Log:Garreau Family Dinner: September 2017

Garreau Family Dinner: September 2017
"What the hell?"
Participants CB, Lala, Franklyn, Isolde	2017.09.30 Isolde hosts the Garreau dinner at Harvest Moon.
Location Harvest Moon
Isolde apparently didn't want to hold a family dinner at the Manor. Probably because the woman had a bit of an aversion to the place. But that's another story. The Doctor had offered an invitation for dinner to the family and plus ones were more than welcome to attend as it was a public and open dinner. Also, no one had to cook. Bonus! Isolde is seated at the circular booth that is in the corner with a glass of water for the moment. She's dressed in a sage green dress that while modern has hints of the past in the neckline and seams. Her hair is down and she has a smile on her face as she talks to one of the hosts of the restaurant. Lala was a no-show at the gala last week. Where was she? It's a mystery. But she's here now. And she's wearing .. well. Whoa. This is what she wears to a family dinner? It's a black, slinky, floor-length gown with v-neck down the navel. From the waist up? The garment is covered in metallic spikes. Her accessories are minimal but she is wearing a thin chain that drapes down between her breasts, tempting the eye to look there -- just so she can chastise one for doing so. It's a trap! HA. (For reference: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/94/65/8d/94658d41940ec9782248c751779eda76.jpg) Was there a valet out front? She didn't bother to wait; she left her car there and just tosses her keys to the maitre'd as she saunters past. "Isolde!" she greets with a wide smile. "So what's the plan? Grab a bite here and then head over to the gala?" Ahh. That is why she was missing last week; bubble-head here got her schedule mixed up. Or something. What does Franky look like, when she eventually turns up for dinner? Like she has lately looked like: a wan, weary, waifish bohemian with a whole lot of baggage. Seriously - does her purse need to be /that/ big? It's swinging from her arm a she digs through for something - oblivious to the fact she's littering cellophane wrappers and old receipts. "No it's fine; I only intend to stay a little while..." Franklyn in speaking to -- get this -- C.B. Alexander, who apparently she considers a perfect plus-one to a Garreau family dinner. "...then we should work, I really need to focus and-- plus don't worry, don't worry, I texted Lala, she's gonna be here, I think..." Flounce, flounce - Franklyn looks up from her fruitless bag search, and then suddenly bings! into action: posture is adjusted, expression switches from troubled and weary preoccupation to a game-face of casually engaged serenity. What does she have to worry about, anyway? Nothing! Check out all those flouncy layers of crinkled silk and velvet; long dress, shawl, lots of jewlery - so boho, so casual, so #carefreewhitegirl, so... Not a gown for a gala. Having spotted Isodel, Franklyn beams and lowkey guides C.B. over in the direction of their table -- but when she see's Lala... Oh-em-gee. Franklyn's lips compress in a not-to-well-hidden look of amusement, which she tries to turn into a greeting to both Lala and Isodel. "Wow -- hello lovelies, you look...Amazing! Aah-- good to... Yup!" Smooth, Franks. Sheesh, she must be tired or a bit tipsy. "It's a /good/ thing that Lala's gonna be here? Why is that a good thing?" C.B. Alexander with Franklyn Garreau at yet another event...but this is a /Garreau/ event. The family isn't going to be happy about this, surely. And besides, there's something so..."out there" about C.B. today. In that way, he makes a perfect companion to the super-boho Franklyn, though not in dress: he's wearing a gray tweedy blazer with suede patches on the elbows, a white work shirt, jeans that look to be in fairly good condition, and relatively clean workboots. Out there, though. There's a certain wild, unfocused look in his eyes that wasn't there the night of the gala, where he cruised around with relative ease. Hands slung in pockets, he gives Lala a blink and a thorough up-and-down once over, then just shakes his head and looks awkwardly to Isolde. Wait, why is he here again? Isolde gives a laugh at something the host says and then her guests start to arrive. Given the swanky place, Lala's dress in only a tad out of place. And not one that suggests she wants a hug! The Spring gives a wiggle of her fingers, "Lala you look stunning she tells her." then she motions her to take a seat at the table. Then her eyes shift to hers and there's a softer smile, "The gala was last