multiversallogs | blow a kiss for all the hearts they gon drop

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blow a kiss for all the hearts they gon drop

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.

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Kiden's not the first face there (because only lamers arrive early to parties), but she isn't the last to show up. She arrives a little before 8 and makes a beeline for the food table, snagging a beer and a handful of cheese balls before they both run out and makes her way into the living room to dump herself on the sofa where the cat decides her next victim would be Kiden. Good thing Kiden likes cats enough to tug the lump of fur onto her lap so it'll be easier to pet with the back of her beer laden hand.

Okay, no beer but can she give cat weed?

Steph arrives about half past seven, dressed casually. She's taken to hiding a small amount of Bat-gadgets on her at all times, and tonight isn't any different, though she hopes she won't have to use them. She gets herself a beer that's more for appearances than actually drinking -- she'll be nursing it for at least an hour.

Then she starts mingling, wandering through the apartment and introducing herself to people. She's keeping an eye out to make sure no one gets into any trouble, but mostly she's here to have fun.

He really shouldn't be here. At almost thirty, Rex is too old for this scene, he's certain. Of course, if he's being perfectly honest, he's always considered himself too old for this scene. Still, it's an opportunity to observe others in the cohort, human and Xenian alike. He doubts he'll make any useful contacts, so as far as he's concerned, this is going to be a quick, in-and-out sort of thing. Megan was pleasant enough in their one encounter, so he can always act like he's just following up on their little chance encounter with a friendly visit.

So, with Iago in tow, he shows up at the party once it's well underway. There's mingling to be had.

Or... wallflowering. After a few drinks, he's just staying near the edges of the crowd, watching, but not participating in the party. And he might've lost track of Iago at some point.

Edited 2012-01-08 00:23 (UTC)

They may be thirty, but they aren't almost dead. You're only as old as you feel, and after a glass of that blue jet fuel stuff - that is, as it happens, just as good as Megan suggested - Odessa is feeling a bit closer to twenty than thirty. She's been standing near the record player for the past ten minutes, content to dance on her own with her eyes shut. It's easier to pretend like nobody's looking when you can't see if they are. Eventually, however, she's bumped into one too many people just trying to sneak by with the swing of her hips, and so she abandons her activity in favour of moving closer to the wall.

Which consequently means moving closer to where Rex stands. Rather shamelessly, she looks him up and down before tilting her head to one side, eyes crinkling at the corners with some kind of secret amusement. "Do I know you?" she asks. "I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before."

Getting from Creekside to Howl Barrow would take minutes, if cars existed - or if Jae had some kind of personal transport - but they don't, he doesn't, and taxis are too expensive to be bothered with. So he's on the train, going from Creekside all the way into the main depot, and then back towards the west side of town on a different line to get to Megan's house.

It could be worse, though. The fact that it's free, reliable, and about as clean as the Tube means Jae's as happy with it as he can be. In jeans, motorcycle boots that have never ever seen a motorcycle, and a black blazer over a neon green shirt, and platinum-bleached hair, he still really doesn't look that weird, because he still looks human. Currently, he's trying to balance a messenger bag above the crush of much-shorter-than-him patrons streaming onto train at Sheck.

Rex is standing up on the balls of his feet, eyes scanning through a cluster of people in an attempt to locate Iago. So far, no good. The soldier must be in another room, schmoozing, caught up in a conversation, doing what he does best. He sighs and falls back on his heels, bringing a glass of something that tastes like punch (but isn't) to his lips. There's only so much revelry he can observe, and he's pretty sure this whole trip's a wash. As soon as Iago emerges, they're going home.

He's aware of somebody approaching-- catching her movement in his peripheral vision, and unconsciously his body tenses a little. Keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead, Rex takes another drink, waiting for her to walk by him, but when that doesn't happen, he turns his head to look at her and then freezes, his expression stuck in wide-eyed disbelief at the familiar face. He meets her eyes for a moment, then pulls his gaze down a little, taking in the scars that set her apart from Wichita.

It's not her. Rex glances to the side, seeming to fixate on the crowd as his mind processes this unexpected turn.

Just a stranger, somebody he can write off, somebody he's about to write off... until she speaks. An innocent question, perhaps, but it's enough to send him reeling into uncertainty. Rex takes a quick moment to compose himself, taking a sip of his drink to stall for time, then looks at her with a bland, neutral expression.

