#grimm.event03

He was pulled out of his own ridiculous self-pity as he finally realized that he was no longer alone in his corner. “Oh, good evening. I was just – I was considering heading over to the table and browsing what was up for auction, but I wanted to let everyone else have a look first. It’s always awkward when there are too many people at the table and then you feel this unspoken rush to move on and let others get a look in at the items, you know?”

Jesus took a sip of champagne and made a small face. People willingly drank this? He eyed the deceptively light drink in its fragile glass and wondered how anyone justified paying so much for something that tasted like vinegar and seltzer water.

But someone was approaching so he quickly tried to school his features like he was enjoying himself and not privately thinking that rich people were fucking insane. At least not having a car tonight meant he hadn’t had to deal with el parking. 

“I don’t think I’ve been anywhere this fancy since senior prom. Definitely would’ve had more fun there if there’d been free booze though.”

Specks of blood had gotten on his white shirt. That’d be a bitch to get out later. Maybe he could get Cor to help him with that, too. She knew loads, she was a nurse. “Do you have some tampons I could borrow, for my nose? Also, how do you know the signs of a concussion?”

Seeing a somewhat familiar face – Luke’s own sister in fact – Gio let out a sigh. The point of the evening was to engage in the auction, yes, but there was also the side goal of actually engaging in human interaction. So, with sound resolve, the man approached her, clearing his throat slightly then holding out his hand to the woman as he tried his best to offer a smile he hoped didn’t so quickly show how uncomfortable he still was. “Danielle, correct?” @violentgallows​

Settling down an empty glass of wine in front of her, Melissa traced the raised text of the card. The other attendees at the table were too preoccupied getting drunk themselves to notice her wavering focus. She had just finished with the 'e' in raffle when the waiter returned to give her the third glass of wine for the evening. She gave him the tip she had wrestled out of her wallet earlier when everything hadn't felt so removed, and proceeded to resume her tracing. Melissa had just gotten started with the second 'n' in winners when an unbelievably chipper voice picked up over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the raffle winners are about to be announced.” 

The raffle. She looked down at her raffle number. She’d forgotten to put hers into the drawing when she arrived. Or maybe she hadn’t wanted to. She can’t remember. She took another sip of her wine and just stared at the numbered paper, thinking that it would end up in a box somewhere after this – crumpled up and forgotten. 

Her eyes tried to focus on the stage, where a blonde in a long black dress approached the mic. She greeted the guests with such a big, bright smile, Melissa wondered whether her face hurt and considered covering her eyes. But she didn’t, because the blonde is like flashing light, twirling on the stage like Vanna White – captivating in a way that wouldn’t let her look away. 

The woman sauntered over to the large glass bowl that sat on a stand, filled to the brim with papers of hopeful individuals looking to win some coveted item or experience or another. Melissa looked around the ballroom again, eyes sluggishly trailing over the evening gowns and tuxedos and crystal chandeliers. She wondered at how much this all cost them. How much they were shelling out in the name of charity? She was skeptical (she always was), of how much of the funds raised would actually find its way to the right people. She supposed it didn’t matter; not if people won something out of it, right?

Dragging her gaze back to the stage, she watched as the woman picked out a piece paper from the bowl, unfolding it and speaking cheerily into the microphone, “and our first winner of the night is ––”