week, but you're on time for dinner." she grins at her. "Roland could not be here, so he sends his apologies." she tells them as they approach. Then Isolde gives a radiant smile to Franklyn and CB as they approach. She doesn't seem to detest the very sight of CB, so he's probably not used to that. "Good evening, Franklyn dear and Mister Alexander." she states with a smile. She gives a closer look to CB and Franklyn though, "Are you two alright?" she asks them. The blonde Garreau doesn't realize right away that she's gotten her dates mixed up -- Isolde isn't quiiiite attired for a gala but .. maybe what she's wearing is Vermont formal? Lala doesn't know! She's from LA; the fashion choices of New Englanders are beyond her scope. She overheard some guy once talking about busting out his 'formal flannel' and her brain nearly staged a revolt. Not that Isolde is wearing flannel. I mean, she /is/ a Garreau. Anyway. Lala blinks at the Spring and looks confused when she tells her that the gala was last week. "Wait, what?" she says, fishing her phone out of her purse and swiping to her calendar. "No, it's on the 23rd. Today is the 23rd." Waaaaaait for it. Nose wrinkle. SIGH. "How did it get to be October? What the fuck?" #ohwell. She laughs and leans in to kiss her .. aunt? cousin? distant relation twice removed? .. on the cheek before sliding into the booth. 'Good evening, Franklyn dear and Mister Alexnder.' When Isolde greets the other pair, Lala's attention travels there and her wide smile grows even wider. "Frank!" She leans back, stretching her spiked arms out along the back of the booth as she upnods to the Alexander. "And Charlie Brown. Nice to see you! Hey," -- to her cousin, this bit -- "..did you get your car back?" Franklyn merely gives C.B. a weird, rather wild-eyed smile at the questioning about Lala -- her head inclining ever-so-slightly in her cousins direction, as if to draw C.B's attention to her dress. Look at the dress. See? As if anyone could miss that dress... She's not =outright= laughing or anything, but Franky is... Not as subtle as she probably could be. Yeah. The smooth socialite schtick from the gala is not happening right now: Franklyn looks... Weary. So weary. So frickin' weary. When Isolde speaks to her, Franky snaps back to attention and turns - one hand on C.B's arm, the other gesturing towards Isolde and... And... And no words are coming out; she's just =staring= at the Spring Fairest like Franklyn's entirely forgotten her lines. ...or she's become rather preoccupied with just -staring-, like Isolde is some kind of radiant goddess who's stepped from the canvas of 'The Roses of Heliogabalus' or whatever. Lala can ask her all the questions she wants, Franklyn isn't exactly reacting. "--!" Franklyn just stands there, smiling and caught with her mouth a bit open... Nearly completely silent and immobile, save for a gentle rustle of her skirts, swoosh of her hair, and that baggage swinging from her elbow. C.B. looks from Franklyn over to Lala and then to Isolde. "Isolde," he greets, though he isn't blinking much. He /does/ try to get Franky to sit, and himself to sit too, while he's at it. Then his gaze shifts back to Lala. "Looking...sharp, Lala." That dress. But that's not as snarky as he /could/ be, truth be told. He looks over to the bar as though wondering how soon it will be before he can get a drink, his lips moving slightly like he's got a few words to say to himself. And maybe he does; you know how creative types are. Especially writers. When Lala blinks at her there's a bit of a head shake, "It's not a problem, Lala. It's okay." she tells her. Trying to assure her that it's fine. "And yes, the month has gone fast." she chuckles. The kiss to the cheek is given a smile from her aunt. Then there's a look as Lala addresses CB and Franklyn, but she doesn't comment on the car. When Isolde looks to Franklyn and when the young woman is speechless there is a worried look, "Franklyn?" she asks as she stands to approach. There's a look to CB, "Is she alright?" she asks as she reaches out to brush her hand across Frank's brow, checking for a fever or other things. Well. Frank's reaction -- or non-reaction -- is pretty weird. Right? Lala's smile fades off and is replaced with an expression of vague confusion. She looks from her cousin to CB to Isolde back to Frank. Huh. Huh! Sweeping her gaze back to CB, she mouthes to him: 'Is she high?' And pinches her thumb and forefinger near her lips in the universal sign for weed. A joint. A blunt. You know! Anyway, her eyebrows lift in question and she looks to the author for some