#hidehillevent010

JOVI LEVINE'S INSTAGRAM STORY: CONRAD MASQUREDE BALL

all posted during the day/at the time of the event.

adriana preview : most recent insta story

Scout could feel herself getting closer and closer to trouble. It was just... the slope she was used to. An inevitable end, really— especially once you considered the champagne, the shots, the joint she'd smoked with one of the cocktail servers out back. But head loopy and wonky aside, Scout was together enough to notice the benefactors of this whole thing, the Conrads, heading closer towards her.

With a squeak, she dipped sideways, gripping onto a nearby bicep and placing herself in their shadow. "Don't mind me," she said, whilst peering around his side, then ducking back again, her silly little head hidden just behind his shoulder. "But like totally don't move. Thanks, much appreciated!"

"Thank youuu," she said to the bartender, her voice gone sing-song and the corners of her lips hitched higher, in direct opposition to her eyelids which fell heavy. Did she need the two green tea shots she'd just ordered? No, not necessarily. But sad or dark, morbib, whatever you wanted to call this shindig, it was still at its core a party. And parties called for shots. Exactly why she'd taken the one and slid it harshly to her right, nudging the muscled body. "Congratulations, you've won the free shot lotto." Scout twisted in towards him— a him that she now recognized as Ben— her body situating itself close to his side as her head lulled, half intoxicated and half in query. "Cash in with a clink and a cheers in the next thirty seconds. Times a ticking."

The sugars in her bubbly were never going to be enough to satisfy Scout's sweet tooth. She was a dessert girly through and through, and from the few murmurs she'd heard, there was a mini cheesecake that she just had to get her hands on. Plate in hand, she maneuvered her way down as best she could— ultimately hindered: first by her own clumsy nature, then onward by the booze and the towering heels she'd strapped to her feet in the name of fashion.

Lemon square, pass. Macaroon, a quick one on the go. Decadent brownie, she'd have to come back for one later. Cheesecake, cheesecake, cheesecake... ah-ha!

With just a single square left, her hand darted out, just barely beating out another. Scout looked up to meet the eyes of her competitor, only to find them hard to make out, a golden mask in the way. "I'd apologize, except... I really want this. And you know, 'mess with the bull you get the horns,' amiright?" she said, raising her right hand up to her forehead, thumb and pinkie prodded out to mimic horns. To mimic his mask. Whoever he was.

EMMELINE ASTOR-ROBERTS: masquerade ball (before & after)

SCOUT'S CLOSET - the masquerade ball