\ Haven:Mist and Shadow Logs/Theres Silver In Your Lungs Now 1
Logs

Theres Silver In Your Lungs Now 1

Storyrunner:

Snowman

Starring:

Eva, Lia

 The Opulent Grand Inigo Estate: Eva totally just witnessed Lia blowing a
 kiss to her phone and snapping a picture before sending it off, the coltish
 girl glancing sidelong to her older friend as she pokes her head out. "Dad told
 me never take candy from strangers," she admits, sauntering on over, "But I
 guess you're pretty enough..." 

 The Opulent Grand Inigo Estate: "That's too bad..." Eva calls out towards
 Lia with a lopsided grin, the top of a capped bottle of whiskey making its
 little waving appearance like a puppet from beneath the tinted window in the
 back, "Guess all this is going to be miiiiiine." She winks at the coltish girl
 and then vanishes backwards, popping the rear door open to comfortably slouch
 in the probably posh seating of the borrowed ride. "Fuck. I should have
 birthdays more often." 

 The Opulent Grand Inigo Estate: Lia gives the back door a little tug to open
 it more, sliding in like she's not unfamiliar with limos. She probably isn't
 unfamiliar with limos. "Who'd have thought Hot Lawyer would have a limo,
 geeze," the girl airily sighs, "I should turn into a gold-digger or something.
 It'd probably help my self-esteem..." 

 The Opulent Grand Inigo Estate: "You look fucking ridiculously, incredibly
 fucking hot. Just make sure I don't have to kneecap anyone. Oh wait. Watch
 this." And then Eva is leaning forward, pressing one of the intercom buttons,
 truly like an immature child and attempting to relay to the front with a
 faux-professional voice -- which is completely ruined by the onslaught of
 incoming snickers afterwards, "Driver. Onwards." 

 The Opulent Grand Inigo Estate: "You're on drugs or something," Lia figures
 to Eva, rubbing the heel of her palm against her jaw as she watches the young
 woman play with the toy she's been given for the evening. Her dimples get all
 dimply. It amuses her. 

 The Opulent Grand Inigo Estate: "Pfft, when am I like... not on fucking
 drugs?" Eva grins back in effortless retort towards Lia, leaving the whiskey
 bottle on the seat beside the teenager. 

 Intersection of Stuart and Tremont in Boston: Lia mumbles something to Eva,
 but whatever it was she was saying is cut off by the fact that she takes the
 bottle left on the seat and downs a mouthful of it with a grimace and an
 inhale. 

 Intersection of Stuart and Tremont in Boston: "Fuck, dude. I used to hate
 all these like fashionable fucking people," Eva remarks, her face essentially
 pressed against the tinted window of the limo when they first drive through the
 trendy intersection in Boston. No doubt the entire ride was filled with Lia and
 her girltalking about sexy abs, assholes and other things that girls talk about
 besides that -- surely, there's something. "But like... now it's kinda like,
 fuck you, bitches, I'm in a limo." 

 Intersection of Stuart and Tremont in Boston: 'Satan', it seems, has a
 well-equipped and luxurious limousine and an excellent driver. The drive takes
 about twenty five minutes, and for the latter part you find yourself weaving
 through thick Boston nightlife traffic. The supplier of the limousine has
 equipped it with a well-stocked liquor cabinet, so pregame, it seems, is on.
 Along with any other goodies which may be in your pockets. 

 Eva feels a little disdain for Satan's drugs, since she technically has a fuckton of drugs at her disposal. But free stuff is free stuff.

 Eva removes a square bottle of Maker's Mark whisky and slips it into a pocket.

 Intersection of Stuart and Tremont in Boston: Lia runs her fingers through
 her hair, watching Eva enjoy the ride and whatnot without the same enthusiasm
 about their surroundings. "I, uh... Was raised with all of these fashionable
 fucking people; it's weird, I guess I'm sort of spoiled even if I don't mean to
 be," she admits to her friend, finally peeking out one of the darkly-tinted
 windows as they cruise, "This is a nice limo, though. Grampa's got this,
 like... Towncar, the really fancy Lincoln one..." She caps her bottle of whisky
 and slides it into her clutch because that's clearly where whisky belongs. 

 Lia puts a square bottle of Maker's Mark whisky in a studded, asymmetric clutch.

 Intersection of Stuart and Tremont in Boston: Lia has a rather large clutch.
 Random fact. 

 Intersection of Stuart and Tremont in Boston: Eva ensures that she's downing
 a shot glass of somewhat clumsily spilled whisky once they drive closer, wiping
 her nose with a crooked knuckle and then grinning over towards Lia. "Yeah.
 Well. Fuck them. You're like... actually a cool fucking dame. And not all
 like... caught up in retarded shit." She's managed to sprawl herself completely
 in the back seat, likely moving frequently to at least sit on each of the seats
 at some point; and then moving again as if she can't make up her mind. "But
 yeah. I dunno. It's good to get out of the fucking city, you know?" 

 Lia feels her headache lance through her skull; but hey, it ebbs out as it assaults her nervous system.

 Eva feels like you're probably still on a decent amount of cocaine, given the time that you woke up. The whiskey would barely have made a consistent buzz of her, which is her operating normal at this time of night.

 "Yeah. I don't go out as much as I used to," Lia reveals, legs crossing as
 she looks more interested in the city outside the window, "So. We're gonna have
 fun. And then have fun at your birthday party tomorrow -- has he said who he
 got to fight at it?" Curiously, she tilts her head and runs her fingers through
 her hair, looking back to Eva briefly. 

 Eva thinks; 'I don't want to fucking tell her that Crowe's fighting.'

 Lia thinks; 'I still think Hot Lawyer and Crowe should fight. That would be pretty hot.'

 Lia feels incredibly eager to see Liam and Cael duke it out shirtless until blood flows.

 "Uhhh..." Eva's tongue fishes around at her upper teeth, blue-green eyes
 narrowing slightly towards Lia at her question, "... I dunno. Just like...
 trust Satan a little, yeah? He's pulling through with like all this shit. He's
 seriously like... the best fucking Satan Dad in the world. I'd uh... just count
 that like, he's either gonna get a solid set of guys for the show... or like...
 he'll make it happen." She shakes her head slightly from side to side, that
 rueful smirk stuck to her lips like it was permanent as she looks back through
 the window, "I'm like hella lucky he's going all out and shit. I dunno. I think
 it'll be good. I don't really care who shows up though. S'long as like, it's
 me, you, Dae, Posh, Satan there... like, I'm happy. And I plan to get really
 fucked up too." 

 'Satan' probably stocks his limousine with top shelf liquor. Scotch,
 bourbon, vodka, tequila, all the ingredients in the liquor pyramid, plus ice,
 are at your fingertips-- possibly a hair of the dog solution for any incoming
 headaches. A friend of a friend of a friend has recommended Pulse for the
 evening's festivities, a trendy, upscale and very large club in Boston's
 theater district, so that is where the two of you are headed. It's not so far
 now; while you two have been chatting, the limo has pulled into Boston and come
 close to the theater district. 

 "You sure I shouldn't like leave my gun in the car?" Eva wonders again
 towards Lia, antsy fingers unzipping and zipping up her purse again. On the
 second rotation of those actions, she pries through the leather material. She
 doesn't drink anything from Satan's limousine liquor cabinet, though she does
 send fingers perusing through the selection and her features don't show visible
 surprise at how well taken care of it is. She seems pretty content with the
 bottle of old fashioned Maker's Mark, drowning it mostly straight. 

 Eva thinks; 'I wonder if he's gonna make me like pay for any liquor that I take out of here.'

 "I'll join you. On, uh, the getting fucked up part -- but please, for the
 love of all that is Holy, take my phone away before I do," Lia requests of Eva
 very straight-faced and seriously, "Like, for serious, I don't need awful text
 messages or inappropriate pictures to add to my bad reputation..." She slouches
 in the seat, causing her head to lower down from the window a bit. "Hot Lawyer
 seems nice, though. He told me to eat my vegetables one night." 

 Lia sucks in a breath through her nose, tonguing her teeth idly. "I dunno.
 Boston can be dangerous and I don't think we have pepper spray..." 

 "Nooope." Eva presents Lia with her middle finger, grinning at her, "Uh. You
 fucking let me drunk text Jasen for like fucking ever yesterday. And THEN, you
 fucking chatroom told the whole fucking world that like, I was going off on
 like banging Oz. So... yeah. Fuck you. I hope you do awful fucking shit and
 feel horrible about it in the morning. Suffer for me, Kitten." 

 "I totally didn't fucking talk about banging, Oz, by the way," Eva adamently
 complains afterwards, exhaling sharply as she slouches in the seat. 