kind of confirmation. I mean, it would make sense. "Let's get some drinks over here, how about that," she suggests. She's no doctor but she can prescribe medicine with the best of them, see? "What does everyone want? I know you like bourbon," she says to CB, giving the man a shooter-finger KAPOW! Franklyn moves only when prompted by C.B. -- jerking back into reanimation, she flounces down into the booth and flutters a hand upwards to push her hair out of her eyes. Still takes her a little while to find her voice again; "Hi-iiuh?" Yeah, whatever Franky was going to say is entirely garbled and falls away as Isolde reaches over and brushes her brow. Blink, blink; big green eyes stare at Isolde as Franklyn tries to catch up with what's going on. Result? Franky laughs - cheeks flushing with embarrassment she tires to downplay, "Isolde! Oh, sure -- hey, you know, thanks." Smooooth. Franklyn clears her throat, like she's totally parched, elbow on the table as she leans forward to the Spring. "So, so, you know? How are =you=, mmm? You know, I was rather hoping that at dinner you could tell us a /story/..." Drinks?! Franky pips up, interrupting Lala and C.B. briefly; "Double gin and tonic please!" Then -straight- back to Isolde, Franklyn chatters on as if she hasn't missed a beat, "...about what things were like for you here, when you were younger; I mean, /GOD DAMN/, =look at you=, right?!" Ahem, inside voice Franklyn. Still, she yammers; "There =has= to be a /story/ there, yeah? I want to know! How did things /get/ like this?!" A beat. Maybe she's just figured out what she sounds like, because Franky offers up a sheepish smile a second later. "What's happened between childhood and neurosurgery?" C.B. looks back over to Isolde, and then Lala with a rather glassy look himself. Maybe they're both high? But, y'know, he's just a plus one. Some Alexander baggage, not actually family. So he just shrugs, and says, "Double bourbon, neat." His lips move, like he's following up that statement with something else, except it's a little murmur that's not really coming out, at least not to anyone but him. He stares at the other two with his own wide blue eyes, and then scowls all of a sudden. For no apparent reason. He blinks back to Lala and asks, "Why would you wear a dress covered in spikes that could impale other people? How does that make any sense?" Well, then. Isolde isn't too sure that things are okay even when Franklyn starts talking. She settles back down into her seat as the young woman starts talking. "Oh I could tell a few stories." she chuckles. "And Brandon will take drink orders." she nods to the man that is standing by at their table. She is still watching Frank closely though. Just in case something weird happens. Then there's a look to CB speaks about Lala's dress and there's a quirk of an eyebrow at the man. Weirdness was happening in spades tonight! Why would she wear a spiky dress? The Alexander's question makes Lala chuckle lowly. "The same reason why people wear tweed," she replies with a smirk as her gaze sweeps over CB's tweed blazer. "To repel people and make sure they don't ever want to touch me." Lifting a hand, she beckons Brandon over and lets him know what everyone's particular poison is, tacking her own at the very end: "Could I have a vanilla milkshake? Extra whipped cream, no cherry. Thanks." Setting her elbows on the table, she knits her fingers together and rests her chin atop them. "Sorry I missed the gala, Isolde. I just got all wrapped up in some stuff," -- she doesn't go into details and that is probably for the best. "How did it go? Well, I hope?" She's speaking with her aunt but her gaze keeps steady on Franky. It's like she's waiting for her cousin to freak out or something. Franklyn smiles and stares at Isolde -- smile, smile, stare stare -- as the Fairest settles back down into her seat. The look on her face? Expectant and, okay, so a little manic too maybe, around the eyes; her fingers drum against the table top as she stare-stare-stares back at her and... Oh! Finally, Franklyn tilts her head to the side; brow furrowed with concern before an eyebrow is arched curiously. "...So... So..." A hand is raised and gestured to Isolde in a prompting fashion. "...What's the absolute most alienating thing which has happened to you in the last fifteen years?" Right. Dinner party chatter. Franky does catch wind of what Lala says to C.B. though, and she turns; genuine look of amusement on her face, delight even -- the laughter that comes next is entirely without snark or sarcasm, she's truly tickled. "Oh Lala-lovely; you