Nico/Tony/Chase
Painted black lips pressed into a thin line as she observed the rest of the party-goers. Nico had always felt out of place at events like this, but then again she felt out of place ninety-nine percent of the time. Heavy lined eyes swept back and forth, not recognizing any of the other teens. Self-defeat was starting to eat away at her when a dude with a handsome chiseled face approached her. Arching an eyebrow at him she considered his inquiry.
“Depends,” She began. “Their newer stuff sounds like they’re trying to hard to be The Killers circa oh-four, but their earlier stuff is pretty awesome.” If Chase and her were going to be here for an unseen amount of time, they may as well get to know the locals. Maybe they knew something about this weirdly enchanted place that they didn’t. It was worth a shot, anyway.
“I’m really more into The Cure and The Smiths,” Nico continued, pushing herself from her slouched position to stand up straight. Or as straight as her lazy posture would allow. “Bauhaus and Joy Division aren’t bad either.” Nico’s eyes lit up as Chase returned with much needed alcohol.
“I’m almost scared to drink it.” She murmured in return to Chase’s comment about their beverages. Nico had no idea if this was still some crazy, Black Mirror-esque simulation, or if Chase and her had wandered into some modern day Wonderland. But either way, poisoning was at the forefront of her brain. Going against everything she’d learned in her early teen drinking years Nico sniffed the drink.
Yeeeeech. It smelt like liquor and soda, all right. Nico went to take a drink when Chase's remark made her snort into it. "We were just talking about New Wave.” Nico said, fighting a liquor-induced gag. “This is--” The gothic runaway left it open, seeing as how she hadn’t caught the guy’s name yet.