11287/Tea and Cake!

Tea and Cake!
Date of Scene:	22 May 2022
Location:	Shadowcrest Manor - Bristol Township
Synopsis:	Booze, Food, and Wards... OH MY!
Cast of Characters:	Zatanna Zatara, Achilles, Meggan Puceanu, John Constantine

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Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Nothing like tea and cake to make discussing demon control more palatible. Though there is a cut-crystal decanter glowing warmly with amber whiskey on the table next to the tiered cake tray, in case the tea is too tame for some tastes. Zatanna is slumped in a winged back chair regarding the others. She has yet to change from her stage clothes, attesting to how tired she is. Long legs in fishnet stockings crossed, she toys with the flower in the lapel of her tailored tail jacket.

"Will I ever get the smell of brimstone out of the mansion?"

She plays the distraught house frau as she bemoans the state of the house. "Did you see the scorch marks in the hall?" From distraught to pout, "You promised you'd help me reset the wards.

Achilles has posed:
    Food can be something of a cure-all. Okay, so food and booze. But not just any booze. Angelo has stocks upon stocks of booze that has been preserved for ages. And I mean -ages-. He just has a feeling that his newest friend might benefit from some classical greek lamb roast and baklava that he prepared himself. However, lacking the ability to teleport in any way, shape, or form... he merely drove to Gotham.

    In fact, he rented a full service hotel room in town last night, and did his cooking -there-. Today, he pulls his car over to park in the area.... I mean yeah, secret mansion, but he's 'in the know' so to speak.

    And so he actually has an old wooden case in his hands, and a couple pans balanced atop it as he reaches the front door and uses a polished dress shoe to knock (kick?) at the front door. Yes, he is one of those weirdos who wears tee shirt, blue jeans, and dress shoes. What? He likes the look. The bronze bracers tend to stand out.. he's been wanting to inquire with Zee about some sort of spell to conceal them.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
What would the hotel think about someone cooking in their luxury suite? Isn't that the point of all those nameless, interchangeable restaurants that overcharge for a steak and some obscene green mousse that pretends to be wholesome? At that price point, maybe everyone ought to drag along a grill.

Meggan is a visitor who knows the rules of visiting, but her contributions are a lot less impressive than Angelo's. A collection of proper biscuits -- cookies, otherwise -- and a few butter tarts are what she has in a small box tied with a bow. For actual pretty bakery food, see a bakery. For something edible that may or may not be healthy, and tastes pretty good, throw chocolate chips into a batter. One or two /might/ be spiked for John, but they happen to be hidden away.

"Should we have tried lime? That lime pie and lime tart are /always/ more popular," she worries.

When she opens the side door from the House of Mystery, it's to a destination halfway across Gotham, on the outskirts. Two steps out and thus she reaches Shadowcrest, humming to herself.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Some have a free no-need-to-knock pass into Shadowcrest. The heavy ornately carved front door swings inward as John and Meggan approach. Zatanna had already disinterred herself from her slump in the chair to greet Angelo and his fragrant offerings of lamb to her peace of mind should any demons care to pay a call while the wards are being reset.

He received a warm kiss on each cheek upon his arrival and questions when she realizes that he had made what he brought. "I am flattered to the bottom of my very empty stomach that you would go to all this trouble, Angelo."

The same warm greeting welcomes John and Meggan - kisses and a light arm around each of them. "We have everything to fortify ourselves for the coming work. Thank you for coming. What do you prefer? Food or work first?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Well, I like to cook. You know that." offers Angelo as he glances towards the others. "I also brought some of the first drink that was ever referred to as ... Scotch. In fact, I think the distillery I bought this from might be part of the reason that this is -called- Scotch." he says as he sets down his parcels on a counter, and then reaches to open the old wooden box... filled with actual straw. And he withdraws two dusty bottles with hand-made labels on them. "I have been saving these for a special occasion." he adds with a grin as he turns to face the others, "And what is more special than a gathering of friends, and re-securing the manor?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Lamb-demons... let's not invite that trouble from Australia or the ruins of Mesopotamia. Meg carries the box of treats easily under one arm, though in fairness, she could probably manage a fully loaded railcar under one arm if the particulars about how to hold it came to pass.

Her attire is unsuitably black; buttoned up racer skirt and cold-shoulder top to go with the ankle boots. Summertime may be approaching but in Gotham, it's always rainy and dark. Even on sunniest days! Right? All the same, she stifles a cracking yawn when entering Shadowcrest and merrily chirps, "Yoohoo!" in a way that suggests it came from a telly program. Hint, it did. Cue the finger-wiggle, the bright greeting whistled up. Zatanna gets the cheek bus in return, and then she offers the box. "You have food and work together. When is it separated? I've got the worst job if it's not."

Her gaze flits to Angelo and then back to John, calling up the explanation needed. "Ah! Cos I work at a bar, sometimes."

