thecapitol | when we drink we do it right getting slizzard

Entry tags:

when we drink we do it right getting slizzard

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.

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It had been far too long since Sergius had been out to one of the sizzling Capitol night spots. In his early twenties, he was a frequent fixture, schmoozing his way in when he couldn't afford the cover fee (or bumming off Cal) but it had been a good three years or so since he truly got his fix of partying. They just didn't have shit like ¿ǩevin? back in District One, that was for damn sure. Sure there were occasion excuses to get together and dance and stuff, but there was nothing excessive like what could be found in the Capitol. Nothing so flashy and over the top, and certainly no furkles.

"Fuck yeah." Sergius grinned, sliding out of the passenger door of Cal's expensive car. He was ready to party, flirt, and get hella drunk without the watchful eye of Valerius judging his every move. Not that he didn't appreciate it or whatever. Sometimes a guy just had to cut loose and live a little. "I'm so ready for this shit."

"Good." Calendius nodded once, the terseness typical of him even in better spirits. He smiled at the bouncer as they passed through the entrance, perfect teeth matching his oversized diamond stud earrings. He wasn't a fixture of the club scene, per se, but Calendius had had enough involvement to gain a certain notariey. It breezing by entries easy enough. It also probably didn't help that he and Sergius were among the more attractive people pushing their way in and were both either well or fashionably dressed.

Once inside, Cal grabbed Sergius' forearm, pushing and dragging them both through the throngs of people shuffling vaguely to the beat. He couldn't call it dancing, not exactly. It was more like a a controlled, rhythmic convulsion. At any rate, it wasn't what Cal was going for. Not yet, anyway.

"Drinks?" He inquired loudly over the rush of the music. He turned around when he spoke, making sure that Sergius could catch both his voice and the shape of the word on his lips. With all the noise in the club, lipreading suddenly seemed like a completely logical and necessary form of communication.

Sergius nodded, unable to precisely hear anything over the loud and pressing strains of DJ Baby Bok Choy's droning beats. It was almost deafening at times, but it was worth it for a night out on the town, especially now that he'd secured his spot as the most important escort of the all. He was basically famous now, so he should probably act like it a little.

"Order a fucking... uh... a screaming orgasm. I had one of those once. Shit was for real." He said, giving Cal a thumbs up.

Swann goes to clubs a lot. Not because she likes them, but because she hates being alone -- more people is more eyes is more potential appreciation. It's not as fun since her downfall, and she goes out less now, but she has enough lingering influence and fame to secure private tables, even if she sits mostly by herself on the high stools, watching everyone else move in a sort of singular entity, bouncing up and down.

The music pounds hard enough in her ears to make her not think about her Tributes, about her horrible anxiety about her position, about the fact that she going to have to go back to Tribute Tower and the only people on the eighth floor are Jolie (maybe, if she hadn't gone home) and Joel.

Ugh.

She looks only like a more glittery version of her normal, flouncy self, her dress all gold glittering tulle with a carnation pink sash. Atop her head is a huge, white-blonde bow, made of her own hair, and a small pink fascinator with a fake but realistic pink bird on it. She shimmers like she bathed in golden, iridescent dust, from her forehead to her toes, the heels of her shoes moulded into pink hearts on which she manages to balance.

Her drink is purple, shimmering, and decorated with flowers. She doesn't even know what it is, but she sips it as she looks around, unable to resist glancing at her communicator for a quick Arena update.

Honestly, it's the fascinator that caught his eye. Thanks to Sergius' obnoxiously named screaming orgasm, Calendius is buzzed enough that the light reflecting off of the bright pink material is enough to make his head spin in a good way. He's only a little annoyed that the overall ensemble makes him think of Adrastea. It's all just so fashion. It makes him want another drink.

The communicator that keeps his interest though, and forces Cal to wrack his brain for her biography. He'd memorized the published materials on the Tributes and he knows immediately that she's not any of them. For one thing, she's just so fashion, and for another drunk as he is, he'd remember his own team and the competition. Then her name hits him suddenly because of course he's seen her hair around before (just not quite like that), and of course it would make sense she'd be checking in.