"I don't think so." Shrugging, he offers a polite half-smile and cocks his head to the side as if to indicate the great big wide world. "Maybe our paths crossed out there?"

Will's gotten the hang of the el train, more or less, even if he hasn't quite gotten the hang of anything else. Occasionally he still doesn't believe that he was plucked out of his world and into this one through magic – but spending a few minutes outside and watching the variety of people (human and non-human) going by is enough to remind him that it's real. He still hasn't quite figured out what to do with that. It's a new feeling for him.

He hasn't got much of a plan for today, either. He'll need to stop by the employment office again, but other than that he's mostly just looking around. The train is free, at least, if crowded, and Will's tall enough and he's not in any danger of getting trampled. It also means that his limbs take up more space than they would if he were short, though, which is why he ends up with his elbow jammed briefly against the ribcage of the even-taller dude next to him once everyone is successfully on the train. “Sorry,” he says, shifting around until he's not directly injuring anyone.

She should be used to the way the eyes of others follow along the scars on her face, but there's always a part of her that will seize up over it. Her stomach knots, but her expression doesn't change. On that front, she's gotten better.

"No," she insists, managing to slur just the two letters together. "I do know you. I wouldn't forget a face like-" Her expression lights up then, recognition dawning. "Oh! Oh! Trauma, right? Over at the Glory Shada?" She nods her head definitively, deciding she's got it right. "I just started a couple days ago, but I know I've seen you around!"

At least she's friendly?

Jae is tall, yes, but fortunately there's no innate clumsiness to go along with his teetering vantage point. He sways a bit with the movement of the crowd, elbow in his ribs and all, and isn't terribly startled - he's certainly been whacked harder in public transit. With one arm raised to hold onto a handrail along the ceiling of the cab, Jae dips his head a bit to peer at this guy here who's just apologized.

"Hey," he says, easy-going. "It's okay, I survived."

“Good thing,” Will says, keeping his expression neutral. “Death by elbow is incredibly undignified.”

His brow lifts when she remarks on his face. He snorts softly and takes another drink. If she thinks it's unforgettable now, she should've seen it before the surgery. "I don't--"

Rex stops short once he realizes she's a coworker, loosening up almost instantaneously. The false smiles come in easier now. "Right. Yeah, I work Emergency and Trauma. Nursing," he offers with a wry little quirk at the corner of his mouth. "Which department are yo in?"

"I assume you're saving something more picturesque for me?" Yes, we'll just go with This Guy being some kind of James Bond assassin. On the train. Why not.

“I don't know,” Will says, going along with it. Or keeping on with it, whatever. “I'm not really very good at subtle. I'm more of a -” he makes a vague explodey gesture with both hands and throws in some illustrative noises for good measure before grabbing the handrail again - “sort of guy.” He lets himself smile, then, because being silly is kind of nice after a few days of being tense. “I'm Will,” he adds.

If nothing else, she'd have empathised. Immensely. "I knew it!" And she does take her triumph in this matter very seriously. See? Her face just got all serious. Apart from the way that her gaze is kind of bleary from the alcohol she's been sipping at steadily. It makes the fact that her eyes don't quite match a little bit more evident, if someone happens to be in the habit of making eye contact with drunk girls at parties.

"I'm in General Surgery," she supplies with a shrug. "As a surgeon." Because she not-so-secretly wants people to know that she's not just a plucky nurse's assistant. (She certainly looks the part.) "I'm 'Dessy. Well, Doctor Odessa Wander, if you want to get formal." She doesn't seem like she wants to.

Ever since that initial once over, Rex is casually avoiding really looking at her. He's over Wichita, really... for the most part. But Rex has always had a difficult time really letting go of things (much like his sister. It must run in the family), and the last thing he needs or wants is to start conflating any lingering Wichita issues with his coworker.

"Impressive," he says musingly, then offers his hand for a shake. "Rex. Dr. Rex Lewis." He chuckles softly. "I know the title must seem strange, given the job... It's PhD, not MD."

