fandomhigh | Diplomacy, Tuesday, September 9, 2025 [2nd period]

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diplomacy

Diplomacy, Tuesday, September 9, 2025 [2nd period]

Today's classroom was set up like a cocktail party with a bartender on each side of the large room filled with generic wall art and a table full of snacks in the middle. The drinks were non-alcoholic but the food was real because your teachers weren't monsters. There were, however, some landmines on the table for a party where you are standing and talking: brownies that could get stuck in your teeth, broccoli that could get stuck in your teeth, chicken wings that rendered your fingers sticky, something with a sauce begging to drip on your shirt, and so on.

"Today we test what you remember from your interactions last week," Anakin said, "or what you can make up in a bland yet plausible way about your colleagues."

"Remember, you're all here at this function because you're representing a larger organisation," Ahsoka added. "What you say and do also reflects on them." So make sure any truly outrageous lies couldn't be traced back to you, basically.

"Do not get fake drunk and make a scene," Anakin said, nodding, "unless you are planning to quit, get fired, or leave the planet never to be seen again."

"Or you're participating in some kind of double bluff where you need to appear disgraced in order to accomplish a larger goal." Which was a very specific scenario that you sounded far too familiar with, Ahsoka.

Anakin nodded. "But that's a more advanced class." Because they'd definitely done that.

More than once, even.

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Mmm, snacks!

Lydia Bennet

Billie Logan

But with snacks! Chat each other up and talk about what you learned about your fellow students last week! OR make it up and hope it doesn't get around to them. You must also be balancing a plate of food OR a drink while you try to shake hands.

Lydia was going to own this exercise. This was one of the few forms of "job" training she had actually received.

Granted, said training had been from Mrs. Bennet, so her grasp on what was appropriate conversation at such events was shaky at best, but daintily eating little snacks while gossiping? She had it in the bag.

Flint nodded his head at her. "Miss Bennet."

"Captain Flint," Lydia greeted him with a curtsey that did not so much as wobble her teacup on its saucer. "How do you do, sir?"

"I'm much better now that my thumbs have returned," Flint replied. "There is glitter everywhere in my shop."

"I find that it adds rather a festive air," Lydia said. "To everything. Everywhere."

"Forever," Flint added wryly.

"I'm sure it will be gone eventually," Lydia said, like someone not terribly familiar with the properties of glitter would say.

"Maybe it's migratory," Flint said like someone who had just no idea.

"We may hope," Lydia agreed.

It was not. They would be finding glitter a year from now. "How do you find our new acquaintances?" she asked, gesturing around the room.

"I find Miss Logan to be quite a breath of fresh air," Flint admitted.

"Apparently she would prefer 'Mx.' Logan," Lydia reported. "It's a new thing. Modern, you know."

Edited 2025-09-09 23:31 (UTC)

There was zero chance Flint was pronouncing it correctly when he repeated, "Mx."

"I believe that's correct." Probably not.

Look, they were trying.

"It's hardly stranger than viscount or marquis," Flint declared.

"Miss Bennett!" Billie greeted enthusiastically. "Or do you include the given name in the first greeting? Also, have you heard about calling people 'Ms.'? You know, in case you want to make it a little vague about whether or not you're married yet."

"Miss Logan," Lydia greeted her, with accompanying curtsey. "How do you do? And no, you wouldn't--although, well, it's a bit more complicated than that, you know, all to with older and younger sisters and who's married and who's not, but none of my sisters are here and all of them are married, so I am the Miss Bennet of Longbourn now." Although only a handful of people it mattered to knew that and didn't think her Mrs. Wickham. "And I do know about Ms., but I don't believe many of the women around the island prefer it. I have asked in a few cases, you know. For the radio, although I'm not sure anyone would be able to tell the difference in the broadcast."

"Some people can," Billie said. "Some of us listen most closely to things." Usually music, but also radio broadcasts. "Actually, if I could be 'Ms. Logan', that'd be appreciated. Or 'Mx.'!" She grinned. "Who's to say I want people to immediately know my gender, either? 'Mx. Logan.' Excellent."

Have a little bit of strangely audible air-guitar, Lydia.

