Martin Crieff Memorial Residence Hall Dedication Gala

[arkham_npc]

Who: All Survivors
Where: Cafeteria/Terrace
What: Martin Crieff Memorial Residence Hall Dedication Gala
When: Monday Evening

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[cordelisse]

Zoey slipped into the room as unobtrusively as she could, hands nervously smoothing the front of her dress. She hadn’t been entirely certain she was going to come, but the man who had sacrificed himself for everyone else’s survival deserved to be remembered. And so she had gotten ready. Her hair was done up in an intricate style, one that was appropriate for the dress. If she was doing this, she was doing it right. Mostly right, anyway. She was wearing her boots, but as had been pointed out to her no one could see them under the long dress of her skirt anyway. So boots and daggers it was. She couldn’t bring herself to go unarmed. Not completely. She even had a couple throwing knives concealed on her person.

She skimmed the crowd, taking in the few familiar faces and the mostly unfamiliar ones (casually making note of any other duplicates). God she was never much good at parties. Then she caught sight of the one person she recognized doing something she had done herself many a time. Loitering near the drink table.

Why the hell not, Zoey decided with an amused shrug. She ought to pick up a drink anyway it would give her something to do with her hands. So she made her way over, picking up a drink herself, and slid in beside him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said with a grin. “Finished fighting off hell koalas and decided to take in tonight’s festivities?”

[cuzimawriter]

Now, if Alan had come prepared, it would have been perhaps a little defeatist of the idea of relaxing at a party, since none of his weapons were really compact at all. He did manage to slip his flashlight into the inside pocket of his jacket, since it was reasonably small, but no guns at all today.

He looked to the familiar face, a grin of his own working its way onto his face. He loved Alice very much, but he could still appreciate a good looking woman when he saw one.

Laughing, he nodded, and answered, "Oh, I don't think you want to know what I did find down there once I got my light fixed, but it definitely wasn't hell koalas or a zombie strip club."

[cordelisse]

That was why Zoey had always preferred bladed weapons to guns. She found them easier to conceal when it was necessary. And if something hazardous to everyone’s health attacked the party, she’d just have to have Alan’s back.

But for now, she was simply enjoying his company. He was rather dapper-looking in the white suit; it just worked for him, in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

She raised an eyebrow at that. “That bad?” Smirking, she stepped in front of him, studying his face very carefully. “Well, you’ve not gotten your face eaten off by something nasty, which means it wasn’t hell hyenas either.” Taking a sip of her drink she added, “So I’m guessing porn.”

[cuzimawriter]

Alan... wasn't any good with knives. At all. He'd tried, and his attempt at using throwing knives resulted in losing them in some sort of pocket dimension so he decided to stick with guns.

He wasn't sure how to feel about the studious attention his face was getting, but he was certainly hoping she wasn't a fan who would start babbling about his writing at him. Some had hearts of gold, sure, but others were annoying and he didn't want to deal with that tonight. She did seem like she wasn't the type though, and if she knew him, she would have probably recognized him by now.

"Well, the best I can say is that whoever was in my room before me was really good about making sure everything was kept in PRISTINE condition." He sighs, grin lopsided now as he tried to figure out the most delicate way to put what he'd found.

"Almost porn. Bit more hands-on than it though. And a lot of variety too."

[cordelisse]

They’d balance each other perfectly in a fight, then; Zoey was a little bit shite with guns. They just weren’t her thing. Always fumbled with reloading, and never could hit the target as accurately as she could with a knife.

Oh, she hadn’t a clue who he was, beyond the interesting conversationalist he appeared to be; and even if she had, it wasn’t her style to babble on about someone’s work. A simple, ‘love your work’ and then walking away was more likely. But in this case it was a decidedly genuine lack of knowledge.

She blinked. “Oh. That’s... well. A hell of a surprise.” Laughing a bit, she added, “at least you didn’t fish around in the dark. Probably would have made the surprise so much worse.”

[cuzimawriter]

Alan could use a good ally in a fight too. He could fight the darkness alone, yes, but he didn't like to. It had been easier to keep going when Sheriff Breaker and Barry were with him, even when they split up, because he knew he wasn't alone and there was something to fight for after all.

