John Constantine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scouserer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
unknownseas2021-02-13 06:30 pm
scouserer) wrote in unknownseas2021-02-13 06:30 pm
(too late) you're at the party
[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.]
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:]
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.]
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[ you better fucking be including yourself, sara ]
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[She falls silent and studies her food, not that she actually seems to be perceiving any of it.]
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Alright, alright. I ain't going anywhere 'til you have a bite of something. Seafood, mediocre Margaritaville meat, a damn croissant, somethin'.
[ I can be a self-destructive bastard, but no one else. ]
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[Another bite of the crab pasta, she guesses. If it'll help.]
It'd be wasteful, anyway.
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[ ...that is probably less reassuring than she thinks. ]
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