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It's Brittany, Bitch | Ερις (eristic) wrote in paxletalelogs,

Charlie was never the first one to a party. Being the first one to a party signified that you were either the host, or some kind of preppy jerkoff who required people's approval, or a chatterbox who needed as much attention as possible, or... A dozen other descriptions filled her head as she went up the elevator.

Not that it honestly mattered, these labels, and anyone who affixed one to the short brunette wearing a plaid button up with jeans and motorcycle boots would quickly find themselves on the wrong side of a knuckle sandwich. If one were to comment that she seemed worried about being the first one to the party, be rest assured that was not the case. She was simply quite aware of the fact that she had no other plans for the evening, and in lieu of going to a bar, the open invitation to a party where she'd have access to free booze was like a light from heaven.

Rather than ascend the six flights to the hostess' apartment (and Charlie had no qualms about going to a stranger's living space for alcohol - wasn't that much different than going to a bar), she'd given the rickety-looking old elevator the benefit of the doubt, and thus far she'd been rewarded with a smooth flight. Since the thing seemed to be made out of wood, she rapped her knuckles against the wall for luck in the large chance that she'd jinx herself. Then the doors whooshed open, and there she was, sixth floor arrival nonstop.

No one was lingering in the halls, no one standing outside the party apartment's door, waiting to be let in. Despite her slight stature, her footsteps were more than noticeable coming down the hall, and her knock on the door was likewise large and loud. Maybe being the first person to arrive wouldn't be so bad. She could take her pick of the food, claim a whole bottle of whatever the hostess - what was her name? Tiffany? Something like that, it'd come back to her eventually - was offering. Slightly straining her ears, face fixed with her usual bitchface look of concentration, there was no tell-tale sign of conversation or loud music. Hopefully this party wouldn't be as boring as she was starting to think it would be.