Periwinkle Group: Hugh, Holly, Marta, Zoe WHO: Hugh Christian, Holly Nicodemo-Webster, Zoe Hanson, & Marta Flores WHEN: Evening, at some point after this. WHERE: Hugh's Lakeside Home. WHAT: Adventures in "periwinkle/prissy baby blue". WARNINGS: None to start, will update if necessary.
Entertaining for any reason was something Hugh would jump at the chance to do, and so offering to host the group to put the clock together had been an obvious move for him. Since the evening was warm, but not uncomfortably so, he'd decided to set up a space on the back patio, where there was plenty of space for everyone, and a view of the lake, and he supposed if something ridiculous happened, being outside might be preferable to being in. He had dressed casually, at least for him, with crisply ironed white shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, and simple brown accents, with rolled chinos, and he'd decided to create a small drink bar for the group in preparation.
So lavender lemonade and several bottles of chilled artisan beers were set out, along with some cheese pizza and a plate of freshly made shortbread. Prepping food, and preparing a space for entertaining was easier than thinking about the possibility of memories, and whether or not others would see them. It seemed that no one knew, exactly, and while Dietre had been charmingly optimistic about the possibility of it being a good memory, Hugh didn't know if he could so easily expect that.
Granted he had many good memories to choose from, and he knew that. In truth his life prior to the trial had been charmed in many ways. Yes, he had Daddy issues, although sometimes he wondered who didn't, and yes he'd frequently felt shamed and angered by what felt like total indifference from his father, but at the same time it felt disingenuous to pretend he'd had a terrible childhood. His mother had cared and fought tirelessly for him to pursue a life that he wanted, and ultimately that had landed him here. And however he'd gotten here -- here wasn't so bad.
So reliving his own memories wasn't so daunting as the idea that others might also see them, and it seemed that nobody yet had an answer for this question. It would be left to discover one way or another.
He'd finished arranging things, and gone back in, scrolling through his phone as he waited for the first guests to arrive, and had been relieved when they did, because the project of the clock was a distraction from the inevitability of the memory, and when they'd all gathered on the back porch together, it was time to decide absolutely whether or not they would put the pieces together, and to discover what happened if they did.