taxonomites | [Location - The Birdhouse - Open to ALL] [brief visual]

Paul eyes the table full of food and the cheap plastic chairs he's got set up. There should be plenty-- if he runs out, he'll take it as a very good goddamn sign, because it means people showed up.

The food isn't anything too complex-- there's a big tossed salad, some lasagna, garlic bread (and room on the table for people to place their own additions, if they want). The point of this isn't to be gourmet: it's to get people here, to try and make everyone get onto the same page.

Paul pinches at the bridge of his nose. That may be too much to hope for. Same book, though. Same book would be nice. Reading out of the same encyclopedia which has some common rules about not screwing each other over in the face of dealing with a common enemy.

He reminds himself to be polite, to bite back on his natural bitchiness, or at least cloak it in socially-acceptable levels of sarcasm and humor. Then he picks up his tablet to broadcast a reminder to the city.

"Hey, Taxon: food's on. Come with your brains engaged."

It's a few minutes yet until noon. Paul has a seat in one of the chairs and leans his head back to stare at the ceiling, waiting for people to arrive.

[OOC STUFF! The Birdhouse layout is visible here. Since Paul lives in the building now, it does count as a private residence: if your character requires an invite to get in, they will find the way blocked unless someone invites them inside. If characters want to do that, either knowingly or unknowingly, that is cool OOCly, but I'd like a private PM first about it since it may all factor into things Paul does with the Birdhouse over time. I'm also totally down with playing out a vampire not being able to get in, and trying to have to cover that up if they want to.

EVERY CHARACTER IN TAXON is welcome in this thread, regardless of whether or not you have established CR, positive or negative, with Paul. Just post them arriving!

I'm going to put up a thread of placeholder for 'eating' versus 'Paul trying to get everyone to give introductions', in which people can go around the circle saying who they are, that sort of thing. All the threads I post will be taking place on the ground floor of the birdhouse-- if you want your character to explore, go for it! Just put in your subject line where they are poking around.

If anyone has any questions about layout or what characters would find, please feel free to ask me!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Thank you, don't mind if I do--"

Said as Paul reached past with a plastic spoon to snag a choice bit out from the center of the crumble. Sometimes, being a snot has its perks.

"Mind your manners, Mister," says Cain in a long suffering yet sort-of-disguised-ly affectionate way. "At least use a plate."

He takes a step to the right, aiming for the coffee first. Then maybe he'll hedge his bets with a bit of lasagna, green beans and garlic bread. It's been a while since food made him nauseous, but old habits (and PTSD-induced eating disorders) die hard.

"Hope it ain't just me liking nutmeg with apple."

"Mmfm a mayy?"

Have the mouth-filled mumble complete with an innocent look. Paul's in a good mood, as evidenced by his being a snot who moves to the coffee cutting in on Wyatt's space and grabbing the coffeepot first.

But he does at least pour the mug for Wyatt.

"It's edible. I think. I may have to try some more to be sure."

It is entirely good to see the other man in such high spirits. It's a state of mind that suits him, in Cain's oh so humble opinion, and he can't help but feel...smitten, he supposes is a word for it, even if it isn't the best one for it.

It's infectious, and he can't help but feel affected. He watches as Paul cuts the queue of one, arches his eyebrows as he gets first serve of coffee anyhow. It's sweet, in an unorthodox sort of way that he really likes.

"Ya think? As long as you leave some for the others so they can chime in, go right ahead." He smiles - and if it's just on the safe side of dopey, then so be it.

"They have lasagna," Paul sniffs. "As host I should get all of this. Obviously."

He doesn't move to rip off more from the crumble though, despite his words, but pours a cup of coffee for himself instead and leans against the food table to survey the people arriving.

After a few moments he remembers something he'd meant to ask Cain, and his brows furrow.

"Hey-- have you seen my iPod anywhere the last few days? The little music player thing. I can't find it."

Unspoken, Did I leave it at your place?

"Somehow I think we'll just have to agree to disagree on what makes the perfect host."

Paul lingers, and Wyatt does too, looking out over the slowly growing group of people. Subconsciously mirroring the other man's stance as much as his stiff old limbs will allow.

"Hm?" He says through a sip of coffee so hot it stings - and that's just the way he likes it. Paul's query, on the other hand... That's not good. It's one of the most important things in this entire building, and not only to Paul. Though hazy from the fever wracking his body at the time, one of his most cherished memories of the other man are tightly linked to his taste in music - and by extent, his music player.

"Can't say I have. Want me to stick around after the meeting, have a look around?"

"Mmh. No, thanks," Paul sighs. "I mean with all the packing and unpacking and equipment lying around... it probably fell into a box. It'll turn up."

He hopes. His tone is mostly nonchalant but it's been driving him nuts. That's the one goddamn thing he has from home, and he can't find it, can't even remember the last time he had it. It's been a busy couple of days.

Paul pours himself some coffee as well, lips pursed.

"I hope so," says Wyatt, faux nonchalantly (better to mirror that of the host). "You got some good tunes on there."

"I have the best tunes on there," Paul says, in what should be a snap but comes out a little morose instead. "The highest points of Western fucking civilization."

A sigh. "Come on, let's get good chairs before the crowd gets here."

'Crowd' may be optimistic of him, but hey.

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