He wasn’t going to come. He hadn’t planned on coming. If he could’ve helped it, Nice wouldn’t have come. Upscale parties where rich people flaunted that they were rich just isn’t his idea of fun. He had been completely content with lounging around listening to some smooth beats or taking a walk in the streets while other enjoyed the festivities.
Except then he began to think. And he’d considered all the people there. And finally, that Namine was going to be there; by herself, even. He could only imagine the types of creeps that would worm their way into this kind of thing, and suddenly no longer could he think of enjoying any of the aforementioned activities. Besides, there would surely be decent people mixed in with others, he’d find something to do if he wasn’t in “big brother” mode
Which, he’s finding, is a lot more often than not. Spotting a petite blonde amongst the sea of adults all masked is like a needle in a haystack. It’s far more a hassle than necessary to wade through the dense mass of people, so the male had settled for hanging around the refreshments. At some point, every party goer stops by to grab a drink, and when the right person comes by, he’ll be able to potentially rest easy.
"I thought you wouldn’t come."
Turning his head towards the voice, Nice’s face immediately brightens. Pale blonde hair, blue eyes, even with the mask on he can tell it’s her.
"Namine!" His hunch had been correct, it seemed his strategy proved effective after all. "Heh, well I couldn’t leave you at the mercy of drunken dancers all night long, so I I figured I’d drop by." He taps the edge of his purple mask lightly. "Turns out these are pretty cheap, so I got by easy this time." Thankfully, his wallet had been able to handle the purchase.
"But that’s not too interesting; tell me how the party’s been. Having fun?" His tone drops and his eyes harden. "Have you met anyone? Anyone strange?”
She knows better than to expect a lot from those around her— after all, most occasions leave her too curious for her own good. The only disappointment she knows is lighthearted and forgotten within minutes (if it even has the weight to settle, whatsoever)… anything else seems to fade freely, and she has no problem with that.
Holding grudges are even less likely - and she wouldn’t have held it against Nice if he’d decided that the ball wasn’t worth his time. Even less would she guilt or blame him for leaving her alone (isn’t that what always comes from bonds like these?). Oddly enough, that isn’t the case. Instead, he continues to make her swell with surprise and lack the comfort that comes with being far away. Distance has always been comfortable. What’s changed?
For the most part, she just wants to make sense of why she’s worth his company at all. He’s kind, understanding, and interesting to no faults - and when she does see the other facets of his character which might be somewhat less worth mentioning, no doubt she’ll merely find him even more so. Even when flaws are prominent, she appreciates them boundlessly… ceaselessly, even, and can admit that with a smile.
Much like the smile he earns upon speaking up.
Guilty and increasingly unsure of just how to respond. "Leave me at the mercy of— Oh, no!" Immediately, her pupils dilate in worry and mild panic.
”I didn’t mean to trouble you. I’ll be okay, really!” Processing his question takes a moment, but he doesn’t seem irritated. "I’m glad you’re here, though… I like your mask!" A softer expression and a beat later, she relaxes just a bit. "It’s been slow, but someone taught me how to waltz. It’s— hm? What do you mean strange?"
Tick tock tick tock…
The grandfather’s pendulum rolled back and forth endlessly, dust still clinging to its aged metal gears despite the clock’s seemingly eternal movement. The chimes still linger from the recent passing hour, the memory of the three ringing bongs of the hour telling tale to the fact that the middle of the afternoon is underway.
At his desk sits the school’s History teacher, shuffling papers beneath his hands as he tidies his desk after a full day of escorting pupils down the paths of forgotten king’s and wars which have been reduced to mere black and white movies with little historical remains. It’s a passion as well as line of work, educating as many as he can about not only his own country’s history - that nation being Britain of course if his accent wasn’t already painfully obvious - but the histories of the world, the Earth and the divides humanity has come to label as continents.
There’s a knock at the door. Arthur’s gaze shifts somewhat lazily from the papers before setting down the work plan for the next day. It is usually about this time that his eyes begin to droop some, since the three o’clock chimes ring reminder of the fact it has been indeed three hours since his last brew. And that is simply too long to go without a spot of lightly milked and two sugared tea. When he speaks to the visitor, either pupil or teacher or perhaps even a kind passer-by with a trolly loaded with cakes (he should be so lucky), his tone is naught but pleasant, manner the epitome of what he has come to be known as typical to his English gentry
“You may enter.”
One thing that she fears will never be an easy adjustment or understanding is how different actual school campuses really are. All things considered, she’s at least ten times more comfortable doing work from her own home, but sometimes there are mandatory assignments that need to be collected from the schools themselves.
Her father, unfortunately, simply doesn’t have the time to pick said paperwork for her, so she heads over on the pale blue bike with a bit less determination than what is probably recommended. Coming prepared enough to lock it to the bike racks, she starts into the building with both arms close to her sides. Although the blonde isn’t necessarily uncomfortable, the place as a whole is an unfamiliar building, it’s very large and she’s supposed to return an exam that can’t be scanned online to a teacher that she’s never met.