Were he less imbibed, he'd have some shame for his professionalism and walk the other way. But he isn't and he can't bring himself to, and before Cal's even really aware of it, he's right up on her, towering over the small woman and her personal space. Fortunately, he's a smiley drunk and so it's the dopiest possible presentation of his inhumanly perfect teeth which assail her. "Swann-- Hey!! Took a night off, too, huh?"

Tomorrow he'll probably regret this. But hey, no time like the present to make new friends.

"That sounds fake," Cal replied, leveling Sergius with a flat look. He didn't much care to be trifled with at the moment and wouldn't suffer one of Sergius' ridiculous practical jokes without at least putting up a fight about it. If he were destined to be made a fool of, it would come with no small amount of effort on his friend's part.

They reached the bar quickly enough, all things considered, making good time through the sea of bodies in glitter, mesh, and lace around them. By contrast, Cal realised abruptly, he was dressed conservatively. At some point, without noticing it, he'd gone respectable. It was weird. Unfortunately, he still had no idea what to order. "What's a normal cocktail? Nothing stupid sounding."

Leonidas didn't come to ¿ǩevin? to mess with Calendius when he stepped through the doors. He was here to visit one of the waitresses, to see how she was doing and adjusting in this Capitol nightlife. She always had a soft spot for the small lion for having beat a man who harassed her back in District 2 and keeping her safe whenever she worked late. As arrogant as Leo was, he was a decent person underneath it all.

He ordered a simple gin and tonic to start off the night and began chatting up the other clients. He was completely unaware a certain Rey had picked this one club to party.

He very nearly countered that Cal sounds fake, but thought better of it at the last moment. A screaming orgasm was too good for Calendius Rey. Too fruity, to be honest. Or maybe not fruity enough. His bro needed something to get him shitfaced, and quickly. He elbowed past Cal and made himself at home at the bar.

"I'll have a screaming orgasm," he said to the bartender, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. The flashing lights of the club gave him a vaguely sinister aura. Sergius looked awesome. "And he'll have sex with an alligator."

Up close, Swann looks tired under her makeup, like maybe she hasn't slept in a while. And it's true, she can't bring herself to lie down in bed and peacefully fall asleep while her Tributes are out there fighting, so she just occasionally passes out from exhaustion in the D8 Suites, usually waking up covered with a blanket that the Avoxes are carefully to gently place over her.

She starts a little when suddenly Cal is so close, not from his size looming over her (because that's pretty much par for the course in her life), but because she wasn't expecting him, her mind a million miles away. She automatically smiles back, though, wide and bright and perky despite her fatigue.

Dress shimmering as she twists in her seat, Swann places her drink on the table, ready in case she needs to hug him. "Hi Cal!"

Sex with an alligator. It wasn't like Calendius' jaw fell open or anything. No, he was mostly completely cool with what he'd heard over the music. Mostly.

Distractedly, he watched the bartender work, pouring strange colored liquids from even more strangely shaped bottles. It wasn't like he hadn't seen this stuff before or anything. God knows Adrastea's liquor cabinet was perpetually stocked. But it was different under the colored lights of the club that pulsed to the beat of whatever definition of music DJ Baby Bok Choy was spinning somewhere behind them. Finally, his drink was shoved out in front of him, slid across the smooth surface of the bar on a tiny paper napkin. The liquid was read and green and red again, and looked somehow thick. Cal would kill Sergius if he'd ordered him something full of unhealthy artificial flavorings and high fructose corn syrup.

"What's in it?" He eyed the glass wearily, handing off his credit card so that they could have a tab going. "It looks apple-y."

"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.

Theoretically, it would have been possible for both of them to move through the club the entire night and just miss each other. There were enough people roaming around ¿ǩevin? that it wasn't like one was particularly noticeable in the bunch. Hell, he'd already lost Sergius a few times, and they'd barely been at the club at all.

But that, Cal was learning, was simply not how his life worked.

"I'll have sex with an alligator," he rolled up to the bar, calling out to the barkeep and waving his hand at her sloppily just in case she didn't hear him over the rest of the noise in the club. After she acknowledged him, he grinned stupidly. "Again."

