#lock:start

Slipping through the archway from kitchen to living room of a frat party, Lana drained a few sips from her red solo cup until her eyebrows grew fiercely drawn. “Why’s nobody dancing?” came before she narrowly avoided a stumble over one of her flamboyantly red cowboy boots, leather of her mini skirt straining around her thighs as an unidentified, broad shouldered stranger attempted to steady her by the waist -- he’d been shadowing her for well over three minutes, now, yet Lana hadn’t stopped to acknowledge him once. “Nobody dances in this country. It’s such a fucking... sham,” she declared, shrugging away from him as she flit wild eyes around the room, carelessly lingering on various faces before they fell captivated on the last. “You. Come on, what would Snooki from Jersey Shore say? She’d think you were just, like... a complete, shitty loser. Get up. Do something. It’s a party! Everyone’s having such... a party. Right? So dance with me. Let’s party.”

It wasn’t like Seth to drink to excess. The blond was generally one to be overly cautious, always wanting to be fully aware of a situation and privy to consequences of his or anyone else’s actions. For some reason, he always felt a bit selfish when he drank, as if his own drunken state would be a disservice to everyone around him. But regardless of his reservations, Seth was human and occasionally, humans (especially those wound so tightly) needed release. So, it was really no surprise that he’d found himself slamming back margaritas like he was paying homage to Jimmy Buffett. Crystalline blue eyes widening as he spotted a figure approaching, Seth let out a small gasp when he took in the sight of them. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” he questioned, raising his hand to quiet the other’s response. “I mean, I know there’s so much more to you than just your appearance and that you’re a complex multi-faceted life form who’s got their own dreams and ambitions and wants and reducing you to one simple adjective may be perceived as insulting and over-simplistic, but holy shit, you look really great and I just had to tell you,” the blond rambled, a megawatt grin dominating his features before he covered his face with his free hand, suddenly bashful at the realization of just how much he’d said. “I’m…drunk. Forgive me.”

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“Excuse me!” Beau squeaked as he attempted to push through the busy crowd of the Lockwood party. He was currently riding out an intense acid trip, hence why he momentarily thought he was merely picturing a rather coked out frat boy yelling at someone he recognized. “You took my fucking blow, I know it! You know how much that cost me?!” Beau could hear them from the other side of the party, already redirecting his frantic pushing to come to the rescue of the familiar face, cutting in with a quick, “Woah, woah!” Stepping between the two as soon as the frat boy raised his fist threateningly, Beau gave them a reassuring smile, hands held in front of him in surrender to show he meant no harm, “I’m sure this was all a mix up - no need for any unnecessary fighting! Right?” he asked, looking at the person he was currently stood in front of like a human meat shield with an insistent smile, hoping they would just follow his lead and remain calm.

“The worst part is nothing is wrong, I was just watching videos of people retiring their service dogs,” Olivia pointed to her face, not really seeing the point of hiding her tears if she’d already been caught a little tipsy, tired, and watching dog videos on her phone. “They’re just so eager to work, you know? This one still wants to wear his harness but he can’t.”

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eric: I think someone gave me mono at the carnival...