Ivan X King Alastair: A Bromace (Blind Date, INVITE ONLY)

[Empirical Switzerland]

Lord Bodie of Switzerland has set Ivan of Minskiev and King Alastair of Western Fardelshufflestein up on a blind date...
They have shown signs of....connection for a long while, and Bodie has decided to confront it between them two, so he has set them both up on a blind date in a Café in New Bern by the River Aare, and he cannot wait to see what will happen.
It is late at night, 10:30 PM to be exact, and their seats wait reserved, who will arrive first? Who will confess their feelings first? And who will possibly get it on first?
Only time may tell what may happen...
The Café:

[Minskiev]

Our leaders are both married...but okay.

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

The cryptic invitation that had led Alastair to a cafe in an alternate version of Switzerland was, by his account, odd. The main reason he was here was because it had been addressed to him by a foreign leader, not because he had a pressing diplomatic appointment or a particular desire to confirm the existence of a supposed portal to Hell. Rather, it was because he had been personally invited to a non-governmental event.

His intelligence staff had confirmed that the invitation had indeed been sent by Lord Bodie as opposed to an impostor. Still, he was accompanied by a few bodyguards for safety reasons on the off chance that some violence-inclined weirdo sought to assail him. The aforementioned guards were especially ill at ease given the late local time and the unusual location, a state further exacerbated by Bodie's absence. Alastair had spoken to the man maybe once or twice in his diplomatic forays into the multiverse, but he was being cordial and was thus here.

The words on the invitation, which was in his right hand, struck him as humorous. He was not quite sure why. He might have been tipsy from the wine he had had at supper, but all he'd had was one glass...he was pretty certain.

""If this man does not turn up soon, I might have to march up to his residence and drag him over here, the ill-timed Swissman," he muttered, slurring his words slightly. "He at least owes me an explanation for this funny note. Who sets up a meeting to begin at this hour? Is't a Swiss custom?" He straightened his shoulders and heaved a sigh. "Someone please tell me what is going on...."

OOC: Broooooomaaaaannnccceeee!!!!!

[Dollystana]

Do Queen Dolly X Alastair next. Who says cats can't date humans? Also shes unmarried

[Free Ravensburg]

PLAYER 3 HAS ENTERED THE GAME!

[Santa Selena]

PLAYER 4 HAS JOINED THE MATCH

[Empirical Switzerland]

The cryptic invitation that had led Alastair to a cafe in an alternate version of Switzerland was, by his account, odd. The main reason he was here was because it had been addressed to him by a foreign leader, not because he had a pressing diplomatic appointment or a particular desire to confirm the existence of a supposed portal to Hell. Rather, it was because he had been personally invited to a non-governmental event.

His intelligence staff had confirmed that the invitation had indeed been sent by Lord Bodie as opposed to an impostor. Still, he was accompanied by a few bodyguards for safety reasons on the off chance that some violence-inclined weirdo sought to assail him. The aforementioned guards were especially ill at ease given the late local time and the unusual location, a state further exacerbated by Bodie's absence. Alastair had spoken to the man maybe once or twice in his diplomatic forays into the multiverse, but he was being cordial and was thus here.

The words on the invitation, which was in his right hand, struck him as humorous. He was not quite sure why. He might have been tipsy from the wine he had had at supper, but all he'd had was one glass...he was pretty certain.

""If this man does not turn up soon, I might have to march up to his residence and drag him over here, the ill-timed Swissman," he muttered, slurring his words slightly. "He at least owes me an explanation for this funny note. Who sets up a meeting to begin at this hour? Is't a Swiss custom?" He straightened his shoulders and heaved a sigh. "Someone please tell me what is going on...."

OOC: Broooooomaaaaannnccceeee!!!!!

*A man approaches Alastair in waiter clothes and says,* "please, right this way sir, if you don't mind." *he leads him to a table in the café, on the roof, with one seat across from him*

[New Carthagea]

A New Carthaginian envoy reaches the place, and announces as follows:
"HM The King, after knowing of the blind date, has expressed his happiness that Alastair is trying to explore anything other than alcohol, and has offered 3 bottles of fine New Carthaginian champagne, and an ambulance, just in case Alastair has some, uh, problems. "
He then leaves, leaving behind 3 bottles of fine wine, and an ambulance is parked outside the building.

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

The cryptic invitation that had led Alastair to a cafe in an alternate version of Switzerland was, by his account, odd. The main reason he was here was because it had been addressed to him by a foreign leader, not because he had a pressing diplomatic appointment or a particular desire to confirm the existence of a supposed portal to Hell. Rather, it was because he had been personally invited to a non-governmental event.

