Jeremiah Jamison is a Southern Gentleman (jeretleman) wrote in undeadsiegeic, @ 2014-12-24 12:35:00 |
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There had been a countless number of parties, all of various sizes and levels of sobriety, since the latest supply drop. It seemed the influx of drink and decorations was enough to put the majority of the survivors into a festive mood. Some of the drinkers were a little obnoxious, but Jeremiah wasn't looking for reasons to complain. If the worst of what was happening at the moment was a few drunks being loud and boisterous, well it was a good day. Even the couple arguments that had taken place weren't that big of a deal, still better then the ones that usually took place. All the same, he'd chosen to avoid almost all of the parties taking place. Not minding what was going on didn't equate wishing to participate, and getting drunk and dancing with near strangers had never been his idea of a good time. The only reason this particular party had seemed like a good idea was that it was easily the most low key of all the ones he'd come across. That and he was trying to not seem like he was smothering Wyatt. Holidays were always listed as a possible trigger, but being too present was always a good way to make the younger man feel like he was being doubted (which he wasn't, at least not actively or consciously) too. So Jere had taken his own advice and decided to branch out and socialize with more then just one or two people. So what if he had spent most of said party talking to the same person instead of branching out to make a possible new friend. It still counted and he was free to give Wyatt as much hell as he wanted. Which he may or may not have already explained to Peyton at some point throughout the gathering. There seemed to be a bit of a fuzzy line between which thoughts he'd actually shared and which had simply remained thoughts. It wasn't nearly as concerning a realization as it likely should have been. In fact by the time he'd filled two cups with punch and spotted his statuesque companion once more, he'd completely forgotten about it. "A refill for the lady," he drawled out as he passed the glass to her with a slow smile. "Somebody over by the punch bowl is singing real off key Christmas carols now. Don't think they realize just how loud they're being, though." |