That would definitely be a breath of fresh air then. As much as he liked being a writer and putting stuff out there, he also liked keeping his life simple.

"Oh yeah." He took a sip of his drink, the smooth feel of scotch warming his smile up a little more. Less snark, more relaxed calm. "But it's all very neatly kept. Organized into small totes, labels, everything. I don't think there's a market for used toys of that variety around here though."

[cordelisse]

He wouldn’t know it now, of course; now was a celebration, but he might very well have found one. Zoey would certainly appreciate someone at her back, especially if there were another attack as there had been shortly before their arrival. If they were extremely lucky they wouldn’t need to find out for quite a long time.

Simple was decidedly a good thing; something Zoey could appreciate since there was so little of it in her life most of the time; one of the many interesting side effects of being her. So she enjoyed it when it did occur. And making other people’s lives complicated was something she tried to avoid doing, if at all possible. Although sometimes it happened, whether she liked it or not.

“Well, at least it was organized.” She laughed, and sipped at her drink. She’d gone for scotch as well, despite the fact it wasn’t her preferred drink. It was, however, the only drink available that had said ‘appropriate for drinking at a party after being kidnapped to a small town in New England’, so scotch it had been. “I highly doubt there is. Or perhaps I just HOPE there isn’t.”

[cuzimawriter]

If they were extremely lucky, that is, and the world has a way of not giving Alan any such luck. He would be willing to take whatever peace he could get though.

That's life? Now might be a good time to play some Frank Sinatra. Oh, look, where did that come from? Hmm. Setting down his drink on the table, Alan smiled smoothly at her.

"Care to dance?" he asked, offering her a hand. Yes, he had Alice, but a dance wouldn't hurt. It was a social function, so that was simply part of the etiquette, right?

[cordelisse]

They would simply have to deal with that (whatever that ended up being) when it happened. For now the gala was giving them a moment to relax, and enjoy themselves.

Zoey blinked in surprise as Sinatra started playing. For some reason she had expected the musical selection at the gala to be quite different. But Sinatra... Sinatra was good. She could work with Sinatra.

Alan set down his drink, and smiled... then caught her completely off guard by offering her his hand and asking her to dance. “I’d be delighted to,” she replied with a smile, reaching out and taking the offered hand. The moment her hand touched his she caught glimpses of a huge, roiling dark fog... and a brilliant light, almost blinding. They were fighting each other, she realised, as the images faded from her mind. That's why his suit works for him so well... isn't it.

Setting down her glass on the table next to his, she gestured to the dance floor. “Lead on.”

[cuzimawriter]

Alan was none the wiser to the little peek she caught, and simply did as she said, leading her out onto the dance floor. Turning to face her, he placed his other hand somewhere sensible on her back--not too low, but comfortable.

It's been a while since Alan danced at a formal function, so he's a little rusty. His first few steps leading were a little experimental, trying to see if he could get back into the swing of it, because when it was Frank Sinatra, you really needed to be. He hummed a little bit of the song to be sure that he was following along, then locked eyes with her.

"This is probably my favorite Frank song. Most people go on about Fly Me to the Moon--which is good, don't get me wrong--, but this one is really honest, without any illusions, yet it still has all the dramatic metaphors to give it appeal," he says, maybe rambling a little, but hey, he was entitled.

[cordelisse]

Zoey fell into step with him, putting her other hand on his shoulder and letting herself fall back into the rhythm of the movements with ease. It had been far too long since she had found an opportunity to dance, and she could feel herself relaxing into the moment, relaxing for the first time since she arrived. It was an odd feeling, but she revelled in it. As he hummed a bit of the song, she couldn’t keep the amused, impish smile from her face. She’d done the same thing far too often to try and keep herself in time with whatever song she was dancing to. Eyes sparkling with enjoyment, she locked gazes with him.

“That’s Life has always appealed to me more than Fly Me to the Moon, anyways,” she told him. “So I commend your taste in music.”