WHERE DID THE TIME GO? IT'S LIGHT AT MY WINDOW—

[cyberlife]

WHO: connor cyberlife and you!
WHERE: connor and markus' apartment.
WHEN: august 15th (this is my last log i swear).
WHAT: a very special birthday party for a very special android and whoever else wants to celebrate being a leo.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: tbd, please don't destroy their home.

(for all of the leos out there, here's an open ruckus log for all ensuing party things. connor would love to host it at his place, even though he has the social grace of an awkward nineteen year old and has no idea how to host get-togethers without accidentally raising his voice to stave off the jitters. this is an event that happens only once a year and prompto reminded him of that — even if he's not even quite there yet.

so. feel free to make a top level and mingle, there will be lots of party-like activities. here are a few to choose from:

—get drunk with your friends and make horrible decisions, because there will be alcoholic beverages and no supervision
—little party favours that may include things connor thinks humans enjoy (i.e. tic tacs or gum, various potted succulents, saltine crackers, batteries, hand sanitizer, toothpaste, friendship bracelets, shot glasses, socks, and anything you think is super weird)
—many ours d'oeuvres connor both bought from the store and tried to make himself, so i'd avoid anything burnt options if you love yourself
—a beautiful birthday cake courtesy of markus, who is the only good baker in the house and should be the only one who uses the kitchen
—a death robot, hellachopper, who will be present and zooming around who only attacks when provoked, like a big, metal pit bull
—sleeping bags for the people who get too hammered to venture home
—and many, many more horrible things

clearly he doesn't understand that these occasions are supposed to be for the one having the birthday and not for the guests who attend. happy b-day to all and to all a good night.)

Comments

OTA....

[saviorexe]

[Hellachopper hates him.

He’s been told otherwise, of course. That the little fight-bot whirring and zipping around the feet of milling party guests, with hidden blades slotted inside a metal body, does not “attack” unless provoked. Does not look at one single person and paints them as a viable target for prime ankle-slashing, unless otherwise given a reason. Markus doesn’t believe it for a second — he’s had it charge in his direction, viciously protesting in mechanical noises, while he’s done little more than keep to himself. Has seen it stop mid-roll and turn to face him, some unread threat hanging precariously in the air until the moment passes.

As a result, he avoids it for now. Focuses his attentions on the guests and all of those celebrating their birthdays, giving Hellachopper an appropriately wide berth to appease it. He’ll speak to Connor about the bot’s odd behavior later, maybe, when all the guests have filtered out of the apartment and the celebrations have officially come to a close. That’s his belief, at least, as he crosses the kitchen to put away a dirty plate. Into the sink it goes, and it slides from his fingertips just a little too quickly, hitting the metal surface only a mote too loudly.

Hellachopper, which had been ambling its way just around the kitchen island, stops. Spins to face Markus. The android, quite aware of its presence, stills his hand. Stills his entire body, mouth twisting into a frown, brow worrying.]

No. [HE SEES IT THINKING ABOUT IT.] There’s no need for—

[Words might as well have been severed by the steel knife that pops out from one of the bot’s compartments. Moreover, it begins to spin in perfect circles, viciously fast, like a crazed top. Like an upward-facing wheel. Like a hellachopper.

It barrels towards Markus’ ankles in a rush, but the android reacts as if he’s coiled spring, or a startled cat. A twist of his body and he’s hefting himself up onto the kitchen counter, lifting his legs up and away from the angry little death bot that spins just beneath him on the floor.]

Standby! Sleep mode—!

[It’s not standing by or sleeping.]

christ

[cyberlife]

Markus.

(walking in with a couple of empty beer bottles gathered up en route from his trip to the washroom, connor stands astride the kitchen island and watches as his eyebrows arch high enough to crease his forehead. what in the world— he has to put the beer bottles down in order to start forward after hellachopper.

his presence is enough to placate the bot enough that it stops its death spin, but. well. the knife sure is out and ready to shank.)

De-stroy, de-stroy.

Excuse me? Language. (there's an angry buzz, but it behaves itself and quiets, thoroughly chastised.)

(stepping over him to get to the other side of the island to visit markus at his perch, placing a hand on the countertop. it strikes him as funny but it'd be extremely inappropriate to laugh, so connor stares up at him with a tilt of his head and gives him the best concerned frown he can muster.)

Sorry about that. I thought he calmed down after the last time, now I'll have to paint the bottom of the cupboard again...

