undergrounds | Roddy's Birthday Rave! Backdated to August 31

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Roddy's Birthday Rave! Backdated to August 31 - Open to all

As far as Roddy was concerned, there was only one thing to do if you won a bunch of money right before your birthday, and that was to throw a massive rave. There was alcohol (mostly beer and booze set out for people to help themselves to), music (which he took over and was the DJ for part of the night, though most of the night he focused more on enjoying the party himself), low lights and glow sticks.

Of course, the low lights was a given, considering the fact that Roddy was throwing the party in an abandoned warehouse in a remote part of town. Sure, he just won a bunch of money, but he didn't want to blow it all on this party, and besides...abandoned warehouses just felt traditional for this sort of party. Other than that, he set it up so people could drink, dance, and have a good time, and if they wanted to bring anything more illegal than alcohol that was fine, too, as long as Roddy continued to have plausible deniability.

Naturally, he'd made sure his friends in Hillingdon and the East End Pack knew about the rave, although he'd made it very clear that it was open to everyone, figuring it could spread by word of mouth from there.

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It's a good thing the lights are low, because Eponine somehow finds her way there. She's not been invited particularly, but if she waited around for invitations to places, she'd never go anywhere at all.

When she first arrives, she finds herself in a corner. Drinking blood from a plastic pouch, as if it were a Capri-sun, she sits with her tatty grey hood pulled up over her hair, just watching the other revellers. She doesn't know most of them: a lot smell unclean, wolves and that. She stays away. She's not looking for trouble.

After a while though, she notices someone staring at her, so she lets her long, black hair drip in front of her face beneath the hood. She eases herself from the corner, and makes her way to the dance floor. As she passes a table, she helps herself to someone else's bottle of vodka when they're not looking. The burn, when she drinks it straight, is so good.

Eponine circles the dance floor, longing to join in, but not quite knowing how. But sooner or later, she ends back in front of the person who was staring at her before. Her temper, spiced by the vodka, flares.
"Why do you look at me? Am I not to be here or something?"

Roddy looked startled.

"No! It's fine! You just...smell different." Like blood and death. "That's all."

After all, technically the rave was open to whoever, even though with the werewolves here, it was definitely surprising for a vampire to show up. However, as long as she didn't try to attack anyone, Roddy wasn't going to say she couldn't be here, and if she did...well, with this particular crowd, things would probably resolve themselves very quickly.

"Like dirt and that?" It makes Eponine grin. "It is better, I think, than a wolf stink. I should rather be a dirty vampire than a wolf." But then again, would she? Would it really matter in the end?

"It it your party, Monsieur? I've never been to a party before, not a proper one. I have seen them, but..."
It is lucky that this isn't in a private venue. If it was, she wouldn't be able to cross the threshold. Again.

"Is it your birthday?"

As a rat shifter, Roddy really had no dog (hah!) in that fight, but he was more accustomed to the wolf smell. Mostly because he was usually wary of vampires, though she didn't seem to be up to anything, so he wasn't as cautious around her as he'd normally be. It likely helped that she looked like a teenage girl.

"You get used to it."

As for her questions...

"Yeah, it's my birthday. You know, you're the second person this year I met whose never been to a party. I never knew that was such a common thing. So how are you liking it so far?"

"Yeah? Who else?" Are there more people like her? Eponine can't really imagine it. Then again, there was that girl on the first night, who bought Eponine blood in exchange for her life. Nancy? She was too much like Eponine.

Eponine shrugs. "Them what I am around, Monsieur, in Paris, my home, you know? They are not so much parties. Not parties like this. But it is nice."

She's managed to get hold of vodka. She's not had untainted vodka in forever. She likes the burn it still produces in her throat.

"Do I say happy birthday? How old are you? I bet not so old as me, but I do not know how old I am, so perhaps. It has been a long time, wars and all that. But I did not know before I were turned, and I do not know now. I am the age to keep me from trouble. I don't like trouble from the beaks and these services that have come about now. It is stupid."
That's all probably a little much for poor Roddy, but she has an attentive audience, and Eponine does enjoy indulging herself in chatter.
Forgetting that she doesn't actually own the vodka, she takes a swig from the bottle, before offering it to Roddy.

"You want a sup, Sir? I swear, I ain't got nowt for you to catch." She wipes her mouth on her sleeve.

"Just one of the shifters in Hillingdon."

He wasn't going to be specific, mostly because he didn't feel like Mako would appreciate him running around, making sure she was known as the girl who had never been to a party. Even if it was someone else with the same experience. There were so many shifters in Hillingdon, he wasn't too worried about anyone pinpointing who he was talking about with that much information.

