(too late) you're at the party

[scouserer]

[Well, it's safe to say that trial fucking sucked. Therefore, some sort of afterparty is in order. Constantine is admittedly not good at throwing parties without some sort of liquor or other drug involved, but that's where Data and Sylvando guide him.

First order of business--invites. Upon returning to your rooms, crumpled pieces of paper have been taped to the doors. Written in poor handwriting is the following:]

meet at the lounge
bring whatever you want
[Simple, but effective. The lounge itself has been livened up a bit with Sylvando's help. Some nicely patterned fabric has been draped around on the tables to liven up the place a little, and snacks from the café and vending machines have been placed out for people to peruse.

A few supplies from the first aid room have been gathered, as well, for those who may need it. But perhaps the help is unnecessary, as tomorrow will likely bring another New Years Eve. And with it, another week of despair and frustration.

But for now, they can forget about that and pretend that all that matters is the present.]

Comments

[dokkalfheimr]

Destroying things, primarily. It isn't as though it matters; it will be dealt with by morning anyway, if last week is anything to judge by.

[conceivesfrenzy]

... that's right, it all resets. I'd almost forgotten about that.

[ Also the lost day. There's a lot of stuff to keep track of. ]

I guess making them have to deal with cleaning up or whatever it is they're doing would be a more conducive way to spend time instead of throwing stuff overboard, huh?

[dokkalfheimr]

[She doesn't even pause to consider if she should enable this before promptly enabling it.]

We have an entire buffet's worth of dishes at our disposal, and I have it on good authority that shattering stacks of plates is deeply satisfying.