Before Milliways: Deck the Halls
Dec. 22nd, 2007 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nomorekaraokeOutside, the night was dark and cold, but all around there were tiny dots of light brightening the world. Christmas was fast approaching, Santa was comin' to town, and the ever moving, ever exclusive Aequitas was once again open for business. It wasn't just any business, either. It was one of the biggest businesses of the year. Aequitas was throwing its annual Christmas party, and the word on the street was it's the Mother of all such occasions.
If its proprietor had anything to say about it, it would be the biggest bash before New Year's. It had to be. Having made a place for himself on the crème de la crème nightclub scene, he knew it had to be better than all the other parties. More than that, it had to be big, it had to be bodaciously bombastic, it had to be absolutely fabulous. And even before the clock struck and the doors opened, they had an extra edge of the cutthroat variety. They weren't throwing a Christmas party. It was the party to go to when you had to get away from the glitz and maniacal grins of the happy families on TV, when you couldn't take one more red-clad, fat fake calling you a ho-ho-ho.
Sipping his drink, the owner watched his crew set everything up from the upper landing. The decorations, stocking up the bar according to his specifications, checking the sound system, everything was running smoothly. He didn't pay anyone to slack off.
The only thing to lose him his focus was the sound of someone clearing their throat. He turned to face the source of it, and raised his brows in something like bland interest.
"Hit me hard, toots, I don't have all day."
Of all the holidays in all the worlds, Christmas was the one Lorne loved the least. Of all the holidays. Of all the worlds. Good will to all men? Giving? Doing good? Telling yourself you have a shot at changing the world by getting involved in charity work? Having a perfect Christmas with the people you care about?
Commercialist crap. Publicist propaganda.
"The mistletoe?" He chuckled, but neither the sound nor the smile got even close to reaching his eyes. "Trust me, I got patrons paying for that stuff. They wanna munch, let them. It's not the worst thing I keep stockpiled - you don't want to know, sugar plum. Set everything up, wear gloves and for goodness' sake, don't read the labels if you're gonna throw a hizzy fit for every other jar."
Once upon a long time ago, when the going got too tough for his tastes, Lorne got going. And even after more than two years of living the wormy life in the Big, shiny red Apple, he still didn't know where he was headed. And ain't that sad.
Merry Christmas, indeed.
If its proprietor had anything to say about it, it would be the biggest bash before New Year's. It had to be. Having made a place for himself on the crème de la crème nightclub scene, he knew it had to be better than all the other parties. More than that, it had to be big, it had to be bodaciously bombastic, it had to be absolutely fabulous. And even before the clock struck and the doors opened, they had an extra edge of the cutthroat variety. They weren't throwing a Christmas party. It was the party to go to when you had to get away from the glitz and maniacal grins of the happy families on TV, when you couldn't take one more red-clad, fat fake calling you a ho-ho-ho.
Sipping his drink, the owner watched his crew set everything up from the upper landing. The decorations, stocking up the bar according to his specifications, checking the sound system, everything was running smoothly. He didn't pay anyone to slack off.
The only thing to lose him his focus was the sound of someone clearing their throat. He turned to face the source of it, and raised his brows in something like bland interest.
"Hit me hard, toots, I don't have all day."
Of all the holidays in all the worlds, Christmas was the one Lorne loved the least. Of all the holidays. Of all the worlds. Good will to all men? Giving? Doing good? Telling yourself you have a shot at changing the world by getting involved in charity work? Having a perfect Christmas with the people you care about?
Commercialist crap. Publicist propaganda.
"The mistletoe?" He chuckled, but neither the sound nor the smile got even close to reaching his eyes. "Trust me, I got patrons paying for that stuff. They wanna munch, let them. It's not the worst thing I keep stockpiled - you don't want to know, sugar plum. Set everything up, wear gloves and for goodness' sake, don't read the labels if you're gonna throw a hizzy fit for every other jar."
Once upon a long time ago, when the going got too tough for his tastes, Lorne got going. And even after more than two years of living the wormy life in the Big, shiny red Apple, he still didn't know where he was headed. And ain't that sad.
Merry Christmas, indeed.
