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Birthday Party for Laura/X-23
It's a pretty low-key party, all things considered, and not significantly different than the one Parker or Meg would have thrown in a dorm room for a friend at home, not-exactly-traditional menu not withstanding.
There's music, low enough to talk over (and maybe with a little more folk in the mix than one expects to find a party). Balloons and streamers in purple and blue and red. A place to leave presents. People to meet or catch up with.
And, most importantly, a chance to wish X-23 (or Laura) a very happy birthday.
There's music, low enough to talk over (and maybe with a little more folk in the mix than one expects to find a party). Balloons and streamers in purple and blue and red. A place to leave presents. People to meet or catch up with.
And, most importantly, a chance to wish X-23 (or Laura) a very happy birthday.
Re: Mingle with the other guests
Okay, she's not trying that hard. But she hasn't been shooting them down, either. And at some point, when she's pulling her gaze away from them, it falls to Sam, instead.
She doesn't glare at him. (He hasn't done anything to bother her in the last five minutes, after all.)
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It's mild enough, anyway, and his smile's disarmingly friendly.
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"Hi," she echoes.
"You know X."
It's not a question, nor surprised or suspicious. But she can't think of anything else to say, and right now, it ranks among the few things she actually knows about him.
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A beat.
"She's pretty nice."
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She's not disagreeing, but she doesn't know what Sam means by that. Elle doesn't usually qualify how she feels about people by whether they're 'nice.'
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"You don't think so?"
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"I didn't think about it."
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A beat.
"Okay, let me try it this way -- Laura's a friend of yours?"
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That's an answer, right?
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"So, she's a friend. Generally people think their friends are nice, in my experience."
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And it's not exactly hidden in her voice when she only answers, "... okay."
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"What? Being around X?"
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"I get what she's saying."
Elle says this rather pointedly, as though Sam always insisted on speaking in Russian around her.
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Nonchalantly.
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It doesn't look like she's going to say anything else, until she adds, this time far less pointedly -
"And I believe her."
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"I do, too."
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But she still gets to what's possibly the point -
"She doesn't have to be nice."
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"No. She doesn't; you're right. It's not what I meant to imply."
A beat.
"What I meant was that I like her. For who she is."
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It still doesn't sound like Elle really knows what to think of this.
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"If you don't mind me asking... what were you expecting me to say?"
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Slightly defensively, "I don't know."
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"Just wondering."
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Beat.
"You asked me."
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