His intelligence staff had confirmed that the invitation had indeed been sent by Lord Bodie as opposed to an impostor. Still, he was accompanied by a few bodyguards for safety reasons on the off chance that some violence-inclined weirdo sought to assail him. The aforementioned guards were especially ill at ease given the late local time and the unusual location, a state further exacerbated by Bodie's absence. Alastair had spoken to the man maybe once or twice in his diplomatic forays into the multiverse, but he was being cordial and was thus here.

The words on the invitation, which was in his right hand, struck him as humorous. He was not quite sure why. He might have been tipsy from the wine he had had at supper, but all he'd had was one glass...he was pretty certain.

""If this man does not turn up soon, I might have to march up to his residence and drag him over here, the ill-timed Swissman," he muttered, slurring his words slightly. "He at least owes me an explanation for this funny note. Who sets up a meeting to begin at this hour? Is't a Swiss custom?" He straightened his shoulders and heaved a sigh. "Someone please tell me what is going on...."

OOC: Broooooomaaaaannnccceeee!!!!!

*A man approaches Alastair in waiter clothes and says,* "please, right this way sir, if you don't mind." *he leads him to a table in the café, on the roof, with one seat across from him*

Bemused, Alastair followed the Swiss man. He bit his tongue to hold back comments about chocolate and watches and neutrality. Such comments would be rude. The thoughts made him smirk nonetheless as he made his way to his destination, which, as it turned out, was a two-seater table that was presently unoccupied. It carried about it a romantic air that made Alastair feel slightly uncomfortable, for his wife was back home in New Hamletberg and he was in no way an adulterous person. Swiss custom, he reminded himself. Swiss custom.

He heard the entrails of an announcement drift upward from somewhere on the streets. Most of the message was unclear, but he caught "the King," "Alastair," "alcohol," and "New Carthaginian champagne."

Christophe is sending me champagne? Excellent. Generous, I meant generous.

Alastair sat down in the nearer of the two chairs, somewhat mindful of the fact that his pants were too tight. Well, nobody would notice that he'd gained some kilos over the past few months, but they would notice if he split his pants, and he really was not in the mood to do that again. This was a casual evening betwixt him and Lord Brodie...he thought? The invite had mentioned nothing about New Carthaginian champagne.

[Empirical Switzerland]

*A man approaches Alastair in waiter clothes and says,* "please, right this way sir, if you don't mind." *he leads him to a table in the café, on the roof, with one seat across from him*

Bemused, Alastair followed the Swiss man. He bit his tongue to hold back comments about chocolate and watches and neutrality. Such comments would be rude. The thoughts made him smirk nonetheless as he made his way to his destination, which, as it turned out, was a two-seater table that was presently unoccupied. It carried about it a romantic air that made Alastair feel slightly uncomfortable, for his wife was back home in New Hamletberg and he was in no way an adulterous person. Swiss custom, he reminded himself. Swiss custom.

He heard the entrails of an announcement drift upward from somewhere on the streets. Most of the message was unclear, but he caught "the King," "Alastair," "alcohol," and "New Carthaginian champagne."

Christophe is sending me champagne? Excellent. Generous, I meant generous.

Alastair sat down in the nearer of the two chairs, somewhat mindful of the fact that his pants were too tight. Well, nobody would notice that he'd gained some kilos over the past few months, but they would notice if he split his pants, and he really was not in the mood to do that again. This was a casual evening betwixt him and Lord Brodie...he thought? The invite had mentioned nothing about New Carthaginian champagne.

*A letter lay under his tablecloth that he sees poking out, and the waiter has left him after saying he will be back in a moment.*

[Empirical Switzerland]

*The letter peeks out from under the tablecloth, begging him to pick it up, open it, and read it's contents..*

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

Something that jutted out from under the tablecloth caught Alastair's eye: the corner of an envelope. He removed the envelope from its hiding place and opened it clumsily. Squinting at the contents of the envelope, he struggled to make sense of what he was reading, for very few things were making sense to him at the moment.

[Empirical Switzerland]

Something that jutted out from under the tablecloth caught Alastair's eye: the corner of an envelope. He removed the envelope from its hiding place and opened it clumsily. Squinting at the contents of the envelope, he struggled to make sense of what he was reading, for very few things were making sense to him at the moment.

The letter reads:

"
Dear King Alastair of Western Fardelshufflestein,

Welcome to Imperial Switzerland! We are pleased to have a Fardelshufflesteiner within our borders, and I, myself, am glad that you decided to come! Now, onto the business.
You must be VERY confused right now, and I don't blame you one bit. I just led you here, and you have no idea what's happening. Now, let me assure you, my intentions are in NO WAY malicious, so speculation as to if I am stealing your throne or such, may be tossed out the window. However, I have set you up on a little blind date. I am aware that you are married, but this is but a joke. So please enjoy and sit back! You will be seeing your date any moment now... Have fun, and don't get too spicy. I have been looking forward for you to finally get to go out on a date with this person, you two have had some interesting chemistry to say the least. So enjoy!

