Grantaire (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pylades_drunk) wrote2015-12-25 05:30 pm
pylades_drunk) wrote2015-12-25 05:30 pm
god rest you, merry gentlemen
Grantaire is usually the one who shows up to parties, rather than holding them, and he sees why only a little ways into making sure his apartment is clean and well-stocked to have his friends over.
Still, the high ceilings and at-some-point modern furnishings of the Bramford make an apartment that could easily be cluttered by wine and moved-out furinture look cozy instead. And, he thinks, especially with the rough last few months, Christmas should be a good time for everyone. It's perhaps his turn to ensure the comfort and warmth and laughter he enjoys so much actually happens for his friends.
It is, after all, a little amazing that they are all here.
The cat's settled on the back of one of the chairs, and everything seems actually done, so that just leaves Grantaire to start to get anxious that everyone has better things to do on Christmas Day than come see him. He's experimenting in mulling, though, and that disguises it pretty well.
[Christmas afternoon/evening party at Grantaire's! There's music, plenty of drink and food that he absolutely did not make, he promises. The Amis would have been the major ones invited but this extends to families/significant others/friends of course, too. The more the merrier. Tag in, tag each other, tag late, tag forever!]
Still, the high ceilings and at-some-point modern furnishings of the Bramford make an apartment that could easily be cluttered by wine and moved-out furinture look cozy instead. And, he thinks, especially with the rough last few months, Christmas should be a good time for everyone. It's perhaps his turn to ensure the comfort and warmth and laughter he enjoys so much actually happens for his friends.
It is, after all, a little amazing that they are all here.
The cat's settled on the back of one of the chairs, and everything seems actually done, so that just leaves Grantaire to start to get anxious that everyone has better things to do on Christmas Day than come see him. He's experimenting in mulling, though, and that disguises it pretty well.
[Christmas afternoon/evening party at Grantaire's! There's music, plenty of drink and food that he absolutely did not make, he promises. The Amis would have been the major ones invited but this extends to families/significant others/friends of course, too. The more the merrier. Tag in, tag each other, tag late, tag forever!]
no subject
"Frere!" he calls back with a bright grin, wine in one hand, and comes over to offer a one-armed embrace. "Joyeux Noel. You're bringing us half of Darrow, it looks like." He raises an eyebrow at the pile of presents. He has his own present for Gavroche, a copy of 1001 Arabian Nights with glossy illustration pages. The mystery and mischief in the stories seems like it will appeal, and it's easily broken up into brief sections for an easily distracted reader.
"Here, taste this and don't tell Combeferre," he grins. Gavroche had certainly gotten away with the occasional drink back in Paris; in the middle of a cholera epidemic, the alcohol was probably safer than the water. Grantaire's aware enough of his own vices to keep an eye on the boy, but a little wine won't do any harm. "It needs something."
no subject
"It is only a few things. You are my friends," he explains, for he has always shared what very little he had. Having more to share only made him more generous with what was his. "It is Christmas."
He climbs on a stool before taking a sip. The drink is tart and warm and pleasant enough; the wine here of a far better quality than any he tried at home. But something is missing, Grantaire is right in that. "The little brown scrolls. Un baton de canelle. Did you add any?"