know that's impossible for you -- besides, one could be the most rotten peach in the world, and someone will consider that flesh a perfect delicacy. What our dress choices do is repel the undeserving and attract those who resonate -- you and I know what you've actually encoded in the fabric of that ensemble..." A glance to C.B., and that good natured smile has not evaporated, not one bit. "...there is much to be read in the world, beyond the literal text." C.B. repeats his drink choice to Brandon, if he hasn't heard it because -- damnit, he needs that double bourbon! He blinks several times and squints over at Lala, scowling. "No, people wear tweed out of some misplaced ambitions in academia they never really got to fulfill. Get it right." He mutters something else to himself, rolling his eyes at Lala's milkshake order. Then he looks to Franky. Listens. Where's his drink? Looks back to the table at large. "Franky likes to talk about me like I'm not really here, but I am. I'm still here, and I'm still listening, so let that be a lesson to all of you." Brandon deligently takes drink orders and rushes off to put them in himself. Apparently when the owners family is in people get what they want. Plus it's done quickly. Isolde looks to Franklyn and there's a bit of a worried look that bleeds back into her eyes when she watches the young woman. Then she's listening to Frank's question and there's a chuckle. "When I got into medical school and found out I wasn't wanted in the 'boys club' so to speak. Well, you see how that turned out." she chuckles to that. Then she gives a look to CB and there's a smile, "We don't mind you being here, Mister Alexander. Or at least I don't." she chuckles. Blah blah blah academia blah blah blah tweed -- Lala continues to smirk and rolls her shoulder a little shrug. "Yeah, we're saying the same thing," she says. "'No one will ever want to touch you.'" She gives CB a playful wink; picking on him is a hobby of hers! Looking over at Franky now, she absently plays at the chain that drapes down between her breasts. "But yeah, of course an outfit like this is a deliberate choice, meant to tempt and repel at the same time. But mostly I just like it -- it's pointy. I can run up and hug people I don't like and then 'pretend' it is an accident when it hurts." More laughter; Lala laughs a lot. Tilting her head at Isolde, her smirk tamps down into a more legit smile now. "Aunt Gigi must be very proud of you, being a doctor and all. She wants me to be more productive, to get a job. I'm sure she would like me to follow your example -- not necessarily become a doctor because, God. Could you imagine me? HA! But I mean, just, like .. doing /something/. Something /good/ and /decent/." "Yes, exactly!" Franklyn agrees with C.B's muttering; the anthesis of scowling mumbles, her response is animated and bright and clearly earnest. Bracelets and bangles jingle, as she pushes her hair back away from her face then wiggles her fingers in the air, accentuating her speech -- gesturing to Lala as she plays with that necklace of hers, "Like Lala's neckline and accompanying spikes illustrates a desire for intimacy she is afraid she will never - if not attain? - be able to genuinely reciprocate, so she's aggressively mediating this lack through superficial signifiers of abundant unfettered sexuality." Uhm... Franklyn laughs brightly, and bats C.B. on the arm quickly, "You're so -sensitive-. Would you prefer I talk about people who aren't /even/ here? I acknowledge you - you are acknowledged..." To Lala, Franky turns and continues her the motor-mouth tirade, "...Nobody likes to be upstaged, right?" More laughter! Then =flip=, attention goes back to Isolde -- although Franklyn seems... Skeptical. A little deviousness is bleeding into that smile, eyes squinting with half suspicion and half amusement as she watches the Spring. "...That was the most beautiful humblebrag I've witnessed all day -- but I don't believe it's truthfully answering my..." Fade out - fade in: this time she's looking at Isolde, but tilting her head towards Lala -- hand moving to try and blindly find and hold on to C.B's forearm for whatever reason. "Gigi would ask us all to climb to the highest branch in the tallest tree, without taking a moment to assess if we've got thumbs, paws, claws or fins -- not everyone is made to fulfil the same task, right? But let's not harp on about -equity-, no... What does =goodness= and /decency/ even really =mean=, yeah? What do we -mean- when we say that?" This is not a hypothetical question. Franky is looking at C.B., Lala and Isolde