non lo voglio

Mateo

Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

The doors of the bar spill open like lips parting to scream, throwing noise and light onto the cobblestones. And from them, too, comes a veritable kaleidoscope of colour, tottering out on gladiator sandals with glitter in his hair and a shimmering violet shawl tied carelessly about his otherwise bare shoulders.

Mateo has swallowed the sun and inhaled stardust as far as his night is concerned (code for shots! shots! shots! and some questionable substances snorted in a bathroom), and although it's long past any decent person's bedtime, he feels like he's just getting warmed up. He's wrong, of course, given that his wending footsteps have brought him to a giggling standstill against a wall, but there's no shame in taking a break, right? Right.

Staring intently down at the cobblestones as if he might be able to decipher some riddle nestled within them, it's with a sudden inhale that Mateo remembers suddenly to breathe. The botanist opts to use the wall as his date for a bit, choosing to lean companionably against it as he continues down the street. Hopefully he'll end up in a new bar, or perhaps at Mother Molly's.

Then again, alleyways are sometimes comfortable temporary abodes, too.

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

Eden

"I'm staying."

"You're not."

"I'm a fucking adult, Al."

"You are so deep in your cup right now, E, you're going to –"

Eden pushes past him in a move which could almost be considered dextrous for her level of intoxication, trying to remember what important task of hers was interrupted by her meddling brother. "Fine. I'm leaving. See you at home," she calls behind her as she spots the head of curls which might have been her own hair had they not been entirely the wrong hue. Her dance partner is leaving. That won't do. People tuck in behind her as she slides between the closing doors, the whack of one of them against her elbow going nearly unnoticed beneath the cozy, thick blanket of Just Enough Drink.

The young woman slips into the alley instead of calling out, cleverly evading Alfric as he emerges to follow her. She bends to become just another barrel behind the one in front, hands folding over her head to camouflage her cardinal locks until, frustrated and huffing, Alfric leaves, no doubt assuming she went home as she implied she would. Maybe as a linnet. As if she could focus enough to shift, presently.

Eye on the prize, now. Eden looks too good in her dress to let it slide onto her own floor.

Curlyhead, she sees from her crouch, having not yet thought to stand, turns from where he stands and heads in her direction. But he doesn't offer her a hand up as she suddenly realizes she expects him to. Instead, he braces against the wall above her head.

"Where are you going?" Eden asks from hip height.

don't even ask cuz you know what I'll say:
somehow I'm going to get my way

Mateo

Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

Quite when the wall decided to lead him on a merry dance is beyond Mateo, but he does find himself folding around a corner and braced against the alleyway bricks a moment later. Blinking down at the cluster of barrels on the ground, it takes an embarrassing amount of time for him to realise that one of them boasts a head of truly glorious red locks. Oh, and it can talk as well apparently.

"You are the prettiest barrel I have ever seen," Mateo informs it, stepping back from the wall and blinking a couple of times; all for the best, as it happens, because it abracadabras the object into a woman. "And it is already past midnight," the botanist mumbles to himself. Far too late in the day for things to start becoming people and vice versa.

Anyway. "I was trying to find somewhere to get a new drink," he says, belatedly and accidentally fulfilling her wishes by stretching out a hand adorned with rings to offer her help standing. "But I think I have found something better."

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm