the calm

“The town looks abandoned, and everyone I’ve seen today has definitely been hungover. I guess that’s what an Oak Pines party does though. The barista who made my coffee was so dead she accidentally put salt in it instead of sugar.” 

"Wow..." Owen muttered, though he had to admit this was probably the worst after-effect he'd seen of a big party in a while. "I guess this is why you don't invite half the town to a party."

"Yeah, uh, sorry. I saw Valencia so I thought you were there, too," he explained, instantly feeling a little bad that he'd even bothered to ask.

“Are you standing outside my door for a reason?”

"Uh...I think I must have the wrong address."

Nora smiled. His reaction wasn’t unlike the sort of reaction she would have to seeing someone standing alone at a party. especially a sober person. “No, but I’m wondering how you got your hands on those fries with all these drunk people around. Aren’t fries like a drug to drunk people? I’m surprised someone hasn’t snatched them out of your hands yet.”

"It wasn't easy," he admitted easily. It'd felt like he was back playing Pop Warner football as he clutched the fries to his chest and dashed and dodged around the hungry, drunk crowd until he was in the clear. "I'm too hungry to let that happened." He looked down at the fries for a moment. While others indulged in copious amounts of alcohol, he'd let himself indulge in a fatty food that he'd sworn off the diet for most of his clients. "Uh, do you want some? I'm not used to eating fried stuff."

He was taken aback by their question and, with no answer to give, just cleared his throat and took another sip of his drink to avoid it. He knew it was rhetorical, but part of his mind was telling him that he needed to give some sort of response to defend himself. He quickly squashed it down, figuring that he just had to choose his battles. "It's a different kind of assertion," he tried to point out. Physically asserting himself with a push or a punch was far easier than verbally asserting himself with whatever stammering words might come out of his mouth. "I'd be fine. I just don't like making people uncomfortable."

Owen nodded in agreement, though it did seem like even the people he typically saw sober were taking full advantage of the stereotype of the holiday to get wasted. "Uh, watch out," Owen muttered, pointing behind Gunner at the girl behind him who seemed ready to throw up.

“Me? In a room full of people. Alright.”

"Well, you're...tall."

No matter where she looked it seemed like everyone at this party was drunk. Whether it be bourbon or green beer – which frankly Nora didn’t trust – it appeared that everyone had a drink in their hand. There was a blonde woman at the bar chatting up a man who obviously had far too much to drink and in another corner there was a couple who were so intoxicated that they seemed to forget they were in public.

Owen looked over to the side when the woman standing near him asked a question. He just nodded at first, fretful for a moment that he may have disturbed her. She seemed perfectly sober, but being sober in a crowd full of drunks was enough reason to want to be alone. Eating a few more fries, he picked up his glass of water from a ledge on the wall and too a sip. Noting how many people were around the bar as he did so, he glanced over at the woman. "Have you been able to get something to eat?" he asked, worried the drunk crowd may be preventing others from getting access to the food and drinks they needed.

“Hundreds of other people in this party. Maybe they’d want it more, but that’s jsut a hunch.”

"Oh, sorry. You were just the first person I saw."

"Oh, uh, sorry..." he muttered, reaching out for his drink and taking another sip. He was never entirely sure just how much other people could take care of themselves. There were people like that girl he saw the other day who could knock someone out in the street in an instant, and then others whose strengths lied in areas that wouldn't exactly contribute to self-defense. Still, teenage boys always had a worse bark than their bite, it seemed. "I'd just be unassuming...a hidden bodyguard." He didn't know why he felt the need to defend his fake story. "That must be a job..."

He nodded in understanding, having always been one who preferred to keep his senses about him particularly when he was surrounded by those who were intoxicated. "Or that some people just don't like the taste," Owen added quietly. It wasn't like he avoided drinking because of the effects or as some statement; he just honestly hated the taste of alcohol.

"Oh..." He took a sip of his water as he cast another glance back at the boys who had been bothering Bryson, and it immediately went down the wrong pipe the instant he heard their suggestion. "I...how about your bodyguard?" They were rich, he'd been able to figure that out very quickly during their interaction at the auto place. Still, he technically did owe them a favor for that, considering if not for their intervention, he would've spent the next few months quietly waiting on car salesmen to notice him sitting there after 'forgetting' about him. "My sweatshirt's black, that's...bodyguard-ish."

Owen nodded, sliding the glass forward again toward the bartender. It was a shame it would go to waste, but he wasn't the one who ordered it. "I never thought it'd be so hard to get a glass of water."

He glanced back at the guys who had been bothering Bryson. "If you tell the owner, she might kick them out."