fjordicswagger | Tamsin's House of Sharp Things And Presently Not Enough Alcohol, Thursday Evening

For a couple of minutes, Tamsin had contemplated the idea of just opening up Town Hall for the party, but... what would be the point in that? People were fired up on hormones, people wanted to get laid, you needed a space small enough to get 'em close together. So to speak.

Also, this way she got free booze out of the deal, so-- win win.

She'd hung the black sheets back in front of the large store windows (partly to keep the light out, partly so it was slightly less obvious the house was technically a shop she was technically maybe squatting in). She'd tossed a ton of pillows and an old mattress on the floor, since she didn't actually have a sofa, per sé. The rooms upstairs were... well, okay, they were rooms.

And there was a table for incoming booze. With solo cups. Of course.

Perfect. Time for a party. If anyone had seen the posters...

[[ ocd ~~incoming...~~ up! adults only party is a go! eta: i should probably note browse responsibly, since there might be hints of nsfw in the comments at some point, i have no idea how this post will roll ]]

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"We have to stop meeting this way," Irene said with a small smile. "By which I mean -- at some point, I'm going to have to run into you when the island's not being cute, won't I? I mean, the odds are astronomical that this trend will continue this way."

"I could even visit the sex shop to track you down," Jack chuckled. "I don't think I've been in there since ... God, I think it was high school."

"It probably hasn't changed," Irene assured him. "There's still a big rooster and all."

She was not going to be as classless as to use the term that Sparkle preferred, even if that rooster was in a store where they sold dildos by the dozen, thank you.

"How've you been? I mean, the trials of this week notwithstanding."

"Probably there are only so many ways to run the place," Jack mused. "And I'm fine. Law school's trying to kill me, but I haven't let it yet. How are you? Trials aside, et cetera."

"I hear that's what law school does," Irene said sympathetically. "Systematically attempts to murder you until you prove it wrong. And I'm fine -- my class this time around is a little easier on the hormones and embarrassment factor, and I'm grateful for that this week."

"I couldn't imagine teaching sex ed in a week like this," Jack said sympathetically. "Probably I'd toss a G-rated video at the little brats and then flee."

He rubbed his nose. "And I wonder why I only lasted a year teaching...."

"What'd you teach?" Irene asked, immediately interested.

[SORRY dammit I knew I'd lost track of someone.]

"It was a while ago," Jack said apologetically. "Supernatural studies. Vampires, werewolves, things that go bump in the night. It wasn't bad, actually -- I just didn't feel a calling, and it got to be too much to balance with school and my work at the club."

"Oh, but what an interesting class," Irene replied, eyes widening. "We don't have anything supernatural where I'm from, to the best of my knowledge. And it's getting tiresome to constantly be surprised by 'oh, you're a fairy-person' or whatever...thing I didn't think existed every time I turn around. Might be nice to actually know what to anticipate."

"It gives you a leg up when you first get here, absolutely," Jack nodded. "Everyone in my world knows vampires and magic and such are real. They aren't thought of as terribly respectable, but it was never a new concept. To be honest I'm not sure how well I'd do in a world that was entirely normal."

Tamsin's House of Sharp Things And Presently Not Enough Alcohol, Thursday Evening

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