Keep Meg & Amy From Cooking Party

[kitchen_maid]

There are streamers over the door and glitter is flung generously (if randomly) about over countertops. (To be on the safe side, the girls have used edible glitter, like that on the cookies they handed out as invitations.)

There are large signs posted above the stoves and ovens with picture of Meg and Amy and the words "NOT ALLOWED" in large and bright red letters below them.

It can only mean one thing.

There's a party in the kitchen, and someone has got to keep these girls from cooking.

Comments

[dead_hooker_2]

Trina has party Radar, and would show up at the opening of an envelope.

(Hey, you never know who else might be there . . .)

At any rate, here she is.

"Hello. I'm Trina Echolls, of course."

[balletrat]

- of course, *Meg agrees, cheerfully, after a quick moment to process.* Logan's sister, right?

[dead_hooker_2]

"More or less," says Trina. "You know my brother, then?"

[balletrat]

Oh, yeah - he's around here somewhere, *Meg adds, helpfully, and gestures vaguely at the people milling around in the kitchen.*

I'm a good friend of Lilly Kane's, is the other thing -

[dead_hooker_2]

"Are you?" says Trina.

Pause.

"You're not like dating my brother, are you? Because I'm fairly certain you could do better."

[balletrat]

Oh - no, I've got a boyfriend, *Meg says, hastily.* Logan's just a friend.

But. Er. Thanks?

*She grins at Trina, a little mischievously.* If he ever makes an offer, I'll tell him you said so.

[dead_hooker_2]

"Do," says Trina, unconcernedly.

She's said worse about Logan.

She's said worse about Logan to Logan.

"So, friend of Lilly and my brother, do you have a name?"

[balletrat]

Meg Giry, *Meg says, promptly.* Marguerite, really, except not - I'm one of the people who's meant to be kept away from stoves. Welcome to the party!

*She makes an expansive gesture at the kitchen.*

[dead_hooker_2]

"Well, I'm a person who means to keep herself away from stoves, so we should get along fine. And it's nice to meet you, Meg."

Trina is from a world where every party tries to outdo the last party -- bigger, better, more creative, more unexpected. So having a party in an industrial kitchen? Doesn't faze her.

People have to get stabbed at parties for it to faze her.

[balletrat]

*Poor Aaron Echolls.

. . . or, you know, not.*

It's nice to meet you too! *Meg says, with a grin, and tilts her head.*

- hey, didn't I see a magazine around the bar with you in it the other day?

[dead_hooker_2]

This mun is coming down decidely on the side of "not."

Trina beams. "Oh, probably," she says. "I'm in so many these days, after all."

Where "magazine" = "tabloid."

[balletrat]

That's good publicity, *Meg says, admiringly.

Meg does know about publicity.*

We didn't have photographs in my time - or at least, not good ones, at all, just black and white and they took ages - so it wasn't nearly as helpful -

[dead_hooker_2]

Clearly, Meg is a person of great intelligence and perceptiveness. At any rate, Trina's estimation of her has just gone up.

"It's the best publicity you can get without committing a felony," says Trina, who has not yet succombed to the family habit of doing just that.

"When is your time?"

[balletrat]

1884, *Meg says, promptly.* I'm backwards and behind - but after being here a year and a half, *she adds, with a grin,* you do pick up a few things about technology and all.

- and committing a felony works, but there's sort of the fact that you can't do much with the publicity when you're behind bars, so.

[dead_hooker_2]

"Precisely," says Trina. "It's much better to let the other members of your family commit the felonies, and then make movies about it.

"And wow. 1884 is like forever ago. And I'm guessing you're a dancer?"

[balletrat]

*Meg sticks out a toe-shoed foot and traces a circle in the air with it.*

Bien sur - a ballerina. I danced at the Opera de Paris.

[dead_hooker_2]

"Oh, Paris. J'adore Paris. It's the place to go, for shopping, you know."

Trina makes a mental note to talk to Nick about hopping over to France soon.

[balletrat]

Bien sur, *Meg agrees, brightening.

Trina's just gone up several more points in her book.*

The place for everything, really - fashion and food, anything you care to name -

[dead_hooker_2]

Well, Trina's pronunciation is weak, and her French is more for show than fluency, but c'est la vie, n'est pas?

"And wine," says Trina. "But don't tell my boyfriend. His father owns a vineyard in Napa, and for some unknown reason the wine sells incredibly well. It's not bad, just not . . . good. But California doesn't do wine the way France does."

[balletrat]

*Meg shakes her head, sadly.*

I don't have anything against California, *she agrees.* I mean, my boyfriend's from there too, it's just - it's not the same at all.

[dead_hooker_2]

"Oh, well," says Trina. "At least it's not England."

She looks at Meg, curious.

"Where in California is he from?"

You never know who knows who. And it's all about who know who.

[balletrat]

Anything's better than England.

Er - a place called Sunny Vale, *Meg says, wisely,* but, er, it kind of sank into the ground under demonic attack.

So you might not have been there.

[dead_hooker_2]

No, but she's seen the show. Her eyes widen a little.

"Nope, never been there," she says, casually. "What's his name?"

[balletrat]

*Cheerfully oblivious:* Andrew Wells. Why, d'you know people from there?

[dead_hooker_2]

"Not personally, I don't think. It's a big state."

She can't remember which one Andrew is. She didn't watch it that regularly.