(no subject)

[regan_tam]

Light spills from the windows of the Tams' new house, refracting gently off the electronic security fence; more lamps line the front walk, and cast a diffuse glow over the paths and benches in the small back garden. Inside, the rooms are impeccably tidy. The large rooms on the first floor were designed for entertaining guests, and every one is well-supplied with comfortable chairs in small clusters; the upstairs is devoted to private living space, but for this particular party it too is open to any wandering guests. That's traditional for a housewarming party, after all.

A catering company was hired to provide appropriate refreshments and servers, and extra security includes two smiling guards at the door, checking names off a list. The house is filled with the low murmur of dozens of friendly conversations, punctuated by occasional laughter. This party is only for friends and supporters of the Tams -- from Core and Rim both, and from numerous walks of life -- and the atmosphere is accordingly relaxed.

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[regan_tam]

The first guests began arriving half an hour ago. The house is filled with the soft murmur of chatting voices, now, over the soft music playing in each room. Servers circulate with trays of finger-food.

Gabriel and Regan are mingling, pausing by each cluster of guests for a few words and warm smiles before moving on. At least one of them is always in the entrance hall, though, waiting to greet more arrivals.

[gabriel_tam]

The evening is still young, and already he's certain that this will be as much of a success as any of Regan's parties. Gabriel is relaxed and cordially at ease with people as he talks briefly with Li Xiao-Chang and her husband Daniel before moving on to welcome Paul and Marceline Richards.

He catches Regan's glance from across the room, and smiles.

[regan_tam]

Regan returns his glance with a quick, warm smile thrown sidelong, before Ylena Hassan puts an impeccably manicured hand on her arm with a complimentary murmur, and Regan turns to her with a ready smile and appropriately demure thanks.

[gabriel_tam]

Although this is event is as much carefully managed and calculated for effect as it is simply social, there's still an undertone of warmth to it that's amazingly comfortable.

These are friends, after all -- or at least not enemies, and certainly allies of one sort or another.

It's a nice environment for the first welcome to what will be a new home, and Gabriel moves through it with ease and natural charm evident in every conversation.

[regan_tam]

Regan works her way back into the entrance hall, to find Gabriel just ushering Ursula and Tatiana Ranjipur into the front parlor. She catches his eye when he turns back from introducing them to Nestor Peake-Brown, and raises her eyebrows in a silent question, indicating the door with a slight tilt of her head.

Do you think they'll be here soon?

[regan_tam]

Everyone who was expected to come has arrived, and the front door is closed now. (The guards at the door have a list of who was invited but never RSVPed, just in case, and also a list of people who are emphatically not invited. Members of the press -- society and political pages both -- are on the latter list.) The back door, however, is wide open to the lamp-lit garden beyond, and small groups drift under the lamps there. More cluster in the rooms on the first floor, or wander the upstairs in curiosity.

Gabriel and Regan Tam -- in this group, they're Gabriel and Regan as often as Senator and Mrs, for all that the chatter is professionally pleasant and the smiles are warm and practiced and constant -- circulate, dividing their time amongst the crowd as evenly as they can.

[walk_ins]

To be sociable, a word which here means "to be the public face of VFD", is sometimes a burden, especially if you only ever seem to wear the one suit in public. The especialness is also heightened by the fact that this suit never looks unrumpled.

Jerome Olafssen, over by the ficus tree, is eyeing his glass of wine as though he does not know what it is for.

[aj_crawley]

A cheshire grin appears by Mr. Olafssen's left shoulder, followed shortly by the rest of one Andronicus Crowley - who looks as though he knows exactly what to do with his glass of wine. He bows - a slight incline of the head.

"Mr. Olafssen, gōngxĭ gōngxĭ. I didn't get a chance to congratulate you on - to thank you for - your work, the past couple of weeks."

[walk_ins]

Jerome jumps.

"Ah." He tries to straighten the jacket of his suit. It makes things worse. "Well. Yes. No thanks are necessary, Mr. Crowley. Truly." His eyes are very large behind his glasses. "We have the resources. If we didn't use them, that would be reprehensible -- a word which here means 'likely to make us look like bad people with no sense of the ethical'."

[ff-ambassador.livejournal.com]

Inara walks up to the door and gives her name to the guards, smiling at them when her name is found on the accepted list. She walks into the house and gazes about appreciatively. Due to varying circumstances, it's been a while since she's been to Lavinia, or to a nice party for that matter, and she's taking advantage of this time. She walks slowly into the first parlor, studying the furnishings and decorations, smiling at people she passes.

She spots Regan and makes her way over to say hello.

"Regan, it's so nice to see you again. Thank you so much for inviting me tonight."

