an unrealsed del Toro film.

--> I got to watch your brother strip.

Pretty sure I got the better deal.

--> I dunno, honey, he's aging pretty well...

You're just trying to pretend you're not jealous!

--> Fine. I am. But there is some phenomenal sushi here... (pic of a Dragonfire roll, tightly cropped)

Ooo, that looks good. Can you get some to go??

--> Pretty sure it'll lose something without the presentation.

...what does that mean?

--> Nothing.

Joachim

Joachim

--> [no response] )

The gift from Zelda and Joachim is full set of bed and bathroom linens, including bathrobes, towels, pillow shams, the whole nine yards. It's a gorgeous set in white, purple, black, and silver, with the pattern echoed delicately so the pieces can be mixed and matched with other sets in different colors. "Joachim won't sleep on anyone but this brand," Zelda explains. "They're from Turkey, he swears by them."

The girls share plenty of stories told about their brother, so Eleanor and her friends will be well armed. Chief among them are how August was an explorer even as a boy, and had a vibrant imagination which he used to turn the simplest adventures into the wildest stories, some of them downright scary. (Of course, anyone with Glimmer knows what this really means. That it inspired Zelda's love of fantasy and horror is maybe just an ironic footnote.) With wry humor, Hannah adds that August made sure his sisters weren't harassed in school, at least until he joined the Army (and after that no one dared for fear he'd come back even better trained to put them in their place).

Ilana is in her seventies, and so winds up remaining with Eleanor and anyone who chats with her, if only because her arthritis prevents her from moving around much. She couldn't have asked for a better match for August, and radiates with almost everything she says and does. And when that gift comes out--the aspen desk, chair, and bookshelf--she covers her mouth with her hand. She's sure her son's going to cry when he sees it. (He's a cryer, her boy, which is fine by her.) Her own gift is a necklace to match the engagement ring which was her mother's, white gold leaves with tiny green sapphires as berries; it allows Eleanor to wear that ring as a pendant, if she wants.

As old as she is, Ilana lacks the energy to stay the entire time. She retires to the hotel before the evening festivities, hugging Eleanor before she departs. "At last, another daughter," she says, a little laugh in her voice. "I'll see you next week, Eleanor."

(Later, Hannah texts Ilana:

Mom please don't look at pictures from the bachelor party.

--> Ah, what did he do.

He stripped, apparently.

--> Hanne darling that's not new, there's pictures of him on that ridiculous yacht in one of those ridiculous mankinis. I was afraid you were going to tell me something worse.

MOM you're not allows to use the word mankini ever, again and NOT in the context of Gus!!! I can NEVER unsee those pictures, they're seared into my brain.

--> I rather expected he'd do something like that, when did he pass up a chance to show off? Really you should have known.

We're not talking about it anymore. Just, steer clear. This dinner's amazing, BTW, I'll bring you some! Oh and I won a spa day for you!

--> Sounds lovely, dear. I'll see you two when you're back. Give Eleanor another hug from me.

Done!

)

Ilana looks at the pictures anyways. "Oh, sweetheart," she murmurs, noting the new scars. She won't ask what they're from, knowing the answers will be couched in terms of his work in some way or another. He leads some other life, her son, one she's never quite understood. Fortunately, he seems to have found a good woman to share it with. She can take comfort from that.

Help throw a stag party... well Ignacio wasn't going to say no. He's certainly not going to tell Itzhak no! Okay Cris has nakey people sushi which is... new. He'd never try this back home in his neighborhood because it'd most certainly be 12 health code violations and it would go on...and on hearing about it. Here though? This is about.. his boss and what is in contention for the largest breech of employer/employee workplace etiquette, or just the most badass team meeting ever.

Fuck it.

That Iggy's there with his boss, his BFF, and his girlfriend's father's not lost on him so after ONE WHOLE Cuba Libre the Spaniard calls it done on alcohol and takes care of all the important unfun shit: Are people taking things too far? Are people safe? Has anyone said anything they are going to regret that he can help delete by morning? Ignacio and Ully (Branch and Bole goon squad member numero duo) are on it. Valets are tipped, drivers are paid, Reservations are managed, and Finch is texted updates that yes, he's keeping an eye on her people for her while she's not there. that said he's also warned the bartender on Ruiz "If it's not Patron your'e taking your life into your hands, man." Iggy knows.

Now with much prompting will Ully get get Ignacio to dance? Yeah. Actually, but notable noticing the tease of raves from August says "Yeah I'll dance but my pants stay put, thanks." He might not like his legs but he DOES like to have a good time. Aside from keeping an eye on things and breaking loose a little bit that highlight for the satirist comes when Vyv starts running his mouth like the Brit's got game? Oh HO shit! There might be a good 15-20 minutes in there where he will absolutely indulge some pinball smacktalk keeping things on this side of dragging anyone's mum into it. Refreshingly this is the first time the Gray Harbor Mr Rogers elect has really got to have an argument and it's good, and educational. It's a good run for his money, but damn if the sharp tongue lashing back in good fun doesn't teach him a thing or three. He is happy to hang back on the edge of things as to not get trampled by the rowdy bunch, converse with Alexander and Rekani enjoying things during his vigil of the crazy flock of peeps.

By the end of the night he can't figure out where he picked up two phone numbers from but those go to Ully as a souvenir. He doesn't have to take any of their slush fund and bail anyone out of jail in the morning so that's a mercy. It's 3:28 am before he finally crashes in his hotel room for the night halfway through a test to Finch which his buddy finishes for him including a picture of Iggy passed the fuck out where he landed and several others Ully takes of Iggs passed out with various things piled on him and states of ridicule in good fun. What's a pal for if not to send embarassing shit of you to your girlfriend for you?

This is war, Ully. It's coming.