June 04, 2004
.06.04.04. - no cups! [marissa's party]

[downtown]

(james)
loads of people, wall of sound, enough beer to make a frat proud and thick smokey cloud of (sniffsniff... aaahhhh)
weeeeeeeeeeed

without a doubt, it seems the raggedyman has found the right place
folded up flyer that passed through several hands before finding his seems to buy passage in the lobby
though it might have been the swollen moon high above that bought privacy from escort
doorman more than willing to maintain his post and let the tall, dreadlocked man make his own way to the elevator - thank. you. very much. - doing little to hide the scowl at James' appearence not exactly corresponding with the height of trend or club-fashion or even the hopeful expectations of this very refurbished buiding

if he had noticed any of the looks that assured his ascent in the elevator before turning back to the street...
it doesn't particularly show - not when any observant and even vaguely sober being witnesses his peeeeeeel from the back wall of the elevator and into the welcoming atmosphere of the highly publicized party ahead
slippery as that grin is on the urban primitive's face
it would probably take neon signs to make him notice such trivialities
not to mention an act of Gaia herself to make anything like that stick in his now ridiculously short termed memory

David's sorority pink "Kiss Me" boxered greeting is balanced with an easy wave
animal senses perking up and (sniffsniff...sniiiiiff) taking the lanky man on a direct interception course with the most inviting thing he can, at this moment, comprehend
that right hand keg's wealth of cotton-mouth curing beeeer

(vast)
Wry amusement, "I've more call to be here than you, wouldn't you say?" He turns her -- behind her now, his hands on her sleek belly. The room and all its people are a wash of colorful anonymity: the drunk, the stoned, the hardcore partiers. Wine must be getting to her head. And him and his chilly blue-gray gaze; his warm hands.

"I'd like to take you out to dinner," he murmurs. She should, at least, be worldly enough to know that boys like him had one thing on their minds in the end.

[ you have been warned. ]

"I'll only ask once."

(sereleina)
She stumbles across the beach volleyball court/fight club setting, ending up on the dias with Marissa. Overbright blue eyes flicker at the surroundings, and she grins brightly, "Wow..this place is great!" Did her words just slur a bit? The knowledge gives her pause for a moment, but then she shrugs it off, grabbing a nearby seat.

(william avian)
*He watches Lacey with a bit of a wry grin. You know the one. The one you give people when you're sortof humoring them so they don't get mad or anything.
He shakes his head and steadies her. Letting her lean agins him. The alturnitive was letting her drop to the floor.* I don't leave my friends. Sorry Lacey. You can hang here with me if you like. But I'm kinda stupid that way. Don't leave my people.
*He smoothes some hair from her face and nods.*

(marissa)
Dougie and the boys are still trying to figure out how to take the keg upstairs. Not a single one of them can lift it, and they have not, apparently, gotten together to realize that - perhaps - two of them can try lifting it, or three or four. A few of the guys are still sober enough to shy away from Jukebox, as he closes on the keg, but Dougie is so far gone that not even an act of god could pierce the veil of jolly good feeling and general camaradarie with the world he has built up.

He shakes his "face" at James, makes the mouth talk, and holds up then spigot, ready to spray beer straight into the dredlocked whiteboy's mouth. "s'fer the environemtalization of it. No CUPS!" When Dougie says no CUPS, the other blotto'd boys take up the words like a chant, make it into something dirty.

"NO CUPS!" The words are starting to spread across the room.

--

"Hell yeah - " Marissa and her waspish grin, beams right back at Sera as the other girl declares her approval. "I looked around, made sure I had - " Of course she did. Probably, the party facilities were her single most important criteria for choosing a school, maybe that's why she never went to Caltech. Sera looks for a seat, but Marissa urges her to the edge of the platform as she herself steps up. "All the sophmore girls who want sophmore homecoming attendant - three rounds, I rule. Line up, whoever wins the heats will fight Sera, winner's it. C'mon!"

Marissa doesn't glance at Sera for approval or disapproval, she doesn't even ask. She just smiles that wide, sure smile and tears into another breath like she owned then atmosphere.

(evie)
She doesn't like being given ultimatums like that. Choose now or forever hold your peace type deals. But..oh, she's sorely tempted by this silver tongued charmer. Of course she knows what he wants. Isn't that what they all, inevitably, want from her? Pretty face. Nice body. Let's fuck and then not be friends.

