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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"As if that's hard when I'm the only one," Éponine scoffed. "But thanks for having us, one way or another."

She didn't emphasize 'having'. Not any more than Tamsin did, anyway.

Also, she found smirking pretty attractive under normal circumstances, so . . . dammit.

"Remind me to mail something sometime soon," Tamsin said.

Because she was starting to get the impression it'd be a while before she got around to banging everyone she wanted to bang here.

You'd think for such a small island it wouldn't be that hard, but then there were way too many pretty people here. That probably upped the difficulty level.

"D'you have something in particular to mail? They're a bit funny about rules for some things, but I'd be happy to lend a hand."

Talking about work while off the clock should not be sent. And yet.

"Oh, you know," Tamsin said casually, "Letters... packages..."

Very casually, for someone who was at this point trying to make out how many curves Éponine had under those clothes.

Not many. She was still fairly on the scrawny side.

Though if she took the coat off -- which she was setting the bottles down just long enough to do now -- at least her sweater was tight enough to show off a pretty nice rack.

"That sounds like a few things," Éponine noted. "Of course I'd still help you take care of them, I've got to be of service after all."

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

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