 Scoffing, Lia relays to Eva that, "I didn't know you were drunk texting
 Jasen -- and you were going off on banging Oz. For, like, two seconds; I might
 have elaborated." Her nose wrinkles, tongue poking out as she immaturely
 replies to Eva's glorious middle finger. 

 Lia feels pretty sure she wouldn't feel awful about doing awful shit. She's an Inigo.

 Lia feels pretty sure grampa would find out and skin her alive.

 The limousine pulls up in front of the club, which is located in the
 basement of a high-rise right on a corner. Glittering men and women, mostly in
 their twenties, are hopping out of cabs and limos themselves to head to the
 club or perhaps one of the upscale bars on the lower levels of the complex.
 It's crowded, and there is a line around back for those entering the club
 directly. The driver pulls up to the curb, parks and steps out to open the
 curbside passenger door for the ladies. 

 Lia feels still pretty sure she wouldn't regret it.

 "Man. Fuck all these cunts," Eva manages to spit out before she slides
 closer towards Lia to get out of the car, angsty lips curling towards the
 mostly glittering women, wiping at her nose once more. "But yeah. I dunno. It's
 not that Oz isn't like... completely fucking bangable, because he is. I just
 don't want to just like fuck him. I'd probably want to like... fucking date
 him. And I don't want to get between him and his girl like fucking ever. He's
 respect zoned for the count. But yeah. Totally fucking bangable." She impishly
 grins at Lia and then tries to scooch the woman out the passenger door. 

 Eva thinks; 'I have the weirdest fucking morals ever. But fuck it. They're mine.'

 You are free to move about the cabin for the moment. The club is pretty much
 one way from here, so go ahead and move until you get inside. 

 Intersection of Stuart and Tremont in Boston: Lia doesn't take much urging;
 she slides her pretty butt off the limo seat and places her feet on the curb,
 getting out of the vehicle and tousling her hair with one hand in a lazy
 movement. "You want me to punch one? I do that sometimes -- indiscriminate cunt
 punching," she confesses to Eva with no actual traces of shame in the
 syllables. Her hand delves into one of the nigh-impossible pockets on her
 painted on pants as she loiters on the sidewalk, smoky eyes tracking one of the
 guys who pass by. "What's between him and his girl that I don't know about?
 Like... She obviously doesn't seem interested in an actual relationship, he
 deserves better..." 

 Intersection of Stuart and Tremont in Boston: "I'd rather not like have to
 show you how fucking shitty I am with a gun," Eva mumbles towards Lia. She
 prowls out of the back seat, heels clicking on the ground with a confident
 sassy slouch rather the poise of anyone who probably is deserving to be in a
 limo not decorated by a bunch of cheap advertisements. A single final pinch of
 her nostrils are given, surveying the area and then beginning to stroll up the
 sidewalk towards the club, "I dunno. I just give him advice on like making her
 happy and shit, you know? I think she has her reasons and stuff. I'm not like
 questioning it. He's obviously pretty fucking crazy about her, even if he's
 like miserable that it's not like... a single one on one thing. But it isn't
 like he's not like a flirty fucking guy with tons of girlfriend defense either.
 So yeah. I dunno. Let's forget about it for tonight and just enjoy ourselves." 

 (Intersection of Stuart and Tremont in Boston) (to Lia) (Privately)Eva seems
 rather intent on you following, since she's taking the lead up the sidewalk. 

 Eva thinks; 'Man. I fucking hate super fancy fucking places.'
 Lia moves along after Eva rather than loitering too long, tracking her down
 the sidewalk with the quiet click of skyhigh heels and a lazy swing of hips.
 "I... I dunno. I don't do relationships," she sighs out, "I don't have advice,
 I don't get it." 

 Eva feels a little out of place, but you're also filled with that whole 'I don't fucking care' thing. That dampens most of the otherwise awkwardness of being in richer settings.

 It may bolster your feelings to see that most of the people in this lobby
 are drunk off their fucking asses despite that it's only 10:30 PM. 

 "Yeah. Well. You're not a fucking slut or a whore, Lia. And well, I dunno. I
 guess I'm not either. But don't fucking tell anyone, cuz cunts like to make up
 rumors and I'd hate to ruin their pity parades." Eva squints a little over all
 the drunk people, her eyes rolling upwards as she sticks her thumb on one of
 those glowing buttons to wait for the elevator. The metal doors likely ding
 open not too long after, and she's guiding the coltish teenager in with her
 with a hovering hand around the small of her back. It's almost gentlemanly.
 "Man. People can't fucking handle their alcohol for shit. Don't like... uh...
 mention the whole about me practically passing out in the Ruby though. I didn't
 throw up. That makes me pro." 

 "You didn't throw up," Lia confirms, opting to gloss over the
 sex/relationship part of their conversation in favor of libations and general
 fucked-upness as she's guided into the elevator; what a duo. "I don't drink
 much. Remind me to get really drunk. Or something else. Then you can dump me on
 Dae's doorstep instead of sending me home to grampa since I'm going to be out
 so far past curfew." She almost sounds peppy as she makes the suggestion,
 flashing Eva a dimpled smile. 

 "We threw so many fucking rocks at Dae's window last night," Eva confesses
 with a grin, allowing herself to get crowded in the small elevator just as the
 doors ding closed and they descend down another level. With her right thumb
 jammed in the pocket of her rather nice jeans, she casts a survey over towards
 anyone else who might be in the elevator with them. 

 Eva thinks; 'Whatever. I feel hot as shit. Lia's hot as shit. Fuck these bitches.'

 Eva breezily pads down.

 Lia is less interested in the people in the elevator with them, more
 concerned with studying her face in the probably-reflective button panel
 momentarily. "Was that what that noise was?" she wonders, "I remember being
 annoyed by something that woke me up, but I didn't feel like getting out of bed
 because Dae was warm and like... In his boxers..." 
 Down here, near the entrance to the women's restrooms, both of you get a
 whiff of someone in fairly serious emotional pain. It looks like the girl
 sobbing there just got dumped. 

 Lia feels her headache ebb away, just to the outskirts of perception.

 Digging through her purse, Eva pries out a pink lip gloss and smears it
 across her lips just as the elevator doors ding open. She caps it and shoves it
 back into the confines as she pads back out into the lobby, surveying the area
 with apparent care. After sucking on her teeth a little, she reluctantly
 attempts to head towards the back of the line, though she's sending a squinted
 appraisal towards the bouncers at the door. A small smile careens over her lips
 as she passes by the bathroom doors, without actually going inside. She does
 send a peek in that direction though, laughing a little, "Bitches are
 duuuuuumb." 

 Eva thinks; 'Fuck. I hate fucking lines. I wonder if we're hot enough to sneak past the fuckers.'

 Eva feels oblivious to the fact that it's not like you haven't been hurt before, though. You're not a fucking monster. It's just easier to deflect by hating on other people sometimes. And plus, it's the night before her birthday. She turns 25 in two hours. So yeah. Fuck it.

 "Hey, honey," her girlfriend says gently. "A little glitter will cheer you
 up. Come on." She takes the girl by the hand and slips her other hand in her
 purse. Both of you, it seems, might get a just a glimpse of something shiny and
 glittery and powdered in a plastic baggie in her purse. 

 "Maybe that's why I have trouble understanding the relationship thing --"
 Lia begins, staring at the back of whoever is in front of her in the line after
 her own casual observation of the folks near the bathroom, "-- They cry when
 it's over, but it's not like it's the end of the world." Her tongue presses
 against her eyetooth idly as she pokes around in her clutch a moment,
 retrieving what looks like -- and applies like -- some sort of clear coat of
 gloss for her already-glossed lips. "Bitches are really dumb." 

 Eva thinks; 'That's a solid fucking friend right there. That's what I'd fucking do. Drugs fix everything.'

 Lia feels disappointed in humanity; someone make her stop crying.

 There is a line circling back to the elevator here, but half of it seems to
 be people milling about and talking to each other. The prospect of whatever
 'glitter' is seems to dampen the crying girl's sobs, at least to restrained
 sniffles, and the pair soon disappears into the bathroom. Meanwhile, a pair of
 guys in nice clothes (but not too nice for the club) seem to be eying you both
 up and down, especially Lia. You both can confidently say you outshine most of
 the other girls here. Should you make your way up to the door, the bouncers
 seem to be giving you similar looks. You don't expect any trouble getting in. 

 Eva moves through the line with a droll expression on her face, but sending
 looks over towards Lia on occasion has her resparking that half-smile
 half-smirk. "Yeaaaah. But that was a solid fucking friend. I dunno. That's what
 I'd do. Like, if someone ever fucked you over, dame. I'd like... go sic Oz or
 Dae on them and then we'd go get fucked up somewhere. Plus, I kinda intend to
 like... actually party tonight. So, ya'know. With our like... bad fucking
 habits with guys and stuff. But fuck you. I don't have bad taste. And fuck
 lines. We're incredibly hot, you know." She reaches out to pluck Lia's hand,
 with whichever one is -not- applying gloss and adding a little bit more of a
 saunter to her step, cruises with the teenager around the line over towards the
 bouncers. "So like. Hey. Wanna like... let us slip in early?" 

