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.

[[ OPEN! ]]

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After a successful shopping trip with Kitty, Allie had turned up to the party, a bottle of high end vodka that she wouldn't be drinking in hand.

Awww. People kept bringing the expensive stuff.

"Welcome to the party," Tamsin said, making grabby hands for the bottle almost immediately. "Vodka? Nice."

"I figured you'd appreciate it," Allie said, heading it over. "It's been that kind of week."

"Yeah, I think I gave up on it on Wednesday and just spent most of the rest of it in bed," Tamsin said. "At least next week should be nice and quiet around here."

"I should have done that. Instead I've been repressing." Tamsin could probably guess how well that worked out. "But yes, I'm looking forward to things getting back to normal."

"Ugh," Tamsin said. "Don't repress on sex pollen week. You're just going to pull a groin muscle, if you don't wreck your wrist."

"Vampire healing," Allie shrugged. "I almost would have preferred a nice invasion. Hitting things is almost a good substitute."

"Yeah, but it's more boring," Tamsin said dryly. "Do us both a favor and try to get laid tonight? I'll even let you have Mike."

Who apparently did not get a say in this.

"I think I owe you more vodka."

Because seriously.

"You always do," Tamsin said.

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

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

"Oh my God, you brought vodka? You are bad."

Said the guy who'd brought a bagful of various kinds of booze. And was grinning at her.

"And here I was thinking I was being good," Allie grinned back. "I figured everyone deserved it after this week."

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

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

"You made it!" exclaimed Éponine, making her way over with a cup of something or other in hand -- mostly Bailey's, by the smell of it. "I heard about yesterday, on the radio. Nost D'you have to stick 'em in the end? Tiny and the DJ. With your sword, I mean."

"I glared and reached for it. It was enough to send them scurrying off to the storeroom," Allie replied. "They didn't come back out and I wasn't going to go look for them."

"You likely wouldn't have wanted to see anyway," Éponine decided, and visibly shuddered. "Just as well, if they left you alone."

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

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