(And huh. Funny how she never decided to ask for that before. Probably because almost no one in San Dimas called her "Miss" or "Ms" anything. She was Billie, or B. Or 'Ted's kid'. Or sometimes "WOULD YOU SHUT THAT RACKET OFF ALREADY????"

(It could mean nothing.)

"Mx. Logan," Lydia repeated, trying to make sure she pronounced the new form of address correctly. "I shall try to remember that."

"Most appreciated!" Billie said. "And no worries if you forget sometimes. Those types of adjustments can be very difficult."

"You are very kind," Lydia told her. "How have you been settling in to our fair isle? I hope it is treating you well." Not too much glitter in your belongings, in other words.

"It's been so fun," Billie said, eyes wide. "But I didn't get to be a pony when everyone else did. That was most disappointing."

"Oh, I think that you might not have found it so if you had been one," Lydia told her. "The lack of thumbs was...rather difficult." She considered. "Then again, some of the ponies could fly." She supposed it was rather a trade off, but then she hadn't had wings. Rather rude of whatever power decided such things.

"But the experience of it!" Billie said. "I have traveled through time, I have died, I have helped produce the music that saved reality, but have I ever been a horse? No." Her frown might be called exaggerated on someone with less . . . enthusiasm. "Bogus."

Just imagine getting to tell the dads she was a real Wyld Stallyn for a day! Alas.

"Being a cat was much better--you died?" Lydia had only mostly died, you see, and that had been horrid enough.

"Totally!" Billie said. (Why did you sound vaguely stoked about that, Billie?) "Went to Hell and everything. Fortunately, Death is basically my godfather."

She was dead and in Hell for maybe fifteen minutes, total.

Mingling without alcohol was quite an ask for Flint, but he was doing his best by ~~hiding by~~ hiding by the buffet table. If his mouth was full, he couldn't talk, correct?

Oh ye of little faith in your fellow students' willingness to make small talk over finger foods.

"Flint!" Billie beamed at him. "My favorite historical anarchist!" A beat. "I mean, okay, my favorite historical anarchist is definitely Emma Goldman. But you're my favorite I've met in person so far."

They had fully not actually talked about anarchy last time. But he had clearly been a fan of overthrowing governments (or at least the English), so Billie felt safe extrapolating.

"I'm not familiar with the work of Miss Goldman," Flint admitted. "Why is she your favorite?"

"Oh, she is definitely after your time," Billie said, nodding knowingly. "Early 20th century. I like her because, I mean, she's a woman, or at least presented as one socially. And her writing and speeches were most influential!"

Flint was going to scoot right past "presented as one socially." He'd been on ships most of his life and, you know, sometimes people had secrets. "What was a part that most resonated with you?"

"You sound like a teacher of social studies," Billie teased him, even going so far as to reach out to give him a playful slap on the arm. "I definitely liked her critical analyses of the role of women in early 20th century society. Even though she was not a fan of first-wave feminism or the suffrage movement as it existed in the United States."

She smiled, pleased with her answer. "Do you have a favorite anarchic philosopher? I suppose the theory was fairly new in western culture in the early 18th century."

"I have thoroughly enjoyed my time reading Sun Tzu and the Art of War," Flint replied. "Does that count?"

“I haven’t read that yet,” Billie admitted. “Didn’t express anarchist ideas? I always had the sense that he was most preoccupied with battle strategy.”

"Well, he never says who you should be battling," Flint said. "I'm drawing my own conclusions."

“Death of the martial artist,” Billie said, far too pleased with herself.

Billie, unsurprisingly, went right for the snacks.

Billie, perhaps surprisingly, was somehow not at all bothered by the potential of that sauce to drip.

Look. Musicians had different standards than most people, okay?

Who won't get into the "make a scene to distract from your partner getting valuable information" ploy just yet.

Hilariously, this is up late because I had to go to a diplomatic coffee, where I failed this task by picking a mini cream puff with chocolate, leaned it against my coffee cup, and smeared chocolate everywhere. SIGH.

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Diplomacy, Tuesday, September 9, 2025 [2nd period]

Sign in 9/9

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More mingling!

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Talk to Anakin & Ahsoka

OOC