 Eva feels like you fucking suck at flirting with bouncers, but you've worked as once. So you at least know how the dumb girls do it.

 "Dude, I bet a bunch of people would beat someone down for fucking me over,"
 Lia admits to Eva, giving a muted grunt as she's pulled around the line toward
 the bouncers. Blinking her eyes in a sedate, feline gesture, the dolled-up
 Inigo girl lets her hips swing to one side as she slouches elegantly, tucking a
 dark lock of hair behind her ear and popping her lipgloss back into her clutch
 as she smiles a dimpled smile at the bouncers. 

 Eva thinks; 'Fucking teenagers who are better at flirting than I am.'

 Lia thinks; 'Just remember: You're an Inigo. By pedigree, you're prettier than most people. Even if it's not true. Be Dominic tonight.'

 Eva thinks; 'Fucking teenagers who are better at flirting than I am.'

 These weak willed bouncers just nod and don't even bother to check Lia's ID,
 though this comes with a caveat: "Hey... you ladies should head to the VIP
 lounge. You won't have any problems getting in. If you're looking to party,
 it's the place to be." And the bigger one unclips the rope for Eva and Lia to
 pass through. 

 "Kay. Thanks," Eva calls back towards the bouncers, continuing that lazy
 saunter through the open ropes with her hand loosely held in Lia's own. 

 Lia scrapes one nail under another nail, seeming rather pleased -- for the
 first time since hitting Boston lines. "Well, that was nice of them," she muses
 to Eva like this is something that just happened sporadically as she follows
 along. 

 Eva's tongue flicks across her lips as she looks towards the bar, though she
 completely ignores the coat check. She does scope out some of the outfits of
 the ladies, but it doesn't dwell for long; with similar cursory looks towards
 the men. "Let's check out that VIP section and shit. Sometimes you can like get
 up on people who already ordered bottle service. If anything happens to the
 Limo, I imagine Satan's gonna like make us fucking pay for it and with the
 party and stuff, like... yeah." She weaves her way through the crowds, without
 losing her grip on Lia's hand if she's able. 

 Eva thinks; 'I thought about like kinda trying to dress like one of these classy fucking dames once, but fuck it. I don't need that kind of fucking jazz. I'd much rather crawl along on fucking roof tops with amazing friends and get drunk.'

 Inside, the club is dark, and bright lights flash around you. A DJ is
 playing some thumping EDM off on stage, currently some higher speed mashup
 including Ellie Goulding's 'High For This', which is probably fitting. You can
 check your purses here if you wish. 

 Eva feels like checking your purse with the retarded amount of drugs and the uh... gun and knife inside... would probably be stupid.

 Yes, probably. Good thing you aren't /that/ high. 

 With a glance to the coat check and a tightening of the fingers around her
 clutch, Lia moves closer to Eva to keep up with her cropped-haired friend,
 seeming uninterested in losing the hand contact. "Grampa would pay. Or uncle
 James; he shelled out ten grand for bail for kids he didn't know one night,"
 she confesses to the young woman, "But, uh... Yes. Let's not... Let anything
 happen to Hot Lawyer's limo, that would be terrible..." 

 Lia feels the handle of her knife through the material of her clutch, which is rather reassuring.

 You spot another set of bouncers, four of them this time, across the dance
 floor ahead. The floor is packed, though the booths set up around the area
 leave some room around it to move about. 

 Eva squeezes through the crowds with a deliberate shifting of her form, able
 to slide her and her coltish companion along pretty steadily. The rhythmic bob
 of her head occurs easily once the music actually gets towards her and she
 sends a wink careening back towards Lia with her other hand pretty firmly
 ensuring that her clutch is pressed well to her body and out of grabbing sight.
 "It'll be fun, dame." She draws her fingertips down towards her halter, loosely
 revealing a tiny bit more flesh along her cleavage - though this comes with a
 minor roll of her eyes. It doesn't take long for her and Lia to make their way
 towards the set of four bouncers and that's when she attempts to drape her
 slender arms over the teenager's shoulders, pressing against her as she flashes
 a smile towards whichever one might look to be in charge, "We were told the
 party was like... in here." 

 Eva feels dumb.

 Eva thinks; 'This is why I don't fucking club that often.'

 Eva thinks; 'I have to be fucked up just to like... understand the idiotic mindset of fucking dumb girls.'

 Eva thinks; 'Alright. This club is pretty fucking tight. For like, a club. And I bet the tips are insane.'

 "Fun," Lia echoes, running her clutch-clutching hand through her hair gently
 as they weave through the crowd on the dance floor, the leggy brunette a smidge
 rude and careless about people who might become unfortunate enough to get in
 her way. As her hand comes down from her head, her thumb hooks in her halter
 top to adjust it, likewise showcasing more skin plus chest piercing; subtle.
 Real subtle. "I do like a good party..." 

 Lia adjusts her set of ruby dermal tips.
 Revealing;         a bite mark created by two ruby red dermal tops


 Pulse is an accurate name for the club. The crowd writhes to the thrumming
 beat, helped along by epilepsy-inducing lights and pretty cool acrobatic feats
 from the performers above. An aisle more or less adequate for a fire escape
 wraps around the stage, and the bouncers on the far side of this area seem to
 be guarding what is probably the VIP area. Drinks are flowing freely here, more
 cocktails than beers. 

 (to Snowman) (Privately)Eva and Lia had already smothered their bodies, fit
 with shouldering and such, towards the four bouncers and attempted to get in. 

 Lia mutters quietly, digging into her clutch for her phone/tablet and
 bringing it to her ear, turning away. 

 Lia gets a pale, pastel-purple tablet from her matte black leather skinnies pocket.

 Lia answers her phone.

 Lia says, in a sedate and girlish American voice, (phone) 'Bit busy, Alivia.'

 Oops. Yeah, you guys make it in without a problem. The bouncers give you and
 up down look and just say, "Ladies, enjoy your evening," with something of a
 knowing smile. 

 Lia says, in a sedate and girlish American voice, (phone) 'Yeah. Will text
 when home to prove I haven't died.'

 Lia slips a pale, pastel-purple tablet into her matte black leather skinnies pocket.

 Lia wiggles her fingers at the bouncers as she prowls along after Eva,
 hanging up her tablet/phone and hiding it again. "Uh... Alivia says she's going
 to beat your candied ass with a cane for marking up her window. But she thinks
 it was both of us. But I didn't say it was you and Oz," she offers to Eva,
 rubbing the palm of her hand against her thigh a bit and letting her eyes flit
 across the VIP lounge to study the people in it with a measure of intrigue. 

 Lia feels like Eva probably heard the conversation, so she knew that.

 Lia feels mild suffering.

 Lia feels the dull ache of her migraine somewhere in the back of her head.

 Once Lia and Eva have made their way through the front door, leaving that
 entourage of bouncers behind them, the skinny woman releases Lia's snagged
 hands with an obvious grin taking precedence on her only partially dolled up
 features. She wanders over towards any booth that might be open, attempting to
 fit her rear inside of it and sprawl out with her arms along the top. "Yeah.
 Well. It was a good fucking picture. But yeah. You might not wanna like mention
 Oz. Since like, he's kinda one of my besties right now and like, I've forgiven
 her for fucking Jasen like five minutes after I asked her like not to fuck
 Jasen. But uh... I'm less like inclined to fucking tell her who I'm really
 close to. I love the dame to pieces. She's smart and crazy and chill, but
 fucking... I don't really want her... yeah." 

 "I once threatened to tie her up and drown her in the ocean," says Lia, like
 this is no big thing, as her follower gait continues after Eva. She slides
 herself into the booth with a bit of grace and planting her palms against the
 top of the table. The intrigue remains, black-lined eyes continuing their
 perusal of the various individuals in the lounge as she continues their private
 conversation. "But, uh. I get protective of Dominic, since he's my only cousin
 and I never had brothers." 

 Lia feels curious as to what they have here.

 This area of the club is a little bit quieter, but not by much. The music
 still thrums here, and it has its own little dance floor. The female to male
 ratio is a little skewed in the former's direction, and here it is a little
 harder to outshine the ladies. Considering how easy it was for you to get in,
 one might be a little nervous about the rampant dollar-bills-up-the-nose
 attitude some of those around here have, though perhaps due to Lia's youthful
 looks the bouncers are not worried about you. The bar is lit by a rainbow of
 cool colors, and it looks like the bartenders might be handing out more than
 just drinks. 

