Open; May 12-14

[thelastjoy]

A. Caffeine Cold

A full week of a new school probably would have fried her nerves even if she wasn't still adjusting to her curse. The full moon, naturally, hadn't helped one bit. Coffee probably wouldn't help her relax, but she wasn't about to deny herself something sweet when her mood was already so sour.

So of course she trips rounding a street corner and spills the drink all over herself.

"Shit, shit, shit." Girl hops from foot to foot, trying to dislodge the icy mush from her shirt. She starts scooping it off her clothes, promptly flinging it away from her skin and, probably, right onto the poor souls passing by.

B. Into the Wolf's Lion's Den

The East End pack has far nicer digs than she's used to.

She saw some of the place on full moon, but hadn't had time for more than a quick peek around before other matter's took hold. With the night behind her, she's curious to explore; see what she'll be contending with for the foreseeable future. She's examining a broken down wall currently, running her fingers over the ragged edge of splintered stone.

"Ya'll been rough with this place," she says, though her tone is warm rather than accusing. She finds the chaos homey. "Looks like a hurricane came thrashin' through here."

C. Chalk Zone
She's not far from her apartment building, sitting cross legged in a parking lot of some run-down shops. It's well past working hours and the place is deserted. Girl's made herself comfortable, an honest to god boombox blaring loudly by her side, and a bag leaning against her back. She riffles through it every few moments, picking out new pieces of chalk.

She's drawing on the pavement, mushroom clouds and dragons mixed with lines from old rock songs. It's not very good, childish and more a mess than anything artistic. Still, she seems to be enjoying herself and the look she gives when anyone walks by says she has no plans on stopping any time soon.

D. Player's Choice; Leave your own prompt

Comments

[thelastjoy]

"Never would of said it out loud, anyway," she jokes, looking around the party with a sparkle in her eye. She may have lacked much of a social life back in the US, but this sort of scene felt just as much like stepping into her territory as heading into the den.

"Poison? Drinkin', right." She shrugs. She's not entirely sure that's something they'll get away with here, but he's pulled everything else off so far. "Beer or whatever. I ain't picky."

[knowntohisfriends]

The Dodger? Not get away with drinking? He would laugh at the thought. He's been drinking since he was able to reach the gin bottle on the shelf. He can't even remember how old he was then. Getting beer isn't just easy, it's laughable.

[thelastjoy]

She watches him, raising an eyebrow at his expression. "What?" She asks, a little self-conscious. "Judgin' my choice?"

[knowntohisfriends]

He hands her over the bottle. "Just wonderin' why it seems like you thought we ain't gonna get anythin'."

[thelastjoy]

"Because, usually, even the best have their limits." Not that she'd at all complain that he apparently didn't. Or maybe the rules were just as little more lax on this side of the ocean.

"Thanks," she says absently, taking the bottle and tilting it toward him in a slightcheers motion. She sways a little to the beat of the music, eyeing the dance floor with interest.

[knowntohisfriends]

"I got my limits," Dodger shrugs his shoulders in admittance. It isn't a big thing to admit, really, everyone's got their own limits. "Just ain't gonna find them here."

[thelastjoy]

"I'll be kind and not ask what those are. Ya know, since ya did get me a drink." That and she never expects to learn all someone's secrets at once. "'cept just this; one of those limit's ain't dancin', right?"

[knowntohisfriends]

"Course it's not," he grins widely. "Kinda party is it where ya don't dance?"

[thelastjoy]

"A stuffy, borin' party." She takes a drink from the bottle and steps back toward the writhing crowd. "Then don't make me be the loser who dances alone."

[knowntohisfriends]

He smirks, and then there's that mockery of a gallant bow. "An' what sort of gent would do that?" He said, moving forward to join her in the crowd.

[thelastjoy]

"How kind of you sir," she says, putting on an overdrawn accent and leading him into the fray. She stops near the edge of the dancing, giving him a wide grin before beginning to move with the beat. She's not graceful in the least, but she puts on a good show of enjoying herself.