—are you alright?

*robojesus

[saviorexe]

[He’d be more embarrassed about his perch on the kitchen island if there wasn’t a death-bot destroying the cabinets just beneath him. Connor’s sudden presence is a welcome one — someone who can talk sense into the little robot, calming it down and somehow convincing its programming that Markus isn’t a target. It works, however briefly it may last.

And touting a mantra of “de-stroy”, only to be quieted when Connor reprimands it, the android’s gaze finally tears away from Hellachopper and meets that of his friend’s.]

I’ve jumped up on the island to save my legs from a spinning, knife-wielding robot, Connor. If I said “yes”, would you believe it?

[This is noT FUNNY you better not laugh at him, you better keep that concerned look on your face CONNOR]

He doesn't like me.

[cyberlife]

(is this some kind of test? connor takes another look at the situation. markus on the counter. hellachopper on the floor, a small, very avoidable machine who shows signs of aggressive dog breed behaviours.

he clears his throat, poker face steely.)

Not when you put it that way, but you have to challenge Hellachopper's idea of dominance.

(become the alpha dog you were manufactured to be, markus.)

He doesn't have to like you, he has to respect you. That should come first.

a wildcard this is your life now markus

[selfimage]

[ parties is something that Loki actually does well: he's a choice mingler, an enthusiastic drinking partner, and feels absolutely comfortable doing anything he wants in someone else's space. when the party gets a little more rowdy and the crowd begins to open up (with the help of the alcohol), Loki decides that the apartment is ripe for snooping.

he either disappears to get another beer or use the toilet, but whatever it was he finds himself sliding into Markus' room. nothing is big in New Amsterdam, and none of them have a lot of things, so there's not much to go through. he finds the paints, but doesn't use them, rifles through a few drawers before finding the closet. going through Markus' wardrobe with under-the-breath commentary, he finds a particularly good looking coat.

despite the heat, he nabs it and puts it on, drawing it up over his shoulders to get a sense of the weight. ]

Hm ... not bad, I suppose.

what did he do to deserve this

[saviorexe]

[He’s returned to his room to fetch something; what that something is happens to be a mystery at the moment, because Markus doesn’t get far before spotting — quite blatantly — Loki’s presence in his room. Digging through his closet. Tossing on one of his many coats.

Markus doesn’t say anything at first, before stepping forward and replying to the rather scrutinizing commentary.]

Only “not bad”? I like that one.

[It’s heavier, suited more for the cold. He can’t wear it yet, not in this weather.]

took loki as a friend

[selfimage]

[ even in being caught, Loki hardly blinks. there's a brief, careless glance up at Markus, but he continues adjusting the jacket over his shoulders (because it doesn't quite fit) like he's merely walked in on him in the dressing room. ]

It's a bit bland for me. [ not nearly enough useless buckles and fur collars. Loki is far too extra for it, in other words. his wardrobe being absent is one of those things that he misses, even though he has his own flair of style.

then he turns for Markus like he's on a runway. ]

ota

[strove]

[Clarke being here is a statement: that despite the hell of the past few weeks, she's not likely to give up on the opportunity to relax. The more she stresses herself out, the more that this proves necessary. And it has, for the record, proved rather necessary. As much as Clarke can be uptight—and as much as she's spent much of her recent time with Markus trying to convince him that she's an awful person—she's unlikely to give up on a birthday celebration for Connor. She assumes it's unlikely that Connor won't know about what happened between her and Markus. It's for the best.

As it is, Clarke will spend the evening:

a. drinking: She'll be more than a little into her cups as the evening goes on, but she's unlikely to keep herself from going home when it's time. She can maintain that balance.
b. teaching party games: Some of these likely enjoy them making games out of the little party favors, because really, Connor?
c. eating cake: Because she was encouraged to have another try, and the androids' apartment isn't death mountain.
d. thoughtfully mingling: Clarke won't always be the one to initiate a conversation, but she is definitely the type to have thoughtful and long-winded philosophical conversations while inebriated. Or ones that seem thoughtful, but turn into surprising banter. Either way, she'll be far less uptight.]

a/b(/o, nOOOOOOO)

[cyberlife]

Do you like those? I confess... I didn't exactly know what to get.

(they're very "surely humans like recreational dental floss" chic, but some of these things are actually useful.

connor sips at his drink, contemplating her choices.) I particularly like the succulents, we have a few in the window.

(over by markus' Art Corner on the balcony. he points to it, like it's some kind of accomplishment. it is, in a way — he never suspected he'd have much of a green thumb, but they're peaceful and next on his list is a bonsai to prune.)

[strove]

The greenery is the best part of the gifts. [Clarke has to cut herself short, right before she spins off into pointing out the fault in his decision making. Her mouth opens one more time, and then closes.

And then she takes another drink.]

But you realize that's not really the point of a party, don't you?

[cyberlife]

The point of a party is to... mingle in the celebratory happenings and socialize with the other guests. Right?

(damn, he's good.

connor wonders what else there is. presents, fun chatter, maybe games. is he missing something?)

I just wanted to thank everyone for coming. You've all been very tolerant of me.

to the birthday boy

[fessus]

[ Noctis has a single regret right now, and that is the fact that he popped gum into his mouth -- courtesy of the gift baggie -- prior to realizing that there are appetizers. And a cake.

He's staring hard at the dessert as if personally wronged by it, brow furrowed, when he notices Connor's inevitable approach. Ever the dutiful host. Noctis straightens abruptly, smoothing his expression with a clearing of his throat. ]

Oh, hey... Seems like a kind of small cake considering how many people I bet want to stop by and see you.

[cyberlife]

Hello, Noctis. I'm glad you could make it.

(like, really glad. stupid glad. practically ecstatic, despite the faint smile. it's warm and ever-present, but he's never been one to outright grin unless forcing the expression.)

... I'm surprised at the turnout. (a sidelong look at the other mingling guests.) Don't worry. I would've saved you a piece no matter how many people showed; I know you're a fan of sweets.

[fessus]

Well, I wasn't gonna' miss it.

[ Which sounds a lot better than "I just learned your birthday was today and had to scramble". He returns the smile instead, a rare and soft thing from him. ]

Thanks, though. Pretty sure everyone likes sweets but you've got your priorities straight.

So, how's it feel? This is your first birthday, right?

[covertness]

birthday presents ( » connor, but open to anyone who wants to comment on the present as well )

[ it's a good thing that bobbi already had a clear idea of what she wanted to get him, because shopping for presents on limited credit and relatively short notice isn't necessarily her forte. (it is when she treats it like a mission, but she's already lying to everyone —not everything needs to be a mission, does it?)

so at some point in the evening, she approaches him, wishing him a happy birthday and handing over a small, wrapped package containing his present. and because it's not quite the season, there's another one, too.

please don't kill her, markus. ]

drinking & inspecting party favours ( » ota )

[ throughout the evening, bobbikatelin can be found drinking a fair amount —though in actuality it's less than she seems to be drinking— and inspecting the little party favours connor has prepared.

she's found a succulent that she's never going to let go, but she keeps glancing at various other things, just to get a picture of all that's there. call it scientific curiosity, really. ] What did you get?

FAWNS OVER ALL HIS TIES!!!!!!!!

[cyberlife]

(inhales at the ties, quick and quiet. oh my god. between katelin and fitz, he'll have closetful of these.)

Katelin, these are — (draws one out of its package, holding it up to the light like that'll help him see the tiny patterns. jesus, he really needs a pair of glasses or laser eye surgery or some alternative to all of the squinting he's been doing.) — very humorous. Are these Dachshunds?

(dangles the dog-print tie in front of his chest so she can give him a verdict on how it looks. 10/10, right???)

It doesn't match this shirt, but what do you think?

he's so cute

[covertness]

[ how could she not get him ties after all the discussion of ties? a thing of impossibility. she's glad that he seems both amused and pleased.

for a moment, when he holds up the tie, bobbi musters him with the most critical face she can muster —which is very critical. then she grins. ]

I think it's great. And yeah, that one's got Dachshunds.

OTA

[selfimage]

[ there isn't a party that Loki would miss, and so here he is, looking like he absolutely owns the place. it's definitely not something that he would throw, but in all honesty? there's something so erratic about the way that it's put together that it's refreshing. with some foresight, and in his infinite generosity, he offers a tray of mashed potatoes made with mayo (don't knock it, they're good), because the only edible something being mashed potatoes is far more than amusing for him.

aside from the trolling, he likes Connor and Markus more than he cares to admit. they're all looking for the same thing, even if they're vastly different in circumstances. besides, Connor's company always seems to be of some amusement.

and with booze to wash it down! he can be found doing a few things:

a. absolutely helping himself to free booze. while he hasn't exactly gotten used to how fast it makes him tipsy, he's willing to indulge regardless.
b. waiting for someone to conveniently walk by the cake and following up with "is there a hint of vanilla in this cake? you should smell it, tell me if I'm right." there's a curl of a smile on his lips that says that he's up to something.
c. stowing away into the bathroom and spending an awful long time looking through Markus' and Connor's personal care inventory. the door is cracked open and there's a hum under his breath as he tactlessly opens every single bathroom cabinet. ]

b.......