 You might spot a familiar face at the bar, a friend of a friend who you
 probably know to be a dealer. 

 "I dunno. I was kinda like... fucking pissed, because she came home like
 pretending to fucking cry and then like... well, I dunno. She said I was like a
 lousy fucking friend and a paranoid cunt and like, I was ruining blah blah
 blah. Like, basically just lying and pretending to fucking cry and shit." Eva
 shakes her head, girl-talking the hell out of Lia despite all the rampant drug
 use currently ongoing in the dark place. "And then like, the next night she
 like followed me out and like tried to pull the same shit. Till like, I fucking
 said that like... ya'know... Jasen already fucking came clean about it. And
 then she changed her tune after like shooting off a gazillion texts. So yeah. I
 dunno. The whole thing fucking kinda pissed me off. Just with the lying and
 shit. But uh... this is kinda killing my buzz. I like, forgave her and shit;
 cuz that's what bitches do for each other." She shakes her head slightly,
 expression somewhat dampened. She doesn't seem as concerned with th 

 Eva doesn't seem as concerned with the women now that they're actually
 inside; and really, less concerned with the male popular also, aside from
 appreciative looks here and there. "Fuck it. We came here to party. Let's head
 to the bar and get some of those fucking favors, yeah? No point in balling if
 you don't enjoy it." 

 During her perusal, Lia sucks at her bottom lip and points a slender,
 unpainted finger at a someone at the bar. "That guy," she begins, "If you want
 anything extra, they sell stuff." Random tidbit of information from the girl,
 her attention wandering to Eva while the dark-haired young woman regales her
 with stuff about their shared probable friend. Rather than comment, she just
 simples her awkward, dimpled smile and agrees with, "Yeah, let's get wrecked or
 something -- maybe we can call the limo driver in to carry us out." 

 Eva feels a slight dampening in your mood with the talk about Jasen. It's still a sore point, even if she was the one that in the end told him that it probably isn't going to work. Plus, who fucking texts someone saying that they still care while calling them a cunt? Well. She would. She probably did worse.

 Eva thinks; 'God. Jasen turned into such a fucking pussy.'

 "Sounds like a plan, dame." Eva blows out a sharp exhale, peeling herself
 from those cushioned seats and sauntering her way with a breezy padding over
 towards the bar. She sticks her fingers into her purse, tugging out several
 bills as she attempts to get a better gauge of what's presented on the surface.

 "Ladies," says Lia's friend from behind the bar upon their approach,
 flashing the Inigo a smile. "Looking for a little pick me up tonight? Got a
 little something new you might enjoy, plus the regular stuff." 

 This time, Lia doesn't follow immediately. For whatever reason, the younger
 woman remains in her seat, pinching the bridge of her nose between slender
 fingertips -- when she's done, looking like nothing was wrong -- she makes her
 way after Eva with the sound of her heels cliking on the floor heralding her
 approach. The smile is met with a fleeting one in return, all dimples and her
 usual brand of awkwardness, preferring to let Eva do the talking it seems. 

 Eva feels your mood considerably dampen with all the talk about Jasen; the memories, the moments that they shared together when no one else was around. It's probably compounded with the knowledge she still defends him and then kind of hates herself for it. It seeps the buzz from her veins worse than poison, leaving her emotions fluctuating and that high all that more desirious.

 Lia feels her anxiety setting in. For a club girl, she sucks at handling groups.

 "I'm... always pretty much down for new stuff. And fuck it, the little dame
 with me is pretty much into it too," Eva decides towards the bartender, her
 head turning back to look towards Lia with an amused little smile. She does
 lean towards the teenager, her elbow nudging her almost gently, "I did promise
 that I'd do lines with you some day, dollface. I know it's been awhile for you,
 but I'm sure they got napkins. The ride back is still sweet. And you don't
 gotta take it down to my level. You can cruise on top a little if you want. But
 knowing you, I'm guessing you're gonna be all in." 

 Lia opens her mouth, sucking in a breath to reply to Eva, twitching a bit as
 she's nudged gently. "Uncle James' party wasn't that long ago -- but, uh...
 Yeah, no, I'm down for whatever," she confirms lethargically, a glance cast
 over a bare shoulder that shrugs to touch her chin momentarily. "At least they
 aren't leaves." Leaves. 

 "Who the fuck would like... ever fucking choose to be a leaf?" Eva goes on
 to tell Lia then, her expression turning somewhat blank. Her forearms ease
 against the surface of the bar, putting her at a forward torso lean as she
 sucks in a slow breath; head still rhythmically bobbing to the sound of the
 music in the darkened area. "I dunno. He tried to like... explain it to me. I
 just don't fucking get it. He made a really fucking pretty leaf though in the
 sky." 

 "He has this whole zen thing going on -- it sort of makes me want to see if
 there's buttons you can push to make him rage," Lia confesses to Eva, turning
 her head back and lowering her voice as she says it, "But uh... Don't tell him
 that. I just... I mean... You probably get it, I don't really have to explain
 that to you." The way she says that is appreciative, like she approves that the
 other woman is -- supposedly -- on her level. 

 Eva feels like druggie night turned into girl bonding night.

 There's no serious pain tickling at either of your senses in this area, at
 least not yet. It's still pretty early for this crowd, though. Your friend
 behind the bar gives a nod as people bustle around you, mostly intent on their
 own business-- you spot more than a few very dilated eyes in the faces of
 people in your near vicinity-- and says, "You haven't tried it, I'll give you a
 couple of lines of glitter. If you don't like it, come back and I'll hook you
 up with powder, yeah?" And he has a couple of drinks poured for you in less
 than a minute flat and four lines of something glittery laid out on a mirrored
 tray slid across the bar. 

 "Yeah. I was like... trying to get him to rage too. I get it. I was like...
 actually... yeah. It's a girl thing. Maybe a Haven thing. Maybe just an us
 thing. But I'm still not fucking admitting I have horrible fucking taste in
 guys." Another small shake of Eva's head is given, this time slightly laced
 with irritation as she looks back towards the women behind the bar. "Kay. That
 works," Once the conversation turns closer towards drugs, the comfort of the
 woman's slouch is nearly palpable; none of that awkwardness of forced
 flirtatious elements. She surveys the lines with a slight smirk, but her
 fingers are already curling against the very edge of the mirrored tray. "Gonna
 cut a bar straw for us too?" 

 Eva likely mentioned that towards the man. 

 Lia gives a rather mellifluous laugh, tucking her hair back behind her ear
 in an anxious manner. "Neither of us have bad taste -- y'know, I sort of dig
 the whole dollar bill thing. Makes me feel like Al Pacino in Scarface." Her
 revelation comes with a close scrutiny of the glittery powder on the mirrored
 surface, eyes blinking sedate. 

 Lia's eyes blink ... sedately. 

 The bartender/Lia's friend gives Eva quick look before saying, "Sure, why
 not?" It doesn't take him long before you're both set up to try a little bit of
 something new. Your booth is still free. 

 Eva doesn't cart the tray back towards the booth. She takes the clipped end
 of the straw, running the pad of her finger across the cut tip of it. She
 slides the mirrored surface closer towards her, not inviting Lia to do it
 first, apparently. After a single suspicious look around her, somewhat squinty
 as if her eyes are still adjusting; the presses the left side of her nostril
 down, pinching her thumb and forefinger along the cut black bar straw and
 snorting the colorful glittery line from one side to the other in a thorough,
 practiced fashion. She tilts her head back, additional quick inhales made,
 allowing the insides of the canal adjust to the foreign residue; and then
 exhales smoothly through her pursed lips. That mirroed tray then gets gently
 pushed over towards Lia. 

 The effect of this is near instantaneous, though slow to start. Your mood
 lifts immediately and you feel more energetic. Though you were already talking
 pretty quickly, your speed picks up a notch, and you feel much more comfortable
 in your own skin and willing to talk to anyone. 

 Lia seems content to wait her turn; as Eva does drug magic and makes a line
 disappear, the leggy brunette watches on, as if checking to make sure she isn't
 going to pass out or fall over or die spontaneously. Satisfied, the mirrored
 tray is tugged into a better position and she mimics her friend, a pinky finger
 closing off her right nostril as she snorts the a glittery line from the tray
 through the cut bar straw, leaving two behind and sucking in a breath. 

 The glittery powder is a little less bitter than cocaine would be, though
 less smooth by a fraction, too. 

 Eva feels like it's somewhere in between the feel of cocaine and crystal meth; which is pretty much right up her ballpark.

 Lia feels a pre-high adrenaline rush from doing something probably illegal.

 The glittery powder is a little less bitter than cocaine would be, though
 less smooth by a fraction, too. The effect of this is near instantaneous,
 though slow to start. Your mood lifts immediately and you feel more energetic.
 The people around you seem slightly more interesting (or less annoying) than
 previously. Your headache also fades a fraction, or rather the pain of it does
 while the pressure remains. 

