Well, I don't know if all that's true, 'cause you got me and baby, I got you...

[uberboned]

Who: Gabriel, Jinx, and their friends and family.
When: Friday the 13th, before sirens.
Where: A park that has been shamelessly borrowed for this event.
Summary: JINX AND GABRIEL ARE GETTING MARRIED.
Warnings: Schmoop.

[Friday the 13th is a day of preventing bad luck from finding you- and it will find you, somehow. But for an unlucky little lady who has been a staple of Siren's Port for a few years, it's her luckiest day, so what better day for her wedding?

A small park has been rented for the occasion with a combination of Jinx's charms and her pocketbook and it's really anyone's guess which one won out. Lines of chairs form the aisles, draped in purple, black, green, and offset by red roses everywhere. Rather than a carpet for the bride to walk down, the grass seems to be covered in a blanket of soft rose petals. 

Let's just say if you wanted roses today, you're out of luck.

The reception area stands off to the side, offset by dozens upon dozens of ice swans and... for some reason a living elephant also decked in purple and black. Jinx wanted one. The zoo obliged. The end.

And where there should be an organ, there's a harpist. The groom, standing up at the front of the makeshift altar with the king of Hell on his left and a Prophet of the Lord at his right, looks as smug as the cat who caught the canary- or, more appropriately, the canary who charmed the cat- and despite the few stage whispers of "Yes, Chuck, it's too late to make this a Jewish wedding", all is well.

And when the harpist starts playing "Stairway to Heaven," it begins.]

Comments

LMFAO OH MY GOD

[integrity]

[Crowley is, indeed, surprised that Chuck has a job. He is pretty sure Chuck is homeless or something. But whatever -- and he accepts the top-up without much argument, until he takes a sip of it.

There is a moment or two of silence as he stares at his glass, because that is definitely not the 34659873453 dollar glass of scotch he usually gets. And something in his throat spasms and he almost gags before he shoves the glass away with a push of telekinesis, right into Chuck's shirt.]

What in the hell is that, rubbing alcohol?

[paterelohim]

[and that sound would be Chuck losing his shit laughing. Who cares if he's covered in whiskey? Fuck it. He dodged enough to avoid glass shrapnel, and that's all that matters.]

[integrity]

I could have died of poverty.

[Somewhat indignantly.

Only partially joking.]

[paterelohim]

[Laughing. even. harder.

You can never live anything down, Crowley.]

You could be more of a spoiled yenta if you tried, right?

[integrity]

I am the most powerful demon in the underworld through my own creative genius and moderately suicidal work method.

Forgive me if I don't drink piss.

[paterelohim]

[He gets through the laughter enough to point knowingly at Crowley with an empty glass.]

See, I always knew you came from the Internet. We don't do that freaky stuff here.

[integrity]

Give me something worth drinking and maybe I won't complain.

[paterelohim]

Okay, okay. Fine.

[He turns and reaches for the top shelf, but hesitates right before making contact with a bottle.]

Do you want to just drink or actually feel something?