when we drink we do it right getting slizzard

[perfectus]

Who| Sergius and Calendius, open to crashing from other Capitolites of a certain ilk.
What| Clubbing.
Where| The Capitol's hottest club: ¿ǩevin?
When| The night of Leonidas' arrival.
Warnings/Notes| This club has everything, trance, stilts, throw-up music, ferbies, furkles. Also Sergius is a ratchet bitch so there will probably be swearing. Heads up.



Leo wasn't under his skin, at least that's what he told himself. Really, it was just that he and Sergius were overdue for this. They'd gone out together often enough prior to the asshole dropping him to move off to the middle of nowhere chasing some guy, and this was just picking things up again, business as usual. Cal's interest in forcibly sublimating his frustrations into dance and the uhn tiss of what could barely be defined as music.

"Let's go," was all he'd said by way of greeting to his friend before they'd sped of the luxury car Calendius had borrowed several weeks ago from his family's home. The valet had seemed overly pleased to take the keys away from him. Cal's only hope was that Adrastea had decided to take a night off from the party scene.

Comments

[perfectus]

"Hi!" He chirps back, not moving in any closer, but also not fully processing how he might be crowding her. In a better mental state, he'd be more on top of that, more keen on keeping a polite, respectful, professional distance from his colleague. But he's not in a better mental state, and somehow standing just where he is seems exactly right. Her dress looks awesome in the light of the club. Calendius pauses for a moment and then tells her just that: "Your dress looks awesome in here! All the color!"

Okay, so maybe he'd said that a little loud, and maybe he's still swaying to the droning beat of the music, not quite dancing, but not quite staying put. Maybe he doesn't come off as the pinnacle of responsibility and diligence he'd promised Jenny he would be. But he's also having a fair amount of fun just letting this happen. He beams at Swann again, still goofy and not-quite-present. At least her the secret of her fatigue is completely safe. There's no possible way Calendius is going to remember the intimate details of any of this in the morning.

[cigne]

"Thank you!"

Everything has to be sort of shouted over the music anyway, and she doesn't really notice his state until she looks closely. It's maybe not enough to be concerned, since she hardly knows him well enough to discern between Calendius being drunk, or simply being relaxed.

"Did you come here by yourself?"

[perfectus]

"Nah," he says, lingering too long on the less than articulate response. "Sergius is somewhere around here. Probably being a fucking wet blanket, excuse the language."

Cal's still swaying, still watching distractedly as the material of her dress picks up the lights of the club. It looks almost iridescent. He'd tell her that too if he thought he could pronounce it right now. "Val doesn't do clubs. Do you want a drink? I was gonna go get another round anyway."

[cigne]

"Um, I have a drink," she says, holding it up, but she doesn't want to be rude, so she immediately relents. "But another one would probably be good. What are you drinking? I'm not very picky."

The diamonds on her wrist flash brighter than her dress for a moment as she picks up her drink and takes a sip. "Whatever this is, it's good though! I think it has moscato in it."

[perfectus]

There's a brief moment in which Calendius feels extraordinarily dumb for either not noticing the drink, or not being quick enough to account for it before offering to grab her another. It's lengthy enough for him to make an oh face, and ponder, with a degree of disinterest only granted by excessive alcohol, if he's coming off as a bit of a lush. As soon as it hits, however, the moment's gone, and he visibly perks up when she offers her opinion on whatever it is she's drinking. There's something small and aggressively feminine about the way she comports herself. It's fascinating to him.

"Moscato's peachy, right?" He laughs, open mouthed. His teeth are almost as bright white as the diamonds on her wrist. "It's a weird thing to say here like this, but I don't know too much about cocktails or anything, you know? Most of the time, I just go with champagne because I know it won't stain."

[cigne]

"Sort of! It's fruity, but whatever this is, it has other stuff in it too!"

His teeth are nearly blinding, even in the dark, and she smiles at them more than at him, in a trance for a moment until his mouth closes somewhat. It doesn't help that even looking up, she's less than eye-level with his chin.

"Oh, you should have a lemon drop! It's clear and more fun than champagne! Plus you don't have to buy a bottle."

Even a rich girl can understand what an overpriced rip-off that is.