Who's that over there?

[Marnie Sullivan]

Ironically, it was because of Karalie that Marnie was even here, because if Karalie knew, she'd... what? Flip out? Yell, curse, tell her she was going to hell? Marnie wasn't totally sure, but she knew how her friend talked about her lesbian roommates, and she didn't want to risk wrecking their new friendship so soon after it had formed. Which was why, instead of checking out Hammel's gay/straight alliance where people might know her and word could spread, Marnie had spent one Sunday afternoon visiting the LGBT center on the edge of town. There was a meeting that day for college-age students, Google had helpfully informed her; one breezy lie about being eighteen was all it took, and after the meeting she was invited out dancing by a biology major with a faceful of piercings and an assymetrical haircut as blue as her eyes.

Why would she say no?

That Friday night after a bus ride into town, Marnie shivered in line with Blue Hair and a handful of other girls - some of whom she recognized from that Sunday, but mostly not - waiting for entry to what was apparently a restaurant during the day but a lively club after dark. One more lie about having forgotten her ID at home, a skillful diversion on Blue Hair's part, and she was past the bouncer and inside. The drinks were more expensive than she'd expected, but after two or three that tasted just like candy, Marnie was beginning to care less and less. About the price of drinks, about what Karalie would think, about anything except dancing and maybe sneaking a kiss or two while nobody around would look twice.

[Anjali Kedar]

It wasn't the easiest thing in the world for Anjali to start the coming out process.  She had battled with it for years, and when it became clear that the feelings she had for women weren't going away, but in fact only growing stronger, she knew it was time to at least meet others like her. Or attempt to.  Not necessarily for a relationship, but for camaraderie.  There was no harm in that so far from home where she might be judged, and she'd gotten a great deal of support from the small circle of people who knew her best.  

With her new found courage, she made her way to the LGBT center during a special meeting for people in her age bracket.  Not that she had anything against older folks in the LGBT community, but if she wanted to meet like minded friends, then she wanted them to be within her age range.  She was quiet mostly, absorbing it all in, but one of the boys mentioned to her that some of them were going out dancing and that she should come along.  Now dancing was certainly up her ally.  Being a yoga instructor and having practiced in belly dancing, she certainly liked to move and knew how to do it, but going out with this group was a big step.  She thanked him and promised to think it over.  It was her roommate who encouraged her to go check it out.  What was the worst that happened, she didn't have fun? Then she could just leave.  

One drink turned into two, and then someone ordered a round of shots.  Before she knew it she was dancing and not holding back. She also had no idea how she was getting home.  Maybe Kate would get her.. She tried not to think about it, her mind buzzing from the alcohol she'd already consumed.  Being a new 21 with little to no previous experience with alcohol, it didn't take the aerokinetic long to feel invincible and when she saw a cute girl not dancing much yet, she boldly made her way over.

"You're not dancing!" The look she offered was almost that of shock, like who the hell wouldn't dance to this song!? "You should dance.  You look really nice, which means you should be dancing." What someone was wearing, at that moment, seemed to go hand in hand with whether or not they should be dancing according to Anjali.  Had she been in a better mental state, perhaps an introduction would have been her first move, but alas she was tipsy.  Very tipsy.

[Aryana Darcy]

Nineteen was a difficult age - one year still stuck in the concept of 'teenagerhood' or whatever the fuck it had been called, but still legally considered an adult. Not only that, but had Rya been back in good ol' England, she would have been able to legally drink.

That being said, those who knew her knew that she made the acquisition of alcohol a bit of a game, and she was sure those who saw her questioned her age but in the span of it all, the Hydrokinetic didn't think much of it. After all, she had never been caught. As such, she was at it again, except this time she didn't need to scam some poor unsuspecting victim. The Brit had decided to head over to the LGBTQ center as a means for some innocent interaction, she found herself involved in a bit of a meeting - one she was most definitely not opposed to attending.

