A Little Party Never Killed Nobody (closed)

[Greg Mackenzie]

No matter how many times Greg tried to psych himself up, somehow he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t be here.

It wasn’t that he had anything against ‘house’ parties; on the contrary, the tall Canadian thrives in such social gatherings. And while he doesn’t imbibe regularly, during the times that he did, it almost always was a good time. He’s been training for four months now, so he’s fairly sure that the telepath outburst of February 2014 was so not going to repeat itself. (In his defense, it was the alcohol, post-break-up feeling, and anxiety about being in a new place that caused it, not just the alcohol. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.). So no, it wasn’t about the party that got him so unsettled.

It was the idea that they’re having a party in a dorm room. School grounds. With staff members just lurking on every corner.

Sure it was the weekend so the staff seemed to be at a minimum, but still. “Oh stop it,” chastised Marcus, his friend from Calculus that dragged him to this mess. The host was Marcus’ roommate’s boyfriend’s classmate, and heaven knows the boy had the biggest hard-on for her ever since she stopped by Marcus' room and looked for Marcus’ roommate’s boyfriend three weeks back. Greg said the whole exchange was disgusting, at least from a telepath with a full view of Marcus’ thoughts and no way of shutting them down. The only reason he’s willing to risk being the witness to such graphic thoughts once more was that, well, Marcus said that the host was best friends with the little Asian cutie Greg’s been pining over every French class. And yes he’s seen them together more than once so Marcus wasn’t pulling his leg or anything like that.

“Nothing will happen, I promise. You know what will keep the edge off? Another drink!” He shoved another cup into Greg’s hand and gave him a wink.

“What is this?” It smelled a little too funky – a little too strong – for Greg’s taste, and since he wasn’t quite the liquor connoisseur yet, he had no idea what was in there. “You’re not drugging me, are you?”

Marcus let out a hearty laugh. “It’s called a mindfuck. You’ll love it, trust me.” With a cock of his head, he and Greg drank.

There you go. Shot number five. Or was it six now? And no, Greg didn’t like it one bit.

“This tastes disgusting,” Greg groaned, “I need a beer to wash it off. Where’s the keg again?” Over the other side of the room. Great. “Stay here. I’ll be back, k?” Greg could see the alcohol working into Marcus’ system with that little half-nod the boy gave him, but he hoped that in the ten-fifteen minutes he’d be gone, the pryo can at least keep it in.

Walking halfway across the room was a lot harder than he thought it’d be. Maneuvering through a sea of drunk little shits was hard enough; the fact that he’s starting to feel the buzz himself only made it harder. The realization that he had to make the trip twice, now with a cup filled with booze, made it much more herculean.

He was almost to the spot where he left his friend, or at least the spot he thinks he left his friend, when a speedster appeared out of nowhere, throwing Greg off his balance and making him dump at least half the contents of his cup to an innocent bystander. “Holy shit I’m so sorry!”

[Marnie Sullivan]

It hadn't been an invitation, technically. When the teacher allowed them to split into groups to work on their Spanish homework, Marnie's group partner had just asked her if she was going to the party in Room 217 on Saturday. Marnie had responded with a nonchalant "maybe," but when the girl turned to their other work partner and whispered gleefully about rumors of a keg being snuck in, she had scribbled the room number on the back cover of her notebook.


Hours before the party was due to begin - she assumed anyway, it wasn't as though she'd been given much information - Marnie had dug through every article of clothing in her room, trying to find something suitable. She hadn't been to a party since she was thirteen so there was some guesswork involved, she felt like she'd seen enough TV shows and read enough magazines to have a decent foundation of where to start. It was time to get out of her comfort zone - Marnie would wear a black dress that stopped above her knees, that glittery statement necklace she'd kept in a drawer for months, and the bright red lipstick an upperclassman had given her, or she would die trying.


Well, maybe nothing that extreme, but she would at least invite her roommate along for motivational support.


Now maybe an hour in and halfway through her fourth red cup of beer, Marnie was finally relaxing. The last time she'd had alcohol, she and her best friend had sampled some whiskey they'd found in her house during a sleepover. The beer Marnie drank now didn't taste very good – just bitter soda water, almost – but it went down much more easily than the whiskey had. Now Marnie was smiling more freely, laughing at a joke a boy from her history class was telling. It was one she'd overheard him tell in class at least twice, but somehow it was funnier this time.


Until something wet slopped down her back.