[cyberlife]

Markus would be the one to ask, but I could hazard a guess.

(dutiful and naive, connor is just thrilled loki came and is liable to do whatever's asked of him. so he steps right up, reaches to offer loki a warm, awkward pat on the bicep, and leans down to sniff at the cake.

bit weird, but he's down for it. his brow even scrunches as he tries in vain to deduce the ingredients.)

Isn't vanilla extract in most desserts?

[selfimage]

[ it's a covered touch, because even though it's hot outside, Loki makes sure all of his most easily accessible skin is covered. he's not fond of accidental empathy, he would much rather the whole thing be controlled (by him, specifically). Connor's innocuous enough, even when he steps toward his own cake to be a butt of a joke.

it's almost too easy. ]

Aye, but I doubt it's real. [ he doesn't know, but he's just saying. ] You might need to lean in a bit closer. You don't get a whiff straight-off.

c.

[retravel]

[ fitz only passes the bathroom 'cause he's in search of better materials to disarm hellachopper, but he stops and backtracks when he spies a familiar silhouette through the crack in the door. hard not to scan every location, after all his training.

ah. leaning one hand against the frame, he nudges the door a touch wider with his oxfords. then, dryly — ]

Wondering what brand of aftershave Markus uses, are you.

[selfimage]

Don't people knock anymore?

[ he doesn't even look up. Loki's spending far more time taking a bar of soap from the medicine cabinet and turn it over between his dark nailed fingers as he decides exactly what to make of it. this is the seventh one.

there's an investigation taking place here, Fitz. ]

I'm naked.

[ he's absolutely not naked. ]

fitz | ota

[retravel]

[ Fitz arrives not long after the start time, knowing that Connor prefers punctuality himself. On his way in, he holds the door open for Dick, ambling in after him with cases of Connor’s preferred beer in hand. It’s a party, after all — what's one more present? Now, did Fitz help carry it for a single moment of their not-insubstantial trip? No, he didn’t. A gentleman takes care of the doors. And that’s the price of being his plus one. Definitely tosses, "Don't dawdle now, mate," over his shoulder. This day's a total lark.

Though perpetually corporate casual, his blazer’s a brilliant blue today. Maybe someone reminded him not to dress so dour for the special occasion.

Catch Leo the Leo:
a — Wearing a friendship bracelet (how can you deny Connor, huh), enjoying a slice of cake and holding his liquor like a champ. Unlikely he’ll be tipsy, even after several beers, so he’s the designated Adult this evening.
b — Sneaking dirty plates into the sink in the hopes of washing them so the robohostess with the mostess doesn’t get overwhelmed later.
c — Doing some improvised work on Hellachopper, the deathbot he reluctantly helped Connor liberate earlier in the week. His approach to parenting has been pretty hands-off until now, seeing as he figured the bloody androids could handle a basic battle machine. However, free does not mean freedom to slice and dice this entire flat, so he attempts to dull the blades with his multitool, despite the bot's attempts at slashing him. Christ. ]

c for connor

[cyberlife]

—consider it a manicure, or something relaxing. You're getting your nails done at a human spa, where people don't speak any English and openly gossip about you. (connor tries in vain to comfort the death robot that doesn't understand the intricacies of human emotions.

he stiffens every time the blade juts out too near to fitz's arm, feeling his blood pressure rising. this is stressful.)

Hm. It's not working. Perhaps I could hold the arm the knife's mounted on while you... buff him.

[retravel]

Iiiiii. [ was definitely going to say "it," nope, nope. ] He might not trust you after that.

[ but they're running out of robofriendly options, and hellachopper nicks his sleeve this time, tearing a hole from wrist to forearm.

fitz lets out a startled noise that tapers off into frustration. ]

You little — [ a glance at Connor, the superior father.... ] Jesus. Just. Bloody. Go for it.