s (atrophy) wrote in repose, @ 2017-01-05 07:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, cat dubrovna, reece eos |
Log, Clary House: Cat C & Reece E
Who: Cat Catalone & Reece Eos
What: a snowball fight
Where: the Clary House
When: NYE, late
Warnings/Rating: incoming 'balls
Reece decided he needed to make a good impression on 2017. He wanted to start the year off on the right foot, so to speak. So, he wore a suit to the world's smallest house party. He thought(/hoped) going to such... lengths—though they were maybe two inches from his usual lengths, because he enjoyed dressing up—would help, uh, set the mood for the year. Show it he respected it. Bargain with it even.—Obviously, this was all mostly a ruse to wear a nice suit and impress everyone with his impeccable style, but he'd gone with a boring tie as a kind of compromise with himself. (Of course, he then immediately broke that compromise by wearing matching boxers and socks with a circuitboard design, but, no one would ever know, so it was fine.) The glittery New Years hat he wore, cheap sequins scaled over numbers perched atop his fine coif, was another bit of tithing paid to the gods of new beginnings, Dick Clark, and fireworks, all in hopes of better and please, please, no more abductions. The blowy noisemaker streamer he had between his lips at the, um, altar (peach champagne pong table), on the other hand, was mostly just because he was drunk. Reece didn't realize just how drunk he was, but it was enough that he wasn't thinking too much on what everyone around him thought about him or how much they made in a quarter. He was drunk enough he was just ...himself. (It was a bad idea. He didn't know if he'd had any kind of bug inside of him or anything, courtesy of Tethys, but, 2017.) His cheeks were warm, rouged with several Solo cups' worth of alcoholic beverages, and he was getting a little unsteady on his very nice boots, but Reece was still sinking every shot like a pro, or like he'd really gone to more than two parties in college. And, much like the underwear-socks pairing no one needed to know about, so too was the fact that his skill was actually due to his eye and arm coordinating the trajectory and action down to decimals. There wasn't much going through his head, really, and he forgot he was supposed to be gearing up for a snowball fight, not because he forgot Cat, um, because he didn't. He had waited for her out by the fireworks earlier, and then he'd gotten cold and come back in. But, well, because he was drunk. He wandered away from the smattered gathering of Reposians or… Reposites or, you know, Tethys plants, and without knowing if she was there or not, he went in search of the woman. He started at the front door. Because, sometimes, you didn't cheat and gain an advantage with the tech implanted into you, and you started at the beginning. Sometimes. |