 "Yeah, that's not fucking bad," Eva's tongue is caught between her teeth
 afterwards; head canting to her right shoulder as she watches Lia with a
 low-toned chuckle slipping from between her lips. The pads of her fingertips
 steadily drum out against the surface of the bar, edging closer towards the
 mirrored tray once more and then stopping in a manner that almost seems
 willful. She turns to press her back against the bar - abandoning the booth for
 now, it might seem - and then reaching over to collect one of those poured
 alcohol beverages and giving it a slight testing whiff to inspect it, rambling
 in a quick-paced fashion. "We should go fucking dance in a little bit after we
 kill off these lines, Kitten. It's been fucking forever since I danced. You're
 not like fucking oozing out for your leaf right now, are you?" 

 With a bat of lashes, a slow blink, Lia pinches the bridge of her nose
 between slender fingertips and massages the space briefly, releasing it shortly
 after. Her eyes fall to the mirrored tray again, echoing Eva with, "Not bad,"
 despite her continued rubbing at her nose with a knuckle. Something causes the
 Inigo girl to look at Eva dubiously. "Oozing out for my leaf?" she queries,
 "...you're high. That makes no sense." And then she laughs again, another
 mellifluous laugh. 

 You're feeling pretty good. Bumping that next line seems like a great idea. 

 Lia feels a whole lot of better; this was a good idea. Getting out like this was a damned great idea.

 The laugh the coltish teenager gives must be infectious, because soon after
 Eva is copying her in free form; the light-hearted display causing her left
 shoulder to rock forward slightly and her chin to drop with a grin slashed
 brightly across her features. "Hahaha... For fucking reals. I know how the fuck
 it is, dame. I've seen it. I've felt it. Sometimes you just fucking crave that
 shit. I swear, if fucking I could get away with platonic half-naked sleeping
 with someone, I'd do the same shit. But everyone always ends up kinda skeezy
 and shit. I'm gonna pajama trounce fucking Oz at some point and assault him
 with my brownie-smelling fox of fucking awesome." It doesn't take long for her
 fingers to be reaching back for that tray, picking up that used straw once more
 and tugging it over towards it. "Fuck it. Let's make this night last. I don't
 think we're gonna run into column-punching hot guys or grenade-stuffed SUVs, or
 leafs with amazing fucking abs or hot PIs who are probably " 

 Eva leans down afterwards; a second rendition of her previous actions
 performed as she makes that third line disappear. 

 Eva says, her words finishing only after the glitter has been thoroughly
 snorted up, pinched off, and palm rubbed across her nose, '-- PIs who are
 probably watching like yoga-pant wearing fat guys and being miserable right now
 except for like their hot, gold digging girlfriends that kinda show up on
 occasion.'

 With that second line, you feel way more energetic, and the pace of your
 speech (and your thoughts) pick up. A little bit of hallucinatory play is in
 your vision; light is refracting in odd ways, mostly at the corner of your eye.

 Eva feels good; back on track; not thinking about stupid cockboys and pretty bonded to Lia.

 A little bit of hallucinatory play is in your vision with that second line;
 light is refracting in odd ways, mostly at the corner of your eye, but it's
 nothing you've never seen before. The second line sits in your body for only a
 few minutes before you feel the urge to go get a proper bag of it. 

 The last line is disappeared by Lia shortly after Eva completes the third
 act, the brunette clearing her throat and pressing the back of her wrist
 against her nostril once she's finished. "Oh, that -- I dunno. I've never done
 anything like... Sleepovers never happened or anything, it's weird to share a
 bed, but I didn't feel like walking home." She tilts her head to peek off to
 one side at random, doing her cat-like blink; her wrist leaves her nose when
 she's satisfied it's not bleeding. "Eugh... Crowe is so hot, I hate him so
 much, I asked Dominic once if we could kill him or send him to Antarctica and
 Dom said no..." Her voice gets whiny at the end there, before she peppily
 decides, "Let's have fun, though. Fuck nuisances, you're right." 

 Lia feels the brief annoyance of remembering Crowe -- quickly cut off by a desire to do something instead of just standing there.

 The lack of glitter on your tray is a little bit of a disappointment. You
 think you might want to get more, especially when the pretty lights start to
 fade a little. 

 "Hahahaha. I fucking asked Satan to fucking make Jasen crawl on his fucking
 hands and knees to me, naked, spewing apologies and shit." Eva is laughing
 again towards Lia, like somehow the thick of their conversation is -genuinely-
 humorous somehow. She's pawing through her purse, grin spreading despite the
 amount of sniffles that seem to have stolen pauses from her rambling words, "He
 said it'd be probably not worth the effort, but like... he bought me coke,
 chocolate ice cream and gave me a fucking hug. So yeah. Like. Totally fucking.
 My Satan Dad is the god damn fucking best. Really. And then-- fucking then--
 when Jasen came over to my place like a week later, I like jokingly pounced off
 the roof at him-- and like, he fucking threw me into a wall. Can you believe
 that shit? Yeah, yeah, he fucking apologized. But who fucking throws someone
 into a wall? Alright, alright. Maaaaybe, I have bad fucking taste in guys, but
 that was awhile ago. And like, the rest of the night turned " 

 "I would probably be okay with doing awful things to Satan," Lia says sort
 of randomly, since it doesn't really have anything to do with the subject of
 Jasen -- just boys. She continues on with this, leaning forward against her
 palms a moment before straightening up. "It's not like my taste in guys is any
 better -- another one would be fantastic -- so, like... I dunno. I won't tell
 anyone, I keep secrets better than I let on." 

 Lia feels like being honest; she's in a good mood, why the fuck not.

 Speaking of good looking boys, it looks like there are a couple in the back
 corner checking the pair of you out. At this point, however, the 'glitter' is
 probably more interesting. 

 "Except like that chatroom fucking spewing of like, saying that I said shit
 about someone else's like guy and my besssstie." Eva drags that hissing 's'
 sound out way longer than would probably be necessary, flicking through her
 purse to withdraw more bills and offering them to the bartender with a wink and
 forward lean of her chest against the surface. She doesn't even ask the price,
 "Hook me up with some more of that glitter shit, will you? I like, just turned
 twenty-five. So like, yeah. Help me make my birthday kinda fucking worth it,
 yeah?" The inquiry towards the purchase doesn't last long, soon she's talking
 to Lia again, "Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. Everyone fucking likes the guy. I
 dunno. I'm like so fucking comfortable with him just like protecting me and not
 being weird, like... it's cool. The party tomorrow? It's gonna be awesome. I'm
 kinda hoping for a smaller crowd, so that it'll like not get overrun by stupid
 retards, but the fight? Yeaaah. I'm looking forward to " 

 "... I'm looking forward to that shit." Eva finishes. Those good looking
 guys in the corner? They'd get an appreciative look over and that's it.
 Apparently she really isn't that flirty of a dame. 

 Lia is, likewise, not that flirty -- but the girl does at least smile her
 dimpled smile, the glitter probably having a hand in removing her
 characteristic awkwardness for the evening. "I don't know him well, so it's
 mostly the fact that he's nice looking -- he's never been more than courteous
 and stuff, though. Like, he's never yelled at me, even when I asked about the
 picture," she admits to her friend, hip pressing against the edge of the bar.
 "I dunno. Guys are an enigma to me, I don't understand why they think I'm
 pretty and I don't understand how to handle the fact that some of them are nice
 looking..." 

 "Quicksilver," your new friend informs Eva and Lia both. "Make it forty five
 for the eight. Half price for you just this once. Happy birthday, girl. Let me
 know if you want something else." That will probably get you through the night.
 Both of you are starting to come down a little from the high-- the lights are
 less bright, the euphoria has dimmed just a bit. Another bump or two will
 definitely help you out. 

 Eva types a message out on their phone.

 "I could use you taking off your shirt," Eva decides towards the bartender
 with a brazen grin, but she doesn't spare him a lot of attention as if she
 actually expected it to work. The vibration from her cell phone has her swiping
 her thumb over the semi-cracked screen, "But thanks." The electronic device in
 her hand doesn't get her attention for very long once those pretty glittery
 lines are before her. "Quicksilver," she parrots with amusement, the already
 pre-cut lines having her engrossed attention placed on it until another fat one
 disappears up her nose. "Hooo shit." She shakes her head after that last one,
 proclaiming a short-lived 'woooo' in the course of the followed-up exhale. "Do
 another line, Kitten. Let's polish these ones up, grab some whiskey instead of
 this girlish swag and live it up. We don't have the fuck the guys, but I
 wouldn't mind dancing with one or three." 