She feels the slide of his palms over her stomach and the muscles contract beneath those exploring hands. She allows herself just a moment of pleasure at the sensation before the brown eyes flicker open and she lets her head loll back against his shoulder. Her essence rolling over them both. Soft Vanilla and something delicately spicey. Her scent. It's a sweet aroma. Her words are thick. But there's a sobering quality to them. Does she sound almost..hurt at his question?

"And if I say no you'll just vanish right? You're all the same. And here I thought maybe you were different."

She untangles herself, turns slowly, her eyes glitter.

"Now go on and shrug your shoulders and tell me that's just you. Bad to the bone baby."

My, my. Listen to the spitting kitten.

(marissa)
"She doesn't like you." Lacey murmurs, leaning back against Will, feeling her hair smear all over his chest like runny driblets of silk. "I know, this guy I liked, he liked me until Lily came up and started with her stupid games. Liked having me around, you know - as a side fuck, sort of an extra, but didn't really give a fuck about me. You wanna know a secret?"

Lacey's full of secrets, and now that she's sobering up a bit, it might actually be more meaningful than the last.

(william)
*Will blinks at Laceys' words. His fears being voiced there. Word for word. One hand slips around to her stomach and he raises his brows. Her words driving cold ice spikes into his heart* What's that Lacey? * His voice softer as he watches*

(vast)
And he does, exactly, that.

Shrugs -- and the gaze he gives her is level, steady, patently uncaring. "That's just me," he says, parroting her perfectly - even boredly. "This is who I am."

Bad to the bone... or something like it.

Letting her go without fuss when she draws away, he nods in Will's direction. The song was mixing into the next one anyway. "Better go back to your boyfriend," he says, and zips up his motorcycle jacket, ready to split. "It's been real, Ev'."

(marissa)
"It was David," she sighs against him, her blonde brows rising as she tips back another mouthful of Gatorade, probably still thinking that it's alcohol. With the X in her system, she's all about the fucking contact, and keeps touching him. "You know, Miri's guy? Back the first month of the year. He dropped me and Lily when Miri wanted him, and it wasn't nothing, he still calls me, though, Miri doesn't know that. He hates her sometimes, but she's got him all twisted up. Not like Lily, though."

*will)
*He watches the floor softly as the girl speaks. Holding her up softly so she doesn't fall* You deserve better than that Lacey...
*Or is it WIll? Hard to say.
He reaches around and takes the gatoraid and takes a sip before handing it back to her*

(victor yelsukov)
Considering Downtown was Raptor territory, what other reason did Victor need to be there? Regardless, the Silver Fang walked, strutted, or sauntered.. Whichever you prefer.. down the street, hands in the pockets of his top coat, which was wisely drawn around him. It made a protrusion beneath the coat that much more noticeable, but he didn't care. Some might mistake it for a shadow, since the sword's hilt wasn't that noticeable. Still, Victor walked on, heedless. Most mortals strayed away from him, his Rage driving them away. He was used to it, the Russo-Dutchman was.

Victor was looking for a nice place to grab a bite to eat, or a little amusement, as he pulled a few stray strands of hair from his face.

(james)
funny thing when a guy forced to slur through native New Yorker accent because of a battle scar has to deliberately slow down someone else's speech to make sense of it
Dougie's environmentalist pitch paused and replayed several times before James just gives up on it
the "NO CUPS!" chant sufficing for a better translation then any linguist could provide
and true to born and bred showman's form, Jukebox isn't about to let the crowd down

balance shifts and knees bend until camoflaged pattern of BDUs hit the ground
muscular arms held out to the sides in wiiiiiide (woah! watch your balance there, Jamey-boy!) invitation
lights flashing on the inks patterning the inner right forarm revealed by short t-shirt sleeves
dreads flipflop down his back towards the call of gravity - but Jukebox will have none of this interruption!!
jaw dropping enough to force that smile's appearance up into (bloodshot?) eyes

what? an Ahroun turn down a challenge with the moon shining so swollen above?
Bring it.


(evie)
Does he think she's going to crumble? Fall into a blubbering mess and beg him to reconsider? She doesn't. But there's a certain look she's giving him that cuts a lot deeper than anything she could have said. It says...she doesn't believe a word of it but is going to accept it because...what more does she think she's going to get from him anyway?

"Of course it is."

With that, she turns, but she doesn't head for Will, or for anyone else for that manner. Her head is buzzing and the graceful figure..stumbles. Her heel catching on something. Drops to her haunches in the middle of the dancefloor. What was in that drink?

