April had heard somebody was going to spike the punch, so she got herself a paper cup and filled it up. To her annoyance, it just tasted like regular punch. Either the spiker in question hadn't turned up yet, or there was such a combination of alcohol in the punch that they cancelled each other out and it tasted like nothing at all. She'd find out in a half hour or so which was the case.
Meandering to the end of the refreshment table, she looked out over the scene, rolling her eyes behind her masquerade mask.
Kara was still trying to adjust to the whole thing, not really sure what it is she should be doing. This was her first dance, never mind prom, and she still wasn't clear on what it was people did at these things. There seemed to be dancing and talking, but this just seemed like another social event.
She wasn't sure what the big deal was. But that was just her.
She adjusted her mask so that it sat more comfortably on her face, before glancing over at the girl standing next to her. "I like your dress."
Looking over at the pretty blonde bombshell in her stunning red dress, April was ready to spit out a sarcastic remark, but it fell short when she realized Kara's tone hadn't been mocking at all.
"Thanks. I sort of decided to come last minute so..." she trailed off and shrugged, eyes looking out across the room. Her dress was much less formal than the other girls, but she liked it and was comfortable.
"I like yours too," she added, actually meaning it.
Samantha took one last look in the mirror, teasing the curls that were falling around her ears into an arrangement that looked intentional. She was nervous, which was stupid. So far, everything was going fine with Mohinder, despite her grandparents attempts at making the night 'normal.'
Maybe it was John that was the problem. She still was expecting some sort of brother-related disaster. John had promised he wouldn't get in trouble and she was going to take him at his word. Turning away from the mirror, Samantha reminded herself that she was needlessly worrying, she headed back for the gym.
Despite his better judgment, Sheldon is now at prom. At least his mother hadn't stopped him from wearing his fantastic doppler effect costume. It was a masquerade, after all. It would be entirely improper to come dressed in anything else. His mother had suggested a different costume, but after he started explaining the doppler effect and the meaning behind it, she'd agreed that it was best. She'd agreed before he'd even finished talking, in fact, which was sort of a pity. Oh well, it had worked.
Now, he's standing prom in the middle of the dance floor trying to get a feel for the place. He's considered the punch bowl, filled with liquid that could have all sorts of drugs and saliva in it, and decided he'd rather go thirsty. There is music playing and people are dancing around him, but he doesn't want to dance. He doesn't want to be here at all.
"Prom." He shakes his head derisively and debates sneaking out. But mother would never accept it.
Sheldon gives her a disdainful look. "Of course not. I don't have a hat. And anyway, I am clearly the doppler effect. I don't see how you could be confused."
Normally, Krysta was all about being fashionably late and making an impression that way, but since she was running for Queen of this thing, she supposed she needed to get there on time. At least they weren't the first ones there, which made it easier to judge everything about the room without being noticed by said over-eager Student Council members. The last thing she wanted was to talk shop with the kids she didn't really make a point to get to know over the last few years. Or worse, one of the teachers
( ... )
It wasn't until Wichita whispered those words into his ear -- well, looked up at him and spoke them over the music, whatever -- that Nathan had a stunning and horrible realization
( ... )
Wichita winced when Nathan felt the need to shout right in her face, but she resisted the urge to punch him for it because, well, public. Right. They had to at least not outwardly break the rules if they wanted to not get kicked out of prom, and that most likely included not beating the crap out of other students.
She shifted right into him when he pulled her closer, not exactly expecting him to make any effort in keeping his voice down after yelling about his booze failure (or at least she assumed that was what he meant, in which case she was pretty glad because wow he so would have gotten caught if the spiking of the punch was up to him).
"Do you actually wanna dance?" That surprised her a little, essentially because she was pretty sure that was an Enrique song blaring from the speakers and-- Actually, she didn't know what kind of music Nathan was into. Maybe he was secretly into over-played dance jams. Who knew? "I'm up for it, but only if you don't suck at it."
"Well, I've got one right foot and one left foot. Don't know if either of them are worth jack shit, though." And with that, he slowly took Wichita's hand and pulled her in by the waist in an awkward middle school dance stance. And danced about as well as a middle schooler, too. If there was any reason ladies loved Nathan, it sure as shit wasn't for his dancing.
McCoy had settled in a chair at a table in the back, a cup of punch in one hand. The punch in the bowl might not have been spiked yet, but the punch in his cup sure had been, with a generous dose from a flask he had tucked in the inside pocket of his tux. He'd opted for a simple black mask that covered his eyes, and he glowered out over the dance floor.
Christine came into the gym from the girl's restroom, where she had been checking out her mask and dress in the mirror to make sure she looked perfect. She may have dug her stiletto into the train of Jocelyn's train too, ripping it, but she'd swear until Doomsday that Jocelyn had stepped back on it herself. That was what happened when someone broke Christine's friend's heart.
Speaking of that friend, Christine spotted him in a dark corner in the back and she headed straight over, standing in front of his table with her hands set on her hips.
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised seeing you hiding out back here."
Leonard glanced up at her before looking back over the dance floor. "I think I said as much," he pointed out. "Best spot in the place, as far as I'm concerned."
"For the moment, I suppose," she agreed, coming to sit beside him. "But you can't sit here and mope all evening. At some point you will have to get out there and shake your groove thang."
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Meandering to the end of the refreshment table, she looked out over the scene, rolling her eyes behind her masquerade mask.
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She wasn't sure what the big deal was. But that was just her.
She adjusted her mask so that it sat more comfortably on her face, before glancing over at the girl standing next to her. "I like your dress."
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"Thanks. I sort of decided to come last minute so..." she trailed off and shrugged, eyes looking out across the room. Her dress was much less formal than the other girls, but she liked it and was comfortable.
"I like yours too," she added, actually meaning it.
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Maybe it was John that was the problem. She still was expecting some sort of brother-related disaster. John had promised he wouldn't get in trouble and she was going to take him at his word. Turning away from the mirror, Samantha reminded herself that she was needlessly worrying, she headed back for the gym.
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[and they arrive, magically, in the middle of the ladies room. She smirks, dusting him off a bit, before smirking]
See? No muss, no fuss.
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Now, he's standing prom in the middle of the dance floor trying to get a feel for the place. He's considered the punch bowl, filled with liquid that could have all sorts of drugs and saliva in it, and decided he'd rather go thirsty. There is music playing and people are dancing around him, but he doesn't want to dance. He doesn't want to be here at all.
"Prom." He shakes his head derisively and debates sneaking out. But mother would never accept it.
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"Are you supposed to be a court jester or something?" That was the only thing she could think of, since he was wearing stripes.
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She shifted right into him when he pulled her closer, not exactly expecting him to make any effort in keeping his voice down after yelling about his booze failure (or at least she assumed that was what he meant, in which case she was pretty glad because wow he so would have gotten caught if the spiking of the punch was up to him).
"Do you actually wanna dance?" That surprised her a little, essentially because she was pretty sure that was an Enrique song blaring from the speakers and-- Actually, she didn't know what kind of music Nathan was into. Maybe he was secretly into over-played dance jams. Who knew? "I'm up for it, but only if you don't suck at it."
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"Well, I've got one right foot and one left foot. Don't know if either of them are worth jack shit, though." And with that, he slowly took Wichita's hand and pulled her in by the waist in an awkward middle school dance stance. And danced about as well as a middle schooler, too. If there was any reason ladies loved Nathan, it sure as shit wasn't for his dancing.
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Why had he come again?
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Speaking of that friend, Christine spotted him in a dark corner in the back and she headed straight over, standing in front of his table with her hands set on her hips.
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised seeing you hiding out back here."
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