"Really? But I heard France had some..." Then he remembered. Vampire. "Although, I guess, maybe not when you were growing up."

France might have more of a night life now, but who knew how old this girl really was.

"I'm nineteen." So probably a good deal younger than her, judging by what she was saying. Most of which he wasn't following, until she offered him the vodka, of course.

"Sure," he says, taking the bottle and drinking for a few gulps. The vodka burned against his tongue and throat, but that didn't keep his enhanced senses picking up the taste of 'predator' and 'death' on the bottle, making his hair stand on end.

After finishing his drink, he wiped his mouth, handing the bottle back.

"Just a baby then," Eponine chuckles. "So young. Perhaps I was turned at nineteen, but I think younger, a little. I don't know. It is tricky to remember."

She takes the bottle back, impressed that Roddy dared drink from it after she had.
"So, you are a brave boy?" She asks, laughing. "You do not mind sharing a drink with a vampire? Monsieur, that is a stupid idea, but you are brave indeed." She gulps from the bottle.

"Do you get drunk easy, M'sieur?" She asks. "Me, no. I wish I did, but it takes a lot. Maybe you will be more drunk quicker?" She shrugs. Perhaps it's a trick of the light, but her extended fangs seem to glint a little. She never could resist alcohol laced blood.

Roddy certainly wanted to seem brave, even though the whole thing did make him a bit nervous. Still, even though drinking after her had made him feel a distinct sense of unease, he'd told himself there was nothing to worry about. They were in a crowded place. What could she do without attracting unwanted attention? Still, seeing the glint of a long, sharp fang made him nervous, and he found himself glancing around, looking for a route of escape.

"Well, I'm not a vampire, so yeah, I get drunk quicker." Obviously. Although, right at the moment he wasn't eager to demonstrate that, even if he was already slightly drunk from the drinking he'd done throughout the night. "And it would be braver if we weren't in a place full of werewolves and shifters and stuff."

A quick reminder that going after him would be very dumb. Just in case she was thinking it. Not that he was assuming she was, of course.

"Oy, Roddy!"

The Dodger was always going to be late to a party. It's what he did. Still, he and Roddy got on. It was a thing that happened after you robbed the Mother of Witches together.

"Hey, Dodger!" he called back with a grin and a wave. It was always nice to see someone who had your back, and there was no better way to know someone had your back than to steal stuff together.

"Had to make a late arrival, didn't I?" It was as much as an apology as he'd be willing to give, handing over a card. He wasn't much cop at remembering to get people presents unless he had a group of people reminding him to do so. "Good party."

"Of course!" Roddy clearly wasn't concerned with Dodger showing up late. Now, if he showed up late when Roddy was supposed to be getting away from a heist, then he'd care. But here? Not so much. "Thanks. I was able to go big this year with my winnings."

And it was something he'd likely not get many chances to do, so he was pretty happy with the situation.

"I see that. Congrats, by the way. Didn't find ya on the day," the Dodger shrugs. He did try but with the crowds and other factors he just found himself going back to the den earlier than he had planned. It was not that unusual.

"Thanks. It was awesome beating a bear."

Okay, it wasn't like he directly beat a bear in a fight or anything. They just both lost their first round in the fight, and naturally a rat is better at escaping a room.

"Mogget was there. I got lucky, though. He didn't try to out me or anything."

It probably was for the best if he and Dodger weren't seen together, though. Had he tried to out Roddy, Roddy could at least try to claim he must have seen another rat shifter, since he wasn't spotted in human form. Even though Mogget clearly recognized him regardless, Roddy figured it was probably for the best that the two of them weren't seen together.

Mogget... The Dodger gives a shrug.

"Reckon it ain't right for the witches to be keepin' him like that," he said after a minute or two. "I get he could have us thrown in the lockup, but..." There was a pause, and he just shrugged. "Dunno, must be my generous human nature playin' up."

"Yeah, I guess he could have."

Sure, it would have been his word against Roddy's, but didn't fae like...not lie or something? Maybe it was because Mogget wasn't expressly ordered to turn him in. And of course, it was entirely possible that Mogget wasn't that bad of a guy, aside from his unnecessary sewer comments. Comments that certainly didn't merit enslavement.

"Definitely not right that they're keeping him like that."

Unfortunately, Roddy knew too little about witches to really understand how they kept fae bound against their will. Only that they could.

"He's gotta do what he's ordered," there's a shrug, "that collar shows he's stuck." There's a silence because, well, it's like being in the lock-up, really, only in Mogget's case there's no chance of a break out.

"Anyway! How old you meant to be now?"

"Yeah, but I'm sure there's got to be more to letting him go than just taking it off."

