party ♔ got a black card that let saks have it, these chanel bags is a bad habit

[bittersweeter]

[ ♪ feelin' myself -- nicki minaj & beyoncé ]

WHO || Astrid Mädchen & loads of people
WHAT || Astrid's 23rd Birthday Party
WHERE || Some empty bar in the castle.
WHEN || October 29, 2014; 8pm [backdated]
HOW || Actionspam

Lila had basically commandeered Astrid's birthday months ago, all but demanding that Astrid let her plan her party while... it was still Faye's birthday. By the time she is done decorating, it looks like Pintrest collided with Queen Regina and puked black and white Halloween drama all over the room. Glittery skulls, blood red candy apples, candles flickering in black lacquered candelabras. Is that raven real? Probably. Is that skeleton real?

Maybe. Y'all don't know what tricks this girl can do. Maybe Slenderman will show up.

The lights are dim and there is an entire table stacked with cupcakes and cookies and other assorted nibbles and hor d'oeuvres, shoved up against the bar where bottles of every kind of alcohol imaginable are just spread out willy nilly amongst mixers and juices. Bet your ass there is Fireball around. There's soda and punch for the teetotalers, but with far less variety than the liquor. There are even party favor bags for the end of the night stuffed with nips of peach schnapps, Jagermeister, and cranberry juice (the recipe for a red headed slut) and various jewels and baubles, plastic Starbucks cups, hella neon nail polish. And condoms. They are all jammed with condoms.

Invitations aren't sent so much as Lila and Astrid invite every single person they know and don't loathe. Costumes are a requirement, but presents are just highly encouraged. But it's Astrid's birthday, okay? Presents are a must.

And no one is allowed to dress like Jessica Rabbit on pain of... well, pain.

Comments

[bittersweeter]

Oh you poor lamb. Here. [ lila shoves an entire bottle of something into his hands. it's probably tequila. she will give that shit away to anyone. ]

[beatupgrass]

[he accepts this bottle with a certain degree of gratefulness. Unfortunately lobster hands aren't good for opening bottles, so he just pathetically tries to unscrew the cap with his teeth... and my pathetically, i mean he actually gets it off (dex 24). it just looks sad.

he spits the cap onto the floor.] Astrid's got a sick sense o' humor.

[or possibly a sick sense of reality. he wishes it was just her failing to be funny.]

[bittersweeter]

I know, doesn't she? [ lmao that is a compliment in her book, absently crouching down to pick up the discarded cap gingerly. ew. germs. ]

Did you get her a present? 'cause if you didn't I'll kill you. [ she's probably serious. ] But luckily I thought ahead and bought replacement presents for any trash presents or assholes that didn't bring any. So did you or didn't you?

[ tbh he should just say he didn't and take the present lila picked out for him bc it will make astrid cry and she's the best basically. ]

[beatupgrass]

I thought the fact that I wore this is her present. [He does not appear to be frightened of her threat, but that's probably because he thinks death is a mercy after this. Especially since to drink this tequila, he has to wrap his arms around it and sort of tip back, while his legs are locked around the stool so he doesn't fall off.]

[bittersweeter]

[ without a word, she ducks off behind the bar to retrieve the present which both proves she listens when astrid talks and cares more about gifts for other people than for herself. she drops the textbook size box in front of him with a thud, delicately adjusting the neat wrapping. ]

Under no circumstances are you to tell her you didn't personally pick it out. Do you need a straw?

[ she has a straw in her drink so it's moderately less patronizing than it could be. ]

[beatupgrass]

I ain't stupid. I know how broads work. [he doesn't necessarily understand why they work that way and sometimes he chooses to ignore these things, but he knows. and he is, under no circumstances, looking to piss off someone who is in charge of whether or not he stops being a squire ever.

Eesh.] I got it. [he says that, but as he leans back, he almost tips off the stool and manages to correct himself (reflex save 20) with some backbreaking animal twisting. He growls and rolls his eyes.] Or not. [cough up the straw, lady.]

[bittersweeter]

Okay, Coney Island, it's "am not". [ she leans over the bar on her tiptoes to snag another straw, holding it out for him. ] Here.

[beatupgrass]

The fact that I can talk at all means I can talk however I want. [He takes the straw and shoves it in his bottle without preamble, now capable of hugging his booze to his chest and sipping it, all the while looking like an aggravated alcoholic stuffed animal.]

[bittersweeter]

So of all places, you picked Brooklyn? [ her eyebrows creep up. yep, the manhattanite is calling him on it. ]

[beatupgrass]

You think that's the only place out in the galaxy where people talk like that? [Or at least similar enough that when speaking an actual Terran language or picked up on Terran translators, that's how it translates. Alien shit is weird, yo.]

[bittersweeter]

...ew.

[ brooklyn tho. ]

[beatupgrass]

[he shrugs. it's surprisingly difficult in a lobster suit meant for toddlers who don't feel the urge to shrug.] It presents a certain image, all right? Fancy talk don't get you very far where I used t' do business.

[bittersweeter]

Doesn't. [ what if she corrects him for the rest of his fuzzy life. ] And it's also bullshit. I was in the mob and I don't sound like Brooklyn and Atlantic City fucked and gave birth to your accent.

[beatupgrass]

Yeah, well you ain't from my side of the galaxy and I wasn't in the mob. [he was a bounty hunter. gawd.]

[bittersweeter]

[ yeah well, they wouldn't want you. kk. /speciesist. ]

Aren't. Small miracles. Don't forget to give Astrid her present.

[beatupgrass]

She won't let me forget. [He has learned much about astrid in the last few weeks. such a good grasshopper.]

[bittersweeter]

[ that's her girl. ]

Try not to fall off the stool. [ and she peaces out because her intoxicated attention span is oh look a butterfly. sry not sry, rocket. ]