sharp_as_knives | Jono and Hannibal's wedding, the Ritz-Carlton, Jono's Westchester, Sunday

Despite the last-minute change of venue - when they'd finally found a date that worked, the contractors had run into snags at the Boards, and they'd ended up in Jono's world, at a banquet hall in Westchester that it had taken all of Hannibal's persuasion and Jono's reputation to get them - they were set up beautifully. The place was wood-panelled, and decorated in rich fabrics of black and light grey offset by twists of saffron and dark yellow roses. Candles (electronic ones) flickered at the ends of each row of seats that had been set up.

The dining room had been set up in the same colors as the main hall – silver-grey tablecloths with black and saffron plaid cloth napkins, china edged in the same colors, and black vases with flame-like saffron-colored flowers rising up from them.

Look, Hannibal had been forbidden from cooking for his own wedding; nobody had said a thing about decorating!

The tables had all been laid out with prominent place-cards at them, to let people know where they ought to sit. Not that anybody was enforcing it, but if Logan and Karla ended up at the same table, it would be no-one's fault but their own.

Eliot	Eliot had prepared plenty of appetizers for people to snack on while they gathered, found their seats, and made small talk with their tablemates. There were mini asparagus and gruyere tarts, tiny yorkshire puddings, and lavender and earl grey scones. For dinner, guests had three options: Honey-soy broiled salmon, spring lamb with a cranberry, tomato, and thyme crust, or vegetarian shepherds pie, all served with smashed peas and roasted sweet potato wedges with saffron aioli. Because you didn't have a theme like "saffron" without it showing up in the meal somewhere. The wedges were served wrapped in a cone of edible rice-paper newsprint, ala classic British street food, complete with traditional wooden chip forks. Eliot had even shelled out to have a J and an H inscribed on each fork. Despite pleading "not a baker" when Hannibal asked about the cake, he still prepared – or arranged to be prepared, in the case of the first one – a few extra treats for dessert as well: a traditional Lithuanian šakotis and some cream-stuffed strawberries Sophie insisted were must haves for a proper British wedding – especially one that fell right in the middle of strawberry season. Over all, he was pleased with the results. He hadn't even had to use his appetizers to fight off a vicious contract killer with a grudge, this time. He just hoped that everyone enjoyed eating it as much as he'd enjoyed making it.
Hannibal	Fortunately, the vicious killers were the ones getting married, this time. And neither of them had a grudge against Eliot. Which didn't mean Hannibal wasn't going to wander through and smell everything ahead of time. And give those forks and newsprint a side-eye. Such a side-eye.
Eliot	That expression was entirely unsurprising to Eliot. "They're traditional, man, trust me. Jono's gonna get a kick out of 'em."
Hannibal	Hannibal sighed. "I'm certain he will." And since Jono couldn't actually eat the food, he might as well get his kicks from looking at it. He shook his head and chuckled, then held his hand out to Eliot. "It all looks and smells wonderful; thank you."

[OOC: It's their wedding day! Free to attend for anybody who thinks they might have gotten an invitation, or even those who might not have.The more, the merrier! Portalocity will make it easy for you, since they're hell-bent on making Hannibal happy. There will be hijinks within, naturally. We couldn't resist. Preplayed with the lovely and wonderful

furnaceface,

vdistinctive,

atreideslioness, and

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

//You'll have to take the catering up with Eliot,// Jono quipped, glancing backwards at the... mess... and then shrugging his shoulders a little bit. //But the bar is an open bar, luv. Feel free to raid it when you're done having your fun.//

He would be wishing he could do he same.

"Mostly I'm upset that there are no waiters bringing a glass over to me," Karla teased. "Hydration is important in a fight."

Like she'd summoned him--and she hadn't--Warren came strolling back, his tux slightly rumpled and carrying a bottle of an expensive red in one hand and a glass in the other. He adroitly dodged the gooey remains of her opponents, and handed her the win with a bow. "I saw they had the wine you liked," he said with a crooked grin while he pried the cork off with his claws. And then with a kiss, he was off again, beelining to intercept a guy who was menacing some of the students.

"I'll be looking forward to seeing what Eliot's prepared after all this," she said, grinning hugely at Jono. While pouring herself some wine. "I'm working up an appetite."