Sincerely, Lord Bodie of Switzerland."

[Empirical Switzerland]

Something that jutted out from under the tablecloth caught Alastair's eye: the corner of an envelope. He removed the envelope from its hiding place and opened it clumsily. Squinting at the contents of the envelope, he struggled to make sense of what he was reading, for very few things were making sense to him at the moment.

The letter reads:

"
Dear King Alastair of Western Fardelshufflestein,

Welcome to Imperial Switzerland! We are pleased to have a Fardelshufflesteiner within our borders, and I, myself, am glad that you decided to come! Now, onto the business.
You must be VERY confused right now, and I don't blame you one bit. I just led you here, and you have no idea what's happening. Now, let me assure you, my intentions are in NO WAY malicious, so speculation as to if I am stealing your throne or such, may be tossed out the window. However, I have set you up on a little blind date. I am aware that you are married, but this is but a joke. So please enjoy and sit back! You will be seeing your date any moment now... Have fun, and don't get too spicy. I have been looking forward for you to finally get to go out on a date with this person, you two have had some interesting chemistry to say the least. So enjoy!

Sincerely, Lord Bodie of Switzerland."

*It has the Imperial Swiss Coat of Arms on the bottom of it, with Lord Bodie's signature.*

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

Alastair read the note. And re-read it. And re-read it several more times to make sure it was not the wine that was doing the reading for him. He gave the note to his guards to they could read it, and all came to the same conclusion: this was, indeed, intended to be a blind date.

"What ze actual hell!?" je hissed, waving his arms around wildly. "I travel all the way to Switzerland for a--for a joke? I thought I was the immature leader here, but apparently not!" Alastair scanned the rooftop cafe to confirm that no foreigners were waiting in anticipation of an ambush, and, once he was satisfied, stood up so he could find the nearest waiter.

[Empirical Switzerland]

*surprisingly nobody is around up top now...but it seems that won't be the case for long...*

[Minskiev]

“Mr. President! You have a...red letter, from Switzerland.” hollers Svetlana, Ivan’s secretary. “God damn it. Tell Bodie that I do NOT want to date him, for the last time.” He wipes his hands across his forehead, soothing his emerging headache. “It’s actually for you to meet up with him in New Bern, for...definitely non-romantic reasons.” Ivan looks up, reminiscing about vacation. Finally. Unlike TV says, it was not an easy job for Ivan. The chancellor election, the GRAIL war, everything! “Fine. I’ll pack my stuff. Cancel any appointments in the next week.” His secretary beams. “Aww, it has a heart sticker to keep it closed!” “Oh, for FU-“

Swiss Alps, the Swiss Empire

Veeeeeerrrrrrrrrwwwwwwwwwooooooooohhhhhhhmmmmmmmm. The official Minskiev One Sukhoi-54 zips across the Swiss Alps. Mountains seem to be reaching up to poke a giant hole in the plane. Fortunately, clouds are trying to help out Ivan, sacrificing themselves. Kovalenko, the water bender. It’s official.

New Bern is coming up ahead. The plane nose tips down ever-so-slightly. Beep boop. Beep boop. “Lord Bodie on speaker. Hello?”

-

“DO A BARREL ROLL!!”

Boop beep. The pilot starts cackling as he twists the steering all the way to the left.

“No, no, no no no, NO!” Ivan yells, to no avail. The plane flips.

“Son of a BI-“

New Bern, the Swiss Empire

Landing wheels popped out. Plane headed straight down runway. Plane curving slightly less down than before. 3. 2. 1. SKRRTT BUH BUH BUH BUH BUH SKRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt.

“Where to, Svet?” Ivan asks, fresh out of a secretly-Vodkvass-infused candied bacon tin.

“The River Aare!” “Aare?” “Aare! Aare you ready?” “No, this’ll be a Bbore.” “Stop it, I don’t Ccare.” “Off we go!”

*psst Ivan you’re supposed to end on a slur that we conveniently censor*

“Oh. NI-“

[this is a joke, he says nickel, we swear]

Undisclosed Café, River Aare

Ivan spots Alastair in either a straitjacket, a wheelchair, or one of those medical beds they use in ambulances. You know the ones.

Dammit John, stop with the 4th wall breaks!

Sheesh. Sorry. Carry on.

[my name’s not actually John, that was just a placeholder]

WHAT DID I S-

“Alastair?! What are you doing here? What happened to you?!”

“T-the dementors. Th-they came after m-me. I-I’m sorry.” He proceeds to fake put a gun to his head.

Lord Bodie is standing, with a peculiarly white, large, and toothy smile. Like seriously, there’s too many teeth. It’s nuts.

“Hello, Ivan. We’ve been expecting you. Come, sit. Some wine, or perhaps champagne?”

