diatu | you're the first one when things turn out bad

Who: EVERYONE, you're all invited. Or invited to happen upon this, if you missed the invite, and spot it happening in the Great Hall.
What: Aziraphale wants to show off his best friend, so he's invited you all to a tea party.
Where: The Great Hall
When: Tuesday after classes
Warnings: Tyzias is a menace, there's no reason to think anything at ALL about The Arrangement, and if the invite was any indication, the ineffables probably cannot be contained

Due to circumstances which will not be discussed (but, namely, that Pallidus cannot be in indirect sunlight), and using weather as an excuse, Aziraphale's planned tea party out on the lawn has been moved indoors.

He's gone all out. There is plenty of tea (with optional sugar and cream), biscuits (by which we mean crisp cookies), some small cakes that are rather adorably decorated, a fruit pie or two, and treats provided by Sunset Shimmer. (And possibly booze, if Tyzias did decide to bring some). Casual though the gathering is, he's set a proper table to hold their food, with a table cloth, a few candles, some nice napkins. This is not slipshod work. This is the work of someone aesthetically living in a past century who feels like he has waited a good millennia for this moment and is going to do this right.

And what This is, is introduce his demon best friend to polite company. As Crowley put it.
It's true, though. Except where Tyzias is concerned, anyway.

In the center of the table is a small, homey potted plant. Nothing particularly extravagant. Leafy and green and moderately well-cared for, recently purchased, and even more recently labeled with a tag that says "For: Crowley." The "for" was added secondary, after it occurred to Aziraphale that it looked a bit like he'd named the plant Crowley. Which he had not.

Aziraphale, aka Mr. Fell, is playing the anxious, bustling, gracious host as best he can, while being utterly preoccupied with his friend: a tall, gangly ginger who he introduces to everyone as "Crowley." Any assumptions one might make about the two apparently middle-aged, man-shaped beings is entirely one's own assumptions. But if Aziraphale is glowing with joy and affection, and eager to tell stories about the two of them, that's just how it is.

When things settle down and everyone has been served tea and introduced, he might try to show off some silly card-tricks: absolutely typical sleight-of-hand like humans perform, and not performed especially well. He's doing this mainly to annoy Crowley and seems to delight in that, even if he is a little genuinely embarrassed at how rusty his skills have gotten.

Come, join in, mingle. Hang out with your fellow classmates and enjoy some treats. We're coming up on the end of a year and, like a harvest festival, it's time to make new friends, rekindle old bonds, share in some good food, and party before the winter.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Aziraphale hasn't talked to Kaiba all that much outside of classes and their game together, but he smiles and greets him and attempts to introduce the sulky young man to his sulky demon friend, then allows him to wander the party as the angel socializes with more social people.

It's later into the event that he catches that comment, as he gives a flustered attempt at rounding up his wayward playing cards.

"We're not--ah." He looks at Crowley as if for help, then back at Kaiba, his expression changing to mildly intrigued. "Gifts?"

Kaiba smirks and shakes his head. Having been half of an awkward new couple in the very recent past, he knows these things.

"Two. I'm feeling mildly generous."

And also like a bit of a showoff with his prize money, to be honest. He hands over two packages---one is obviously wine bottle shaped, containing his favorite merlot brand.

The other is book-shaped. Two books, actually, largely identical with black covers, but the pages are blank.

"And those are spelled two-way journals. Anything written in one will appear in the other. Given your...display on the public board, I didn't think you had them yet."

Aziraphale has never been either half of an awkward new couple, because as far as he's concerned, he and Crowley technically are not...no matter what the rest of this school, Heaven, Hell, and a good portion of Soho presumably thinks.

"Thank you," he says, accepting the gifts with surprise and again, looking to Crowley, he adds, "My dear. Mr. Kaiba here has brought us gifts." He unwraps the presents for the both of them, as one does, and after inspecting the label briefly, hands Crowley the wine bottle if he's within arm's reach and also gives him one of the journals. "This is very generous of you," he says with a bright smile at the young man.