//I'd say, 'save some for the rest of us,' but I don't think most of the students will be eating, after all,// Jono mused, giving Karla a look that was something like a smirk before he whipped around and screamed directly into the mind of a man who had been coming at him with some kind of energy blade.

The man made a sick gurgling sound, and then his eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the floor, nose and ears bleeding freely. The man would live, but not happily. Not for quite some time.

"Children and their delicate stomachs," Karla said, tsking. She didn't mean a word of it, of course, but she was playing the bored aristo amidst carnage to the hilt.

Look, she made her own fun, okay?

One of the mooks got flung by an X-Men and landed practically at Karla's feet. Looking innocent, she placed her foot over his windpipe and pressed down. He...promptly stopped trying to get up. He also promptly stopped trying to fight when she passed his arm through the floor.

She'd probably stop when he lost consciousness. Probably.

"Hopefully today will be a learning experience for them."

//I think a good many of them are learning far more about cyborg anatomy than they ever figured on,// Jono mused. //I'm surprised there hasn't been a class for this. Though I just had an excellent idea for a class on wedding etiquette...//

To be taught at Fandom High or the Jean Grey School, whichever would let him.

Another bullet grazed his cheek, and his eyes widened a little. Fortunately, it didn't embed itself in anything too important. Just Logan's cake-covered ass.

"Etiquette in general," Karla mused. "Like, elbows off the table and when it is and is not appropriate to attempt to murder someone. Honestly. Before the wedding would have been fine or even after the cake was served at the reception, but this is ridiculous."

//Didn't even get to say, 'I do,'// Jono groused. //We're going to have to plan this whole bloody thing out all over again. And you think we'll be allowed back here?//

...

No, brainwashing the managers into forgetting about this later on would be in poor taste.

"I'm still not sure why you chose to have it here," Karla said, wrinkling her nose. "I'm surprised we're not elbows deep in the Brotherhood of Idiots or whatnot."

She popped the cork back into her bottle and the slammed it into a goon's temple. Look, she didn't always have to use Craft. It was just generally more convenient.

"You do realize that it's the marriage license that's the important part, don't you, darling? So long as that's taken care of, you're married."

Jono made big sad eyes at that.

//If it was the marriage license that was the important part for the people around us, we would've eloped,// he pointed out. //So we're, ah, not married enough.//

A beat.

//And the contract is sort of on fire.//

"I didn't do it!" Karla said, glancing over to the male she'd witchfired just to make sure that was accurate.

//There are about a dozen of us throwing fire around and more on the other side,// Jono lamented. //I think at this point, it could've been anyone. Or maybe it spontaneously combusted. At this point, that wouldn't shock me.//

"Excellent. In that case, it clearly wasn't me," Karla declared. "I'm only throwing a little bit of witchfire."

Which could, you know, melt stone but whatever. She was being careful.

There were guys with metal limbs running around. Melting stone wasn't such a bad talent right then!

//I'll take your word for it,// Jono replied. //It was absolutely one of them. We all saw it happen, didn't we?//

"Of course!" Karla said immediately. "And then you took the bastard out in a valiant if entirely futile attempt to rescue it. It was both heroic and tragic."

//You should've seen the way I fought to get to it!//

Laughing about it now would keep him from crying about it later. Probably. A little.

"I did," Karla assured him. "I've never seen you so single-minded and focused. You didn't let anything stand in your way!"

//Except, of course, for the fire itself.// Jono hung his head. For about a half a second, anyway, because he was being shot at again and needed to move. //Tragic.//

This is why Craft shields were invented, Jono. And now there was one over you, though far too late to save your shirt.

"Well, yes, there was that," she agreed, sending out a tendril of the Ebon-Gray into the male's arm and exploding it in a shower of sparks and shrapnel. "But you tried and that's the important thing."

Oh. He was screaming now. Oops.

Well, that made Jono feel much safer, actually. There was something reassuring about not being able to get shot anymore.

//The important part is the effort, is it? And, I suppose, the excuse to order another disgustingly expensive cake.//

That he couldn't eat.

Sigh.

Jono and Hannibal's wedding, the Ritz-Carlton, Jono's Westchester, Sunday

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