"You've reached Eliot. If this is Parker: no, cereal doesn't count as dinner. If it's Hardison: no, I haven't read your email, yet. Nate and Sophie: if you schedule the damned wedding already, I'll attend.
Anyone else, leave a message, and I'll get back to you."
Trudy had said Eliot and his family were going to be her guests, so he wasn't allowed to cook dinner. He'd said she shouldn't have to cook it either, and they'd both refused to make everyone eat leftover funeral casserole.
So Eliot pulled the rental car — rental van, because four adults was a lot to fit into a sedan and renting a van was almost tradition — into the lot of a little mom&pop Italian restaurant.
"There's Tru's car," he said as he set the parking break and turned the car off. He looked back towards Kathy and Parker. "Y'all ready for this?"
[ooc: FAMILY DINNER TIME! For those who know, and epic slow play.]
Eliot had come up to start working on his garden for the season, but got sidetracked. First by what sure as hell felt like an impact tremor (it was a very distinctive variety of earthquake). And then by the fact that his usually largely unobstructed view of land along the horizon line in the direction of Baltimore was now a largely unobstructed view of absolutely nothing along the horizon line.
"That don't bode well," he grumbled. "That don't bode well at all."
[can be open, sure!]