 Distracted by the prospect of another line, Lia barely reacts to Eva's
 suggestion or the guy behind the bar, leaning forward to suck some of the
 glittery stuff up her nose briskly and running her tongue along her lower lip
 afterwards. "Yeah --" She was probably agreeing with the dancing, but the girl
 trails off to glance to one side, distracted. 

 Eva types a message out on their phone.

 The bartender snorts, but leaves his shirt on. The next bump brings back
 that wave of euphoria-- one more will definitely intensify it. Neither of you
 feels that would be a bad idea. 

 Eva quietly mutters as her phone keeps vibrating, but she steadily sweeps
 her thumb over it anyways. "Phil's sending me happy birthday shit," she
 explains towards Lia her own tongue dancing over her lips as she waits for the
 woman to finish up. She doesn't seem to have to wait very long for the extra
 intake of her final line, coaxing Lia afterwards with a hand moving out towards
 the woman's elbow, "Finish up. Polish up. Enjoy it. Don't thinking of your
 leaf." 

 (to Lia) (Privately)Eva seems to make no bother to correct her non-sensical
 words. 

 "I don't know Phil," Lia points out, mimicking her friend and polishing off
 her fourth line with a satisfied sigh that sounds quite pleasant compared to
 her usual lethargic exhales. "...I feel really good, y'know? Like. Great," she
 she decides, chewing at her pinky nail, "Which is weird, I never feel great,
 but I could get used to it." Her dimples show up as she smiles sidelong to Eva,
 deciding to get on the birthday train. "Ohrite, happy birthday, bitch -- you're
 old now." 

 Lia thinks; 'Fuck being Dominic; Dominic never has this much fun.'

 This time, with still a substantial amount left in the baggie you've been
 given, the lights brighten and start to dance, while at the same time
 intensifying the dark spots in the room. The people around you seem to both
 grow more attractive and at the same time a little stranger; more exaggerated,
 lights playing around them. Some of them seem to grow hazily bright halos or
 wings or other strange fantasy paraphernalia. Since you're both in good places
 right now, this doesn't bother you much. 

 You get the impression Eva's eyes are glowing a little bit. You feel high,
 giddy, like your body is suddenly much lighter. All traces of your headache
 have disappeared. 

 You also feel fearless and bold, like you could do anything. 

 Lia's skin seems to be glowing with strange brands, just faintly for the
 moment. You feel high, giddy, like your body is suddenly much lighter. You also
 feel fearless and less inhibited, like you could do anything and get away with
 it. 

 Eva groans towards Lia, sweeping the pad of her finger over the mirrored
 tray to attempt to collect any tiny bit of residue that might be sticking to
 the surface. She suckles lightly at it, her head rocking in time to the club
 beats filtering through the speakers, "Don't mention how fucking old I am,
 dame. I swear to Christ. I don't wanna knooow or remember. I just wanna
 fucking... live a little." A breathy chuckle escapes her, followed by another,
 and then another, blue-green eyes absorbed in her surroundings right now;
 focusing in on the people who are present, "God damn. There's some... fine...
 fucking... people in here." Her eyes narrow ever so slightly on occasion, and
 then she blatantly complains towards Lia, "... Man. I fucking... hate being a
 fucking muggle. Let's go make guys take their shirts off. And pretend this is
 Haven, where they all fucking do it willingly for us." 

 "We're not muggles," Lia insists to Eva, entranced by some of the people on
 the dance floor like a cat watching a mouse or other sort of predator/prey --
 in reality, it's probably more like the cat watching the laser pointer. She
 glances sidelong to Eva briefly, her head shaking. "We're not muggles. Muggles
 couldn't do shit; we're better than that," she explains in true Hand-groomed
 nature, "Or we will be. Someday -- you have great eyes." 

 Lia thinks; 'Why's it my eyes never do that?'

 "I dunno. Last time I fucking cut myself, like, it just fucking hurt like a
 whole lot." Eva seems to have no cap on her words right now, her entire
 existance lost within Lia, her surroundings and whatever it is that spews
 between her glossed lips, "But like, that was the night Oz got his shoulder
 like bit into by that kinda hot fucking zombie thing and gave me his car and
 stuff. That was a ... that was the night I decided fuck mist. I haven't like...
 really practiced since then. Cuz like... it fucking hurt. I think I went in too
 deep-- Man. That one? Over there? With the wings? Those are some great fucking
 wings. Do you know what I really wanna do though? I wanna stick my hand through
 a ghost. That'd be awesome. I got to pet a werewolf. You know that? That's
 like... two of my bucket list muggle things down." 

 Bodies are writhing on the dance floor, many of them with spots of glitter
 on their noses noticeable to your strangely augmented sight. The temperature in
 here seems to be rising, though that may be an effect of the drug-- your skin
 feels warmer, more prone to sweating though you haven't quite gotten there yet.
 Visions are swimming in front of your eyes now, not just around people, but in
 the air, strange distortions of light that play in infinitely fascinating ways.
 It may distract you from your conversation, though your minds are running at a
 mile a minute now. 


 Lia hooks her thumbs together and makes a fluttering gesture with her hands
 as she inelegantly tells Eva, "Angels suck or something." A deep breath is
 inhaled through her nose, the young woman slouching back against the bar while
 she peruses the folks there. "Be careful with the werewolf, they bite and shit
 and none of them are actually ni--" Nice? Maybe. She ends up ceasing her
 conversation to stare blankly at the air -- or is it a person? It's a bit of an
 unfocused, but fascinated, stare. 

 Lia feels like she should have worn something more open...

 You see something strange in one of these visions-- something like a
 ghostly, ethereal vision of open, raw nerves and a tortured feminine face. To
 most, this would probably be disturbing, but to you, it sends a surge of
 shivering joy through your spine. 

 "I--- don't like fur," Eva eventually concludes, her hand sweeping outwards
 to attempt to stroke what -might- be the back of whatever male might be
 standing not too far from her. Or perhaps just fondle at the air behind him, a
 slowly blinking stare shared with the light behind him. She laughs again,
 continuing with perhaps a new set of topics that Lia hasn't been privy to, "But
 yeah, the roof. We're gonna do shit th-- Hi, what's your name, random stranger
 with this weird shit with your back. Wanna play a game?" 

 Eva feels like you have no games in your mind; or maybe all the games. You're not even sure what you're touching, but it should be on a bucket list somewhere, probably.

 Eva slips a white, stickerless cell phone into a pocket.

 Briefly, Lia's tongue darts out and brushes her lower lip, her eyes opening
 a bit wider as if she's witnessing something fantastic. It's almost obvious
 that her heartbeat picks up -- large in part because a rivulet of blood begins
 to trickle out of her left nostril. "Yeah, fur sucks," she offers, voice quiet
 and possibly unheard as Eva starts molesting some not-so-poor patron. 

 Lia feels the easily aroused urge to make someone bleed, unaware of her bloody nose.

 Eva doesn't seem to notice the rivlet of blood from Lia's nose; her back is
 almost towards the woman at this point; both hands now moving out as if she's
 actually attempting to catch something between cupped palms. It's likely
 exceptionally obvious and it likely also looks exceptionally stupid. But
 there's a whimsical smile of contented bliss slashed somewhere amid the
 occasional writhing smirk that appears. "Fucking. Tables," she comments out of
 nowhere. 

 You feel heat blossom up your fingers at what you touch. It's a smooth,
 perfectly sculpted back through the thin t-shirt of a very good-looking boy in
 front of you. What makes it better is that up close and personal, even on this
 writhing dance floor, you can feel him suffering from withdrawal from
 something-- he's just reaching into a pocket for another little vial of
 glitter, which he shakily spills onto his hand and snorts just at the touch.
 Relief dampens your sense of his suffering. 

 Eva appears to be touching the back of a very good looking boy. His looks
 might be attributable to the drugs, or it might just be that he really is that
 good looking. The moment is enough to distract Eva from her visions, though
 perhaps not for Lia, who now is riding very high and in a full on hallucinatory
 state. 
 Eva doesn't notice Lia's nosebleed, and neither does the Inigo girl. At
 least, she doesn't seem to until it reaches her lips, dripping from the
 delicate arch at the top to the round lower one, causing her hand to lift and
 fingers to touch her mouth. When they come away bloody, the girl seems
 unphased, unbothered, and not concerned -- in fact, she sucks the blood from
 her fingertip curiously, eyes only moving to the dark-haired birthday girl for
 a moment before scoping out whatever else is going on in her line of sight. She
 seems quite enscorcelled. 

 You feel like you're one bump off from feeling amazing from this stuff.
 You're seeing stuff, but still feel almost grounded, perhaps from touching this
 boy in front of you, who seems to barely register your presence. 

 Lia thinks; 'If I could just touch it... Maybe she'd be a screamer...'

 Lia feels quite enthralled by things that aren't there.

