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

[fjordicswagger]

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! ]]

Comments

Re: Talk to the Hostess

[living_endless]

"I have a weakness for scruff and English," Didi said, rubbing at her chin. "You'd come out of it smelling like cigarettes, though."

Re: Talk to the Hostess

[fjordicswagger]

"Eugh," Tamsin muttered. "Never did understand that habit."

Re: Talk to the Hostess

[living_endless]

"It's very slow-motion suicide," Didi shrugged. "But a lot of things they do are."

Re: Talk to the Hostess

[fjordicswagger]

"Drinks, I can get," Tamsin said. She shrugged. "But you know me. Warriors were always my specialty."

Re: Talk to the Hostess

[living_endless]

"You like the ones trying to be heroes," Didi nodded. "I don't blame you. I just, y'know, always end up liking everybody."