(marissa)
Upstairs, the fights start. Marissa presides over them with a fair amount of whimsy. She has then same sense of fairness as Lewis Carroll's Queen of Hearts, bestowing honor on one and defeat on another, without any apparent relation to the actual achievements of the gladiators. Sera sways and shudders, on the verge of passing out. When the last of the sophmore girls has fought, Marissa pushes Sera into the jello pits, watching the girl stagger, fall, and pass out.

Sera is declared the winner. Sera will be sophmore representative on the homecoming court next year.

---

Lacey mumbles and nods to Will, then gives him a bright smile. She's a smart girl, smarter than all this would indicate, smarter than she is under the influence, and a helluva lot smarter than Lily (who incidentally took a whole bowl of cocktail weenies to the rooftop for the fights). "Yeah" Lacy smiles, a bit sadly, picking herself up from Will's chest. "You do, too."

She turns back to the bar. She knows how this story was written, and how it ends.

(vast)
Jaded -- Vast sighs, more irritated than worried. Jesus. Anorexic dancer/model/whatever girls and their fragile metabolisms. After Evelyn's somewhat less than graceful swan song, quite a little circle of gawkers is forming --

(Hey, is she ok?
Is she freakin out?
Did she just pass out? Just like that?
Awwwwesome.)

-- and Vast reaches out and grabs the nearest convenient fella by the scruff of the neck. Some semigeeky mooching little freshman who wanted to get in the good with the queens and kings of the party scene: Vast gives him a hard shove toward Evelyn.

"Help her up, for pity's sake."

Vast, himself, turns and swims countercurrent against the growing crowd of gawkers. Still had an unconscious 17 year old 'cousin' to fetch from the spare room.

(marissa)
"NO CUPS."

Some people take this to mean NO BRAS, of course, because that is what was on their mind. Dougie, like most young mean of his age and avocation, would support such an interpretation, and would be pleased to know how he meme is mutating throughout the room. At least two bras ARE stolen from people in the corners, though one of those is from a draq queen who never got implants, and relied instead of rolls of toilet paper, so that was not the most satisfying of thefts.

Dougie, though, boogies away, the "face" painted on his pale paunch with Marissa's expensive MAC make-up, and snicks on the spigot. "NO CUPS!"

Here comes beer, from six five and a half-feet up, with a dancing, fucked up boy-man as the administering the sacrament. Moving the keg has been forgotten as the others gather round in a circle, chanting. Because - hey, why the fuck not? There's beer, and then there is free-ass beer.

"NO CUPS!"

(will)
*Lacey turns away and William sighs. Ok. She'd stumbeled. Vast was making an exit. That's probably his cue.
Starting towards Evie he's held up a bit by the crowd. He simply doesn't have the bulk to push his way though the knot of people. But he has other ways.
Reaching out one foot taps the back of some guys knee. The guy stumbles and will puts his foot on the guys theigh and then his shoulder. Up he goes. A few light leaps. The lace up boots barly touching the shoulders of the guys and he Hops into the circle. The long black coat flaring out all John Woo style. Catching the guy Vast propells towards Evie William redirects the entergy and trips sending him falling and slidging across the dance floor and he kneels beside her. Offering her a silver clad hand*

(evie)
A hand reaches down to touch her arm and she swings her head up and around, lips twisted into a scowl, dark eyes blazing.

"Don't touch me. I don't need your help."

That latter comment is directed at the figure skulking away into the mass of people. Evie gets back onto her feet, combing her fingers back through the blond hair. Eyes digging holes into Vast's back. Tears starting to catch in her lashes. Jesus. What a mess. She stands there (Will having gotten through just after she got to her feet) and doesn't even look at Will. How can she?

"It's okay Will. I should just go. I'm sorry."

That said, she begins to push her way toward the door. Ignoring the startled exclamations and the calls of "he's not worth it" and "is she freaking out for real?"

(james wagner)
A little while after James had gorged himself on food, he felt quite satisfied with himself. Hummingbird was a very taxing spirit. He had gone back to his own nightclub, which was fun in its own right, but on the way he found a flyer for some underground party. Always up for some rowdiness, he decided to bring a keg full of Irish beer. Guinness, if you must know. Salvaged from Claddagh's ruins. Now, you can't actually walk down the streets with a keg in tow, so he loaded it up into his F-250 and followed the directions to the party. Once there, he got out, unloaded his keg, and proceeded into the place.

True, he wasn't your typical teenager.. Hell, he wasn't a teenager at all, he was 31, but still.. You think a bunch of kids are gonna refuse free beer?