After all, wouldn't someone have done that by now if that was all that was needed? Either some fae, wanting to help another of their kind, or some enemy of Samantha's, wanting to deprive her of a valuable tool.

Anyway, onto the subject of his age. "I'm nineteen."

So a bit older than Dodger, who probably was a bit young to be at a party with alcohol, but then...well, he was already getting involved with dangerous heists at his age, so it was a bit late to worry about bad influences at this point.

"Don't reckon it's that simple. All sort of magic attached to that, probably." Well, it's what Fagin would do, if the Dodger thought on it. Make a thing look simple, but put in some very nasty happenings if it ever managed to happen.

"That one of the important ones?" He really has no idea.

He figured as much. After all, if that was all it took, there's be no way witches could reliably hold onto familiars.

Was nineteen one of the important ones? Roddy gave Dodger a look, like he was wondering why he wouldn't already know the answer. "No. Not really. I just wanted to go big because I had extra money."

Well, the fear of the Fae retaliating against everyone could probably do it, but nah, had to be more on the thing than just a collar.

"Oh. Right. Never celebrate birthdays at the den." He said it with a casual shrug.

"The den?"

They'd never really talked much about Dodger's personal life.

"Place where I lay my head."

The Dodger, as a general rule, does not talk about his personal life. Mentioning the den is fine, though, it's just the place he stays. He'll never show where it is.

Imogen doesn't like being alone anymore.

It's only been a few days since she was attacked and even though the bruises have healed--she's always healed pretty fast; good genetics probably--she still gets jumpy around strangers. She has no idea why she's here, halfway drunk and separated from her friends because two of them picked now of all times to decide to have a screaming break up fight and go their separate ways and the group fractured along with them and left her quite alone. This whole experience would be so much more enjoyable if she could score some ecstasy and lose herself in the music, take some of the edge off her jumpiness, but she doesn't know anyone here. This isn't her usual scene. What if there's a cop?

She's about had enough of this. If her friends want to party, they're welcome to. She wants to go home.

Imogen turns towards the entrance, figuring she'll just get a taxi back to her aunt and uncle's place, but the crush of bodies won't let her move. It's too much. The flashing lights, the moving bodies, the thumping music...

She feels a wave of overwhelming nausea hit her and somehow manages to stagger to a corner before vomiting up everything in her stomach, right on some poor guy's shoes. Maybe she's more than halfway drunk.

Roddy grimaced as he looked down at his shoes, which had now been splashed with vomit, before lifting one of his feet to try and scrape it off against a wall. Well. He could see he'd have the rats being more intrigued than usual by his shoes.

After a few seconds of that, he looked over at the woman who was the source of the vomit. "You okay?"

She probably just had too much to drink, and would probably be fine as long as she got some water, but he still wanted to make sure. Especially since she didn't particularly seem to be here with anyone, and it was never great to be that drunk on your own.

Predrinks are coming back to haunt her. Vodka tastes terrible the second time around, and the fruity cocktail that she'd paid too much for just adds a sickeningly sweet aftertaste to the whole disgusting mess. Imogen wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing dark purple lipstick all over the side of her face, and looks blearily up at the guy whose shoes she just decorated. There's something weird about him, but she's too drunk and miserable to put her finger on it.

"'m fine," she gasps out. "Just need to sit down for a bit." There's no place to sit. It's too crowded.

Edited 2017-09-15 05:02 (UTC)

"Here, I'll..." He paused, looking around, trying to work out where she could go to sit. "I saw a back area with some chairs earlier. I think it used to be an office or something. I can help you back there."

"Thanks."

Once they get to the old office, Imogen sinks down into a chair with a contented sigh, not seeming to mind the dirt and grime coating everything. She feels loads better once she isn't tottering around on sky high, impractical heels.

"This is nice. D'you wanna sit down too?"

There's another chair and she's feeling chatty.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, taking a seat. Roddy, naturally, wasn't too concerned over a bit of dust and grime. He'd also been on his feet all night, although, since he was wearing gym shoes it hadn't been that hard on his feet. "So how are you feeling? Want me to get you a water or anything?"

Yes, he'd just sat down and already he was offering to get back up.

Imogen is torn. She wants to rinse the awful taste of regurgitated booze out of her mouth, but she also doesn't want to be alone right now. "No--stay." She grabs his hand and why is she getting all teary right now?

"You're being so nice to me." The tears start to fall. "I don't deserve someone being so nice."

Roddy settled down in his seat. If she wanted him to stay, he'd stay, although he was kind of surprised by all the...well, crying. What was going on?

"Of course you do." Not that he actually knew her to make that assessment, but whatever. "Why wouldn't you?"

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Roddy's Birthday Rave! Backdated to August 31 - Open to all

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