Re: front steps
Jason had just greeted an awkward first-datey couple on their way inside when a cute blonde walked up and held a phone next to his face. "Uh." There wasn't time to do much more than that before she stated his name with all the confidence of a girl who'd won a trivia question. What did she have on that thing, a wanted poster? Maybe being the party greeter wasn't such a good idea.
"I am that guy, unless you've got a problem with that guy," he said. "Thanks for keeping me up to date. I forget sometimes. I'm Jason. Smoking bad, not smoking good." He pointed to her, affirming these ideas with the cigarette between two fingers. "You got it."
Oh, right. "So you're Gwen, I'm thinking." Man, but she was cute, even with that smug look on her face and those dorky sleeves. He did always like smart girls, though, the kind that were too good for him. It was reassuring to know nothing ever really changed, and go future self for being a huge dipshit.
So why did she need to look at a picture of him to spot him out? "You're...different." Younger, he meant. A lot younger. He unscrewed the cap on the vodka bottle and leaned over, sliding to the stone railing. Then he kicked a heel against the step below him, indicating she should sit, and tipped the open bottle toward her. "Vodka?" So she didn't smoke. That didn't mean she wouldn't drink clear alcohol straight from a bottle, right?