~ [closed post]

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Now that the Mansion is producing goods again, it's very easy for Susan to compile a picnic basket full of, essentially, the makings of a rather international charcuterie board. Four cheeses (a good British cheddar, a French camembert, an Italian sheeps-milk ricotta, and a wedge of Dutch Leyden), three meats (jamon Iberico from Spain, mortadella with pistachios, and something labeled as an American bison-blueberry salami), along with some honey, fruits and fruit preserves, a baguette, olives, nuts, and crackers. She tops this off with nice linens and silverware and all the necessary ingredients for French 75s. It's definitely more than enough for two people.

Something about the end of that dreadful month has her considering wearing color again. As a first step toward moving past mourning clothes, she experiments with a very flattering deep navy dress that's definitely not black, though it looks it in most lights. She adds a coat of lipstick, and then takes herself and her basket to Janet's room, where she raps lightly on the door.

NSFW!

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[sorrowandsorrow]

Janet's been lounging on her bed, running inconsequential little spells for the fun of seeing them work the way she wants them to: turning the pages of her notebook with a convenient breeze, cooling and then heating the room, an honestly tricky little refraction of light through her window. She knows who she hopes is at the door. Opening it and seeing the exact person she wanted to see makes her feel alarmingly like a kid for a second, the spike of excitement when the phone rings and it turns out it's for you.

"Hi," she says, half-successfully playing it cool. She would've been cooler if Susan looked less like something that stepped off a movie poster. "I can't whistle, or you'd be getting the wolf-whistle of the century right now."