He'd only had three drinks (plus one borrowed from Sergius). That wasn't bad, he reasoned, quite regardless of how little or often he imbibed. He was feeling it though, and his arm dropped limply, lazily as he waited for his drink. He let it sag, swing, and then felt it hit someone. "Oh, sorry, m--" The apology died on his lips. That someone looked an awful lot like someone he didn't care to see. Certainly not here, certainly not now, and certainly not feeling like this.

"The fuck are you doing here?" He head stopped spinning, the fuzzy feeling behind his ears crystalizing. The hobbit was a literal buzzkill.

Oh no. Oh why. God, why. Bars were his safe spot, his chance to get away from his coworkers, especially Calendius Rey. What's worse, half his drink was now on his shirt. The barkeep knew the way Leo was groaning and immediately refilled his drink and got to work on whatever that drink Cal had ordered.

"I'm here to visit my friend. I thought you couldn't drink anyways, what with striving for perfection," Cora snapped back, "What'd you do, lose a bet with Sergius? Because frankly, you being here, has his name all over it."

No Leo, be the better person, and drink your glass. This can be peaceful and-

"Or maybe you got jilted again for God knows why."

Goddammit Leo.

"Oh, he's around, too." He huffed, giving the bartender an undeserved side eye as she slid him his drink. Without a glance in Leo's direction, lifted the drink, downing half of its multicolored contents in a single gulp. That made three and a half drinks. Or was it four and a half? He couldn't remember, but suddenly the haze, the little that remained, seemed much less entertaining.

"Anyway, it's about balancing your alcohol intake. Pacing yourself. That kind of thing." Not that he'd done any of that kind of thing. Cal had gone out to get shitfaced, and shitfaced he become quite efficiently. "Cocktail, water, some kind of snack. Rinse and repeat."

Finally, he spared Leo a scathing look over the rim of the martini glass. "But hey, you have a friend. Congrats. I won't keep you."

"Perfect, there's a high chance of me spotting the ever elusive Valerius then if Sergius hasn't changed his ways." Leo's eyebrow quirked at that, and the barkeep, Sofia, stared. Was this the man that claimed to be perfection incarnate? Leo aknowledged the start and chuckled at her. "Get him a bottle of water, he's getting close to sleeping under President Snow's statute," he warned both Sofia and Calendius of what was going to be inevitable. "Not that we'd all not enjoy it."

Was this an Escort party? He thought he'd seen the telltale fashion of one Swann Honeymeade and the air of smugness of a certain Compson. Now this was becomong a night he did not regret to leave work early.

Sergius responded with a shrug and a mumbled 'I dunno', preferring instead to get well acquainted with his own fruity drink. "Just try it, you'll like it."

He would, meanwhile, nurse away at the screaming orgasm and at least act like he was having a good time. He was, mostly. The problem was, every so often he'd be hit squarely in the gut with a reminder that Val wasn't there with them having fun too. Not that Val would ever set foot in a place like ¿ǩevin?. Val didn't drink. He didn't like loud noises. He was a homebody. And after a couple of years spending every night at home with him... well, let's just say Sergius was kind of almost regretting not staying home with Val. But only a little.

Unfortunately, his expression seemed to follow his train of thought. Sergius looked bummed, to say the least. And not even a merry band of furkles gyrating on the bar could distract him from the heaviness of his heart. He fucking missed Valerius.

"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?"

"Val doesn't really do the club scene." Cal snapped back quickly, tone completely disjointed from the charming wink he lavished on Sofia as she scampered back with his water. "Something about him hating pretty much everyone and being uncomfortable in big crowds. And anyway, Sese did have a life here before he ran off to the Districts. We used go out a lot before all that."

He wouldn't have characterized himself as nostalgic, not necessarily anyway. In the past few months, his life had shifted a lot. While there was a certain innocence to the routine of Capitol nightlife, Cal could also see very clearly that his time spent engaging with it hadn't really meant anything. It certainly hadn't come to some abrupt halt when he'd left it for a semi-professional life. It was just another thing. One probably better left to more thoughtful, reflective types. "Speaking of which-- Don't you hate everyone, too? I'm surprised you found time to bother with socializing."