“Holy shit I'm so sorry!”


Marnie gasped and spun, wide-eyed, arms flying up defensively. The guy who'd apparently flung the drink seemed as shocked as she did.


“No, it's, it's fine probably,” Marnie stammered, craning her neck to inspect the damage. The dress wasn't anything terribly expensive or special, but it would be just her luck to spend her first real party in a stained outfit. “How bad is it?”

[Ashley Engel]

Marnie looked like the kind of girl guys would want to talk to at a party. Ash did not.

Even though she’d grown up with a fashion-conscious mother, Ash lacked any interest in looking nice for parties. Especially not dorm parties with strange teenagers. While Marnie got ready in a nice dress Ash just pulled a fur-collared leather jacket on over jeans and a t-shirt. As per usual, she wouldn’t go anywhere without a jacket on. But with that condition met she was surprisingly comfortable with the idea of attempting to attend a party.

She’d been around alcohol before. There was no thrill in the idea of sneaking around about it on a school campus. So she wasn’t going just for the rush of breaking rules and trying something most teens’ parents told then was off limits. She was going because she didn’t want to. It was complicated.

Parties meant people and people meant noise. Noise meant headaches.
Thus, when she’d first heard about the planned fiasco from Marnie, she’d been largely turned off by the idea. But the more it came back to mind the more she talked herself into it. This was supposed to be a semester full of new experiences and personal growth. The faster she did these things and expanded her comfort zone the faster she could hit the road with Cain. So she was going for that, and that reason alone.

So with that reasoning backing her, she hadn’t intended on drinking. Watching people, maybe forcing herself into conversation, yes. But not drinking. What was the point?

Apparently the point was pride.
One step through the door and she’d been pulling ibuprofen out of her pocket. Twenty minutes into the awkward mesh of people and she’d been in a heated “discussion” with a stranger over the proper usage of the word “literally”. Ten minutes after that and she’d wound up with a beer in her hand. Turns out all it took to get her to drink was one teenage boy and the words “you need to loosen up and have a drink or something”. He hadn’t meant it to be charming. It was an insult. At least Ash had taken it that way, before marching herself over and scooping up a red plastic cup.

The contents were disgusting. Smelled gross, tasted worse. But she tipped it back and drank until it was empty because by god she was sick of people acting like she was uptight. She wasn’t. She was literal and awkward at times but she was not uptight. She was not her mother.

One hour into the party and she’d managed to get two cups of beer into her system with a third yet untouched in her hand. The results were terrible. Articulation was slipping, and her judgement was fast joining it. Motor skills were lagging, self-control was wavering, and the more she tried to focus on being precise the clumsier she got. The parts of her still largely aware of the situation at hand were furious. The rest? Totally amused.

In the fray of bodies she could hear Marnie, a familiar beacon in a sea of whispers and screams. It was an anchor she kept herself aware of. Even if Ash wasn’t around the girl every second she kept a certain degree of focus on her. Just enough to have that security in the storm of strangers and thoughts. It, and the beer, helped her almost tolerate the mass of people in the enclosed space.

Thus it wasn’t particularly surprising that when Marnie gasped Ash’s head jerked to the side to see her. The louder pulse of her voice among the throngs of strangers was as attention-snaring as the splash of beer on her back. The black of her dress helped hide it to some degree, but the difference between wet and dry fabric wasn’t easily overlooked.

In the same breath Ash moved, shoving the cup in her hand into a stranger’s grip, and laughed. It was a sly, easy sort of scoffing sound that was mostly swallowed up by the party. She grinned to herself as she forced her drink onto a stranger and strode closer to Marnie and-

“You.” She drawled the word low and easy.
Her eyes settled on Greg’s face and her smile grew sharp and almost dangerous looking. It didn’t take a genius to put the cups in Greg’s hands together with Marnie’s back, and the thoughts swelling between them about the event. Their thoughts, more than their faces, made her laugh again.

“You are amazing at making an impression.” She shook her head at Greg slowly. It was not nearly as refined a motion as she normally went for. Instead, it looked more natural. More human.

“Are you okay? I mean, your whole back is wet, but besides that..” When she turned to Marnie her smile fell, out of amusement and into.. what looked a lot like earnest concern.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg would like to believe that he had a relatively high alcohol tolerance. Sure he hasn’t been to that many house parties, or even gotten drunk that much (he didn’t start drinking until he was fifteen, mostly cause he was afraid alcohol could affect his athletic abilities), but he was tall and huge. Which was why he was down to six or seven shots in a span of at most forty-five minutes. That’s not counting the beers he’s drunk cause he claimed to not feel the buzz, despite having only a tuna sandwich and half of a kale salad.