So at the sound of permission, she gives a gentle nudge to the door and does as suggested. Ruffling with the papers against her torso, Naminé clears her throat before making eye contact that she’s not sure she should bother with. Besides, it’s a little later in the afternoon and he probably wants to go home - already, she wants to leave after several apologies. "Oh, I believe I sent the system an email? You see… I don’t actually attend classes here, but the homeschooling that I submit assignments to required that I drop off this exam. Um, Fontaine is my last name?"
Goodness, she’s rambling."I’m sorry."
For the most part, she’s a lingering concept amongst sailor knots tied to the mast - in other words, Naminé’s all too ready to turn on her heel and high-tail it out of there. After about a half an hour of indecision, for some odd reason she’s complied and standing in a line where someone has already agreed to teach her the steps of a waltz. Her knees threaten to buckle in wait, anxiousness crowding her head like eager birds pecking at a wire that’s already on edge.
She doesn’t want to bother anyone, even if it’s already clarified that this is a voluntary sort of thing. Despite that fact, the blonde is a mess of inquiries that hardly make sense— it’s a miracle that she isn’t stammering between every which-word. Fiddling her thumbs will just add onto the picture of disorientation, so she holds her breath and digs the toe of her flat into the linoleum.
Lower lip succumbing to her top row of teeth, she’s soon face to face with a pale boy with hair with a color akin to her own. He’s familiar - very much so, and it makes her skin itch in an oddly comfortable way, so she offers the tiniest of smiles. It would be rude to greet him any other way, and she’d never want to leave a lasting, bad impression. Tenting slender fingertips, the slight girl inclines her head before speaking up at last.
"I didn’t mean to keep you waiting— I’m sorry." Wasting time with apologetics and hypothetical scenarios where he might be angry might actually result in such, so she speaks up to the best of her ability. "My name is Naminé… I really appreciate you helping me!"
All in all, it’s been a tiresome day— and the event has only just begun! Having spent a good portion of the afternoon making precise corsages for several people she might just run into, Naminé’s hands are still somewhat sore as she fastens the mask over her eyes. Still, it keeps falling lower on the bridge of her nose and it’ll look silly if she leaves it hanging. After tying the ribbon in the bathroom mirror, she takes a deep enough breath and finds composure in the form of a possible familiar face, just outside.
Three or four steps later, she finds nothing but blank expressions and filtered conversations between people that won’t remember one another’s names in a few hours. If they do, it’s a mutual exchange with small talk that hardly applies. She knows these things (well, she’d like to think she knows as the daughter of a psychologist), and hopes that pessimism isn’t a factor strewn across her delicate features.
Heading towards the drinks in a desperate attempt to get ahold of herself, she takes a sip of the virgin margarita and purses her lips. It’s not much of a good taste, but at least it’s something. She knows better than to be ungrateful when there are already so many under-appreciative comments being spread underneath harsh breaths. Behind her mask, she’s less than composed, but alterations are made as soon as she recognizes the male before her.
Before he can make any apprehensive comments, she taps the tip of her nose. "I thought you wouldn’t come."
Oh, how is it that each and every attempted corsage thus far has ended up a complete and total mess of petals and clipped stems on the floor? Perhaps her artistic abilities are already spread too thin…
It isn’t until she gets into the swing of things, and the colors begin to mold and the stems begin to twine that the desired outcome is achieved. And down she stares at the flowers with safety pins gently attached to the back for comfort, lithe fingertips still itching to make a few more. Unfortunately, there’s no telling just who might actually attend the event later on and only so many can fit in the clutch that will rest against her side throughout the night.
Three or four will have to do. Which, she assumes, isn’t too terrible considering only one person is escorting her to the event in the first place. Her coworker, Todd Allison, had agreed to come along as… well, she doesn’t think he’s very fond of the word ‘date’ and it makes her stomach rustle just the same— so chaperone is equally fitting.
Once her hair is flat ironed and she’s slipped into the dress that does a bit of contrast for her skin, Naminé’s just about ready. More than anything, she’s anxious beyond all reason - if it isn’t the worries in regards to dancing along, it’s something else making her mind frantic. Tying the ribbon that helps showcase her mask, the blonde exits her home with a soft sigh. She’s not sure when he’ll show (really, the girl would forgive him if he changed his mind), but her middle is already in knots. Hopefully, he’ll come sooner than later and they’ll get the initial few moments over with.
It’s been no more than twenty minutes and already, she feels like a wallflower. There’s no harm in it - it’s not as though she’d rather have several eyes on her, and that’s a given. But still… standing around and wringing her hands feels like a waste, but pestering her ‘chaperone’ any more than she already has will just be more guilt on her shoulders. Perhaps she should have just stayed home.
