Everest
Cara mumbles something incoherent that sounds like an agreement. "Order me something, mm? I'm just going to go freshen up." Setting off in the wrong direction (It's fine, someone will point the way for her), Cara plans on trying to find some way of making her costume more revealing.
Exhaling with obvious relief to see her go, Ever pulls the napkin from his pants and looks over it quickly. Narrowing his eyes, he looks up at Mateo thoughtfully, rather than judgementally as one might expect. "From the man in the bathroom?" He wonders, assuming that anyone who came with Isla was probably not the sort to score drugs out of a back alley and so hoping that whatever was now in his friend's system wasn't laced with anything. Pulling out his notebook (kept in an inside pocket of his shirt rather than his pants, which were far too tight), he writes C20H25N3O, followed by the time, with "unicorn" in brackets. Then, C17H21NO4 with a x2, again followed by the time. Mateo's shots were abbreviated using standard strokes of 4 with a cross along them.
"You know I would prefer not to dance." Ever remarks stiffly, trying to wind his way toward a free table, and doing so with the naive expectation he might make it there without having one (or several) drinks spilled on him.
Exhaling with obvious relief to see her go, Ever pulls the napkin from his pants and looks over it quickly. Narrowing his eyes, he looks up at Mateo thoughtfully, rather than judgementally as one might expect. "From the man in the bathroom?" He wonders, assuming that anyone who came with Isla was probably not the sort to score drugs out of a back alley and so hoping that whatever was now in his friend's system wasn't laced with anything. Pulling out his notebook (kept in an inside pocket of his shirt rather than his pants, which were far too tight), he writes C20H25N3O, followed by the time, with "unicorn" in brackets. Then, C17H21NO4 with a x2, again followed by the time. Mateo's shots were abbreviated using standard strokes of 4 with a cross along them.
"You know I would prefer not to dance." Ever remarks stiffly, trying to wind his way toward a free table, and doing so with the naive expectation he might make it there without having one (or several) drinks spilled on him.
I was a dead man walking,
with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