What he didn’t know was that he should’ve paced himself. Cause right now, it seemed like the buzz was coming onto him all at once.

“Oh god,” he groaned, grabbing on what he thought was a lampshade for balance. Only it turned out to be a random guy who promptly brushed him off and, well, led to him landing on the floor with a thud. Luckily the girl he splattered beer onto hasn’t moved yet, and it allowed him to reach them without standing up.

Yes, he crawled towards Marnie.

“No it’s not!” he squeaked. Once he reached what he thought were her legs, he slowly stood up, careful not to bump into anyone lest they send him tumbling down again. “I think I saw a couple of paper towels over there.” At least he wasn’t slurring his words yet.

Ashley’s chilly tone wasn’t lost on Greg, despite the blaring music. Who would’ve thought his telepathy being a little less restrained by virtue of alcohol actually helped in drunk conversations?

“We’ve met?” Just because he understood the conversation didn’t mean he could follow. “Wait is she like your lesbian girlfriend? OMG so sorry.”

[/blockquote]

[Marnie Sullivan]

Marnie watched the boy thud to the floor with both hands clapped over her mouth. She'd already mostly forgotten about the beer soaking through her dress - for some reason it was getting harder to focus one multiple problems at a time. When he began crawling towards her and Ashley, she stumbled back a step. How drunk was he? Very drunk? Was it alcohol poisoning? They'd mentioned it in health class back in public school but Marnie had just assumed it was an exaggeration at the time.

Her very brief panic was shoved out of her head when she registered Ash's words. "Ashleeey, don't be mean," Marnie scolded. "I'm sure he didn't." She hiccuped softly, then giggled. The whole situation seemed very silly all of a sudden. Of course the boy didn't have alcohol poisoning, he was standing again. "Didn't mean it." She turned to him and attempted to address him with a somber look, but failed to stifle a snicker. "You didn't mean it, did you?" Marnie was pretty sure he didn't mean it. Whoever this boy was, he was either completely remorseful or too drunk to flee the scene of the crime. Maybe both. Probably both, actually. And either he was too drunk to ask a reasonable question or Marnie was too drunk to understand it.

"Wait, what did you mean?" She turned to Ashley, blinking in confusion, then back to the boy. After a moment his words clicked. "What, us?" Marnie gestured between herself and her roommate, then laughed a little too loudly. "Nooonono, we live together. Neighbors. We live in the same dorm." What a strange question. Not that Ash wasn't pretty. She just looked a bit young. Dressed a bit simply. Maybe if she looked a little more like the girl who'd greeted Marnie at the door, the one with the caramel hair and amazing smile - 

"Uh." Marnie took a several hasty gulps of her drink. Where had that come from? "Anyway, are you okay?"

[Ashley Engel]

Ashley. Lesbian.

Both words made her smile twitch in one corner rigidly.
Her teeth ground just slightly when she opened her mouth to exhale. She’d realized after her first drink that it helped. Something about the feel of her throat and the taste in her mouth when she exhaled made her relax. It made her fluid and easy and open. Which was as wonderful as it was terrible. She was still torn between liking it and loathing it, but in the moment it was a sensation she needed to get over someone using her full name and someone else calling her a lesbian in one fell swoop.

Her eyes settled on Greg.
Before when they’d met her anger had been childish and unrefined. Spoiled. Here and now, she was a lithe form of venom. Smooth and relaxed and too casual. She smiled even though every part of her from her eyes to her thoughts was bladed and unappreciative of his words. Marnie corrected the misconception, and not without some incriminating thoughts of her own. Ash kept her focus on Greg the whole time. Pointedly, she didn’t remind Marnie certain people could still hear her, whether she spoke out loud or just thought to herself. (Even though part of her wanted to argue she was perfectly capable of dressing up nicely given due reason.) The idea of letting Marnie think her thoughts were her own was better than defending her personal pride in the moment.

“He’s drunk. And stupid. Don’t worry about him.” She tried to dismiss her roommate’s concerns. Greg was in no way someone Ash wanted to check on. Whether he was alright or not was his problem. And thus Marnie, as someone Ash was interested in, shouldn’t care about him either. That was how her mind worked- people were things. Therefore people were possessions. She liked Marnie, so Marnie was her thing. And Ash did not like the idea of her things being nice to objects she didn’t care for.

