6th Floor And Up The Stairs, Thursday Evening

[suitably_heroic]

Not everybody had just come home after the strip club last night. Atton figured he could stick around for another round and then see if maybe he could, ahem, talk to somebody.

It had all gotten out of hand from that point on; it would take a fifteen-episode TV series to fully document the series of events that Atton Rand lived through that Wednesday night. The details weren't important anyway - what was important was that Atton now had a lot of jugs of drinks (alcoholic and otherwise) that he couldn't sneak into a fridge (they'd be discovered), he couldn't drink (he'd get alcohol and/or sugar poisoning) and he couldn't sell on or off the island because then the people he'd stolen the drinks from would find him and--

Yeah, you didn't want to know.

So he'd come up with a plan. He'd keep the drinks cool on the booze until he came up with a plan.

After about an hour he figured out why that wouldn't work.

Now he'd dragged about half of it downstairs (before giving up on that), having labeled all the non-alcoholic drinks accordingly (with labels reading 'JUICE' or 'SPARKLY WATER STUFF'. Not non-alcoholic. What, unlike some people, he didn't want detention) and stamped a few post-its reading 'DRINK' on the good stuff.

Then he sent out a couple of texts at random.

It was Fandom. Someone would show up.

[[ partaaay! ocd up! ]]