#rotwell

i didn't add stuff like "locklyle" and "the team being iconic" because, let's be honest, we all want that

Promptmas Day 10. 

Prompt: Mistletoe. 

Ship: Locklyle. 

 There comes a time in every social event or gathering when one must getaway. You are done with small talk and snacking and being crushed by hundreds of bodies. The Rotwell Holiday part was packed and I was losing my patience. 

I practically tossed my champagne flute onto a passing tray and ducked under a waving agent’s arm, leaving Kipps and some Atkins agent mid-conversation. I pushed my way through the crowd, feeling suffocated in the crowd and in the tight forest-green dress that Holly insisted flattered my skin tone. Skin tone be damned, I couldn’t breathe. 

At last, I made it through the throng of people to a set of pillars that divided the party from a long hallway that led to stuffy drawing rooms. I stepped over the ledge that separated the hallway and party with some difficult, clearing the garland that lay as decoration just barely. 

I landed rather unsteadily on the other side, the heels that completed my ensemble pinching my feet.  I breathed a sigh of relief at the feeling of no one crashing into me, no one talking loudly in my ear. It was blissful. 

“Oh hiya Luce,” I looked down. Lockwood was sitting on the floor below me, waistcoat and tie undone. His hair was a ruffled mess. 

“What are you doing?” I asked as Anthony motioned for me to join him. 

“Watching. I needed a breather.” I sat down beside him, kicking off my heels. The arch of the pillars gave a frame of the scene before us. A forest of hundreds of pairs of legs dressed in tights and tuxedo pants. 

“Who are you watching?” I asked, resting my head against the pillar. The hallway was empty, giving us a respite of the formal and put on etiquette. 

“I’m watching Ms. Fairfax try to dance,” Lockwood said, chuckling as the woman in question strutted around like an intoxicated waterfowl. 

“Are we sure we can call that dancing?’ I asked, covering my mouth to keep from laughing as she nearly slipped and fell. We sat there for several minutes, watching the crowd before us. After several minutes, Lockwood looked up and nudged me with an arm. I glanced up toward the ceiling and saw, hung from the arch, a strategic bough of greenery. 

Lockwood: 

Lucy:

George:

Holly:

Kipps:

Flo:

Barnes:

Rotwell:

Marissa Fittes:

BONUS:

Skull in the Jar:

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