While she may not have spoken up, not necessarily enjoying the idea of speaking her mind to anyone in the way they were expecting, she sat watching. Looking. Some looked uncomfortable to be there, and others, like her, sat with a confident air to them. Rya could respect that, she really could.

But what the Hydrokinetic hadn't anticipated was the invitation to a bar after the fact. It wasn't as though she was planning a drinking binge for the night, but it was an invitation where she didn't have to concern herself with paying for drinks. Rya was most definitely on board, but then again, when wasn't she?

So a single drink led to two, and two lead to shots until the Brit was completely lost in the crowd, the music, everything. The group was dancing, cheering each other on and Rya couldn't help but associate herself with the crowd gratefully.

It wasn't until a specific interaction caught her eye that she strayed away from the general crowd. "You should be," Rya interjected, looking towards the other woman addressing the familiar face. The Brit had seen her around Hammel at one point in time, but the name eluded her. "Dancing, that is."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean loved St. Patrick’s Day.

It came with his cultural heritage, as an American of Irish-descent, and a Catholic one at that. Rather, ex-Catholic in his case, but his cultural heritage remained the same. He had no particular nationalism, not for the United States, which was his country of birth and home, and certainly not for the country that had forced his ancestors to flee due to famine and political turmoil. He had no religious devotion to saints at all and had not for more than three decades. Many of the parades fought for the right to discriminate against men like him, who had found love with other men, and so he shunned those parades.

However, St. Patrick’s Day brought pleasant memories of his childhood. He cooked a traditional meal on St. Patrick’s Day proper, which consisted of potato leek soup, corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, Irish soda bread, and crème brulee, as he did every year. This year, St. Patrick’s Day had fallen on Tuesday, which had meant work and responsibilities, rather than relaxation.

Thus, that Friday, after a long day at Hammel, he and Josh had eaten supper and then decided to go out for a drink. They had cut back for Josh’s hypertension, back in June 2013, back when Bailey still lived with them. They had done a remarkable job of that, and they consumed a small fraction of what they once had. Josh’s blood pressure was under control. Both of them felt healthier, and they had more disposable income as a result, some of which he put into the retirement account he kept in addition to his pension and Josh’s IRA. A safety net.

However, as they drank considerably less than they used to, they treated themselves on occasion. St. Patrick’s Day was one such occasion, even though, on March 20, it was a bit late.

Arriving at the club, Sean sent Josh to find a table, while he placed an order for two scotches. The best way to start the evening.

[Marnie Sullivan]

Once the rush of sneaking into an adults-only establishment for the first time in her life began to wear off, Marnie had been presented with a new problem: She had no idea how to dance. Swaying and bouncing a hip to the beat while keeping both hands occupied with a drink glass was probably her most sophisticated move, or at least the only one she trusted herself to not screw up. It didn't help that her feet already hurt - she'd worn the only pair of heels she owned, little black numbers that she'd only worn a couple of times before to special occasions, and one of the reasons that when somebody in the group had purchased a round of shots she'd taken hers eagerly.

Another reason was that they didn't call it liquid courage for nothing.

The first girl to approach her reminded her strongly of Safia - was that why her stomach fluttered so much at her compliment? Marnie could feel herself blushing, suddenly thankful for the extra training hours she'd crammed in during the semester that kept her camouflage in check.

"Oh my gosh, really?" she exclaimed, face splitting into a grin. When a second girl joined them, this one with a delightful accent, and their combined assurances lifted her spirits. One hand unconsciously left her glass to meet her hair, twisting a lock of it around her finger. Maybe this was working after all! Suddenly she was feeling very... grown up, with a drink in her hand and high heels on her feet and two attractive college students trying to goad her into dancing.