“He’s just here to sleep with some guy he doesn’t know.”
Her understanding of the situation was obviously loose. She knew half-truths and particle secrets about almost everyone in the room. Some guy in the back liked the girl holding the party. Greg liked a guy that girl knew. Marnie, apparently, liked the door girl. And Ash? She liked knowing who people liked. Because nothing was funnier than-

“Here. Marn.” Ash reached out, touching fingertips to Marnie’s shoulder very briefly. It was a featherlight contact, but far more than she’d ever attempt while sober. As she drew her fingers down Marnie’s arm and away, she pointed at two people talking close together just out of arm’s reach.
“Watch this.”

At this range, even with the music, they were loud and obvious. And Ash, being five foot even and maybe ninety pounds soaking wet, was drunk. Not tipsy, though not quite wasted. Somewhere dangerously in between, where she could still function enough to make terrible decisions.

“Hey.” Ash shouted, repeating herself twice before the two people turned around. It was a boy and a girl, both with cups in their hands and smiles on their faces.
“She’s into girls. And he’s into feet.”

She shouted it over the music, and while both of the strangers turned to balk at one another a few people nearby started. One or two laughed, some gasped and shuffled away with rumors on their tongues. Ash just smiled wide and clumsy. She wasn’t sure in that moment why she disliked people so much. People were hilarious.

[Greg Mackenzie]

“I didn’t mean it! And shut up, I’m not stupid.”

Sober!Greg would’ve said such a statement in a relatively convincing manner – slowly, in a deeper voice than usual, emphasis on the word ‘not’ and subtle eye movements to show his disdain for being called stupid. Seven-shots-in!Greg however was on a different ballpark entirely. He instead said it with a whiny-thirteen year-old girl’s voice, complete with an unnecessary rise in intonation whenever he reaches the last syllable of a phrase. Which he says for at least two seconds. Oh, and there was a pout included when he ended his little rant.

When Marnie said that she and Ashley weren’t together, the pout got even pouty-er, proving that differing levels of pouts was apparently possible. “Uhh, that sucks! Here I was thinking I’ve finally made a lesbian friend.” Because he and Ashley met at rather amicable terms before. “It’s ok though. I still like you. I think,” he said with a huge grin, grabbing Ashley by her shoulders and pulling her close for a side hug.

At least until she said he’s only here to sleep with a guy he didn’t know. “Ex-squeeze me, but I do know that guy-“ he pointed at James from Biology, whom he borrowed a pencil from once “-that guy-“ Horus from Gym class, his partner for badminton, “-and that guy.” The last one he had no idea, but he’d so like to know who he was.

“Uhh, can you not?” Greg was furious. Or at least, as furious as alcohol would let him be. Which, since alcohol actually makes him a love-monkey (his drunk texts to his friends were almost always along the lines of “Thanks for being such a good friend I know I’m a pain to be with”), wasn’t actually that threatening. “I’ll deal with you later.” He linked arms with Marnie and tried his best to lead her towards the mini-kitchen, where the paper towels were. “First we need to get you dry.”

[Marnie Sullivan]

"Oh yeah, the paper towels!" Marnie recalled, as she allowed Greg to lead her away. She turned and gave Ash a little wave. "I'll be right back, okaaay?"

Marnie couldn't decide how mean of a trick that was that Ash had played on those other partygoers. She had to admit she'd giggled at the feet comment. But those people were strangers, had they ever done anything to Ash before? Marnie didn't want to believe her roommate was a mean person, but sometimes she couldn't tell if Ash was being rude by accident or not. She'd been rude to the boy leading Marnie to the kitchen, too. Was he a stranger too?

He was a stranger to Marnie, at least, and yet she was letting him drag her across the party.

"Who are you anyway?" she asked him. Upon reaching the tiny kitchen area, Marnie reached for the paper towels and ripped off a length. "I don't think Ash likes you. I don't think she really likes anybody but I don't think she likes you, either." It wasn't an embarrassing or incriminating statement, but if Marnie were totally sober she never would have said it. She wanted to like her roommate, and she did, but it was something about the reality of how Ash was that she'd been trying to ignore.