(will)
*William very seldom roused to violance and even more seldomly giving into it back hands the guy that screamed the first out. A lightning quick motion and the guy is back handed across the mouth. The silver rings taking their toil. A scowl around at the circle. They should be ashamed. He turns and follows Evie as she heads for the door. Swimming in her wake, Catching up*

(james)
as Dougie boogies himself around to prepare for administering the sacrament
the raggedyman has a rather breif moment of clarity beyond the smokily induced bravado
if the boy-man was struggling with formulating base phrases of the English language
he is most likely totally and completely unable to coordinate himself enough to AIM

which means the Gnawer is going to be wearing far more beer than he could possibly catch.... even sober....

fortunately for the growing and chanting crowd not focusing on the dramatics across the room
Dougie's enthusiasm is quite capable of registering enough cohesion to generally direct action
and, thus, spray - even if he would be more successful in dousing a fire with booze than quenching anyone's thirst
Gaia bless Warrior-instinct reflexes that give Jukebox a semi-reasonable fighting chance
disappoint the public he does, most wetly, not

there is beer
and there is free-ass beer
and THEN, there is free-ass beer spraying through the air with the glee of a rabid fire-hose

only once he's managed at least a -few- respectable swallows does James try to surface from the growing pool of amber suds spreading on the floor, blindly waving in the next boisterous gamesman as he, himself, attemps to re-familiarize himself with breathing not interspersed with carbonated gold

at least his cotton-mouth is cured

(marissa)
Hell, no, the kids aren't refusing another keg. Another keg will get them through the evening. And James is hardly the only thirty year old there, either - the scene's all over the place, every walk of society, from royalty on down. The building isn't what one would expect of a kid, though: way too posh, someone's spending his or her daddy's money like yesterday never happened and there's no tomorrow.

As Sandman walks in, the elevators disgorge another belching knot of partygoers. Someone mumbling in passing about that bitch, the fight on the roof, others are discussing where to go from here. The bored doorman - in a crimson uniform decorated with gold braid, no less - stands there staring blandly at James as he walks in, offering a four fingered wave and a set of bored directions. Third floor, yadda yadda, and so on.

David is back on greeter duty, a lean, hot fratboy dressed in some sorority girl's t-shirt and a pair of KISS ME boxers, he slouches against the far wall of the elevator and gives James a hand with the keg. "Cheers. What's it?" With a nod to the keg, the young man is fairly dignified, despite the ridiculous outfit, and despite the ridiculous levels of substances in his blood. "You goin' to the roof? Or Miri's apartment?" As he stares at the glowing panel. "Jello wrestling on the roof."

(evie)
She reaches the front entrance and almost bumps straight into James. Looking less than composed. Her blond hair a tousled mess. Big brown eyes wide and unnaturally bright. Cheeks flushed. And behind her...a group of gawking onlookers. Following the dramatics. It's a party for Christsakes, of course they're watching the pretty girl who's upset because the guy in the leather jacket was a jerk and now she's fallen over and her boyfriend has hit someone... Whew!

Evie looks past James at Vast, and then just stands there. Feeling foolish. And embarressed. And her ankle is hurting.

(will)
*Will comes to a pause beside her. Rubbing his hand. No. Of cource she wouldn't look at him. Big blue eyes falling from the Ballet dancer. His concern there to see. Dropping to the floor. THen back up and around.*


(wagner)
As soon as he got to the door on whatever level this party was happening on, his keg in tow (posted before incase any missed it) the doorman readily allowed him entry because of the keg, and the flyer he carried. When the kid comes up to give him a hand, the irishman smiles a little bit. Damn, everyone looked bombed. "Guinness, lad, anna fine brew if'n I say so meself. Salvaged it from Claddagh's. Aye, a loss, that, but nae 'nything I kin do, now is it?" The lad's probably too fucked up to be concerned about the Galliard's Rage, which was why he liked the party scene. "Dinna matter where ah go. Where ever th'party's at."

Then Evie barrels into the Fianna. He smiled good-naturedly. "Easy, lass. Dinna be in such a hurry." Glancing behind him to the departing bloke. " 'E givin' ye problems, lass? C'mon, dinna let the night ruin 'cause of some dumbarse."

(will)
*James ignores him too. Wow. He's batting 1000 tonight. Sighing he sucks a knuckel*

(wagner)
When he saw Will coming up behind her, he gave a hearty greeting to him. "Will, me lad! Dinnae expect t'see ye 'ere. Drink up, me friend."

(evie)
She opens her mouth. Looks over James's shoulder one last time and then her shoulders slump. Let it go Evie, it was nothing worth getting herself upset over. Besides, has she seen the man standing slightly behind her? Punching people out in her honor?

