#verpevent3

Despite previous attempts to keep himself from drinking too much, Monty was now inebriated. In the morning, he’d regret this. Of course, he will. There was nothing worse than realizing he’d stumbled back into his old devices, despite all his efforts. Nevertheless, he was doing pretty well for himself despite being drunk. Other than the run-ins he had with his former friends that ended in ways he would never regret, he hadn’t done anything stupid. Or, at least, not yet. Monty now had a hand on Chessie’s waist, and their faces were undeniably close to one another that it didn’t take a genius to realize this was heading towards something stupid. As he told a joke, Monty allowed his lips to graze against Chessie’s ear.

For just one night, O was going to let herself unclench. She was going to take off her CEO hat and stop worrying about every move she made and just have fun. At least, that was the plan at the beginning of the night -- and up until now, she had been doing a pretty good job at it. She was dressed as Mia Wallace: black bob wig covering her brunette locks, black nylons beneath the short black skirt she was wearing, and the white button down unbuttoned enough to show off the black bralette she was wearing along with the red make up she had used to mark off the place an adrenaline shot would be administered. She topped the look off with a drip of fake blood beneath her nose and told herself that the baggy of cocaine in her breast pocket just added to the authenticity as well as the good time she was going for.  

Feeling the affects of the alcohol in her system, a happy fog had settled over O as she refilled the cup in her hand. In the fog, even the voice she had deemed obnoxious years ago hadn’t managed to make her frown --- at least, not until she turned around and saw just what Sebastian was wearing. And just like that, her usual annoyance (though for now, significantly more subdued) surfaced, eyebrows pulling downward and nose scrunching in disdain. “This has got to be a joke.” 

Approaching her would have never been Sebastian’s first choice, but at the same time, he didn’t fear the white teeth covered by the petite lipsticked mouth who seemed to only smile and talk pleasantries. He feared no human being, after all, with social skills thought to lock them all up eventually, simply by the peculiar manner of speech and talent in charm. There he was, easily going towards someone he hadn’t spoken to since middle school, remembering only faintly the sound of her actual voice. Syrup. It must be syrup to an extent.

“You seem sad and I cannot allow that,” he declared emptily, without even having looked Nathalie’s way. It was simply an overzealous manner of introducing himself directly into an undeniable conversation. He wasn’t indifferent sounding or condescending. In fact, the tone of nothing more but a court jester at her service, jovial but compassionate, must have helped with the delivery. Showing a pathetic smile Bishop’s cousin’s way, he sighed his way out of the party mood. “They never end, these events.” The conclusion wasn’t so bitter, for Sebastian never wanted to stop partying, but weariness was included without being feigned.

All Hallows Eve is upon us... So it’s time to drink.

You are cordially invited to Quinn Archibald and Tate Rodriguez’s Annual Monster Mash! Everyone loves Halloween, and on October 26th, we’re going to put aside our differences and celebrate this holiday as we should -- Dressed up, drunk, and playing beer pong. No fancy gala, no paparazzi, no worrying about ‘public images’. Just a good old fashion house party. The only rule: You won’t be let in if you’re not dressed up.

OOC INFORMATION CAN BE FOUND UNDER THE CUT

On the evening of October 26th, Tate Rodriguez and Quinn Archibald hosted their annual Halloween party at Tate’s home. The event was nothing short of a classic house party -- Jungle Juice, beer pong, and people staying far later than two am. The party went off without a hitch, and below the cut you will find a recap of a few of the on-goings. Want to hear Gossip Girl’s side of the story? Find it here.

It had been a long night, to say the least. Chessie found herself floating through the party, moving from one person to another too easily. It started on the balcony with Bishop, that turned to getting high and properly wasted with Rowan -- Which had made her enjoy this party much more, now that she was red eyed and drunk, guilt was long lost in the sea of party goers. She only cared about the games of beer pong she’d played (most of which she lost), and dancing in Tate’s living room to some hip-hop song from the early two-thousands. Her night ended how most intoxicated ones did -- In the arms of some stranger, this time around having been Monty Santos (a fact she’d regret come morning). Only now, as it did every now and again, her actions caught up with her faster than sunrise. It was somewhere around two in the morning, leaving her hunched over a toilet. The contents came out far too easily, burning her throat worse than any liquor had.

Through the last eight years, Chessie had learned to handle her liquor better -- But every now and again, she ended up in this position. She was past the point of being able to handle herself, so instead of stumbling through the party in an attempt to find O or Wren, or even her coat to leave and call a car, Chessie sat on the cool tile of the bathroom floor. She’d get up, eventually. But for now, she was content with enjoying the cool air of Tate’s master bath, knees pulled to her chest, forehead resting against them. She’d probably dozed off at some point, having managed to use the last of her will power to keep herself from puking anymore. The sound of a door opening pulled her awake, lifting her head to get a glimpse at who was intruding. “S’bathroom’s taken,” she slurred easily, before she found herself hunched over the toilet once more, a string of swear words passing her lips in the process, before the Vodka she drank earlier made a new home.