She realized just how wet and sticky her dress had become while she attempted to mop up the mess on her back. Peering over her shoulder didn't help. "How bad is it?" she asked again, having already forgotten whatever answer she'd been given earlier.

[Ashley Engel]

‘No touching’ needed to be printed on a shirt for Ash to wear.
She didn’t like Greg and she didn’t like close contact. So naturally she had to get both in a heavy dose. While she didn’t say anything or outwardly struggle against him, she did stiffen up and lock her jaw until it was over. Any on the fence feelings she still had about Mackenzie were sharply made up after that. Assuming she clearly remembered what he did later, at least.

Marnie being lead off was even less appreciated.
To Ash Marnie was hers. Greg leading her away was like another kid stealing her toys, and she didn’t like that one bit. She didn’t fuss about it, though. Sharing and picking fights were both things she wasn’t versed in. So she stood still, grimacing at Greg as he started the expedition for paper towels. No sooner were the two out of reliable earshot than Ashley was turning around with a scowl on her face.

“No, he’s not gonna go back to your place. He doesn’t like you like that.” She snapped at two strangers drinking together and chattering. Her patience had been waning and Greg had consumed the last of it. Now, with thoughts and music blaring and no internal reason keeping her to herself, she was spouting things she had no business saying to anyone who got too close. Gradually she carved a path around- first to acquire more beer and second the seek out a good enough corner to sulk into. There, with a drink to her lips, she reduced to less shouting at people and more muttering to herself.

“God, everyone here wants to fuck.” She hissed into her beer.
The vulgarity made her think of the boy at the pond. Which seemed to be the last straw of her ability to process because no sooner did she think about the guy than her head cracked open into a pounding headache. There was ibuprofen in her pocket but she didn’t bother. Instead she curled further into her claimed space and kept drinking through grit teeth. Something about the pseudo-love in the air rubbed her raw. She wanted everyone to shut up, more than usual. The will to do anything about it was weak, though, so she made do snapping various embarrassing truths about strangers into her cup.

[Greg Mackenzie]

The moment they got to the mini-kitchen, Greg immediately grabbed the roll and began dabbing it along Marnie’s back. Never mind that he used at least four times the amount of paper towels than necessary, or that he’s shamelessly touching the poor girl’s back. It was his fault that this adorable girl and her pretty dress got ruined, and he’d be doing everything in his power to make things right. Even if it meant wastingusing so much paper towels Santino Rice could make a wedding gown out of it.

“Oh she likes me,” he said with a giggle, knelt on the floor as he’s working on the spill that run along the skirt’s hem, “She’s going to be my little charity case. She’s like a Chihuahua don’t you think? Once I tame her she’d be the cutest little imp there ever was.” Not exactly the most flattering words to describe someone, but Greg maintained that it came from a loving place beneath his black sequined heart. “I’m Greg. Greg Mackenzie. Lacrosse jock and fairy godmother-in-training, at your service.”

It took ten more seconds of actively trying to salvage the skirt when Greg picked up on Marnie’s discomfort. Sure the dress could dry, but it’ll still reek and heaven knows she’d be sticky. The Canadian teen bit his lip for a second, squinting his eyes and trying to have some sort of epiphany on how to solve his mess.

Then it hit him.

“Come with me.” Greg almost jumped up as he stood, huge smile on his face, and promptly linked arms with Marnie once more as he went towards the other end of the room.

On their way they miraculously bumped into Ashley, and with his free arm, Greg happily dragged the cranky telepath with. “Shush. We’re teenagers. We have hormones. It’s like, natural. Come, I’ll help you get in the action too.”

When they reached one of the doors leading to a dorm occupant’s private quarters, Greg repeatedly knocked on the door, loudly, until a guy his age, shirtless and disgruntled opened the door. “Out. Now.” Lucky for Greg he was noticeably bigger, and the boy didn’t put up much of a fight, going out of the room with his companion with nothing more than two middle fingers held up high in the air.

Once in, he quickly unlinked his arms with the two girls and opened a closet not far back. “I think this would look great on you little miss Ashley’s not-girlfriend,” he said as he pulled out a dress that’s almost the same shade as her lipstick, “Would clash with your necklace though.” He threw the dress on the bed and began rummaging for other viable clothes. “Ashley, try this, this, this and omg this is so cute this!” This time he didn’t even look at the two, simply throwing them to his back, hoping the two would take a hint.

ooc:
Herpaderp. Hopefully it's not too much. If it is, tell me so I can make edits. Thanks you two. ^.^

[Marnie Sullivan]

Marnie was entirely too amused by the image of Ash as a chihuahua to mind once again being led around by someone she barely knew. Ash wasn't nearly happy enough, but the idea of it had Marnie giggling as they wove through the crowd.