"Okay! Okay, sure!" Around them she heard the music melt seamlessly from one song to the next, one that she recognized, even though it had a stronger beat laid over it, and one of her favorites, though she'd never admit it sober. It was a sign! It was time to dance! "Oh my god I love this song, let's go!" Drink still in hand, Marnie began edging her way into the crowd towards their group; struck by a sudden wave of courage, she reached behind her to grab the wrist of - which one? The British one? The one who looked like Safia? Well whichever, she only had one hand, but she didn't want to get separated on the way to the dance floor.

[Anjali Kedar]

Anjali looked at the other girl joining them, her smile widening before turning back to the one who hadn't been dancing.  Not really..  "Yes really!" She gushed, finding it all amusing.  She was used to pushing people to move their bodies, it was what she did for a living after all.  

The girl agreed and Anjali smiled wider, especially when she gushed about liking the song on the radio, a remix it sounded like.  Before she knew it, the little brunette was bounding towards the dance floor, catching her hand on the way.  Anjali turned back to the other and smiled, hoping she would follow along.  Dancing was better in a crowd anyway.  

Anjali's style of dancing didn't exactly conform to the most popular styles, but that had everything to do with the dancing she'd grown up doing.  You don't grow up watching Bollywood movies and Indian music videos without it rubbing off on your style.  Plus, how many years of belly dancing had she taken?  She knew how to move her hips and her hands, and she could do it well, so what else mattered?  As long as she looked good doing it and she enjoyed herself. 

Once the girl finally stopped Anjali put her hands in the air and began moving, the heat from the drinks and the bodies around her making her warm in the best kind of way.  She felt tingly in her toes and it made her want to laugh.  Had she ever drank this much before? She would slow down, not wanting to actually get drunk, not really drunk, but where she was felt good.  

"Just your hips." She instructed to the girl who had tugged her out.  "Like what she's doing."  She didn't even care what brought her there with the two girls; this was more fun than she could remember having in a while.

[Aryana Darcy]

It wasn't her hand the girl grabbed hold of, but rather the exotic standing beside her, pulling the woman along with a drunken, childlike excitement. Rya simply followed suit, laughing at the sight before her.

The song, Rya had to admit, was an incredibly easy tune to dance to, and as such she didn't really wait to be told, or wait to instruct, the girl on how to move to the beat. Instead, she managed to become the example, and only when she was referenced did she really pay much attention to the situation at hand. The alcohol in her system did little to help her focus, but to aid in the course, the Hydrokinetic pulled herself closer.

"Feel free to look or touch if that'll help," Rya hummed, amused by the idea, "Some people are kinesthetic learners, yeah?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had received, and paid for, both drinks and had started across the dance floor with a glass in each hand. He couldn’t see Josh, but he knew that his partner had found a table; one of the many fringe benefits of telepathy was how he could find Josh anywhere as long as the attorney remained within his telepathic range.

It made everything easier.

As the psychiatrist made his way through the throng of people out to celebrate the weekend (and the few stragglers, like him, who were enjoying a belated drink for St. Patrick’s Day), he caught sight of a familiar face.

Sending a mental note to his partner that he would join him in a moment, he then made his way over to Anjali, offering her a wide smile. “It’s nice to see you,” he greeted her warmly. “Your birthday was last week, wasn’t it?”

He had seen her file enough times (and telepathy confirmed it) to know when her birthday was. Due to the higher drinking age than when he had been in college, twenty-one had become an important milestone in a young person’s life. He had seen Ryan through his twenty-first birthday, although it boggled the mind to think about how that had been five whole years ago.

Where did the time go?

Then, noticing Aryana and the close position, he made a mental note to keep this a short visit. However, he offered her a smile as well. "Hello to you too."

[Marnie Sullivan]

Just her hips, just her hips - Marnie swayed to the beat, attempting to mimic her new dance partner but not having much luck. Where the Indian girl's movements were fluid and natural, hers were cautious and stilted. At least at first; with their encouragement, and with her head as full of bubbles as her drink, before long Marnie loosened up a bit. It was difficult to not feel self-conscious, not with their attention on her like this, but the music was just right and they were smiling and she was miles away from Hammel and everybody in it who might give half a damn who she was or why she was here. Her body thrummed with elation and bass; she could do this for hours.

