Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, |
Kiernan officially won the award for best sport in Emillion. Ari watched him across the room, working the flamboyant and ridiculous outfit, and couldn’t help grinning. Really, all in all, it had been a marvelous few days. Though as she cast her eyes around the room, she did perceive that at least one person didn’t seem to be in agreement. At the bar, Lav was sitting with his chin propped on one hand, keeping company with a half-full bottle of clear alcohol and an empty shotglass. She sauntered over to him, perching on the stool next to his as she said, “It seems there may not be enough vodka in the world for you right now, darling.” It was an understatement to say that Lavitz was in a state of shock. He hardly noticed the occupant in the stool, only registering her presence as she addressed him. There were few things he’d never, ever wanted to witness in his life, and Kiernan in drag was one of them. Honestly, it could’ve been in the top five. He’d sought the vodka in desperation, praying it would erase the mental images, and it was succeeding, but not enough. At Ari’s words, he sighed, reaching for the vodka automatically. “Couldn’t agree more. I might drink the whole damn stock of it,” he admitted, not slurring too terribly-- yet. A drunken Lavitz fon Amell was easy to pick out: quieter and less conversational, but incredibly honest, moreso than usual. “If my sight goes overnight,” he started again, pouring into the shot glass, “it’s been a pleasure, Arielle’s face.” With a raise of the shot glass, he threw it back, hardly wincing as if it was no stronger than water. Ari laughed. “You would miss my ethereal loveliness, admit it. Diamond, Dust, virgin,” she called to the nearby bartender. Might as well join Lav if he was insistent on getting himself plastered, although she was being good. She had made any number of exceptions over the last (incredibly stressful) month, but now that life was calming down, she was attempting to clear her system once more. The gala was only a few short weeks away, and she had missed a fair amount of rehearsal. “I think we did a fabulous job on him, personally,” she added as the bartender departed. He licked the traces of liquor from his lips and sighed. “Maybe too fabulous of a job,” he corrected, swallowing at the persistent burn in his throat. “Remind me, please, never to let something like this be an option for losing a bet.” A pause. “And that I should never lose one, or I’m next.” The thought made him shudder visibly. |