"Ash, we're going on an adventure!" she exclaimed when Greg snagged the stewing girl out of her corner. The hostility she radiated only added to her resemblance to a tiny, angry dog, and Marnie loved it.

Her glee dissolved into confusion while the boy turfed a pair of lovebirds out of someone's bedroom. What the hell was he planning? As far as she knew, only one thing happened in bedrooms at parties, and although Greg was cute they'd only just met and what, Ash too? At the same time?

Nope, just raiding closets, Marnie realized with relief. She briefly considered whether the room's regular occupant would be okay with what they were doing, but a dress that wasn't damp would be quite an improvement. And besides, that dress was really cute.

"Don't look, you two," Marnie ordered before retreating to a corner of the room. With her back to the others, she hastily shuffled off her own dress and tugged on the red one. Whoever it belonged to must have been smaller than Marnie because it was tight in places, but nothing too uncomfortable.

"Ta-da!" She twirled to show off the new outfit and staggered a little as she lost balance. "Your turn, Ash!"

[Ashley Engel]

There was a protest somewhere in her throat but it didn’t get out quite right.
Greg was touching her, again, and the fabulous whisking upset her balance. Unlike certain bean sprouts she had the ability to stumble and not dump her beer all over someone, though. Even if “accidentally” pouring the cup all over Greg was incredibly tempting.

He won a few points for himself at brazenly kicking strangers out of a room.
Not that the room was anything worth winning, but the thoughts spewing out of the boy getting kicked out tickled Ashley. She snorted, loud and unladylike, and as soon as she was inside and free of physical contact she retreated to lean against a wall. In here, with the door shut, things were amazingly quiet. She’d almost forgotten what privacy and peace felt like after acclimating poorly to the party chaos. Even if her company was still full of Greg and Marnie, at least it wasn’t twenty of both of them all mushing their faces together. The reprieve helped her tolerate the clothes being tossed around. A new dress for Marnie was fine, but like hell she was putting anything different on.

“This is insanely queer.” She muttered under her breath, just in time for Marnie to retreat to a corner to change. As soon as she aired the warning for no one to look, Ash’s pulse shot up into her throat. She wasn’t into girls. She wasn’t into anything really, as far as she knew. But someone undressing anywhere near her was alarming. She turned the exact opposite direction of Marnie, eyes wide and face slowly melding a violent red shade. Suddenly being stuck in a room with just two people felt suffocating and awful. One hand reached out, clamping onto the side of a desk in the corner while the other brought her beer to her lips. Like her first, it was drained hastily despite the taste. She needed it now.

“No.” She spat. Marnie was showing off the dress but she wasn’t turning around to look. She stayed with her back turned, face inflamed and entire body composed of rigid lines. She coughed slightly over her own word, struggling to relax her throat enough to speak without choking herself off.

“Not happening. Mackenzie, you’d look better in a dress. Go for it.”
She meant it sarcastically, but half of her was terrified he really would strip down and try. The only thing worse than one person getting naked in the same room was two of them. Nervously Ash glanced towards the door, weighing her options. What was worse, a room full of clothed strangers trying to grind each other into dust, or a room of just two pseudo-acquaintances stripping just feet away from her? Ultimately, she stayed put. Best to just ride out the current storm, if that was even possible.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Marnie need not tell Greg not to look ‘cause (1) the boy wasn’t really interested and (2) he was having the time of his life raiding the poor girl’s closet. The room’s occupant had impeccable taste – or at least one that aligned closely to the brunette’s idea of what was stylish for girls his age – and the telepath just can’t get enough of it. From her dresses to her blouses, her crop tops to her skirts and down to her accessories: Greg was living for this woman. If only he could meet her right now and tell her how amazing she was.

Never mind that half her closet’s haphazardly thrown all over the room, of course.

“Oh. My. Gosh. You look wonderful.” Greg couldn’t contain his glee, walking over Marnie and holding her hand to make her spin once more. He picked up a purse not far from them – normally he knew his designers but since he’s more than six drinks in he couldn’t really remember if it was Michael Kors or Marc Jacobs, only that it was the guy designer with an ‘M’ first name – and handed it to Marnie. “Use this, so you won’t lose your other dress. It’s too pretty to just leave here.”

