Miguel O'Hara

Miguel might have gone overboard on the empanadas at Luke's today, so there were plenty of leftovers for the club meeting at his house.

Which made the whole thing seem way more domestic than it probably should, but hell - he liked it and he didn't think Fjord would object, and they were the founding members of the club after all!

There were also plenty of decent beer and cider, despite the fact he'd had to go to the mainland to get it because the locals hadn't exactly been able to ring him up.

The drunk and bored club was open for business!


[OOC: Once again open to anyone who knows it's here or wanders by!]

It was Thanksgiving. Miguel had sent a message to his brother, but he couldn't exactly go home for it, and the Exiles were off making Miguel feeling vaguely guilty by beating heads in another dimension, so he left them some food and came back to the island.

Damn it, today was for cooking and eating and being with people, and if he couldn't be with his family or his team, he was going to be with the insane people here. He shot off a text message to anyone he thought might be interested, then rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

Turkey with chorizo stuffing, sweet potato black bean enchiladas, mashed potatoes, Mexican-style roasted corn, green bean casserole (because shut up), and pumpkin empanadas and tres leches cake.

Because damn it, it was Thanksgiving. And it wasn't like leftovers would go to waste in this house.


[If you think you got a text, you did. If you smell it walking by and want to drop by, go for it!]