Re: The lake: close to the water
The house hunched behind him like a hulking beast waiting to pounce. He knew the way this was likely meant to work. He could see the way it laid out, the path it would all take. Drink me, the bottles called. Drink me and experience. Have a night of madness and in the morning light it will be tossed away again. He had enough madness in both his days and nights already, thank you very much. He couldn't get past those black and white sentries without picking one though. His choice shouldn't have been a surprise when he finally made it.
He wasn't even certain why he'd wandered into the party. Curiosity of the morbid type? A need to see those that lived in the same town? A twisted desire for a connection? Luckily, he didn't have to admit to anything, and didn't have to spend any of the evening on thoughtful introspection.
The footsteps, when they neared where he sat on the edge of the lake (feet planted, knees up, arms resting atop the sharp angles of his legs), were unsteady, and interrupted him in the middle of a cigarette. The smoke wreathed him as he turned to peer over his shoulder, searching for the companion that was shortly to join him. She emerged from the evening dim with hands clasped around her middle, and his expression sharpened with interest as she stumbled near, shedding shoes and disturbing the mirror of the water. He was half afraid she was going to fall into it (and he'd be forced to go to her aid - because he wasn't a monster). But she stopped and he could see the heave of her shoulders as she breathed.
A clearing of his throat to get the nicotine burn to calm before he let rough words into the air between him and her. "You okay?"