RP: You can feel your heart pounding way down inside - baby, let your gypsy spirit fly Date: Tuesday, August 24, nighttime Characters: Angelina and Fred Location: private charity function, muggle London Warnings: (if applicable) N/A yet Public/Private: Private Summary: Angelina is stressing about her snogging session with Fred. They run into each other at a party. Can they keep up the awkward "nothing happened, we're just friends!" game any longer? Status: Incomplete
Could you let go of your darkest fear and find those chains around you have disappeared, and turned the ground you walked on into sky You heard me knocking on your back door, mama, you tried pretending we could just be friends
Angelina had long ago decided that if she was ever rich and famous enough to host a charity gala, she was going to host a charity pajama party. It would be fun, low-key, and save every tall girl in the world the embarrassment of towering over a good portion of the male population of the room in ridiculously tall heels. That, and she would make it a date-free zone. Then, her agent wouldn't be constantly playing matchmaker with people she had no interest in, or scowling at her when she turned down dates. It had been the latter situation this week. It was a small benefit for the pediatrics ward of St. Mungo's, involving a silent auction, lots of fake smiles, and thankfully, champagne.
The guy responsible for her fancy clothes (since Angelina apparently could not be trusted to present herself in a way befitting a young pureblood-ish woman of her potential fortune and fame) had rolled his eyes and said that if she wasn't going to have a date, he was going to have to make her look "double hot." Apparently that meant a floaty silky purple dress, high heels that made it feel like someone was beating the balls of her feet with a blunt object with every step she took, and having her hair straightened almost beyond recognition.
After declining to dance with a Wireless deejay who resembled a leprechaun when looked down upon from Angelina's elevation, she made her way back to the bar, grabbed her second glass of champagne, and found a wall to lean against. There was a shrubbery thing of some sort nearby, which she hoped would provide some sort of camouflage and allow her to hide out, finish her drink, and make a break for the exit. She had only promised to make an appearance and bid on some of the silent auction items, which she had.
She was already out of sorts, anyway. Feeling out of her element at yet another party was nothing compared to the conflicted emotional rollercoaster she had been on since the break-and-enter makeup she had shared with Fred. They both were trying to pretend nothing had happened and carry on with their friendship, and Angelina was sure she was failing just as miserably as he was. It was awkward. And part of that was because she wasn't sure if she wanted to just carry on like the 'old days.' Unfortunately, her Gryffindor bravery did not extend far enough to allow her to actually tell him that.