It's murder on the dance floor, but you better not kill the groove [party thread]
[OOC: Party thread, operating the way party threads do; if your character is in the Kashtta, they're welcome to pop in and mingle with each other. Or...be a surly wallflower, or lineface at all the fun. Or whatever!]
There is a commotion in the Kashtta.
Specifically, there is a commotion in the second-floor lounge. There's a couple of party lights set up in strategic locations, though the room itself is mostly lit with rainbow-colored christmas lights. There's a table full of various foodlike things, both sweet and savory, at one end of the room, and all the couches have been shoved to the walls to make a large empty dance floor. The most notable thing, however, is probably the music blaring out of it.
Babel is currently sitting underneath the table with the stereo system on it, fiddling with her iPod (and, occasionally, reaching up to fiddle with the speakers or some hookup behind them. She's still getting the hang of them, so occasionally the bass might short out, or the song switches because it's not a good representation of what the speakers can do, or something. She borrowed the whole thing from her ex-employers (when you disappear for a few weeks because you don't live in the same part of town anymore, and don't call, you're still fired, no matter how much the manager likes you and will let you borrow his stereo equipment), so she's still getting the hang of how it works. She's also in slightly dressier clothing than usual -- well, the shirt is black and full of sparkles and the tights underneath her hopelessly torn up jeans are slightly more obnoxious than usual -- and wearing makeup. Hey, this is a special occasion, okay?
In a few more minutes she's going to give up on making the music perfect and run up and grab a certain sometimes-kitten, leaving only a little note by the stereo that just says "DANCE :D" on it, in case anyone stops in to see what's going on while she's not there.
There is a commotion in the Kashtta.
Specifically, there is a commotion in the second-floor lounge. There's a couple of party lights set up in strategic locations, though the room itself is mostly lit with rainbow-colored christmas lights. There's a table full of various foodlike things, both sweet and savory, at one end of the room, and all the couches have been shoved to the walls to make a large empty dance floor. The most notable thing, however, is probably the music blaring out of it.
Babel is currently sitting underneath the table with the stereo system on it, fiddling with her iPod (and, occasionally, reaching up to fiddle with the speakers or some hookup behind them. She's still getting the hang of them, so occasionally the bass might short out, or the song switches because it's not a good representation of what the speakers can do, or something. She borrowed the whole thing from her ex-employers (when you disappear for a few weeks because you don't live in the same part of town anymore, and don't call, you're still fired, no matter how much the manager likes you and will let you borrow his stereo equipment), so she's still getting the hang of how it works. She's also in slightly dressier clothing than usual -- well, the shirt is black and full of sparkles and the tights underneath her hopelessly torn up jeans are slightly more obnoxious than usual -- and wearing makeup. Hey, this is a special occasion, okay?
In a few more minutes she's going to give up on making the music perfect and run up and grab a certain sometimes-kitten, leaving only a little note by the stereo that just says "DANCE :D" on it, in case anyone stops in to see what's going on while she's not there.