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Aliquam: Tobias' Gala - Dance Floor
At last, Aria had joined both Amy and Moira, with Dylan in tow. Lute was to join as well it seemed, but with all the luck (or unluck) in the world, ended up becoming the star of the night with Rose. Most of the eyes in the room were focused on the poor virtuoso now, both in love and in hate. Some had even begun to move towards the dancing duo, as if in queue to dance with one or the other. It was wonderful - it meant more room for the three lady guilders plus Syed to shake their arms and wiggle their hips.
Even with Tobias slinking around Lucien, it seemed everyone was having a blast. The night was still young. Wait, was it even nighttime? What time was it, even? Amy could spot some clocks in the distance, but it was all a blur - now whether that was due to being tipsy, or having not-so-perfect eyesight... ah, who gave a shit. All that mattered was - "Ey! Who the fuck had me drink?!"
Amy sputtered, as if she was mid-drink, except she wasn't. The inner drunken rage within Moira began to boil. Any sane person would probably think of a way to calm a berserker from going berserk at this party, perhaps even offer to buy another drink. But to Amy, this was just too funny to abate. "It's the boys!" she called, sloppily strutting her way between Dylan and Syed. She wrung her arms around their shoulders for a second, before shooting her hands off to the side like fireworks. Her impish smile had never left. "It's always the boys! Damn pigs did everything!"
Then she stepped back from them and quickly pushed them closer together, so that the shoulders of both young men met. As a waitress passed her by, Amy laughed and plucked a small glass of champagne for herself. She gulped it down between breaths, keeping her eyes on the redhead.
Trixie too had her eyes on a redhead, whose face seemed to be growing just as red as the drunks on the other side of the dance floor. The young man sitting before Estelle helped himself to his feet (turning down any hand she may have offered), keeping one hand over his nose in a poor effort to hide the bloodloss. "N, no it's okay, don't worry, I'm fine. This um, this happens all the time so it's um..."
Now the blood began coating his palm and leaking beneath it. A waitress crossed from the bar towards the stairs where the duo were. A couple of glasses were missing from her trey. Surprisingly she had a couple of cloths hung over one of her outstretched, perpendicular arms, so the boy was quick to snatch it. As neatly as possible, he wiped his face and his bloody hand all over one side of it, then pinned it to his face in hopes that the blood wouldn't be as bad as it seemed. In hopes. Much more shakily now, he held his hand out to Estelle again. "D, d, d, dance, maybe? I'm not, I'm not creeping you out or, or anything... am I? Oh gods, I'm so-- I'm so sorry. I just wanted to dance..."
"Kukuku," Trixie chuckled with a smile wider than a carved pumpkin. "Shhh Xanny. This is not the work of an evil mastermind... but a mastermind prankster. I am Trixie the Pixie the Wondergirl! ...Oh man that does not sound cool at all." Her voice trailed off as she began to mumble to herself, until Xandra spoke up again. "Wait, wait, you're not gonna dance? What kind of minion I mean sidekick of mine doesn't dance!?"
Xandra had pointed to a boy across the dancefloor, who also looked young, perhaps the brother of a student here. He turned around as if on cue, eyes matching Trixie. The prankster puffed her cheeks in response and looked back to Xandra. "I ain't dancin' if you ain't dancin'. Capiche? Oh-- oh is that cake. I want cake. Xanny, let's get cake!"
Trixie tugged at the metallurgist, dragging her over to the desserts stand. Once they got there, Trixie began to sniff at every little individual piece at the table there. She had earned a few stares, but luckily everyone else was already preoccupied. Satisfied, Trixie grabbed for herself a fancy-shmancy purple-frosting cupcake. "It's okay, Amy told me to. These are totally safe. NOM!"
Aliquam: Tobias' Gala - Second Floor (Recreation Room)
Hannah moved back into her seat and bounced. Considering both her cleavage-revealing corset and chair-engulfing dress layers, it was quite funny to watch. "So, so, what do I do? Oh, Angél my Angel, what do I do? This is a good hand, right, right? Oh!" She stacked four red chips in front of her.
"Hannah... Hannah, honey, you know how to play this game." The young aristocrat let out a loud sigh, while sneaking a glance at her bobbing melons. Yeesh. Even then he did not allow her flamboyancy to influence the smug expression on his face; to everyone else in the room, that was just his natural face, and he wore it no matter what hand he held. But would Marcus be able to tell? Angel didn't even bother thinking about it.
He took another peek at his hand, then moved forward two green chips, along with the four red ones Hannah had called. "Calling two eighty, then." His eyes moved person to person as everyone began to follow up on their bets. Then his eyes met Marcus, whether or not the mage had looked back at him. Angel noticed off the bat that he seemed to have a solid air of confidence about him. But just how well would that hold up?
