fjordicswagger | Tamsin's House of Sharp Things And Presently Not Enough Alcohol, Thursday Evening

For a couple of minutes, Tamsin had contemplated the idea of just opening up Town Hall for the party, but... what would be the point in that? People were fired up on hormones, people wanted to get laid, you needed a space small enough to get 'em close together. So to speak.

Also, this way she got free booze out of the deal, so-- win win.

She'd hung the black sheets back in front of the large store windows (partly to keep the light out, partly so it was slightly less obvious the house was technically a shop she was technically maybe squatting in). She'd tossed a ton of pillows and an old mattress on the floor, since she didn't actually have a sofa, per sé. The rooms upstairs were... well, okay, they were rooms.

And there was a table for incoming booze. With solo cups. Of course.

Perfect. Time for a party. If anyone had seen the posters...

[[ ocd ~~incoming...~~ up! adults only party is a go! eta: i should probably note browse responsibly, since there might be hints of nsfw in the comments at some point, i have no idea how this post will roll ]]

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Perhaps it was because she was standing stiffly with perfect posture, her hands behind her back as she observed the social interactions in the room.

She nodded back at Eliot to acknowledge his non-verbal greeting. She didn't smile though. That usually made people uncomfortable.

That, and the fact that said perfect posture wasn't fitting with any of the various training programs, militaries, or crime fighting organizations he knew of.

"I'm Eliot," he said. "You're teaching up at the school too, right?"

Well she had a very distinctive posture.

"Jones," she replied with another nod of acknowledgement. "Yes. I teach the independent study course. You teach there as well as run the local restaurant in town, correct?"

Someone pays attention to the radio.

Listening to the radio was just good policy.

"Luke's, yeah. Though a buddy of mine just showed up and might try to yank it out from under me."

That wasn't fair. Hardison had no interest in running Luke's. He just wanted to completely revamp it into a brew pub.

Hopefully Hardison's beer making skills have improved.

"If you own the restaurant that shouldn't be an issue I'd expect," Jones replied as she continued to review the room. "What do you teach at the school?"

It had! Marginally. Mostly because he'd decided 'Thief Juice' would work better as a hard liquor.

"He bought the whole building." Eliot shook his head. "Guy has more money than he has any idea what to do with. We're lucky he didn't buy out the whole town." Of course, Eliot could probably just buy the thing back from him -- he wasn't exactly broke, himself -- but then Hardison would get cranky. "We do Creative Problem Solving. So far, mostly locked room kinds of scenarios, seein' how the kids deal with gettin' out."

"An interesting class," Jones replied looking interested. "I know some of my former students at my last school could use such training."

"Most high schools in the US I'd say wouldn't need it," Eliot said. "'Round here, though? Seemed like a good one."

"This school is rather distinct," Jones agreed. "And given the students involved I would say the experience would be a rather valuable one. I currently have only three students but I think one or two could benefit from such a class."

"Maybe Parker'll rope me into teachin' it again," Eliot said. Admittedly, it wouldn't be hard. "What kinds of projects have your students come up with? Must be interestin', with such a small group."

Tamsin's House of Sharp Things And Presently Not Enough Alcohol, Thursday Evening

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