sirenspull_logs | You gotta fight for your right to party.

Who: OPEN TO EVERYBODY!!! Even if you don't know who Jesse is. Word-of-mouth invitation.
When: Noon 'til evening sirens of Wednesday, July 4
Where: The beach!
Summary: An excuse to party and set off fireworks.
Warnings: Put 'em in your subject lines.
Notes: Meme-style! Tag in, tag around, have fun and whatever... yo.

The setup is probably more elaborate than anticipated. Jesse's paying for it all out-of-pocket, but as he has a drug dealer's income, he's splurged on all the best stuff.

The food includes everything that everyone suggested on his post. Hotdogs, hamburgers, veggie burgers, pizza, chips, cookies, cake... There's an open bar for all the alcoholic drinks and a table with coolers for all the rest.

The music is selected by your host, Jesse, who's also the main DJ for the event. That guarantees a selection of varying quality that focuses heavily on hip-hop, rap, and dubstep. It's not always kid-friendly, but it's good for dancing.

General entertainment comes in the form of swimming, beach volleyball, a bonfire as the sun begins to set (including s'mores!), and a huge fireworks display just before sirens.

Security is being handled by Jesse's goons. You didn't think he'd host a Newcomer party without them, right? They're armed and much stronger than he is, so don't mess. A few healers are also on hand for first-aid.

Transportation back to the Tower Apartments via shuttle is also provided at the end of the night. (He really splurged.)

Party hard!!!

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She looked at him considering. "I think I like it, Monsieur. It suits you."

She began to spell out her name, but it was slow; Eponine found writing incredibly difficult.

"E - P - O - N - ohhhh." The sparkler died out, and Eponine looked dismayed.
"Monsieur, I'm sorry I broke it. Can it be fixed?"

How did he know she was French? Everyone seemed to spot that straight away; She wasn't aware that she had such a strong accent.

"Yes, Monsieur. From St. Michel, near Paris."

That was one of the first times he'd ever been told the costume suited him. Made it hard to tell who he really was, yes, but never that it was the right thing to wear. It was funny, and saddening, at the same time.

"It's not broken. Eventually it has to burn out. It's like a stick on fire, eventually it runs out of stick," Tim brought out another one, lighting it up and handing it over. He lit another one for himself, too; he hadn't gotten a chance to have fun with one, yet. He'd never be able to spell out Red Robin, and he couldn't risk spelling out Tim.

"I've been to Paris, but I've never been there. It's a really beautiful place, with all of the lights. I heard it was supposed to be romantic, too, but I think you need to be with someone special for that to happen."

She muttered her thanks, and began the laborious process of writing her name again.

For a minute, she was so absorbed in remembering how to spell her name that she didn't answer. But then she thought. Bright lights? Romance?

"Paris is not like that. It is dark and dirty. Men wait in alleys to kill you or worse. Children beg in the streets. And the rich come to see and they laugh at us and hurry by. Truly, Monsieur, Paris is horrible."
As the sparkller dies, she hugs an arm across her stomach, suddenly self conscious of her rags. Red Robin doesn't seem the type to laugh at her though...

Tim frowned, watching his own sparkler go out. He bent down, picking up his soda from before and taking a sip.

"Do you know what the year was for you, back home?" He wouldn't ever laugh at her. Laugh with her at a funny joke, or a funny site. But never at her.

"I am not sure, Monsieur. We lose count."
She didn't even know how old she was... "It was eighteen - eighteen something. It was seventeen - seventeen....... seventeen ninety, I think, when I was born. Doesn't make much difference, to us, you see, what day it is, or the year. So we stop counting."
She smiled then.
"It is much later here, is it not? What year is it for you?"

"So, sometimes in the eighteen hundreds," Tim was a little surprised. Okay, maybe a lot surprised. He drained the last of his soda. "I guess they don't really have calenders, right?"

Bad joke, but he grinned. "Yeah, it's a lot later. It's 2012, here... back home, it was 2008. A long way off from eighteen something."

"Yes. Everything has changed. No candles. And there is water when you turn the tap, even in the poor houses. And people here - some people want to help."

She grinned. Eponine quite enjoyed 2012.

"But Monsieur, sometimes it feels like France here. I can feel how angry people are, like Marius and his friends were, and other people before them. I fear sometimes that people will begin to build a barricade here to fight."

"And fridges, to keep food cold so it doesn't spoil. And medicine," Tim enjoyed 2012, too. A lot more then the other times he had read about in the history books, or the kinds that his father had discovered on his archeological digs.

"I don't think anyone here is going to be building a barricade. But... people do want to change things. I think that happens no matter what the time period, you know? Some of us know that things can be better, and so we do what we can to get it there," He looked down at his costume with a wry smile, touching the Red Robin badge in the middle of his chest. "I'm not a politician or anything important like that. But if I'm walking down the street, and I see someone getting beat up? I'm going to go help, instead of walk on by."

"Then you are a good man, Monsieur. Too many people, I think, would just hurry by and bow their heads and pretend not to see. I would. Unless it was my friend."

In fairness, she'd probably be involved in the attack - or looking out for the police so the attackers can get away.

"I hope there is not an uprising. I do not remember much of the wars of Paris; I was merely a child when they happened, but I fear, at home, they will happen again. The students talk, Monsieur, and it is the same here. I have read the newspaper - I can read, you know? - and I know that there is that feeling of discontent."

"The city I grew up in... it was pretty bad. But worth helping, you know?" Tim nodded. He wished, at times like this, he could take off his mask, so people could see the expression on his face. Hiding behind a cape left some problems, in the end.

"You have to be careful with the news, too. Not saying you're wrong, because you definitely understand that whole undercurrent going on right now in the city. But sometimes the news has a slant towards certain things."

You gotta fight for your right to party.

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