Murmurs toward the floor. Voice slightly husky.

"Yeah. I guess it was nothing worth getting worked up about. It was nothing."

She turns, finally lifts her eyes to Will and opens her mouth. Closes it. What can she say really? I'm sorry just seems to stupid.

(will)
*Wills brows raise and he looks to James* Ah think we're leavin'. Thanks though. You should try the roof. Jello wresteling.
*His voice a bit low with the thumping bassline and all. He looks to Evie and when she tries to talk. He shrugs and mutly offers his hand. Yeah.. Good guys finish last but they do finish*

(vast)
Outside, Vast seems to pay very little heed to Evelyn and her two, er, admirers. Whether or not he catches the last look is up in the air. If he does, he doesn't show it. Cell phone sandwiched between shoulder and ear, he's tugging his gloves on and speaking quietly into the mouthpiece.

"Yeah. Fourth and Crennell." The address is around the corner and maybe a block or two away. "I'll be waiting at the curb. Right. Make it quick, got baggage."

Snapping the flipphone shut, Vast jams his helmet on his head, flips the visor down with a crisp click, and kickstarts the Hayabusa in growling, yowling life -- unconscious Arabella slumped over the handlebars in front of him. The high-hp whine of the sportbike falls off into the distance. Later on, he might or might not find the helmet superglued to his head by one vengeful fratboy. But that's another story.

(marissa)
Somewhere behind the bar, Frink is rolling his eyes at all the hysterics. He fucking thought the sorority girls were bad, but at least they, you know, wrestle in jello. And drink his Blue Hawaiians. With Marissa gone, away, upstairs and most importantly, at least five minutes away from staring her peculiar sorts of daggers at the DJ, Frink drifts out from behind then kitchen-counter bar and waltzes over the to DJ.

ah-ah-ah-ah- stayin' alive!

Pink elvis is thrilled, and begins - again, five hours later - tossing off "John Travolta" moves beneath the glitterball suspended over the dance floor. There is a knot of partygoers forming around him, chanting him on (absurdly: "NO CUPS!"). From the door - scooting around Will and Evie, James and Vast, the first of the loser girls comes streaming in from the rooftop garden, covered in - yeah, jello, little congealed driblets slopping off blonde or brown hair, squelching onto the fine hardwood floors.

Dougie pumps his fist and gives Jukebox and wide-ass grin as the dredlocked man regains his feet. "BOOYAH! NEVER ANY CUPS!" Dougie, who is not bright, announces with glee and gives another gelatin roll of his stomach as farewell to Jukebox. Someone else takes the BG's place on the floor, and Dougie, apparently the keeper of the spigot, starts a new system - a squirt for you, a squirt for me, a squirt for the crowd, because who doesn't like getting coated in FREE BEER?

(james)
there's a fist pumping in the air to his left
spotlighted by a wide-ass grin bright enough to put the Kool-Aide man to shame
the movement's enough to get James' head to swing back around
(oooooh and the world just keeps. on. a'swingin' there for a few more moments)
dreadlocks skittering over his upper back in their own little tribute to Frick's newest anthem choice
(when the hell did the disco-ball arrive?)
there's a few more increments of time allotted to one Ahroun pulling his best impression of a deer caught in headlights
(....aroo?)

then translation kicks in

the BG's ever-lopsided grin coming out full force
quite lubricated by the soaking in of far more swallowed beer than he estimated
not to mention the pre-party joints that had him basically arriving with a permagrin to begin with
lean abs not quite suited to return the gelatin roll salute
he catches Dougie's attention long enough to nail a hi-5
rooting on the next victim of the spigot for a few camaraderie inspired moments

then James is deciding it's high time for some fresh air
loser girl streaming in covered in jello from stage....left
which suggests either a balcony or rooftop thattaway

(evie)
She looks to his hand. Obscurely remembers that she's dropped his rose somewhere during the evening. It's probably being stepped on and squashed..

She looks horrorfied at the prospect. "The rose!" She cries, and dives back through the crowd, searching for the flower. Was it by the bar?

She's acting slightly strangely. Her movements jerky. She's horribly confused right now. And slightly drunk.

(will)
*He looks at his open hand and sighs. Turning he follows Evie. Reaches out to gently take her hand. Turning her and lifting her up. He hefts once. He's not umber strong. And heads for the elevator* I'll get you another. I think it's best if we depart.
*He carrys her bridal style back towards the lift. A sigh and soft shake of the head*

[exit james]

Posted by james at June 04, 2004 12:00 AM