Moira was mildly mortified and ready to murder someone.

Said someone was a very particular someone.  It was the same someone who explained to her the time honored American Christmas tradition of the Ugly Christmas Sweater and its coinciding Ugly Christmas Sweater party.  It was only natural, in her defense, that when that said someone invitied her to a Christmas Party for her to believe it was intended as an Ugly Christmas Sweater Party.

Seeing the room full of cute cocktail dresses, nice suits, and other formal wear, she stood firm in her decision that death was a perfectly logical response.

Instead, she stood in a corner, using her friends as a buffer between her kelly green sweater and the rest of the party, hands locked tight around a cup of eggnog she forced the someone to spike as much as she demanded.  She had put up with a few odd glances, made a few jokes herself, and was ready to give up for the night when she spotted another Ugly Christmas Sweater.

Moira practically beamed, making sure to make eye contact with the tall blond and raise her glass in a silent toast.

"I, uh… Yeah, I’ve been to a few…"

"… How many is a lot?"

"Three hours? But I have somewhere to be. I can’t be stuck here for another three hours."

[I know who you are. :D And I’m wondering what this will do.]

[TEXT] Which ER and do I bring Peggy? Pets help heal faster.

Natasha, a college junior, walked home from gymnastics practice. She was tired and just, in pain. She wore a cuff bracelet most of the time over her wrist to keep her tattoo covered, sighing at the name that was there. With her lifestyle, always busy with school and then gymnastics, she figured she may not find the man with that name.