in which five teens steal some booze cause why not
I.
“On my signal.” Black Sheep glanced back down the corridor they’d come from, then to parallel exit at the end of the hall. Cleo’s suite of classrooms was deserted this time of night, but recon told her there was always a chance of the Countess checking in for some trinket or a nightcap she just had to have before bed. Not really Lambkins’ jam, but hey— some people sleep with a teddy bear, and some sleep with a 12 carat diamond necklace. Cleo was definitely the latter.
Black Sheep looked up to the ventilation, then stepped lightly - one hop, launching off the wall at just the right angle, and she was hanging on to the grating and pulling herself up to lodge a foot into the molding of the ceiling. “Jean-Paul?” He was the go-between. Sheena was stationed by Cleo’s personal quarters, Jean-Paul covering the vents, and Black Sheep had infiltration team.
She could just barely hear a tapping somewhere far down the echoing shafts. Jean-Paul translated the tapping from his station much closer; “Oui, on monte au deuxième.”
She grinned, and silently pushed off and lowered herself back to the ground. “All clear,” she passed along the message, smirking to her team. “In we go.”
II.
“So nice of you to finally join us!” Black Sheep tried to sound snide, but it was ruined a little by the tiny giggle bubbling out of her a second later— all thanks to the cup she was currently lifting mockingly toward Sheena. Whoops— Tigress, she was Tigress now.
And Tigress was feeling catty, apparently, if her scowl was anything to go off of. Then again, she kinda always was, wasn’t she? Maybe the drinks would help. “Catch, kitty cat.”
There was a melodious noise of liquid in the finest glass - a lovely tone that just wasn’t the same in any other type of container - as Sheena caught the bottle without a second thought.
“And don’t forget the-” Black Sheep tossed the crystal tumbler a little wide, forcing the blonde to dart sideways, the crystal ringing as it spun - just barely caught - on her finger. “-Whoops, my bad,” Black Sheep giggled, blushing. She really hadn’t meant to throw it quite so far off. She blamed it on the alcohol.
Sheena just scoffed, rolling her eyes as she made her way to join the rest of their little den of iniquity. “Lightweight.”
“Am not!” She surged to her feet, ready to argue her point, the liquid sloshing over the edge of her own crystal tumbler, but then there was a hand on her shoulder. Graham was stepping between the girls, an easy amused smile on his lips.
“Take a seat, Lambkins.”
Black Sheep pouted a little, glaring. “I told you, don’t-” But the sudden raise was kinda making her dizzy, so she scowled and sat. “...Fine, if you’re calling me Lambkins, I’m gonna call you…” Light eyes narrowed at the Aussie as he sat down next to her again, ticking away at his name, trying to come up with an appropriate diminutive. “...Sparky.”
That drew a snort from their other teammates, all arrayed on the beds or floor in the very back corner of their shared room.
“Ahí te ha atrapado,” Antonio grinned. “I like it. Sparky. Good choice, Black Sheep.”
She raised her glass in appreciation, going for another sip, but then Gray was pushing her hand down again. “Slow down, kiddo, take it easy.”
Letting out a beleaguered sigh, she flopped back against the wall behind her. “Since when are you faculty?”
“He’s right, though. You’re smaller. Le petit agneau.”
“Runt of the flock,” Sheena agreed with Jean-Paul - in less kind words - with that razor-thin smile.
“So?” Her chin lifted defiantly. “So what if I’m smaller?”
“So…” Gray put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze like he could remind her not to get confrontational. “Alcohol tolerance. You’d get pissed faster, Lambkins, that’s just how it goes.”
“I say let her do it. She’ll have to learn one day.”
Gray rolled his eyes as he turned to the blonde, “Maybe not at school, yeah?”
“Well when did you learn it?”
He flicks his eyes to Lambkins before looking back to Sheena, warily. “...Fifteen.”
“And how old are you, Black Sheep?”
“Seventeen,” she answered emphatically, glaring at Gray and taking a pointed sip of the liquor in her glass.
“There you go, Crackle. Sounds like she’s plenty old enough, to me. Besides, we’re all going to be drinking in Cleo’s class Monday anyway.”
Gray was always pretty easygoing, but it didn’t stop him from shaking his head at Sheena’s smug excuse. “Yeah; with Dr. Bellum’s detoxifying solution. We aren’t going to be getting sloshed in class. And it’ll be some shit goon, not the good stuff.”
“Exactly! Let her enjoy the finer things in life, Gray.”
Black Sheep at least had the presence of mind to feel a bit suspicious at Sheena’s encouragement, but hell; she never got to do this sort of thing before. She never had friends her age (or, okay, a year older, whatever) before, that could back her up on such an outrageous plan. And she was curious. And it did taste good. There was a little burn at the back of her throat, but the liquor itself was smooth and rich and too easy to take sip after sip of.
“It’s sweet,” Jean-Paul observed idly, swirling the liquid in his cup. “But I like it.”
It was sweet. And Black Sheep liked it, too. She held out a hand to Sheena, requesting the bottle since she’d already finished her first partial glass.
The blonde grinned sharp and shrewd at Graham as she handed over the liquor.
Black Sheep tilted the lip just a bit too far, overpouring slightly before righting the bottle, sliding her tongue along the edge of the glass, her hand, to catch the bit that had splashed over the side.
Gray just sighed, but shook his head with a resigned laugh. “Fine. If that’s how you’re filling your tab tonight... lamb down, I guess.” The irony wasn’t lost on him.
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