fandomhighdorms | Dorm Lobby, Sunday Evening

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Dorm Lobby, Sunday Evening

In the lobby is a big-ass banner that reads "WELCOME HOME TIME TRAVELLERS AND AWAY TEAMS AND WORLD SAVERS AND EVERYONE". And... that's more or less it.

On a table in the corner is punch and pie. JUST punch and pie, and the punch comes pre-spiked. There's also a box with a sign on it that says "NO PIE unless you deposit souvenirs here". Feel free to ignore it.

Sokka, after the TREMENDOUS effort involved in planning a shindig such as this, is sitting on the couch and rubbing his eyes, which are still dry and burning from earlier.

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Reno was going to go to Caritas. Reno was going to go to Caritas and drink until his brains fell out and then drink some more.

But with something like this going on in the lobby, the least he could do was stop and have a look at what was set out around them.

"Tell me there's booze in that, and I won't have to go outside again today, and I'll owe you freakin' big, Boom."

Sokka cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "...Okay, seriously, do I look like the kind of person who'd spike the punch?"

He held the look for a few seconds before busting out a grin. "Of COURSE there's booze in that. I mean, really, after this week, we all need it!!!"

Reno let go of the breath that he'd been holding.

"Aw, shit. You're my freakin' hero, man." And he was going to help himself now. A lot. "If I ever see another statue, it'll be too damn soon, zoto."

Sokka grinned and got a cup of his own. "I was thinking of ordering a few, actually, so we could set them up around the park and smash them to bits."

"That would be right up there on my list of really satisfyin' things to break to freakin' bits," Reno mused, flashing a thumbs-up. "I approve. I'll chip in half the dough it takes to get us some of that goin' on."

Sokka returned the thumbs-up. "You're on."

"I'll bring my EMR, you bring that sledge of yours," Reno smirked, then took a drink of the punch. "Needs more booze."

At this point, Reno would be saying the same thing about straight-up everclear.

"...I think I left the sledgehammer in the library a few days ago," Sokka sighed, facepalming. "Because it didn't work on the things."

He sipped at his punch and shrugged. "I didn't know how much to add. You could always just drink a lot, if you need to."

Reno supposed that instructing a lightweight to simply 'flavor to taste' wasn't going to yield superior results, really.

"Okay, we'll pick up a new hammer for you while we're at it, yo."

He was going to drink more punch, then. A lot more.

Hey, it WAS 'flavored to taste'. It tasted GREAT, if you were a lightweight who liked fruity drinks.

"Definitely," Sokka agreed. "Maybe two, just in case. ...And careful: if you drink ALL the punch, I'm going to send you out to the store for more."

"If I drink all the punch, I'll just grab the last of my mezcal and see how long it takes before someone eats the worm, yo."

See, Reno totally had the alcohol situation handled.

"Give it to Romeo," Sokka decided, with a nod. "He probably needs it."

"You kiddin'?" Reno stuck out his tongue. "Guy probably spent the entire time he was gone sippin' absinthe and makin' nice with the topless dancin' girls. I don't even know where the hell Paris is, and I think I gotta check this place out for myself, yo."

He really did, dammit.

That said, he had been worried about all of the missing persons. Including, of course, Romeo, who was going to be offered booze in large quantities the moment Reno could grab him for a moment.

Sokka shrugged. "Then he's probably got one heck of a hangover, huh?"

...Topless dancing girls... "I'd better come with you; make sure you stay out of trouble."

"Best way to prevent a hangover is to never sober up," Reno offered. "Gonna have to work on you, though. Can't be bringin' a lightweight to Paris for hallucinogenic alcohol, yo. Wouldn't be pretty."

Sokka grinned. "Please don't tell me you're insulting me for understanding the concept of 'moderation'...?"

Reno smirked and leaned forward, pouring himself another drink.

"What's this 'moderation' of which you speak? Know I heard the word somewhere before..."

Sokka leaned closer and whispered, "Wark!"

"Yeah, yeah, see, proof I don't know the meaning of the word." Reno wondered if maybe Sokka liked breathing at all. Apparently not. "You're still not gettin' a look at my tattoo, Boom."

"Frankly, I'm not going to stick around long enough for you to get drunk enough to show me. I'd just... you know. Advise stopping at some point."

"Like I said, stopping is what causes hangovers," Reno shook his head and smirked. "Only thing worse than wakin' up with a bad tattoo is wakin' up with a bad tattoo and a hangover, yo."

"You know, I'd rather wake up being able to remember the good time I had last night, but, you know, that's just me." He shrugged. "Enjoy the punch, yoto."

"Eh, to each their own." Reno shrugged back. "I dunno about you, but I'm gonna drink those stone eyes outta my brain if it kills me, zoto."

Sokka shrugged. "I've seen worse. I'll probably have nightmares tonight, though."

"Yeah, yeah, I've seen worse too, man, but I dunno. For all the crap I've seen, that one's almost near the top."

Reno would have had difficulty choosing between a giant rock in the sky and a stone statue from here on in.

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