fandomhighdorms | 6th Floor And Up The Stairs, Thursday Evening

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! ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Thanks," he said. "It's not someone's birthday or anything is it? 'Cause if it is I'm gonna have to go back downstairs and make a gift out of pipe cleaners and glitter or something."

"No, I just happened to get stuck with an excess of drinks," Atton said, shrugging casually. "We don't have a lot of fridge space around here."

"True. And I always feel like I'm accidentally eating someone else's food and they're gonna find me and punch me in the face," he said. "So it's nice of you to share in a situation where I don't feel like I'm going to get punched."

"No punching," Atton promised, holding up his hands (yes, including the one with the jug). "Unless you say something stupid. Then it's everyone for themselves."

"I say stupid stuff all the time. But I don't think it's offensive stupid stuff," he said. "So I think we're safe. Just in case though, if someone tries to fight me try to steer us toward the ball pit."

Atton looked that way and considered it.

"Fine," he said. "In return, if I get too drunk, you steer me away from the roof."

"It's a deal," Stiles said with a firm nod. "I was probably going to do that anyway. Something like that would probably end the party pretty fast."

"You'd be surprised," Atton said. "Some parts of Nar Shaddaa, they'd say the party doesn't start until somebody dies."

"Remind me to never party there," Stiles said. "I don't know where that is, exactly, but I'm never partying there."

"Good choice!" Atton said, sort of cheerfully (by which we meant his voice went up a bit and so did his drink). "They'd eat you alive out there."

6th Floor And Up The Stairs, Thursday Evening

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