“Don’t worry, I brought my own whisky. I will, however, take all the chocolate and cheese you have.”

[Empirical Switzerland]

“Mr. President! You have a...red letter, from Switzerland.” hollers Svetlana, Ivan’s secretary. “God damn it. Tell Bodie that I do NOT want to date him, for the last time.” He wipes his hands across his forehead, soothing his emerging headache. “It’s actually for you to meet up with him in New Bern, for...definitely non-romantic reasons.” Ivan looks up, reminiscing about vacation. Finally. Unlike TV says, it was not an easy job for Ivan. The chancellor election, the GRAIL war, everything! “Fine. I’ll pack my stuff. Cancel any appointments in the next week.” His secretary beams. “Aww, it has a heart sticker to keep it closed!” “Oh, for FU-“

Swiss Alps, the Swiss Empire

Veeeeeerrrrrrrrrwwwwwwwwwooooooooohhhhhhhmmmmmmmm. The official Minskiev One Sukhoi-54 zips across the Swiss Alps. Mountains seem to be reaching up to poke a giant hole in the plane. Fortunately, clouds are trying to help out Ivan, sacrificing themselves. Kovalenko, the water bender. It’s official.

New Bern is coming up ahead. The plane nose tips down ever-so-slightly. Beep boop. Beep boop. “Lord Bodie on speaker. Hello?”

-

“DO A BARREL ROLL!!”

Boop beep. The pilot starts cackling as he twists the steering all the way to the left.

“No, no, no no no, NO!” Ivan yells, to no avail. The plane flips.

“Son of a BI-“

New Bern, the Swiss Empire

Landing wheels popped out. Plane headed straight down runway. Plane curving slightly less down than before. 3. 2. 1. SKRRTT BUH BUH BUH BUH BUH SKRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt.

“Where to, Svet?” Ivan asks, fresh out of a secretly-Vodkvass-infused candied bacon tin.

“The River Aare!” “Aare?” “Aare! Aare you ready?” “No, this’ll be a Bbore.” “Stop it, I don’t Ccare.” “Off we go!”

*psst Ivan you’re supposed to end on a slur that we conveniently censor*

“Oh. NI-“

[this is a joke, he says nickel, we swear]

Undisclosed Café, River Aare

Ivan spots Alastair in either a straitjacket, a wheelchair, or one of those medical beds they use in ambulances. You know the ones.

Dammit John, stop with the 4th wall breaks!

Sheesh. Sorry. Carry on.

[my name’s not actually John, that was just a placeholder]

WHAT DID I S-

“Alastair?! What are you doing here? What happened to you?!”

“T-the dementors. Th-they came after m-me. I-I’m sorry.” He proceeds to fake put a gun to his head.

Lord Bodie is standing, with a peculiarly white, large, and toothy smile. Like seriously, there’s too many teeth. It’s nuts.

“Hello, Ivan. We’ve been expecting you. Come, sit. Some wine, or perhaps champagne?”

“Don’t worry, I brought my own whisky. I will, however, take all the chocolate and cheese you have.”

OOC: this is all great, however, Lord Bodie is not there, so just pretend you never wrote that he is there lol. What happens is as you go inside the café place, you see Alastair at your "table".....

[Empirical Switzerland]

*As Ivan is approaching the Café he feels as if something...something....maybe...love?...is in the air....*

[Minskiev]

“So Alastair, Alleyway, Allstar, Big A, A-money, how did you get here?”

[Empirical Switzerland]

*Alastair sees Ivan*

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

Alastair blinked and rubbed his eyes. Standing before him was Ivan, which...it made no sense. And Ivan was calling him a string of nicknames that he had never been called before.

"I received an invita--no. No. Do not tell me this is happening." He shook his head. "Oh, Gott, Bodie, whhyyyyyyyyyy...."

[Empirical Switzerland]

Alastair blinked and rubbed his eyes. Standing before him was Ivan, which...it made no sense. And Ivan was calling him a string of nicknames that he had never been called before.

"I received an invita--no. No. Do not tell me this is happening." He shook his head. "Oh, Gott, Bodie, whhyyyyyyyyyy...."

*meanwhile Bodie is in the Federal Palace of New Bern laughing maniacally*

[Minskiev]

Alastair blinked and rubbed his eyes. Standing before him was Ivan, which...it made no sense. And Ivan was calling him a string of nicknames that he had never been called before.

"I received an invita--no. No. Do not tell me this is happening." He shook his head. "Oh, Gott, Bodie, whhyyyyyyyyyy...."

“You too? Damn it. I bet he’s cackling in his shower, and kissing his reflection. Well, how’s Western Fardelshufflestein been?

[Empirical Switzerland]

*Meanwhile Lord Bodie eats a sandwich in his office, still giggling at the thought of Alastair's face, after hearing Ivan had arrived...*