#immygen

it was a night to celebrate, and thankfully his friends were generous enough to cover tonight’s debauchery. though to be fair, danny didn’t expect too much, even if it wasn’t everyday that being a new college graduate wasn’t the only cause of celebration. “dude, that’s like derek’s 4th beer. don’t you think him getting wasted is gonna ruin tonight?” “no way, i bet sav that he could polish off at least 8. plus, we’re here for you college boy, or should we say ‘mr. future lawyer’.” peter tells him, ruffling his friends hair and nudges his shoulder. usually he’d be making sure his friends didn’t go too hard, but part of him knew that he deserved this night . all the hard work and sacrifice were finally paying off, now (or at least for a few months), he could kick up his feet and simply have some fun. and thankfully, he could have as much as he wanted now that he was back in his hometown. 

“you’re right. another round on me!” he yells out, raising his shot glass in the air as he clicks his cup together with his 3 friends. he downs his drink, standing up to make his way over and get their refills. clubs like this had always been packed in toronto, but peter’s foot in the music industry came with a a few perks. namely the booth of their choices, and it was more than enough. as he walks to the bartender area, he’s accompanied by his tipsy friend. “guess you couldn’t wait?” he shakes his head and laughs. “for drinks? maybe. but for ladies? not a chance. watch this broseph.” danny reaches out to try and save his friend from himself, but he’s known him enough years to know that it’s in vain. 5..4..3..2.. He counts in his head until..he hears the sound of a loud smack. 

against his better judgement, he rushes over pulling his friend back. “i’m sorry about that ladies. my friend has had a few too many and can’t..” and suddenly his eyes lock on the cause of said smack, which he knows from watching her at work first hand was her going light on him. “ims..hey.”

“when do you get off again?” she asks, a hint of petulant impatience in her tone as she sits opposite her with a sweating bottle of miller lite and a lime. it’s 40+ night at frozen, and practically dead. she swivels a bit in her barstool, and the side of her fancy satin pajama shorts ride up a little with each twisting motion. paired with a pair of sandals and a top that stops just above her bellybutton it almost passes for an acceptable ensemble. she’s more concerned with having fun with what she wears these days anyway, throwing things together, making it work. 

their boss has floated by and jokingly told her to put on a pair of disco shorts and get behind the bar several times now, and maybe work was an odd place to be on your day off, but they’ve fallen into a little ritual of sorts where even when they don’t work together they’ll walk each other back to campus. because girls stick with girls, and their profession calls for them to be out at dark, dangerous hours. and she generally dislikes being alone. “i saw an italian ice stand on the way and we gotta hit it before it closes!”