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Snippet #2627058

located in Mountain Brook, a part of Fresh Poison, one of the many universes on RPG.

Mountain Brook

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexandria "Geo" Allen Character Portrait: Alissa Blackburn Character Portrait: Callum Watson Character Portrait: Charles Wilkins
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The music sucked, the company? Sub-par at best. What was one to do when stuck in such a position? They drank until the music started to sound better and people were suddenly more interesting to be around. That was exactly what Charlie was doing as he stared at the kitchen table, the true heart of any part, at the various bottles that had accumulated as people trickled in. He picked up each bottle, turning them around, reading the label and adding useful commentary to their choices such as, 'Gross. Seriously? Someone paid for this shit? The fuck is wrong with people?'

Of course, he would have brought his own, but shit happened when one was 'broke as shit'. It was far more convenient to 'share' other people's drinks. Going by what was on the table, Charlie was utterly terrified to look in the garage or the fridge, he could already picture the large stacks of shitty macro brews. Great for beer pong as when someone made it, it was a great feeling to know they had to drink that shitty... shit. Still, unless he suddenly developed a taste for vodka, or the other crappy liquor on the table, he was in trouble. Not quite ready to admit defeat, he pulled out his found and found Ally's number, 'Oui, you bringing something good to drink? They have jack shit here. Well... not really as there is a distinct lack of shitty Jack Daniels, but you get what I mean.'

Utterly defeated, Charlie left the kitchen for the living room damned determine to find something to occupy his mind until someone brought something worth getting wrecked on. From the corner of his eye, he spotted some, obviously, drunk guy walk in the back door, Charlie raised his hand and flagged him down, "Hey, Molly!" He yelled over the music, "Oui! Molly, don't you ignore me!... Oui!"

Molly was not his name, but last party, where that one guy done got murdered, Charlie had talked to his girlfriend while said guy was sitting on the stairs in his edgy silence. Seems he was on a new drug called 'Molly', as Charlie gave zero shits to his feelings, situation, or what his real name was, he started to call him 'Molly' every time he saw him. Apparently, only one of them found it funny.

Lowing his arm after muttering something about an 'asshat', his sharp green eyes roamed the crowd of 'dancers' when, really, it was just numerous people grinding on each other. The people that were dancing haphazardly, though, they were awesome, and he loved them as he was a proud member of the, 'Fuck It, We Can't Dance, But We Are Going To Anyways So Move That Table Before I Fall And Break Something,' group. Name was pending, of course, hard to fit that on a business card and the acronym? Forget about it.

He spotted Alexandria 'Totally A Bitch'.... with some sort of last name that he couldn't remember, standing apart from the crowd looking just as anti-social and edgy as she normally did. His eyes traced her body, especially her shirt which drew a small 'ha' from his lips. It was almost enough to make him feel underdressed with his plain grey T-Shirt, which he got from a supermarket because he wasn't going to pay more then five dollars for a shirt, and his cheap carpenter jeans. Waving his head side to side in though, he almost made his way over to pick a 'fight', but out of the corner of his eye, he caught on to a new arrival.

"Callum!" Charlie yelled once again, successfully pretending not to notice the dirty looks he got from people who actually liked the crap blaring obnoxiously loud out of the speakers. They liked the shitty music, so their opinions were void already. Pushing his way through the crowd, he fought his way closer to his friend, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, his savior had come, "Tell me you brought something to drink." He asked over the heads of a few people as he drew close enough to no longer need to scream.

cron