Happy birthday to Wanda

[x-scarletwitch.livejournal.com]

A slice of the birthday night as people come out to wish Wanda happy birthday.



Wanda blew a kiss to the bar staff as a beer was handed over; this one was on the house, though she knew that by some strange wind of destiny, many others would magically fall off the tab that night. There was a reason the majority of Snow Valley haunted Finnegans and it wasn't just for the beer.

The place was already swelling with well-wishers and she grinned into her drink, thoroughly enjoying all the attention.

"And what number are we at now?" Manuel asked with an air of mild amusement tugging at the corners of his emotions. Rolling the drink in his hands, the scotch swirled around, leaving a light film over the glass and he raised it to hers.

"Don't you know it's impolite to ask a lady's age?" Amanda appeared at Wanda's elbow, squirming through the crowd and grinning at the pair of them, a beer firmly clutched in one hand. "Old enough to have fun and young enough to not worry about knowing any better, eh, Boss Lady?"

Wanda snorted indelicately at that and waved a hand in the air. "I think I can agree with that comment," she responded cheerfully, voice raised slightly because of the noise in the bar. Though she didn't have to raise it by much, she could get rather booming when she wanted to. "May god strike me dead the day that becomes untrue in my universe."

"I think that's sexist," Mark offered. He reclined against the bar, his third (or fourth?) vodka tonic already half-empty. "Just because you're a woman you get some special age privilege? I want privileges, too."

"Are you going to wear those falsies in the office again if we give you privileges?" Marie-Ange raised her eyebrows at Mark, and poked at his shoulder. "We never got to shop for bras for you. Wanda, you have to help us shop for bras for Mark if we let him have special age privileges!" She giggled a little and poked Mark again.

"Is it possible to go a week wit'out someone suggesting dat Mark runs around wit' some kind of fake body part strapped to him?" Remy said with a certain amount of exasperation. Everyone was being cheerful, and LeBeau distrusted cheerfulness. "I think dat everyone is spending too much time in de office, and not enough fearing for you lives in some godforesaken hellhole digging up information of dubious worth."

Wanda slowly raised a hand. "But I think we just did that..." she put in, shoving over another drink towards Remy. "But if it makes you feel any better, I think Emma might be sending me somewhere again. Nothing quite like having to chase down a Russian mage with a small, grabby man as your only backup in the field. Though the end result was quite nice..."

"I'm with Remy, I'd prefer to scrub the mental image of Mark in falsies out of my head, not suggest he reprise it at every opportunity," Doug noted, sipping a beer and leaning back, mostly content to be quiet and enjoy the cameraderie of his coworkers and other friends.

"I am not sure I ever knew what that was all about", Kurt said from behind him, dryly amused. "And perhaps I am happier that way."

The chuckle from Wanda was almost drowned out by the crowds surrounding them. "It's what makes our lives so much more interesting," she said. Her tone went dry. "Considering our oh so boring lives."

"That's nothing, all we need now is for some of the more easily injured of us to arrive, and people can start discussing scars." Jubilee quipped, appearing from the crowd with a somewhat violently coloured drink in her hand. "They said it's made from mostly strawberries, I'm not sure I believe them."

Amanda wrinkled her nose, both at the mention of scars and at the sight of Jubilee's drink. "I swear, Lee, you drink like a fifteen year old girl," she teased. "As long as it's sweet and glows in the dark, you'll drink it." As if to punctuate her words, she took a rather large gulp of her beer - mention of scars brought up memories of Candra and she wasn't going to be spoiling the night with those thoughts.

"I have seen coloured drinks that fifteen-year-old girls could not handle", Kurt objected, laughing. "...of course, they were usually what Uncle Luca brewed in his caravan."

As soon as Wanda had finished her drink, another one was magically placed in her hand. It was almost better than having elves. It was a different beer than the one she'd had, richer and darker and she gleefully ignored everyone while she took a deep sip. Sighing happily, she leaned back and grinned at those around her. "You all have excellent taste - except for Jubilee but she is given a free pass tonight - which, obviously, is evidenced by the fact that you're here with me tonight. Nazdrave, my friends."

"Cheers," Amanda replied with a grin. "And down with neon-coloured drinks, especially Uncle Luca's, which will make you blind if you're not careful."

"Dose aren't proper brightly coloured drinks. Dey just alcohol dat's been embarassed. In Nawlins, we make proper ones. Ones dat have violent green and purple swirls, and happen to hold enough alcohol to kill a small horse in one sip. Not to mention de ones dat Tante brews wit' de dark rum dat is illegal to export as anyt'ing other den sterilizing purposes." Remy said, leaning back in his chair. "You survived 'nother year, femme. Think dat means we going too easy on you."

At that, she raised her eyebrows. "If this year was 'too easy' on me," Wanda groaned, dramatically covering her eyes with a hand, "I shudder to think about this year. So. I won't. Bring on the hard year as long as there's a never ending supply of drink and young, supple men in my future."