Raising a brow at the kid, Mason couldn’t help but compare him to an angry Chihuahua, small and angry, but overall harmless. “Relax, Grumpy,” he says with a short laugh, shaking his head. “I was going to tell you that if you really wanted to sleep you should find a tutor room. I do it all the time, and it keeps people from bugging you.”

Mason had been making his getaway to the outer part of the ballroom, wanting to go out into the gardens in the back for a quick smoke. The joint hidden in the chest pocket of his black and white striped t-shirt was beckoning to him and with his high from earlier mostly faded, he was answering its call. He was just about there when he was stopped by a pretty fairy. Tinkerbell, to be exact. Despite the fact he wasn’t all that into drinking, her excitement to play a few rounds of beer pong was infectious and Mason hated to disappoint. With a slight smile, his teeth worried his bottom lip as he glanced at the table, already being set up for another round, red solo cups forming into perfectly aligned pyramids on either end. “I don’t need to know where the extra booze are hidden,” he laughs softly, sure that if there was any, Asher or Ford would have likely found it by now. “But I’ll play,” he nods, a smile lighting up his features. The joint could wait another few minutes.

While his costume hadn’t been extremely over the top or detailed, Mason had taken a few liberties when it came to the items he’d acquired for his attire. Pugsley Addams was a simple enough costume ( striped shirt, black shorts, black converse ), so he’d decided to add a small, skull shaped bottle. It may as well have been a flask, tucked away in his pocket, small enough to be hidden but just large enough to not be completely useless in its purpose. Though, filling it with black absinthe was probably not a great idea. Not if someone could get their hands on it, for two shots of the midnight purple liquid would render them entirely useless. In the middle of snatching it back from a handsy zombie, he was interrupted in his attempt to shove it back into his pocket by Teddy. Dressed as Freddy Mercury and zeroing in on him in the crowd, all Mason could do was wait for the other to reach him. “This,” he says, holding up the bottle and giving it a light shake. “Is not for human consumption, sorry bro. We can find you a beer if you want?”

It had been at least his second attempt to head out the back doors leading to the gardens in less than an hour. Mason was starting to feel dreadfully sober, and besides his joint, the only other option he would allow himself was alcohol. It just wouldn’t do. He’d much rather the hangoverless high of weed than the throbbing headache of vodka shots. Inwardly groaning at the hand that grabbed him, he only stopped his slight irritation when he saw the owner of said hand. With a raised brow as the boy she was trying to get rid of vanished into the crowd, Mason couldn’t help when he began to tease the raven haired pirate. “Do my eyes and ears deceive me or did Daisy Raylor just apologize to me of all people?” He laughed, grin bright at her rolling eyes. “By George, she did!”

❝ normal is an illusion. what is normal to the spider is chaos to the fly. ❞