 Eva's fingertips scrabble at the back of the man's t-shirt after a few
 attempts are made and she's somewhat drawn over towards him -- the distance of
 half a pace; though perhaps at a slower rate. It might appear almost more like
 a glide at this time. For once, her rambling, cocaine-affected words seems to
 have slowed aside from the idle comments that appear to be lost every so often,
 "... This... should come off." She hasn't even invoked a conversation with the
 man, the boy, the attractive being--. And then she's drawing back again, the
 pads of those digits rubbing together as she turns towards the bar. Her tongue
 wanders through her mouth, making a few visible poking appearances about her
 lips as she shakes her head and fumbles for the diminished baggie of glittered
 substance, murmuring delightfully, "... Just a little bit... more." 

 Eva feels like you have a weird power thing with making men remove their shirts-- and usually you're really good at it. You might feel some tendril of suspicion about doing this to someone else -- really, you're pretty good at not doing this. Plus, there's that weird guilt of flirting with other people despite being unattached at present-- but that too is lost somewhat.

 Your fingers reach out quite on their own power to try to touch your vision.
 Strangely, while you feel nothing or almost nothing in your tingling, numb
 extremities, that vision of the tortured face does open her mouth to scream.
 The sound of it is at the edge of your hearing, drowned out by the incessant
 thrumming beat of house dance music. Other visions swirl around you, and you
 feel an odd sense of connection to the dance floor. You feel almost like you
 could pick out everyone else who has ingested this drug tonight, or rather--
 those who haven't, as they are vastly outnumbered. 

 "Just... A little louder," Lia quietly requests of... Nothing, actually,
 reaching out to touch something that isn't there and sounding vaguely
 disheartened, even though her expression is rather blissful and sedate -- she
 even smiles a sly smile at whatever it is she's seeing, amused, before her
 attention turns to the dance floor to study the people on it as she loiters on
 the edge. Her attention is everywhere, never focusing on any one person for
 more than a few seconds before it's off again on someone else. 

 The boy whose back Eva is touching turns to see who the hand belongs to and
 reaches out for it just in time for her to withdraw out of his reach. His eyes
 are glowing faintly to her vision, but it's a different kind of glow than what
 comes out of her own eyes, more a bright pair of burning coals than anything,
 and then he melds back with the crowd. Eva's soon back at the booth, cutting up
 more lines of the sparkling powder. 

 You feel like you're starting to come down a little bit. One more line might
 keep these visions going. The tortured girl seems to be dimming, as is your
 sense of her nervous system. 

 Eva feels most of those deep thoughts that occasional fill your mind lost within the mindless thrum of the music; the visual interpretations; it's an experience of serenity really in a way. It's what she craves when she gets high -- the not really having to care about anything, the small rushes she gets when people around her suffer that she doesn't fully understand or has even made the connection to. There's a certain thrill in doing whatever you want and thinking little on the consequences aside from her own code of morals that follows her whever she goes. She can taper it pretty well with the meth-- too many bad known results with that. But a few indulgences, especially on her birthday, are explainable and rationalized.

 "... I think the people who work for Satan are here..." Eva's body gives a
 small tremble afterwards, though the smile on her face makes it seem like it
 bothers her that much. It doesn't take long for her to use that unclean edge of
 her ID card to cut and separate the lines, a little more liberal with the
 separation than the bartender was earlier. She uses her index finger to hold
 her nose, rather than the elegance of her pinky. Lacking the cut straw-- lost
 somewhere along the way-- she doesn't cringe when she expertly rolls a twenty
 dollar bill into a tube and utilizes it to make another fat horizontal of
 powder disappear. She licks her finger, sweeping up the residue afterwards,
 sucking in a breath and resting against the cushions. "I fucking love. My.
 Life." 

 Eva thinks; 'God. That guy's eyes. People's eyes are fucking amazing. Do my eyes look like that? I want fucking burning eyes. I want to burn things. I don't want to be a muggle. I want to make shit fly with my hands. Burn with my mind. God. The shit I could get into. Some day. Some day I'm not gonna be a muggle. Some day I'm gonna do whatever the fuck I want.'

 The sedate quality in Lia's features diminishes, her smile fading but only
 just. Touching her nose again, she turns back toward Eva and their shared
 quantity of narcotics, waiting for the other woman to finish before making a go
 at the emptying baggie of glittery substance, not very careful about the line
 she hastily works on, hastily snorts into her bleeding nostril, and then
 hastily steps back from to look sidelong at Eva. "Satan probably owns the world
 at this rate -- or no, because then he'd have more money than us," she reasons
 unreasonably, running her hands through her hair and staring at the ceiling. 

 Lia feels a bit of a sting, probably because her nose is bleeding still.

 "Satan's fucking god," Eva proclaims towards Lia, also reasoning
 unreasonably, but with full confidence over the words. 

 "Satan's probably fucking a lot of people," Lia relays to Eva, clearly
 miscommunicating as she continues her stare up. 

 You're in luck, since the mirrored surface of the tray allows you to catch a
 glimpse of yourself. You can see them-- the glow isn't as pronounced as in the
 man whose face you just saw, but they glow faintly blue. And dayum, you think
 you look pretty good right now. That next bump sends you up a notch to highs
 you've never felt on cocaine. You feel intricately connected with the world,
 with some grand nervous system where you don't have to be afraid of anything,
 and intimately connected to others, including Lia in front of you. You think
 you could probably finger everyone in this club who has snorted some of this
 quicksilver stuff tonight. 

 "Satan doesn't really like seem like a slut to me. Jasen's probably
 fucking a lot of people." This is followed up by her attempting to lick up
 Lia's mess too with a fingertip. She doesn't look at Lia when she talks,
 shifting and slowly using her hands to rake back through her dark locks,
 seeming to be arranging them in the smeared surface of the tray, smile only
 growing, "I'm gonna own Hell if Satan ever dies. I'm his heir. That's why he's
 getting me shit. I'm gonna own fucking verizon." She points towards some very
 random person in the crowds, her finger crooked, "And that guy. I'm going to
 own him too. And her. And maybe her." This is all followed up by a fluidly
 spoken, "I love you, Lia." 

 That high comes back, but you've peaked-- the euphoria is less forceful than
 previously. Still, you feel that connection again, like you're a nerve ending
 in a great central system where you don't have to be afraid, like everyone is
 almost one. You can see /her/ again, that strange vision, and some odd niggling
 feeling in your spine tells you she's real. In fact, you feel like you could go
 hunting for her tonight, if you wanted to. It would be a walk, though, away
 from the thrumming beat of the club, and what little remains of your good sense
 tells you it probably would take a lot of energy. 

 Lia absorbs Eva's words, only looking away from whatever sort of
 hallucination she might be witnessing to look at 'that guy' and 'her' and 'him'
 and 'her' when they're pointed out. "Me and Dominic fought over Hell once," she
 confesses casually, "He says he'd be the right hand, but -- no. Someday?
 Someday, I'm replacing Crowe, and everyone can bite me because I'm going to be
 like a God or something..." It's quite the declaration, dark eyes wandering to
 Eva before returning to the ceiling as she sighs. "I love you too, Eva," she
 relays, the words sounding a bit like a promise rather than a statement, before
 she grows visibly frustrated -- sort of. The agitation is just on the surface.
 "I wonder what it'd be like to see her. In person. I wonder who did that." Her
 blathering is punctuated by the girlish titter that reveals her youth as she
 laughs out a quiet, "Grampa..." 

 Lia feels the traces of being disturbed, but it's all under the euphoria -- she's enjoying herself, she doesn't feel for this real-hallucination girl. In fact, she wants her to hurt, but somewhere she knows she should feel bad...

 "Kneecap her," comes Eva's nonsensical solution, her lips quivering a little
 and then she's laughing afterwards, now working to invert that plastic baggie
 and suck out what little might remain in the inside of it. "Crowe. Crowe might
 be fighting, by the way. He might be fighting Jasen," she finally confesses,
 her words distracted- just some outpoured admission as she looks off towards
 the crowds again, sizing them up. 

 Eva thinks; 'I'm going to own all of them someday.'

 People are starting to come down off their drugs, or run out of them around
 you. The club has filtered out a little bit as the clock ticks toward last
 call. You can pick out more faces in the crowd now as your own high wanes-- the
 baggie is starting to feel a little light, though it might last you a few more
 lines. Nearby, a brunette who must be a gym nut in too-tight clothing trips
 drunkenly over a chair, lands on her ass, and starts laughing hard to herself
 over nothing in particularly. One of the guys nearby tries to help her up. 

 "Eugh, I love Crowe," Lia complains in an airy verbal moan, finally
 abandoning her standing position to slouch opposite Eva and resting her hand
 against her face rather than the other way around. "Maybe when he killed my
 aunt, her ghost decided to kick the real me out of my body and take over -- she
 liked him too or something." Rational thought has left the building with Elvis,
 it seems, but the Inigo sounds serious as she discusses it at their booth,
 looking toward the brunette who falls over at the sound of her laughter. 

