Re: NYE: Cat & Reece
Reece didn't have an internal monologue, not currently. He was sort of staring out the front door, not feeling the frostbitten chill as it wafted over exposed skin. His mismatched gaze followed the drifts of snow as if it was some horizon someone was going to come walking over, or as if it were some far-off endpoint. It wasn't either. It was snow. But, he was looking at it anyway, how it juxtaposed starkly from the black drape of sky, even with its pinholes of stars. The poor kid didn't even have the wherewithal to think it was pretty, because there just wasn't enough of him that wasn't brined in alcohol and bubbles at the moment.—But that tipsy trail of headlights (identified by a helpful eyeball) distracted him from the weird pause-screen of his drunken brain, and he smiled. It was reaction, rather than any coherent idea of what was going on, really.
When the truck's engine cut off, the man blinked away the boozy chemtrails and the vehicle itself seemed to seep into the background, existing only as four half-circles sliced from imperfect white. Weird. The very specific click of heel on cement though distracted him from his distraction, and, suddenly, as if out of nowhere, because Reece had already more or less forgotten the truck, Cat appeared.
"Cat!" Red-cheeked, he smiled, before he got very, very quiet. It was almost a startled reaction. But, in reality, he just found himself gobsmacked by what she had on. Because what she had on, um, was amazing. Not just the tailoring and pairing, though, they probably were too. But, just her. And, just as abrupt as Cat's appearance from the 2017 ether, came a flush of heat and nerves and (anticipatory?) embarrassment. Reece pressed his tie flat to his chest when it was flicked, and he watched Cat pass by in all her glitter and glory and... pot.
Thankfully, all those nerves last about two seconds, before Reece closed the door and butted up against Cat's side. "I'll meet you outside!" Because snowball fight, because he had remembered, because snowball fight. "And you can borrow it, but make sure you give it back." Hilarious.—Before the woman could answer, if she would, the man-turned-boy was gone in his respectful suit. And when (and if?) she came out of the bathroom, he was indeed outside, stuffed into his own designer snowgear, on his knees, forming snowballs with speed that hinted at a little more assistance than inherent skill.