fjordicswagger | 74 Godiva Street, AKA Tamsin and Death's Home Of More Alcohol Than Last Year, Saturday Evening

Okay, this party had been born out of actual need (for alcohol and getting laid) last year; this year, those factors weren't as urgent for Tamsin, who figured she could always drop in on Jessica or Mike if the night was a spectacular failure.

But hell, it'd been fun last time. Why the hell not?

There were black sheets hanging in front of the windows again, and pillows and sheets scattered all over the floor to make for little makeshift sitting spaces and nooks. There was an empty bottle (in case someone decided to play Spin the Bottle) sitting somewhere in the middle of the room, and in a fit of generosity Tamsin had thoughtfully supplied a bunch of bags of chips in case people wanted to eat stuff.

The glitter clinging to the sheets and the walls and whatnot: not her fault. Who'd ever heard of impromptu localized glitter storms before? At least the winds had died down well before the party actually started, but there was no way in hell she was vacuuming all that stuff up.

There. Party time.

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Tamsin circled back to Jessica and her veggie tray after a while.

"Ugh, greens," she said, picking one out of the box. "I like them better when they come in booze."

"You figured right," he sighed, rubbing the back of his head, with a laugh. "How've you been, baby girl? Keeping busy and focused?"

"You could always mix them together here and now," Jessica suggested. "It might not go well, but tonight's the night for trying things."

"I think I owe you more vodka."

Because seriously.

"I'm not putting roasted eggplant in vodka," Tamsin said, shooting her a dry look. She did pop whatever she'd just grabbed in her mouth, though, so there was that. "I'm thinking about crashing out for the night. You want to sleep here?"

Also other things, but god help it, if hormones were artificially running through Tamsin's body and enticing her to bang people, she was allowed to be as coy as she damn well wanted.

"Trying to keep busy. I gave up keeping focused at some point around Tuesday night," she admitted.

"You always do," Tamsin said.

She wasn't sure why, but it sounded right.

"Right about now I want to do a whole bunch of things here. Sleep is pretty far down that list," Jessica said.

Tamsin rolled her eyes. "I mean let's go upstairs and bang," she clarified, "and you can go to sleep at like 3 AM when we're done."

"Oh, I was talking about putting up shelving, maybe doing my taxes... But that works, too," Jessica teased.

"Come by the bar one night when I'm there and I'll make sure you get it," she offered.

"I'm the Mayor," Tamsin said, snagging a napkin to clean her hands with. "Don't your tax forms go through me?"

Not really.

"That's one part of the Fandom Municipal Code I haven't gotten to yet," Jessica said, sounding legitimately curious. "I may need to look that up before April. But that's something to figure out later."

"I'm just saying, I get a lot of paperwork in that time of year," Tamsin said. "I think Bright Eyes enjoys it."

"I'm betting on orgy," Didi suggested. "But maybe not in the Trooper's station."

"He's a sorcerer," Didi explained, as matter-of-factly as someone else might say 'he's a Methodist' or 'he's a barber' -- which were probably actually less likely on the island. "Tends to end up tangled in things bigger than he is, you know?"

"I'm sure they're missing out," Didi agreed sardonically. "What kind of team are you on?"

"Walking disaster?" Tamsin guessed. "Ugh. Those always get complicated."

"I thought I kind of liked her," Jessica said. "I'm glad there's a math nerd in the city hall somewhere."

"Superheroes." Which was totally normal.

"In that case, you have my thanks." Éponine nodded her head in an only partly serious gesture of appreciation. "I've got no idea why, really. Maybe it's just that I've other things to do."

Which sounded more like she had a social life than she meant, but oh well.

"After getting to know them, I'm not positive about that," Jessica said. Mainly because she was pretty sure the clone thing might make things confusing and ruin the mood. "But what do I know? A week ago, I wouldn't have guessed that I'd be at a party like this. Fandom's full of sudden surprises."

Oh fucksticks.

"Depends," Constantine said slowly, giving her an equally unsublte once-over. "You interested, or is this your sister/brother trying something to fuck us both over?"

He'd met her family; it paid to ask.

You know, normally Sparkle would have seriously paused to consider the sort of party this was, and the sort of week this was, and the likelihood that he'd run into somebody who used to, like, teach him or something. But honestly, most of the people left of the island who had once taught him were people he just wasn't attracted to anyway, and this week had been frustrating in all sorts of fun ways, and...

Look, Sparkle had a bottle of Fireball whiskey and a jug of apple cider if anyone wanted something to mix it with, and he wasn't afraid to use it.

"Oh!" Didi said, also as if that had been totally normal. "Justice League brand or X-Men brand?"

This was how she told the difference, you see.

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74 Godiva Street, AKA Tamsin and Death's Home Of More Alcohol Than Last Year, Saturday Evening

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