in turn, as if she actually expects them to answer. Well then. At least she's shut up for five seconds... "Give it time," C.B. drolly tells Isolde. The look he gives Lala is rather withering. "Good. It's probably a change for the better." His lips move again, murmuring something else, and he looks out in the distance for a moment. Attention snaps back when Lala talks about doing something 'good and decent:' "Yeah, imagine having to, like, actually participate in society instead of living off the backs of the people who make your designer gowns." He cranes his neck eagerly over at the bar. Then there's Franks. He gives her a mighty squint. The squint transfers over to Isolde. Is he holding his tongue? He might be holding his tongue. For now. Until the bit about equity. Then he's scowling again. "You don't actually want me to answer that question at your family dinner," he suggests. Brandon comes back with drinks and there's a smile to all as he passes them out. Then he's awaiting on what they might want next. Isolde chuckles to Lala, "Gigi and I are about the same age, so she has her moments where she is really supportive. My job does tend to take me away more than the family would like, but, it's what I'm good at." she admits. "As long as you aren't killing anyone, kidnapping or torturing I think we'll all be fine with you finding what you want to do. You're young and you've got a lot of life left." she points out. Isolde then looks to Frank and there's a bit of a look to CB before back to her niece, "Darling, feeling alienated by a bunch of men that basically cat called me until I graduated med school was the weirdest thing ever." she admits. Then there's a look to CB, "Can we speak in private for just a moment, Mister Alexander?" she asks him with the most radiant smile ever as she stands up. "Have I =ever= asked you a question I did not want to know the answer to?" Franky quips back swiftly to C.B. -- reaching for... Hey, where's her drink? Not immediately in front of her, that's where! Instead, she squeezes C.B's forearm quickly and chatters on, hair being swooped out of her eyes as she speaks to Lala and Isolde; "I feel like C.B. is salty because he seems to believe all meaningful contribution to society must start-and-end at grassroots level; we are, on this matter, ideologically opposed." A brief, thoughtful pause, and she turns to speak sotto-voice to the Author, "Of course that didn't stop you from donating at the gala -- does that mean you considered that a grassroots action or?..." She lets that question fade off, and releases his arm. Look! She's been handed that drink finally! Great, sure, /that'll/ help Frank. Franky's expression falters a bit, as she picks up on Isolde saying she's the same age as Gigi. Brief pause, and she gives Lala a rather nervous looking side-glance, before slowly nodding to the Spring. "...Of course, of course, weirdest thing, sure; but obviously you have, like, survived? And prevailed, grew, flourished, thrived, blossomed..." Curious squint, then she looks away. Let C.B. get taken away by Isolde for a quick chat -- that means Franky can focus up on her drink. C.B. takes an immediate swallow from that drink, too. He has to stop himself from just gulping down the whole thing. And then...Isolde is looking at him? Asking to speak for a moment? She definitely does not get a radiant smile in return, but then again, radiant smiles aren't really C.B.'s thing. No, he frowns, looking just the slightest bit paranoid as he stands. "Okay..." As he steps out of his chair, he tosses off to Frank, "I donated at the gala because you wanted me to. I thought that much is obvious. I -- " Oh, never mind, he just stops speaking and heads over to wherever with Isolde, looking increasingly more suspicious. Oh! When CB swoops in with his comment about her having to participate in society rather than living off the backs of people, Lala rolls her eyes. She rolls them so dramatically that if she were to roll them any harder, she would be staring at her own brain. "Charlie Brown here likes to judge my life," she explains to Isolde as she gets a big spoonful of whipped cream from her milkshake. "..even though he known nothing about it other than what he's observed and assumed. But it's okay. He gets in his digs, I get in mine. It's the nature of our friendship." She licks the spoon and goes for a second dip, choosing to consume her milkshake this way. "I suppose you are right," she says to Franky. "..in regard to intimacy. Allowing people get close makes one vulnerable and leaves them too exposed. It's a numbers game, really -- the chance of getting hurt is too high and the likelihood of a meaningful connection is low so why take the risk? It's better to keep things light, fun and just take what what you need. Take what you want." Another spoonful, turned over on her tongue. When Isolde beckons CB for a word, she cocks her head to the side and looks intrigued. Sliding over closer to her cousin, she asks Franky sotte-voce: "Is someone about to get a scolding?" Isolde couldn't get more suspicious, but Franky mentions those words and there's a look to her that clearly states there's a new level. She gives a chuckle, "Yes. I survived...and blossomed." she tells her. Then she gives a smile to CB as he walks with her. Then there's some whispering. Oh my goodness the scandals! You whisper "Two things. First, is she on anything? If so, what? Second thing. Can she see me? Because she's acting especially weird and well word choices, you can see where that makes me damn suspicious." to CB. What-in-the-what-now?! Franklyn blinks up at C.B. as quips at her about the gala -- from the looks of things, the donation-motivation was not obvious to Franklyn. It leaves her looking confused and slow and-- oh! Lala is speaking to her! Franky lifts her gin and tonic, sipping as she listens and watches her cousin -- nodding slowly in either hazy comprehension or agreement. "That is an incredibly valid perspective -- I think it is noble of you to be forthright in your like, visual signalling of the situation." Franklyn has gotten all Super Contemplative now, watching her cousin with a thoughtful look. "Most people won't read into it, they'll miss the messages -- people are... Now this references back to the question I had about 'what is goodness', and even Freud said..." Franky's lips move wordlessly, eyes squinted, like she was trying to remember something -- apparently it's a success, because she continues with an animated little gesture of her hand, and a surprisingly accurate Austrian accent; "'I have found little that is 'good' about human beings on the whole. In my experience most of them are trash, no matter whether they publicly subscribe to this or that ethical doctrine or to none at all.'" Laughter! Franklyn is entirely oblivious to Isolde and C.B. -- she leans forward and bats Lala on the arm, does a theatrical 'oooow!' of faux-pain at the spikes, and drops the Austrian accent as she continues; "Trash! Trash people =everywhere= and--..." Sliding closer to Lala to listen to that low voice, she blinks dumbly. "...Why, what did I do?" Then she follows Lala's eyes, over to C.B. and Isolde. Not so oblivious now. Her brow furrows with concern, adding with conviction; "He shouldn't be - Ceebabes' done nothing wrong..." C.B. folds one arm tight across his chest, drinking steadily from his glass as he speaks with Isolde. He murmurs a response back, his eyes briefly flicking over to Lala and Franky, and while he doubtless would have much to say about what they're talking about, well -- his attention is on the conversation at hand. His reply to Isolde seems somewhat animated, with him counting off things on multiple fingers. You sense CB indeed ticks things off on his fingers. "First of all, no. She's not on anything. She /can't/ be on anything because she is having nightmares, nightmares that happen to be caused by one of the Gentry, /by the way/, and Lulu is trying to fix her head. And second of all, yes. She is Ensorcelled. Not by me," he says, frowning slightly. "She's probably not used to seeing /you/, her beloved...whatever you are to her, in your Fairest form, so. Give the girl a break." There's a beat, and a bit of a scowl. "Now, may I be excused or is there something else you need?" Something that CB states makes Isolde's face turn from sparkling and bright into very grim and mother like. Oh dear. She isn't upset with the man. That much is easy to read. There's even the words 'thank you' that can be seen. Then she's heading back to the table and there's a smile, "Girls, please stay and enjoy dinner. I got a page from the hospital and I sadly must go. Order whatever you like. CB can have what he likes as well." she tells them. There's a look to Franklyn and she gives a smile, "We'll have to talk sometime soon." she tells her. "Same with you Lala." the woman states. Then she's turning on her heel to head out. You whisper "I dealt with her girlfriend the other night in the hospital, who was on something. So I was checking. Not accusing you of anything. If Frank is having those dreams then we need to work on stuff faster. Thank you. Please go have a lovely dinner." to CB.