"Really." He's smiling now, indicative of laughter, though Jae doesn't often laugh out loud - too many years of radio work and needing to speak clearly. "That seems like something better put on a personal ad. I'm Jae. I'd shake your hand, but-" he shrugs a little, as he's sort of trapped, with one hand attached to the hand rail and the other holding his bag balanced on one shoulder. Apparently there's something in there he doesn't want to get squished.

Letting go is overrated, Rex. It's okay. Odessa has all the sympathy and understanding on that front. She makes sure to wipe any condensation from the Ubiquitous Red Cup™ she's been passing from hand to hand away on her wool skirt before reaching out to shake. "Ooooh," she all but purrs. "A PhD. Colour me mutually impressed." And visibly interested.

"It's a pleasure, Rex. What's your field?"

Will waves his free hand, not bothered. “I don't have anything to carry yet,” he says, “or I'd probably be holding onto it like that too.” He'd also be happy be wearing his own clothing. Or new clothing that's his – he's probably never seeing his own clothing again. The stuff he got from the Inn is serviceable, and attracts less attention than his flight suit would, but he's looking forward to actually picking out his own clothes again. “Things are a little more orderly, where I'm from.”

A look flickers over Jae's face like Oh, and though his default is relaxed and friendly, something about him seems a little less practiced. "You're new, too?"

He's only just gotten himself to chill out, really. Talking to natives is still weird; it's easier when it's someone who understands the distress that still lurks in the back of his head.

No, she cannot. (That's a filthy lie, nothing is stopping Megan from hotboxing her own cat.)

At some point, Megan appears hovering upside-down in mid-air -- the apartment's getting crowded, okay, she's making room -- and slowly reaches down to steal one of Kiden's cheese balls. Nya ha ha ha ha.

Megan's talking to someone by the front door, laughing, touching her neck, playing with her hair a lot -- there's some very aggressive flirting going on there -- when she spies someone out of the corner of her eye that she recognises from the Network but has not actually met in person. Rather than make a note of that for later, she immediately whirls away, belatedly excusing herself, to head over that way and descend upon Steph like a gigantic, friendly pink puppy. Megan tends to act on impulse, because she has a memory like a sieve, and she'd never get anything done otherwise. "Hi! We met over the Network, right?"

She is much shorter in person, but that's probably to be expected, given her general fairy aesthetic.

Edited (typossss) 2012-01-08 11:12 (UTC)

Dang Rex, you old. Okay, to be fair, he is nowhere near the oldest person here -- a few of Megan's regulars from the Vault showed up, thankfully the ones she actually likes and who probably don't expect to bang her, and a couple middle-aged neighbours are currently holding court over an increasingly elaborate game of beer pong set up on Megan's dining room table. But it is true that the majority here are late teens, early 20's.

Wallflowering is distinctly not allowed, so when she spies someone doing it, she immediately goes to talk to them. Hence why she descends on Rex, hovering upside-down (how her shirt's staying decent is anyone's guess) in the air -- evidently her flying is much better when she can land just by dropping herself to the floor. "Hi! Whatcha doin'?" she asks.

"Hi!" Steph grins at Megan, not at all put off by the enthuasiasm, "Yeah, we did, I'm Steph. I like your house." Megan is a lot more pink than she was on the network, but Steph's seen weirder.

True, it's a bit bare at the moment, but it's a good size, clean, and homely looking, which makes it nice. Steph had considered bringing some sort of housewarming gift, but decided against it because a) she dint know Megan very well, and b) she's trying to be careful with money.

"Thank you! Is it snooty if I say I like it too? It's not like I built it or anything, it's just, you know. It's a nice house. It's so cheap here, too, like, compared to New York, anyway, we'd all be living in closets or, like... a box on the street there." Her accent's a light Welsh and her voice is lower pitched than one would expect by looking at her -- it's got a kind of husky quality, like she's been smoking a lot. (She has, uh. Well, she's got another pipe upstairs she was hitting earlier.) "You're new, yeah? How're you settling in?"

"I think you're supposed to like your own house, so it's all good. And it's nice to hear it's cheap, I'm gonna start looking for a place once I save a bit and I'd rather not live in a box."

Steph is boringly normal compared to Megan, the only 'off' thing about her is how muscled she is, plus the few light scars on her face and hands. Her accent is American, but unrecognizable to someone not familiar with Gotham.

"I've been here a few days and already got myself a job, plus there's enough people here I know from back home, so I'm not too freaked out."

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