#*delta

Fish. . . baby. . .

It was a surprisingly slow night at the club, something that Athena was grateful for as she peeked out at the bots sitting around, watching the dancers. The seeker hated having to dance, especially hated how there was always at least a small handful of bots waiting afterwards for a 'private session' with her, which her boss was more than happy to allow. For a price, of course.

‘ betl, betl, you can’t think so much. you’ll kill your buzz. more importantly, you’re gonna kill mine. ’

delta takes up three quarters of the lounge when he lazes over it - the mass is one part delta, two parts huge, fur coat. the avalon is eternally temperate, but somehow delta’s always wearing six hundred layers and never breaks a sweat, always glowing, covered in glitter and shimmering powders. 

          ‘ Would I do that? Me? ’  Yeah. Yes, he would. To every other person on this ship. There’s never intent to follow through, it’ll just provide him with an inkling of validation for the evening! You know how it is.

          He leans against something. Lazing, cat-like, against a piece of furniture that seems to have no other practical use. His coat (gold and fur-like), draping around him. All in all, he seems quite pleased with himself.

While Stana loved guacamole, nachos? Not really her go-to bar food. Funnily enough, her thoughts on bowling went more or less the same way. She loved the fun, social aspect of it, the game itself? No thank you. So when Delta tried to sell her on going to Lucky Strike by praising them? Well, her face had spoken volumes. Now though, they were there and while Stana used the Nachos more as a spoon for the guac, she still groaned in appreciation. “God, why didn’t you tell me before that this place serves amazing guac?” she moaned around a mouthful. She was 90% sure Delta was still laughing at her, but she couldn’t help it and didn’t care. Any type of bowling embarrassment was worth this dip, even though yes, she had been wearing the emergency panties today, because she forgot to put her clothes in the dryer and was running dangerously low on underthings. Now everyone knew … oh well. “Don’t look at me like that, you’ve won every round so far, let me eat my weight in guac until you finish me off.” Not that Stana wasn’t laughing herself half the time, whenever her mouth wasn’t full, so she just grinned at Delta around a last mouthful, brushed off her hands and stepped up for the new throw. “Now, let’s see it we can’t swing this puppy.”

Hidden Pond Resort, Maine, July 23rd, (after)noon

It had been a spur of the moment thing, really. Running into each other at breakfast, realizing - again - how much they enjoyed each others company but never really found the time to hang out and Stana spontaneously inviting Delta to join her on her excursion into town. It had started as “I need more of that wine”, but somehow once there, the owner, Stana and Delta had gotten to talking and by now were into a fully fledged wine-tasting. One where they definitely tried more than a sip of each bottle. Stana, just to annoy him but also because it was important, kept texting Jeremy her first impression of every wine she tried. It was for the business, OK?

After her night out with Jake had been a lot more successful than she’d thought it would be - even if entirely different from what she had expected - Stana was for the first time in weeks in an honest to god amazing mood. Jumping into the icy water sometimes really did all the difference.

“Right, so, two was a definite bust,” she said, waving her pen at the paper in front of her, squinting at her writing and what looked like a dick-doodle. Where did that come from? “One and three are sooo definitely in the running. What are your thoughts on four, Delta? And why is there a dick-doodle on my very important business paper?”