 Anything that might've remained in the baggie would be quickly consumed by
 Eva and it's unlikely that she'd actually offer anything more towards Lia in
 her current haste to finish it up. Perhaps as a way of comforting the teenager
 from what she's selfishly not providing, she attempts to swaddle an arm around
 the woman's shoulder, answering in a way that either makes sense, or doesn't,
 "You're not a slut." She doesn't seem in a hurry to clean up afterwards, or
 retreat from the booth, a sneer attributed towards the fallen woman and an
 amused laugh following despite the solemn quality of her bonded friend's tone.
 "I don't know about love, Lia. I'm not morality police. Leave that shit to Oz.
 Leave that shit to Jasen. Leave that shit to... fuck, I wish I had more." 

 Eva's hogging of the drug leaves your body aching for more. Your visions
 fade and the lights dim, and your headache begins to return -- with a
 vengeance. This might be the first hint that the crash for this stuff might be
 very unpleasant. Your mouth feels dry and your nose hurts. 

 Maybe it's the way Eva says it, or maybe it's just because she's in a good
 mood, but Lia starts to laugh at what comes out of her friend's mouth. She
 doesn't complain at being shafted the last bits of the contents of the baggie,
 instead leaning into the dark-haired woman. "I don't, like, mean actually love
 him -- that'd be psychotic of me, I don't know him. I bet he's some sort of
 pansy deep down and I'd hate him," she laments, scrubbing her hands against her
 face, leaving them rested against the heels of her palms, "...he should fight,
 though. He's way hot..." This is punctuated with a sigh, then a frustrated
 noise, then a pinch of her nose between her fingers, but no verbal complaint. 

 You've peaked-- snorting the rest of the drug only helps to dampen what you
 already know will be a rough come down. Your body aches for more even as you
 finish off the rest of the bag. 

 Eva's head rolls about her shoulders, first to one side, then the other;
 somewhat like an ineffective way of attempting to stretch or crack it. Neither
 of which seems to be occuring afterwards with good timing. She shifts almost
 uncomfortably against the cushions and then slings her other arm around Lia's
 shoulders, attempting to embrace the coltish teenager somewhat from behind,
 "Pussies suck. Really. At least he doesn't drink fucking antifreeze tea. Let's
 get out of here soon. Let's go cruise around. Let's go get fucked up. Let's
 throw fucking tennis balls at people and blow up Dae's car. I dunno. But I
 don't wanna be in here in an hour or so. I know myself. We uh. We uh. Fuck.
 Just a little more would be fucking sweet." 

 Advil probably won't help the throbbing your temples very much, you can feel
 it already. On top of the headache, you feel shaky and jittery, and your tongue
 feels heavy and metallic on top of being parched. 

 Eva feels that discomfort building, but you expect this. You always do. In a way, you almost want it. Her own suffering isn't that bad either. It keeps her level. Each time she has to sweat her way through a come down, it makes her less inclined to do it again-- at least until it's presented in front of her. Until she needs that high. Until she wants to let loose. But she probably has a solid year before all the really negative effects of the reckless drug abuse really kick in. That's a solid year of fun before the world crashes down around her.

 "He drinks blood, it's probably better for you," Lia jokes with Eva, still
 lighthearted enough despite her moment of discomfort, patting the woman's hands
 as she's embraced. A squeaky noise escapes as she lets out an exhale, gnawing
 her lower lip. "It would be," she agrees, stretching a leg out idly, a faint
 tremor running through her before fading, "I want to spraypaint Crowe's car. I
 really want to do that. Dae already said he'd take the punch for me..." 

 Lia thinks; 'I need a glass of water...'

 You still feel okay for the moment. Lia's friend is still at the bar-- you
 might be able to get something else, or more of this. A faint throbbing works
 at your temples, and the hallucinatory illusions shift into the beginnings of
 migraine auras. You don't feel shaky, yet, but you think you probably will
 soon. Your throat feels parched. 

 "Do it after my party. I wanna watch him fight first. I've never even met
 the cat," Eva squeezes Lia, a little more roughly than would be necessary;
 fingernails even briefly tugging into the woman's shoulders. "Let's get out of
 here. Let's go breathe. Run around. Live. Fuck. And yeah. I'm gonna fuck on
 your table. Fuck your grandpa." She disentangles herself from the coltish
 teenager then attempts to give her shoulder blade a shove from behind, "Go, go,
 go. I want something before we go. Just to take with us. Just to make the ride
 back a little ... yeah. Just. Go." Her eyes are already darting over towards
 the bartender again and she's scooching out from the cushions with a slight
 inward crush of her brows towards the bridge of her nose. 

 Lia grunts as she scrambles out of the booth, Eva's declaration that she's
 going to get laid on the Inigo dining room table only bringing a laugh from the
 coltish girl. "Go get it then," she urges, leaning to collect her clutch and
 dig around in it. A bottle of pills is brought out, popped open, and some are
 dry-downed before it's shoved away, though the girl seems to have some trouble
 with it as she watches some of the last patrons depart. 

 The club is starting to empty out, with a lot of people paired off already
 and heading back out into the main club. The few remaining are doing their last
 bits of drugs. The bartenders in this VIP lounge are starting to clean up, a
 few of them turning their backs to bump themselves up a bit as they do so. 

 Lia feels pretty sure the Advil won't help -- best not to think about it.

 Eva moseys her way back towards the bartender, shouldering her way through
 any of the departing customers that actually bother to skirt by her instead of
 going around. She shoves some additional bills towards the man, "Gimmie one for
 the road, yeah?" Her right heel thumps against the ground by the bar, just like
 a restless twitch as she waits. 

 Lia tucks her clutch under her armpit, touching her nostril again as if
 checking to make sure it's stopped its bleeding even though she hasn't made a
 move to clean herself up. Yet. This is apparently distracting, the last
 lingering effects of the drug causing her to stare at her bloodied fingertips a
 moment longer than most might. 

 "Eight of quicksilver? Half crown?" asks the bartender, reaching under the
 bar and rolling the baggie up in a club magazine expertly. "Ninety for this
 one. Enjoy it, girl. Happy birthday. Don't spend it all in one place." 

 "Mmmh." That's all the advice-giving bartender receives from Eva. That and
 an amused little smirk. She clutches the magazine roll with care, slinking back
 towards Lia with a nudge of her shoulder and then saunters back towards the
 exit, "Let's jet out, doll." 

 "To the limo," Lia chirps. That's right, she chirps, though it's heading
 back to her sedate habit of drawling her words as she falls in line with Eva.
 "We didn't ruin his limo; we should get gold stars and a shopping spree..." 

 "To the limo," Lia chirps. That's right, she chirps, though it's heading
 back to her sedate habit of drawling her words as she falls in line with Eva.
 "We didn't ruin his limo; we should get gold stars and a shopping spree..." 

 "I'm pretty sure Satan's gonna like... cut me off if I ask for too much
 shit. I'm asking for like... a lot of shit," Eva relays towards Lia as she pads
 past her, a bit more haste put into her steps as she angles towards the door
 with the last trickling of people leaving the rather posh club atmosphere. "...
 And like... yeah. His bites are pretty fucking sweet too. So I'm just kinda
 getting the best deal out of all of this." She pinches her nostrils together as
 she veers back towards the elevator with her clutch in hand. "You should get
 your rich family to get us shopping sprees." 

 "Asking grampa for money is like asking..." Lia trails off, leaving it at
 that and deciding she's lost interest in the subject of shopping sprees,
 digging around in her purse to retrieve a napkin taht she starts cleaning
 herself up with. "Everyone probably has more interesting bites than I get. I
 never asked for Dominic. I wanted Crowe. Crowe flaked out." This comes with its
 own brand of vassal angst, it seems, because she sounds genuinely bothered by
 it. 

 Your comedown, for the record, is going to be awful unless bumped up by more
 quicksilver (which in turn will just draw the comedown out and step it down
 more gradually instead of it happening all at once.) And it's awful. You'll
 have a headache through half the day tomorrow that won't abate however much
 torture porn you watch or advil you swallow, and you'll have the shakes until
 early morning. The best you can hope for is passing out so you don't have to
 suffer it awake. The limousine, however, is fully stocked with ice and more
 importantly, water, which tastes cool and refreshing with each sip, and is
 waiting for you on the curbside, summoned by Lia or Eva earlier. Thank god for
 good drivers-- the smooth ride home might just lull you to sleep. 

 Eva would likely take the limosine back towards Trolley Stop #2 to drop Lia
 off at her house, or that of her not-beau. And then she'd wander back to return
 the limosine to Satan before taking her miserable self home.