Naturally, that notion dissipates in the split second which she sees a flash of red amongst a multitude of frames about the room. Tall, lean, and causing a bit of a disruption? Who else could it possibly be?
Not that she minds of course— not in the slightest bit! In fact, Axel has to be one of the few that she’s entirely comfortable being herself with. Even with his mildly inappropriate sense of humor, he’s always been kind to her when it wasn’t entirely necessary, and that kind of an attitude is unforgettable to the petite blonde. So off she goes (as quickly as one can move in the loose, silver flats with straps that wreathe limber ankles), crossing the refreshment table and into the fray of waltzing bodies. Whispering several apologies to anyone she happens to graze in small increments, it isn’t until someone steps on the back of her heel that she stumbles forward, right into the person she’s looking for.
Rather than looking like a deer in headlights, the girl blossoms almost immediately. "Axel!" She beams, quick to check her bag for the appropriate gift before getting on her tiptoes. "Could I…?"
[text] Does me being hung over take away from how professional I can be today?
[text] The bar would not accept my money. I have reached God status here
[text] He was very considerate of my needs, he offered me pizza before and after.
[text] I asked him for something to clean up with after sex and he handed me a sham wow. A SHAM WOW
[text] So I was putting on a condom and looked to my right to not make eye contact, she said did you just look at the American flag while putting that on. I said this one’s for Team USA.
[text] He gave me the “find somebody who wants to date you for who you are” speech while I walked around the house asking people for pants.
[text] I will show up on your front porch in a wet t shirt and some mac and cheese
[text] I just got high off one hit and then Spent 20 minutes inspecting the gasket of our refrigerator and researching ways to replace it
[text] Seriously. I’m like, “Wait, we are actually talking about physics in the middle of sex and its ACTUALLY erotic because you’re so fucking intelligent I’m turned on?”
[text] Hyyypothetically, what would you do if you happened to see my boobs on the internet?
[text] He fucked me so hard my nail polish actually chipped. I’m keeping him.
[text] I’m making poor life decisions again. Tune in tomorrow to see how much I hate life.
[text] It’s a lube slip n slide down the hallway now. Details later.
[text] Just woke up with an entire pack of Oreos in my cheetah onesie. I’ve been waiting for this moment forever.
[text] Lesson learned. Don’t roleplay with a real knife.
[text] We got drunk and crashed a fifty year old woman’s birthday party for the food. Whoops.
[text] He asked me if I wanted to blow his whistle and proceeded to pull out an actual whistle.
[text] I woke up this morning with 3 phone numbers, a red Chinese New Year envelope with cash in it, and a winning scratcher all stuffed in my bra. I’d say it was a pretty successful Thursday night.
[text] I’m wearing sunglasses around my house. Douchebag status. The hangover is real.
[text] He told me he loved me. I didn’t know what to say so i just squirted the baby oil at him
[text] I need a drink and a shade of lipstick that will put the fear of God in a man’s heart.
[text] When was the last time you wore pants?
[text] Seriously insulted!! You can not share my dick pick with your gay brother. He won’t quit poking me on fb
[text] One of us needs to be functional tomorrow and it won’t be me. I’m drinking liquor out of a fishbowl.
[text] just smoked a blunt while listening to nsync. i now know what my childhood was missing.
[text] Let’s play a little game called “Chill the Fuck Out” - you’re our first contestant
[text] Didn’t get laid. But got a free pie from a waitress. A whole pie.
[text] I am swimming in semen. He must have been holding it in for a special occasion.
[text] tonight is going to be epic. can you pre-book an ambulance?
[text] I just saw a hobo ride by on a unicycle. Good day.
[text] Vodka is such a love hate relationship.
[text] you traded sex for a burrito?
[text] You leave a trail of fuck everywhere you go
[text] Just got a event reminder on my phone to never party with you again.
[text] It’s like the only way I know how to apologize is by giving a blow job.
[text] did you by any chance leave me that 7 minute long voicemail of you running and constantly tripping into bushes?
[text] I just told a dude I hooked up with last night he was the pick of the litter.
[text] So I woke up today with someone’s door knob in my pocket. I hope everybody else got out of the house ok.
[text] So we successfully lit our bathtub on fire. Thought you should know.
[text] okay, this game isn’t funny anymore. tell us where all the forks are.
[text] The lack of pants and amount of productivity in my life right now is amazing.
[text] when i start to cry when i lose at mario kart is when you should put me to bed
[text] I’m gonna get drunk and through up on the first happy couple I see.
[text] got some bad news about ur virginity. she didnt make it thru the night
[text] i’m out of smokes so i just had an after sex popsicle. this might become an addiction.
[text] Yeah I think we tried to use the shower curtain as a parachute because its tied to my backpack with some string. Dont know if anyone actually attempted it though.