Once he catches on to what he's been told about the journals, he exclaims, "Oh, like a telephone! How clever. Thank you again. It's really too much. We weren't...too inappropriate on the bulletin board, were we?"

Crowley inspects the wine with a practiced eye, and his eyebrows go up at what really is a generous gift. "Yeah, er, thank you," he says softly, but not insincere, setting the bottle down and leafing carefully through the journal. "That is clever. Really clever, we should have mir - er, thrown together something like this at home."

On Aziraphale's question to Kaiba, he shoots his (closest, most important, look it's complicated ok?) friend a look. "Angel. I don't think you got three RSVPs before we wrote on every inch of the thing about - about too much, honestly, we should've met up in the Hall."

He offers Kaiba an apologetic nod. "We'd had some catching up to do. Even back home, really, there was a lot of stupid - family business. That we're lucky to be done with, finally. Personally, I'm considering this a vacation."

He doesn't even have the good sense to look contrite, which probably doesn't help the complicated appearance of things. "Yes, we probably should have. Though it was a little fun, admittedly, to be able to put it all out there."

And he calls Crowley a menace.

But he nods in agreement to the rest of what Crowley has said, their responses basically tied up into one.

Kaiba looks at the two of them together, and believe it or not, the icy look in his eyes softens a little. There's something not entirely unfamiliar about it.

"I crafted my own when I realized there was someone I wanted to share deeper thoughts with. We've had a number of conversations I wouldn't want to broadcast publicly."

His face colors a little at the admission. "But you're both...interesting individuals, so Mr. Crowley, I have no doubt you'll succeed in whatever you're looking for. Welcome to the craven depths of madness we call home."

"Yes," he says with a nervous laugh. "We should probably... do that." Wouldn't want to broadcast publicly. Dear Lord there were some things they probably shouldn't broadcast at all. Paper trail and whatnot, but some of that is already aired out, so he supposes it's fine now. It's been said.

Though Aziraphale suspects he knows how these are really going to be used--per the Arrangement, only one of them would actually have to take notes or do the classwork any given day. They could still share the load, he supposes, so that the other would have more free time to muck about, cause chaos, or resolve chaos, as the case may be. At least it could be a useful plan, if he can read Crowley's chicken scratch.

"Oh, I couldn't call it craven or madness," he says naively. "It's rather homey here, actually, once you get past the whole business of living in a castle."

"I think I heard about a ghost dragon in the basement," Crowley says idly as he thumbs through the journal. "I'm sure there's a little madness, or what good is it?"

Kaiba's probably imagined the middle-aged version of mash notes, but no. This is definitely going to be used for note-taking, probably gossip too. Or a version of instant messaging that won't make Aziraphale plant his feet somewhere in the 1950s. Maybe Crowley can draw some rude pictures in it when he's bored...

"It was fun to just be free with it, though, wasn't it? Not caring who saw," he adds to Aziraphale with a sidelong smirk. Partly out of an old habit to encourage misbehavior, but even more so because...well, yes, it was. He'd been tense and watchful for so long, and now here they were bantering, and someone had bought them a couples' gift of all things, and he wasn't about to take any of it for granted.

"You'd better not go poking that with a stick and making trouble down there."

Good lord, he isn't going to play mash with Crowley, no. Never. ~~Who else would they even fill in as the other options? Oscar Wilde? Beelzebub? Freddie Mercury? What a pointless game.~~ These are valuable journals. Though he certainly isn't opposed to the occasional game of hangman. Or pictionary. And gossip is--well, he's never been angelic enough to be above a little petty gossip or inside information, nor is he likewise above snickering at a good caricature or two.

These will be fun, and Aziraphale suspects their studies will suffer for it. Not that he has anything quite so desperate to study for nowadays.

Crowley's smirk is infectious. "My apologies, Mr. Kaiba. Thank you again for your gift, though I'm not sure anything will keep this miscreant from defacing public forums. I will certainly try. I always do." He gives Crowley A Look, but they both know how easily an angel succumbs to temptations.

you're the first one when things turn out bad

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