John Constantine has posed:
John is a little spacey at the moment because he's got a phone to his ear, listening in to a client still complaining. It's been this way since they left the house. He is incredibly annoyed and it's painted all over his face.He has stepped a few feet away from the others, but once his conversation is over -- "And don't call me again, *I* will call *you* when I *have something*," -- and then he just... turns his phone off. The whole phone.

"I miss when you could bloody slam the damn thing down with an audible DING."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The greeting gets the lifted eyebrows it deserves and a sweep of her magical arm indicating the 16th Century table that received Angelo's tribute to driving off demons.

"We make no invitations to lamb demons. On the contrary, my dear Meggan. Who would dare while you are here?"

The homo magi, head tilted to one side, scries the Romanichal woman a moment longer than most would consider polite then shakes herself out of her trance.

"Sweets from the sweet," she trills matching the tone of the yoohoo that Meggan sang. Zee sets the box on the table and pulls the bow. "Perfect. Now, where should we begin? Where do you think it we should begin? Should we take them all down at once or go one by one?"

One manicured finger tapping her cheek, the magician answers part of her own question, "I should like to begin with the scotch that Angelo brought and carry it with us to bless the four quarters of the estate. Can I pour one for everyone?"

Achilles has posed:
    Reaching to set down one of the bottles, Angelo begins to unseal the other. "I think that this really -will- be a way to bless anything you may want blessed. As Mel Brooks once said, let's bless it all until we get verschnickered." he adds with a grin.

    But then he holds the bottle out towards Zatanna with a little quirky grin, "Sip, do not gulp. It only gets stronger with age."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan might have a pointed ear trained on John's conversation, only to the extent of making sure he managed not to trip over a spiked fence or fall into a pit opened by a devil. Necessities when facing the likes of his profession, the occult detective prone to encountering real trouble.

"Me? They wouldn't really worry so much 'bout me. Him, on the other hand." Point of quiet pride that actually lights up the room mildly, her thumb pointed over her shoulder at the dishevelled blond. "Like to see them contemplate it. Maybe they would just to keep it spicy."

Teeth flash white in the frame of the smile that sees her gracefully and ruinously bound to settle on dinner somewhere. "You can pour one for me, but uiasce's water in my hands." She holds them up to make the point, graceful enough.

John Constantine has posed:
"See, there's a lady after me own heart," John says to Zee, even as he slides his arm across Meggan's shoulders and squeezes her. "Far be it from me to refuse such a generous offer, luv. I'll take one." He gives Angelo a short salute.

"So what's all this talk of lamb demons or whatnot?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Not sure. I brought roasted lamb. I suppose that if there are demons involved... maybe they might infest the meat?" says Angelo, "But I am no expert on demons. Aside from sending them to Tartarus." he adds with a shrug of his shoulders.

    "You are all the experts on magic. I am just an old guy who fought a lot over the years."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Oh, really?" Meggan's eyes narrow a smidge, but her bangs have a way of falling over her face, partly concealing her expression. She swivels away to assess what counts as food, mostly Angelo's spread. John might be caught in that orbit, turned with her, what with her shoulders braced by his arm.

Approval shines, her purring voice a thing to rouse warning bells wherever she goes. If Godiva had a voice like that, subtly teasing in the lower frame of her octave and reinforced by subconscious emotive manipulation... There'd be more than crosses and horses following her. "Roasted lamb is an outstanding choice. Right bit better than the boiled beans and boiled to death stuff we grew up on. Nothing worse than a Sunday roast being of the consistency and flavour of paste. Rosemary with it? Shall we have our fill?"

The stifled laugh languishes for a moment on her lips, reaching her eyes. "An expert? Not so much. Unless it's like breathing and I get to be an expert that way."

John Constantine has posed:
Once he's got his drink, John follows Meggan along to get some of that roasted lamb, because of course he does. "Cheers, mate."

He releases meggan's shoulders so he has two hands free and partakes of the lamb, with all the grace of a Manchester hoolie after a pint or two. Because, well, expert in magic, not so much in manners.

"Thing about demons, yeah? They're all different. It's kinda like when you think about bees, right, and you think 'a bee is a bee' and then you find out there's _twenty-bloody-thousand species of bees_, is it." Constantine lets out a long breath. "S'a lot of bees. Demons are sort'f like that."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Perfect metaphor," Zatanna crows, sucking a finger after tucking a piece of lamb into her mouth. "Bees and demons are as diverse and numerous as sins and sting to boot." Pleased as if she had come up with the idea she grins at them all. Glass in hand, she lifts the amber liquid in an offering to the group, then drinks, the aroma tickling her nose, making her eyes water. To her credit she doesn't cough.

"By all that is diabolic, that /is/ strong, Angelo. You warned me. Eat and then we will walk start in the house. The attic will be the most difficult so let's start there."