The dance floor was too crowded to sense anybody approaching. It wasn't until the man spoke over the music that her heart plummeted to her sore feet.

With a speed that even her powers trainer hadn't seen, Marnie's face and limbs vanished - well, not quite. She wasn't that good yet. But her usual tone had been replaced by darkness and spots of swirling color, mimicking the flashing lights above them and the flashy clothing around them. Her own deep blue dress stood unchanged, unaffected by her ability; and then she forced herself to reappear. Her back was to him; maybe Dr. Neville wouldn't recognize her?

Suddenly her brain felt frustatingly sluggish, where before it had simply been dreamily slow. Her heart thundered against her ribs; could she make a run to the bathrooms? Would that work?

"Just a sec," Marnie blurted to no one in particular, before attempting to stumble - had she imagined all the grace she'd managed dancing? - away. The thick crowd buffetted her back; oh god, oh god. She couldn't get caught here. This was the worst idea she'd ever had!

[Anjali Kedar]

The poor thing just wasn't getting it.  "Here, like, bend your knees a bit." She encouraged, not much of a dance instructor.  Teach the girl downward dog? Yeah she could do that, but a simple hip roll? Not while buzzed.  She turned to the other girl who actually could move, impressed with the way she could do it.  She wished she had the nerve to offer others to just watch and touch.  Not that she minded either.  In fact, she sort of encouraged it.  She liked being watched, at least on some level, especially when tipsy like this.  Still, she wouldn't offer, but she took advantage of the other girls and let her eyes linger a moment longer than necessary.  Was she supposed to flirt? How the heck did one actually flirt?

Before she could invest much thought into the odd question in her mind, a familiar voice made her head turn.  Her eyes widened in recognition as the smile broadened on her face.  "Dr. Neville!" She gushed, stopping herself from hugging the older man, realizing immediately it would probably be weird.  Fortunately she had enough sense on her to realize that.

"It was! Can you believe it? I'm, like, getting so old!" She giggled, not finding it odd that she was saying that to a man more than twice her age.  She turned to the other girl as Dr. Neville greeted her also, realizing she was in good company.  If Neville knew her she felt she could trust her, strange as it was.  She turned to look at the other girl who couldn't quite figure out the whole hip thing, but realized she was gone.  

"Hey.. where'd she go?" She asked out loud, noticing the blue dress as it started to disappear through the crowd, a frown forming on her face.  Had they scared her off?

[Aryana Darcy]

The world was a haze of color and booze, with the faces of the other women (though she could argue the one who needed a bit of encouragement to dance was clearly underage, much like her) mixing into the atmosphere. To be honest, she wouldn’t have been opposed to either of the girl’s offering their hands for ‘educational’ purposes, and was clearly encouraging it by the way she drifted closer to the group. There was little doubt that the exotic’s eyes were on her, but they were prematurely torn away by a familiar voice, and an even more familiar face.

Well, who knew Dr. Neville went out to drink.

There was little the psychiatrist could do aside from call the police, but she held a firm belief in the fact that the middle aged man would not do that. So, though this was primarily the alcohol speaking, her lips turned up to the man in question, her voice relatively bright considering the circumstances. “Wonderful to see you, Dr. Neville.”

She looked for the girl who they both were attempting to tutor, and all she could see was the dress on the lights of the dance floor, to which Rya immediately understood she was a meta, quite possibly under Hammel jurisdiction, and then her eyes drifted back to the exotic woman whose eyes and words remained upbeat and joyful.

“Happy belated birthday, then,” Because what else was she going to say? Fuck.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Despite his reputation as a killjoy among a certain segment of the student population, Sean didn’t concern himself with the goings on of former students unless they landed in his lap or came back to his office for advice.

