#junseo1

     but, more infamously than the questionable character of the moons+faulty god, the star combo stands to be dion house and unequivocally rad parties. dion house and their gold standard. dion house and the kids who know how to have a fucking good time. dion house, home of children who’d rather drown in absinthe than face their demons.

     yeah, that house. 

     tonight is no different. 

     jiahn heads the party. our (supposed) representative poster child of dion house. perks of age and an otherwise charming ability to disassociate with one’s issues. his usual job (given, that he’s not the one actually in charge of anything else beyond having a good time) revolves around making sure that drinks are bottomless and smiles are infinite. anything else (drug usage, rough housing, getting wild in numerous rooms, alcohol influenced injuries), that’s a responsibility for someone with more reliability. 

     so, definitely not him.

     but, in terms of trying to “cheer up” the less than willing, jiahn doesn’t much care for the task either. or, at the least, he couldn’t summon the will to. because why the fuck would someone’s enjoyment pertain him? because reputation, that’s why. the cocky timbre that answers in his head sounds suspiciously like dad, unyielding even as jiahn’s eyes land square on a skulking figure against the walls. what would it say about them—dion house—to have even one person hate their parties?

     disgrace, dishonor on the gods—yadadada. yeah, i know.

     in all honesty, jiahn doesn’t care. but he’s compelled all the same to approach the brooding sunspot. universally pleasant smile plastered on his face, it makes things easier that he’s already semi-tipsy to begin with, but placating a grouchy child was not on his itinerary for the night. still, convincingly, with the staggering acting chops of a dionsyus child, he greets him like someone who actually cares wants to be around his general bad vibe vicinity.

     “not having fun?” jiahn tilts his head. proposed statement being more an observation than a question. it helps that his smile is pretty, his face is (when smiling) is kind and his tone is friendly; even the (faux) twinkle in his eye is convincing. “here, let me get you something to drink,” he lifts the two iced glasses in his grasp, empty otherwise save for differing colored grapes sitting at the bottom. a neat party trick, if you will, when they unravel themselves and fill to the brim with wine. 

     one white, one red.

     “pick your poison—my preference though, would be the white.”