He gave Ash the best puppy dog face he could muster. Which, under the low light of the small bedside lamp – he didn’t turn on the bigger ceiling lights, thinking it could ruin the whole mood of the party – might not have been that visible to the girl. “Oh come on. Indulge us! Or at least put this lipstick on?” He held up the lipstick he’d found on one of the room occupant’s tables and tossed it towards Ashley’s direction. “It’s the perfect shade for the night. I’m pretty sure you won’t feel ignored anymore.”

He was about to make a comment about planning to try some of the room occupant’s clothes on but sadly he was too big and burly when he sensed something bad. “Shit! She’s coming back! With a guy! Soon! Like four/five steps from us” Which meant that exiting unseen wasn’t that much of an option anymore. “What do we do now?”

[Marnie Sullivan]

"What?" Marnie froze halfway through stuffing her soiled dress into a stranger's purse - a stranger who, apparently, was about to discover them waist-deep in her wardrobe. She was sure to look the guiltiest, even if the whole thing had been Greg's idea.

Marnie's skin prickled with panic as her eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for a hiding spot. Wait, nope, it wasn't just panic, she realized when she noticed her arms fading into the greyish green of the bedroom walls. Of all the times for her power to finally be useful! It wouldn't be a perfect blending job, but it was still fairly dark and maybe if she just kept to the corner she'd go unnoticed.

Grinning, she watched her companions search for their own solutions. Marnie glanced down to confirm that she was properly blended with the wall and her stomach dropped. The dress was still completely visible. And worse, since it wasn't her own clothing, she technically didn't know if it was the yellow it appeared to be or something else entirely.

"Shit, hey, what color is this dress?"

[Ashley Engel]

Her nails scraped the desk as her hand curled into a ball.
Greg’s pleading was straining her already weak patience. She moved with the intention of shooting him a nasty glare, just to see him toss something her way. She jerked, fast but not precise. The lipstick clattered into her now empty cup in what looked like an almost artfully intentional move. It wasn’t, when one considered she’d been aiming to grab it with her free hand. She sneered at it, with half a mind to snap at the boy. Who the hell said she felt ignored? Even if he was a telepath, she wouldn’t own up to that accusation. He was just running his mouth like a gossip.

Sighing tersely, she dumped the small artifact out of her cup and into her free hand, then sat it with a stern clack on the desk. At the very least, Greg had succeeded in getting her to turn back around. Just in time for a bomb to drop in the room. In the course of seconds Ash went from impressed at Greg’s range of ability, to sort of proud at Marnie’s quick reaction, to absolutely sick. There was too much going on in the room, entirely too fast. As loud as the party had been most people had been thinking in murmurs and reasonable tones. No one was afraid or hurried or otherwise screaming directly into her brain like it felt Greg and Marnie’s alarm was.

Ash groaned, setting her empty cup down and bracing against the desk with both hands.
She couldn’t count back how much she’d had to drink but she knew it wasn’t staying down. Her frame, plus too much alcohol for a first time drinking, combined with all the noise and rush of the night.. It was all coming back to bite her. Or, rather, coming up.

Marnie asked about a color and Ash felt chills run up her arms and down her back. She shuddered, turning away from the desk. There were a lot of reasonable options- a window, a trash can. But there wasn’t a lot of reasonable thought in the intoxicated telepath and she whirled around too quickly, going for the door. The idea had been to find a bathroom, pronto. That was not what wound up happening.

She reached for the door in the same moment it opened from the other side, and the wave of noise let in proved to be too much. Her stomach lurched, and one hand slammed against the door frame while the other braced in a deathgrip against the turned handle.

Well, there was always that one person who threw up at a party. And, if the night was truly unlucky, one person who got thrown up on. With a remarkably inhuman hork sound Ash and the room’s rightful owner had a very special meeting.

The girl screamed. The boy she was dragging with her staggered backwards into someone else.
People turned and jumped and stared, and a mixture of gasping and laughter began to bubble up. The scene felt frozen and awkward. Ash didn’t have the capacity to register it, but if she had it might have been funny. Maybe. It was certainly something, to be a part of the frozen heartbeat where a total stranger stared into her own overturned room with newly wet legs and shoes.

As it was, all Ash could think was that it was a good thing Greg had turned out her closet. She was going to need clean clothes, now.