He sniffed at the drink before deigning to take a sip. Fortunately or unfortunately, the entire exercise prevented Calendius from observing the range of emotions dancing across Sergius' face. He didn't mean to be a bad friend or inattentive, it was just that literally everything about their environment was built to be as distracting as possible. And also he had a very complicated drink shoved into his face and it required a wholehearted investigation. Cal may have told Sergius to order for him, but he did retain a few healthy misgivings about dumping just anything into his body. Tentatively, he took a small sip.

"Raspberry? Yeah-- Raspberry." Raspberry and something he couldn't place yet and, of course, the burn of alcohol. It was almost reminiscent of the nail polish remover smell that sometimes clung to Adrastea's bedroom when he was younger, but not quite. Abruptly, he downed the drink almost in its entirety. It was good enough, fruity, but the smell associated with it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Order me something else next time. Something less girly, you've had your fun."

"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."

"I don't hate everyone, Callie," Leo argued with a grin as Sofia shook her head and resumed her work but not before letting slip a 'Behave' towards the trainer. "I merely want a separation between work and play, especially since I'm six feet in footage and paperwork."

To be honest, he was catching up on a lot of work, buried in analyzing their tributes' performance as Cal has suggested, "I socialize, just not when you're drunk."

"Damn, bitch, calm down." Sergius shook his head, unamused. "Hold your slutty little horses. I'll be back in a minute."

With that, he forced the screaming orgasm into Calendius' hand and made his way back to the bar where the lovely Sofia fixed him two more drinks. He returned to his friend's side a few minutes later to offer Cal a tall glass with electric blue liquid mixed with a bunch of other stuff.

"This is a trashcan. This shit's the bomb." Sergius raised his eyebrows, to egg him on. "Go on, try it."

"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."

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."

Cal looked apprehensively from the one glass in his hand to the other, eventually setting the screaming orgasm down on a nearby table. He considered inquiring as to what, exactly, was the freaky looking blue stuff in the glass, but decided against it. With a name like trash can, he probably didn't want to know.

Why did cocktails all have such weird names? He took a sip, glancing furtively at Sergius over the rim of the glass. And why did they all taste awful? Wasn't the point of a mixed drink to actually make alcohol less gross?

"This is disgusting. It tastes like she just dumped half the bar into it with looking." He took another, larger sip. It burned on the way down. "What's the blue stuff? Glass cleaner? You didn't order this for yourself, right?"

"I wasn't asking you to socialize with me," he practically spat back at Leo. Their brief polite conversation wasn't enough to make Calendius forget that his entire reason for coming out and forcing Sergius away from his not-quite-boyfriend was to forget about Leonidas and whatever the hell he was doing in the Capitol. The trainer's appearance at the club was like a personal affront no matter how inane it should have been.

"Okay, fine, whatever." He shrugged his shoulders, a quick gesture he hoped would be snappish and spritely enough to belay the accusation. "And I'm not drunk. Not that drunk, anyway."

"Oh this is ridiculous, Calendius. You're drunk enough to order that alligator drink without a hint of irony," Leo smugly reminded the escort, "And you're the one who owes me a drink if we're being honest. So go meet Sergius, drink water and hope for the sweet release of death tomorrow."

He knew he was goading Cal but he wasn't the goddamn king of this club or anywhere for that matter.

Edited (Typo) 2015-02-18 07:25 (UTC)

"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.

"It's liquor," he snorted, swigging his own drink. The stuff tasted rancid, but everyone knows that the point of drinking isn't to enjoy the taste, it's to get hammered. "Now quit bitching and drink up."

With that, Sergius pounded back the remainder of his trash can and left the empty glass on the table beside Cal's abandoned screaming orgasm, which he then helped himself to. Waste was generally the name of the game in the Capitol, but Sergius didn't much care for leaving leftovers, especially in the form of alcoholic beverages. Why waste a perfectly good cocktail.

Being a tall, well proportioned individual, he could more or less handle his liquor. But that didn't mean it wouldn't loosen up his lips. Now three drinks in in a rapid succession, Sergius was willing to speak his mind even more forcefully than usual. "I wish Val was here. Fuck."

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when we drink we do it right getting slizzard

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