Aryana’s presence at the club wouldn’t trigger a lecture, as she wasn’t under his authority and had not been since her graduation. As he wasn’t a police officer, he wouldn’t administer a breathalyzer test, and, besides, several of the clubs allowed adults in if they were eighteen, but would card them again in order to buy alcohol. It wasn’t as though a student or a coworker moonlighted at this club. He didn’t believe in police intervention in situations like this, even if he caught students drinking on campus when they were only ¾ of the legal drinking age, certainly not in the middle of a crowded club; that was as unnecessary as it was ill-advised.

He focused on Anjali for the moment, smiling and shaking his head. “Twenty-one isn’t old by any stretch of the imagination. Consider being my age.” Not that he told the students his exact age, but guesses ranged from mid-to-late forties (flattering in some ways but not in others, since it implied that the students believed that was old), to mid-sixties (which stung a bit at times).

He turned back to Aryana and asked, “How are classes going?”

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar face, and he turned his head quickly, trying to confirm who he thought he saw.

There she was, changing tones while wearing a blue dress.

And then she tried to run.

His smile disappeared, and he told both Anjali and Aryana,“Excuse me for a moment.”

Considering his build, forcing his way through a crowd was hardly ideal, and so he reached out with the one advantage he had. Projecting outward, Marnie, I see you, so let’s make this easier for both of us.

[Marnie Sullivan]

A voice cut through the fog in her brain, and Marnie stopped dead. The last time this had happened, the voice had been communicating across a crowded auditorium; this time it was just as present, just as clear, even with the music pounding around them. Then, it had been awkward and unfamiliar. Now, it rocketed her heart into her throat.

Marnie's thoughts reeled, as unsteady on their feet as she was. This was a nightmare. This had to be a nightmare. If she just pinched herself she'd wake up, back in her dorm where she was supposed to be, being boring but not so completely stupid -

Before she could pinch herself, another dancer trod on her foot. The sharp pain didn't lie: This was real. And she was fucked.

Slowly, Marnie turned, and there he was, head and shoulders above the crowd, exactly the last person she wanted to see while breaking about eighty school rules.

[Anjali Kedar]

It suddenly struck her that Dr. Neville had been talking to them both, which told her she was in good company.  She looked to the pretty British brunette beside her and found herself smiling.  Perhaps she'd drank a bit too much..  "Thanks!" She gushed perhaps a bit more enthusiastically as necessary at the birthday wishes from the pretty stranger, turning back to her old professor as he continued speaking to them.

"Hey, you're not old." She smirked playfully and then laughed.  Perhaps he was old in comparison to her, but Anjali had seen her fair share of the elderly and Sean wasn't quite there. Still, she considered herself old, by her own standards.  She was, after all, the oldest she'd ever been.  She turned to watch the man address the girl beside her when he stopped abruptly, turning towards the crowd.  Anjali craned her neck to see what he was looking at.  Perhaps the other girl girl they'd been with? When he excused himself she watched after him quizzically before turning to the other girl and shrugging.

"I'm Anji." She introduced over the loud music. "Do you go to the university, too?"

[Aryana Darcy]

The drunken exotic, now that Neville made his debut into their conversation, seemed most definitely delirious or just undeniably kind to the compliment that she paid the psychiatrist. "Classes are going, I suppose." No more was offered but that. The man caused nothing but hell by not allowing her to enjoy her nights to such a full extent without repercussions, and to someone like Rya, that made him even more undeserving of such kindness. However, the brit knew full well when it was she should hold her tongue. His attention didn't seem to be on her, at least not fully, so she didn't want to make her situation worse.

As it stood, the drinks were over. God dammit.

But Anji easily stole her attention once again, pulling a quick nod since it was far easier to communicate simple things like that non-verbally. "Majoring in Studio Art." Although it took a turn for the academic talk, Rya was far from adverse from talking with the woman. It may not have been ideal but it was a conversation nonetheless.