Ari/Aspel/Drake | Throughout the Evening | Theatre District
Later
Fortunately, Ari’s optimistic outlook on the evening seemed justified thus far. Alcohol was a great relaxant for Aspel, who seemed far more willing to engage with the situation than she had been the day prior. Drake could be gotten around with wheedling, so that left them all in a fairly pleasant mood to start. Add food, drinks, good music, and a bit of entertainment, and she did not think either party would be sorry to have given in to her invitation in the end.
A few minutes before midnight, the revelers in the establishment she had chosen rose from their seats and all but stampeded up the stairs at the side of the taproom to the flat, empty roof. At the door, someone handed out sparklers. Overhead, the sky was dark. There was laughter and chatter, then someone started to count. More people picked it up; as the count reached zero, the cathedral bells began to toll in the distance, and colored lights exploded in the sky.
It seemed so easy, in that moment, to forget that any awkwardness had existed at all. She hadn’t been drinking, but then, she never had been the type to think over her decisions for long, even when sober; as the bells continued to toll (one, two) she rose on her toes (she had placed herself strategically between her two dates for the evening) turning first right to offer a kiss to Drake (three, four) then left to do the same to Aspel (five, six) before offering them her most brilliant smile and saying, “Happy New Year. I could always turn around until the bells stop tolling if you’d like a moment, you know.” A joke, mostly, and delivered in a teasing tone of voice, but at the same time, a statement of a sort -- I’m not bothered in the least.
As Aspel had started drinking before the night even began, at this point, she was well past buzzed, and working quite eagerly on her way to blitzed halfway to the moon. Since she’d found the location Ari had taken them to stocked Glühwein the smith had been doomed from the start. At least, on some level, she was thankful that there wasn’t a Feuerzangenbowle. Aspel likely wouldn’t walk straight for a week if there had been one available from the beginning of the night on. The sparkler, while quite pretty and earning a passing ‘Ooh’ from Aspel, wasn’t taken as she knew her limits well enough that she’d be more likely to burn herself with the blasted thing than get a significant amount of amusement out of how it sparkled and shone.
However, she had relaxed into the feeling of the warm body next to her. Not completely putting her weight on Ari, but definitely leaning a bit of it there. The shift in the other woman’s weight didn’t register right away through her booze soaked brain, but after a second, Aspel’s gaze shifted catching the kiss between the two of them - ‘oh’ - before her head canted to one side. They were rather pretty together, weren’t they?
That was all the time she had to think before there was a kiss from Ari, which was easily returned with a low, throaty chuckle, eyes dipping closed, and slowly opening again only when the bard spoke. However, the words would not make a lick of sense through the alcohol induced haze. Confusion briefly flittered across the smith’s face before the entire thing seemed dismissed as Aspel’s attention had shifted again, fingers reaching out to caress gently across Drake’s jaw line.
“I do believe the bell has not met its final toll.” The words were slurred, her accent heavier when intoxicated, and low, something devilish in the smile that was offered to him as a finger hooked under his chin, attempting to pull him in a step closer for a kiss regardless of if Ari stood in the way or not.