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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Well, yes, it was getting pretty warm inside the coat, but -- look, that was the only definition of the word that Éponine would be prepared to apply to herself. Anything else, she'd chalk up to the alcohol and the pollen.

"I will, but let me put these down somewhere first. It would be a shame to break them." She drummed her fingers against the side of the bottle of schnapps, took a look around the room, and laughed. "Good lord, so many pillows! D'you expect we'll all make good use of them?"

Rhetorical question.

Tamsin gave that a shrug. "Hey, you plant that pretty ass down on there and I'm going to chalk it up as 'good use'," she said.

Yeah, she couldn't see it yet, so she was going out on a limb.

"Oh, I'll be sure to do that," Éponine said, smirking faintly. If people were going to compliment her, she wasn't going to say no, even if she did think they were delusional. And hey, she was actually wearing jeans today, so once she got rid of the coat it might be easier to judge. "You're the mayor, then? I saw the people putting up the signs earlier. I thought they worked for you."

"They do," Tamsin confirmed. What? It wasn't like they weren't shamefully overstaffed for the amount of work you actually had to do on Fandom. At least this way the flunkies got out every now and again. "And I am, as of this year, for some reason. Aren't you the mail chick?"

"That's me, all right," Éponine said, nodding. Then, with a burst of surprised laughter, "D'you mean to say you know who I am?"

She was probably never going to get used to the idea of not being insignificant or overlooked.

"Well, you're the mayor, suppose it's your job to know these things. You're not like any mayors I've seen before. I'm accustomed to grumpy old men, and you're much prettier than they are."

She hadn't meant to say that, but sometimes she just blurted these things out, so whether it was these stupid ramped-up hormones that made her say it was anyone's guess.

That wasn't something Tamsin was going to make a big deal out of, though. Unless by 'big deal' you meant 'smirking'. She'd be back to being a grump like 80% of the time and 'looking for someone to bang' 20% of the time, instead of the other way around, in a couple of days. But right now? Nope.

"I think you're also the hottest mail girl we have," she said, "So yeah, I've seen you around. Good to have you here."

She didn't emphasize 'have'. Much.

"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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