Who: Anyone Logan has invited to the Thanksgiving Party. Pretty much open to the entire Syncratic student body. EXCEPT FOR THAT FUCKTARD BRONSON! (Logan made me say that.) Where/When: Logan's house, Saturday night. Why: Pot pumpkin pie. What other reason do you need? Warnings: Drug use, superhero smut, language, turkey.
The head caterer had immediately gotten on Logan's bad side. Logan could see his point, which just made it more aggravating; being ordered about by a 17 yr old wasn't very dignified at all. But Logan had made it abundantly clear to Trina she was not invited, had given her the black Amex and sent her on her way, leaving the place adult-free. Now the caterer was giving Logan a snooty face as he set up the chafing dishes under the entrees. "So all this food," and he talked like he was speaking about children, "Is just for a bunch of... teenagers?"
Logan sighed, rubbed his face. "Teenagers with very good taste, I promise." Sighed at the look the caterer was giving him. "Look, you're getting paid, just set shit up and get out, okay? We'll appreciate every fucking crumb." The caterer turned away with a sniff, and Logan gave him the middle finger.
When the caterer finally left, Logan set out his own contribution to the dessert table, smiled gently down at the twin pumpkin pies he'd labored so hard over. He hadn't been able to resist when he'd found the recipe online, and being less than retarded, had been able to make them. He snuck a creampuff, sat on the stairs while he waited for his guests to arrive.