Welcome to Gaia! ::

Banyan had not yet bought the Christmas decorations. Nor had she even considered hosting anything on her own until an associate heard her tale about striking it out on her own and suggested that a Christmas-slash-house warming party would be just the thing she could use to shake those lonely winter blues.

That was only weeks ago, but idea had seeded itself in her mind and now the concept was germinating slowly. Even in her sleep, she'd lie in her pink silk nightgown and dream of thick, plush sweaters and an enchanting Christmas tree almost bursting with gifts for her friends. Since she had so few friends, though, she'd have no choice but to buy multiple things for each to fulfill that goal. An excuse to buy deliciously gaudy Christmas things for friends, though, was starting to be too much to bear. Especially with the thought of what to get for little Elda... who had rather quickly grown not so little.

Since she had yet to publish that best selling romance novel she'd always planned to do, she instead had taken up a job as a fashion critic and published a bi-weekly column on a local fashion online magazine. She loathed it utterly, but it paid well and pay was what she'd need if she wanted to host a party.

Her eyes would open, then, on those lonely nights and wonder... would anyone come?

Banyan sat up with a start, the book she had been reading still pressed to her chest. Every book in her small collection must have been hugged close to her chest so much their spines had broken. It was a good thing she only bought paperbacks. She had fallen asleep again with a good book dreaming it was... well, that story was better left for another time.

She rubbed at her unkempt (for it usually always was) head of bedhair with her fingers and looked blearily at the little rat clock that hung on her wall. It was a charming wooden thing with an analogue face. It read only 2pm.

"Now who could that be at only two?" she asked to no one, and got up to answer the door.

She strode over, book still in one hand and the other reaching to the peer into the door's peephole when she noticed what she had on. Or rather, what she didn't.

"Oh, hell!" she said, her mind waking up. She hadn't put on a bra and... well, that could prove deadly to an innocent bystander. "Just a second!" she called through the door and thumped over to her bedroom.

In lightning time she was as decent as anyone could expect a girl caught unaware to be and she looked through the spyhole again to see Hunter.

She did a little double-take.

There he was. Holding a cake.

This took another moment to register.

Banyan, heaving a sigh of resignation before pulling off the sliding lock, opened the door and didn't bother smoothing down her hair with anything just yet. Hunter was some... she counted in her head... four hours early! Four hours!? Good lord!

That settled it... she'd have to take him out go get a few groceries with her. She had yet to buy some drinks and the wine and her party platter was waiting to be picked up. Banyan'd be damned if she left Hunter to prod about in her apartment. Particularly the writing desk and her closet.

By the time she opened the door, she was pulling on her sneakers and using the door to keep her balance.

"How good are you at picking out wine?" she asked.

She grabbed her little denim purse, pulled on the closest jacket on the hook, and pulled her keyring of many keys (to what they all went to was a mystery) off the little wooden key rack by the door. It seemed then that it took three keys to lock the door to her apartment. Two were for he mismatched deadlock and doorknob and the third was for her mail box. She kept that under lock and key, as well as she had small checks being mailed to her off an on from various places.

"It'd be out of character for you not to at least pretend to know good wine," she laughed, "that way if you picked a bad one I'd have someone to blame, in any case."

It seemed that in the street sludge that used to be snow and the forecast calling for more snow later that evening. She was glad for the time being it was clear and not nearly as bone chilling as it could potentially be. Sifting through the keys she found the one for the car.

"Hope you don't mind a messy two-door ride," she jingled the keys at him. One could see the large, enameled pewter pony hanging from it. Pink and green, no less.

Banyan had a difficult time since growing up on just how girly she wanted to be. She hated collecting shoes, for one. She never understood what the deal was. Then again, her feet didn't exactly conform to the tiny, lack-of-toes pointy things that were on display most of the time. Instead she favored two cheap pairs of sneakers and leather loafers when she couldn't go barefoot. That pesky "No Shoes, No Service" thing at most shops never took into account how discriminating it was against half animal humanoids.

"We're going on a field trip, Hunter," she went on, leading him to the parking lot with a little wave. "Don't worry, for all accounts and purposes I'll say we were never seen together. It was our evil twins."

"We're not holding hands," she insisted, laughing as she unlocked the car doors. "I don't believe you'd have your shots. Climb in and don't mind the mess in the back."

There was indeed a mess in the back. Stacks upon stacks of boxes with photographs, letters, books, and old fashioned typewriters. There must have been three or four of them in various stages of disrepair. Banyan had taken a liking to collecting them and had been systematically buying them from various antique shops. One day she'd learn how to actually repair them.

"First thing's first," she said. "We're picking up the wine and then the tray. After that... well... We've got about three hours to kill. I'll need the last hour to set things up at my place."

"What? Oh!" Banyan didn't have the decency to blush, instead she backed out of the driveway and added to it. "The Count is a womanizing scuzzball, naturally. Otherwise, it would look wrong that she'd been seeking... erm... revenge by making love to the - surprise, surprise - young butler who's recently replaced their elderly one who..."

She paused not so much for breath but to take the turn out of the parking lot and into the street. Banyan went on the moment they were at a red light.

"Anyway, the old butler died. It was a pointless scene, too, the whole book starts with the poor old b*****d dead near the front door. Died at his post, isn't that stupid? And nobody was even sad! No one but like... a niece went to his funeral and the rest were all 'Hmm, oh, well.'"

Banyan mimed a shrug and rolled her eyes as though blissfully ignorant.

"Let's not lie, that kind of book you don't read for the plot, but it would've been an added bonus."

"There's nothing to cook, honey! I've got it all cooked!" Banyan shrugged. "Everything else just needs to be heated on those funny little heat trays you plug in. I've got it all in the fridge, all that's left is making it pretty so it can be unappreciated and destroyed in seconds by the ravenous masses."

She went past the light and made way towards the little deli not far from where she lived. It was convenient and the owner and his brother already took the liberty of knowing her by name.

"If there are any," she shrugged. "I'm not even sure who's showing up! We may end up eating it all ourselves.... won't that be tragic?"