[regan_tam]

Regan turns, with a warm smile for the Companion.

"Inara! It's lovely to see you -- we were so glad you could make it."

"How have you been? Well, I hope?"

[ff-ambassador.livejournal.com]

"Very well, thank you." She smiles back. "And yourself and Gabriel?"

She gestures to the room. "Your house is absolutely lovely. You have excellent taste."

[walk_ins]

Finch has been waiting patiently for an opening; when he sees his host move away from the couple he's speaking with -- Gregory and Sonja Foss; she's with Children's Fund Interplanetary -- Finch makes his move.

"Seems to me," he says, comfortably, "that after tonight you ought to be able to consider your house good and warm."

[gabriel_tam]

Gabriel turns at the sound of the other man's voice and smiles, cordial and warm.

"I quite agree, Finch. And I'm very glad you could join us this evening."

[walk_ins]

"More than glad to be here, Gabriel." Easily. "And that your son could come -- I know that's important to all of you."

It's kind of obvious that he's leading up to a question, Finch knows; he doesn't much care. The sentiments he's expressing are sincere.

[walk_ins]

People say that to arrive late is fashionable, but there is a difference between fashionably late and simply late.

He knows that he is late, and he also knows that he is very likely not as fashionable as he should be for a party, however informal, at a senator's home. But he'd wrestled the suit in with him that morning, and as he climbs out of the cab he remembers to straighten his tie and set his shoulders back.

He leaves his bag in the cloakroom, and almost absently pauses to pick up an overcoat that fell to the floor.

No pause to take a breath, no feeling of nervousness. None of that as he exits the cloakroom, and leaves the near-empty greeting hall for the room directly beyond -- a sort of parlor.

Dunash Barzilai looks around. He's certain it's the right place -- his name was on the list; the guard let him in -- but he's not certain the person he's looking for will be here.

[simon_doctor]

He's here.

Currently being introduced to another of his father's associates, and shaking hands politely, and responding to congratulations with thanks.

And wondering vaguely where Kaylee has gotten off to.

[walk_ins]

He keeps scanning the room.

The problem with formal functions, he once observed to his wife, wryly, after one such function, a fundraiser for a new pediatrics wing, is that the formal suit is the great equalizer. Combine it with a hat and there is no telling anyone apart.

The atmosphere here is less formal, of course, which helps; but Dunash is quite aware that he hasn't seen Simon face-to-face in five years, and one letter from him could not contain everything, even if Simon would have told him.

It's then that he sees him, over in a corner, speaking to a man and a woman; and Dunash, ordinarily quite serious in public, very nearly grins.

There's still a smile on his face when he makes it over; the man and woman have excused themselves, and as they turn away toward the open doors leading to the garden:

"Well? Are you all right?"

You can cover things up in letters, Dunash knows. It is a lot harder to cover things up in front of someone. He's still smiling, but the question is a serious one.

He doesn't expect to get an answer right away.

[gabriel_tam]

Gabriel moves from group to group, chatting briefly with acquaintances and friends.

He's cordial, always, and usually more than -- this is a more relaxed environment, after all. This is their new home.

So far, the evening is going well.

[gonna_live]

Just outside there's a bench close to the doors leading to the garden; Kaylee and the head of an environmental NGO have just wrapped up discussion of the possibility of reclaiming blackrocks; Yevgeny Feldman passes Gabriel as he heads inside for another glass of wine, and gives him a friendly nod and smile.

[gabriel_tam]

Gabriel murmurs a polite greeting as he walks by, and continues out the door towards his daughter-in-law. He'd been hoping to find a moment to speak with her more privately.

Smiling, he approaches.

"Kaylee."

[gonna_live]

The door to the kitchen swings open.

Kaylee slips in, a little wild-eyed.

She hisses, "Everybody's watchin' me. You know how hard it is to sneak out a couple glasses of wine like that?" Said glasses are produced from behind her back.

[aj_crawley]

Crowley emerges from the cupboard, a pair of plates and forks in his hand, and sets them down beside the fresh-baked cake on the kitchen table.

"It's not that hard," he says, opening and closing a few drawers in search of something with which to cut the cake. "You're just fetching a glass for someone else, or holding someone's as they go to the bathroom, or whatever, and then you just sort of... fade out. Aha."

He brandishes the knife triumphantly.

"Big slice or small?"

[gonna_live]

"You got to ask?" Wry. "And anyway, you got practice at this kind of thing. I'm just a...whateveryoucallit. Grasshopper. Apprentice. Person."

[aj_crawley]

"Deputy," he mutters, half to himself, as he grins down at the cake.

Two slices (big, of course), and he hooks a chair with his foot and pulls it out for Kaylee, before handing her hers.