Attitude is a Lifestyle

Gideon's hardly surprised that she looks at home in this scene. Given her best friendship with his long-ago ex and current Queen (some might say Dictator) of TWI, and the thick skin that comes from handling Lara's Underground business, Catalina is well primed to thrive on both the drama and the chaos that this night promises in spades.

So it may be self-interest that has him sidling up to her, as soon as the bids start going up on the board. "C'mon Cat, spill." His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "... How much money does it take to get myself out of a disastrous match?"

She shrugged lightly.

“Who am I to interfere with destiny?” She asked, winking at him conspiratorially. "No, but seriously, I think it depends on the person."

Nevra drifted in their area, matching Catalina's movements. "What is it you do when you're not at the bar or at an event?" She was still a bit of a mystery to the Turk, even six years in.

Her hips swayed in rhythm, eyes glinting red under the lights. “Me? When I’m not working…” She gave a small shrug. “I drive too fast. Sleep too little. Sample the product more than I should.” The admission came with a smirk, not an ounce of shame. “Life’s short, cariño. I like feeling it.”

She leaned in just enough to be heard over the bass. “Sometimes that means a hit, sometimes a high, sometimes a night that goes too late. I don’t do stillness well.”

Then, with a teasing lift of her glass, “And if I ever do sit still, it’s probably because someone finally talked me into it.”

"And what about you?"

Her pulse thudded hard against her ribs. That was not something Amélie could see herself doing unless she downed more of those fruity drinks they were serving behind the bar. And even then...it'd be a push.

"Ah…ha, about that...well, I...hm, I—" The words jammed in her throat. You can speak. You can breathe. Don’t make a scene. "I don’t think I’m… very good at hitting on anyone.” a humourless laugh. "Or party favours.” Cheeks warming instantly. Oh god, this is so damn embarrassing "blooming as she added, "I’m not really the… um… 'spicy' type." maybe this wasn't the person that was going to get her through the night.

She took a sip of her drink, eyes scanning the crowd before turning back to Amélie with a conspiratorial smile. “Tell you what,” she said, leaning in a little closer. “We’ll make it a game. You and me — people watching. You pick someone, and I’ll tell you what kind of mess they’re getting into tonight. Then it’s my turn.”

Catalina grinned, her tone light but inviting. “No pressure. No shots. Just a little harmless observation. You can stay tame, and I’ll stay trouble. Deal?”

His fingers brushed her hip again and she smirked, leaning just close enough for her perfume — smoky, sweet, and a little wild — to fill the space between them. “But I won’t deny it,” she added, voice playful, “I do like a little noise… keeps the night interesting.”

"Careful, diabla," he said as he came up beside her, a flicker of a grin cutting through the low light, "Talk like that, people might start praying and getting along," the sarcasm was thick in his tone.

He set the concoction down, nodding toward the dance floor where the bass was rolling like thunder, "Let’s see if you can handle a little hellfire," his hand hovered, gentleman’s offer, palm open.

Her eyes sparkled as she leaned just close enough to let him catch the scent of wine and mischief. “If you’re trying to put out fires, cariño,” she murmured, letting her thumb trace lightly over the back of his hand, “you might’ve come to the wrong girl. I tend to start them.”

With a playful tug, she led him toward the dance floor, hips swaying to the beat. “But… maybe,” she added, voice lilting with amusement, “you like a little chaos."

David was never one to turn down a good party. Things had been rough lately, especially after the breakup, but he wasn’t about to let that kill his mood. Leaning against the bar, he ordered two shots and slid one toward the person beside him.

“Take a shot with me,” he said, finally turning to meet their eyes.

"They try to make me feel like a clown every time I come to these things now...So I thought: Give em' what they want." That self-deprecating humor was unmatched, but she paired it with that soft smile she supported in attendance of these things. Felicity wanted her there, regardless of her feelings towards it.

So, as always, she was sucking it up. "Tell me there's more to do than stand around talking and drink." Two things she'd never been the biggest fan of. She didn't have a safety net or anyone to hold her hand this time.

"I mean...there's always more to do. I have party favors if you want things to get extra spicy. You can hit on one of the many hot men and women here, there are maybe....possibly...some not involved heavily in a faction somewhere??? oh and there's dancing. Which, beside the party favors, is my favorite thing."

As much as Yvonne loved hanging out with her kids, a night out with other adults was exactly what the doctor ordered. Though, looking out at the assorted gangs of London pressed together into one room, doubts were starting to creep into her head.

"Not sure I should be saying this as the host, but how long do you think we'll make it without a fight breaking out? I give it two hours at the most."

One man bumped into another, and Yvonne drained her glass as they started eyeing each other up.

"Make that fifteen minutes."

"You can always tell," Benjamin mimicked Melissa's words exactly, his features pulling into a soured expression, huffing like a petulant teenager. "The ones who came to give, and the ones who came to take. The trick is deciding which one you are before anyone else does." Every word was a perfect impression of her. He didn't stop. "She's so...god, she doesn't know how to have a lick of fuckin' fun." He downed the drink quickly. "Another...please."

Event: Halloween 2025

She leaned against the bar with a glass of wine in her hand, a devil in silk and satin. The horns were barely there — subtle, delicate things that glimmered in the light — but the red dress? That was deliberate sin. Gold dripped from her neck and wrists like molten fire, and her lipstick matched the Bordeaux in her glass.

“I swear, if one more person asks me if I ‘came as temptation,’ I’m burning this place down,” she muttered under her breath, half to herself, half to whoever happened to be brave enough to approach.

Her grin was lazy, dangerous, and just this side of inviting. “Come on then,” she said, tilting her head toward the party below. “Dance with the devil before midnight hits. What’s the worst that could happen?

"Not that I'm opposed to burning things down when necessary, is it really such a bad thing for them to think you're the epitome of desire? I'd call that a win." Her wink softened the comment. "Besides, I think Yvonne would be upset if you ruined the party in a blaze of anger. Just ignore them and dance with me."

The Latina let herself be led to the dancefloor, the clack of her heels barely heard over the din of the music. Grinning, she started moving toward the beat of the music. "God, sometimes it's just nice to dance. I need to do this more often."