blow a kiss for all the hearts they gon drop

[gwynn]

Who: EVERYONE IN THE WORLD
What: When it's time to party we will always party hard.
Where: Megan's apartment, Howl Barrow
When: Sukkardi/Saturday night
Notes: Threadjacking is encouraged. Also, again, if you want to tag in but your character wouldn't just show up, feel free to assume Megan befriended them somewhere and dragged them over/invited them personally.
Warnings: Preemptive warnings for drug use, naughty language and sexual situations.

Megan's housepartment (it looks like a house to her, but the realtor assured her it is an apartment, okay, whatever) is a quaint little thing in the middle of a friendly, middle class Howl Barrow street that is deceptively tame by day and comes alive by night. Her neighbours are super chill, which is her favourite part of living here -- she asked around about a party, if the noise would be a problem, and nobody had any problem with it. Howl Barrow rules.

The inside's a bit furnitureless right now -- she's got a few mismatched chairs and a pull-out sofa, that's about it -- but she's already started decorating a little, hanging art on the walls and putting up nice curtains. (Nobody is allowed to puke on her new curtains.) She's well-stocked with a wide selection of alcohol, ranging from mid-price beer to hard liquor, and snacks, nothing fancy.

She's got her bong out too, yeah.

By 7, there's already a couple people milling about and drinking -- coworkers from the Vault, mostly. Music's playing from an old suitcase turntable set up on the kitchen counter, it's something Baedal-native, hard rock, and in an alien language.

For the shy and/or drunken Snow Whites, there's a friendly, fluffy ragdoll cat lounging around, casually draping herself wherever is most convenient for attention and adulation. Caution: do not give cat beer.

Comments

[controlledvariable]

Later in the evening, she gives up on the pretense of drinking, because most people are either drunk enough not to notice, or so drunk they're grateful of the sober person giving them a bottle of water and pointing them in the direction of the bathroom.

It takes her a while to notice the eye, and she only does because one of the people crowded around the glass happen to move out of the way right as Steph walks past and she feels the eye watching her. It sends a shiver down her spine that she tries not to show and her gaze snaps first to the eye, then to Balthazar, all subtlety gone.

[molotovmartinis]

For just a moment, he meets her gaze, placid as a still lake, and then he takes the drink from his poor victim and drinks it in three huge gulps. Voila: glass empty, no eye. Balthazar smiles with tolerant fondness at the drunken giggling, and gently disengages, making his way outside. For all that he spent most of the evening 'entertaining', no one else seems to see him go, but most people are pretty tanked.

[controlledvariable]

Her eyes widen a tiny amount as she watches him drink, then narrow as he leaves. Is she supposed to follow? Should she follow? A little voice in her head - that sounds like Barbara - tells her to leave it alone.

Steph's never been good at paying attention to her common sense. She carefully makes her way outside, looking to see if Balthazar is just leaving the party.

[molotovmartinis]

But he's not there, or rather, he's not visible to anyone without the right supernatural bent, thanks to his illusions once more. It's a test, in fact. He doesn't feel anything supernatural about Steph, but she's observant, clearly, so it's worth making sure.

Instead, there is a gold coin lying a few feet from Megan's door, dull in the darkness but just noticeable in the streetlight. That at least is real and not illusion.

[controlledvariable]

Steph slips her hand into her pocket as she looks around, peering down the street looking for Balthazar. She'd check for footprints, but that's almost impossible on a sidewalk.

When she spots the coin, she crouches down and pulls her hand from her pocket. There's something small and black in her hand (it's a batarang), with a pointy tip that she uses to poke the coin before picking it up with her left hand. She rubs the coin between her thumb and forefinger, then looks around again.

[molotovmartinis]

The night is mysteriously empty. Balthazar studies the batarang from where he is, but can't fathom its significance, mostly because he can't see the entire shape, just that one end is pointy. He assumes it's some kind of knife. Invisible and inaudible, he circles her slowly, head a little tilted. Observant and armed — not terribly unusual for this world, but it's good to know about Steph.

As for the coin, its age and worn face distinguish it from Baedal's currency, but it is also cold and does not warm up. It carries some demonic taint, but someone of Steph's moral stature will most likely be unaffected; there might be bad dreams at most if she keeps it long enough.

[controlledvariable]

"Well... that's a little creepy." Steph has monologue issues.

Again, the little common sense voice tells her to leave the coin, but curiousity wins and she slips it into her pocket along with the batarang. She'll have Tim or Babs look at it for her, to see if they can find anything odd about it.

She stands up slowly, looks around a final time, then heads back into the warmth and (relative) safety of Megan's housepartment.