It's getting damn close to midnight and Mary Anne is buzzed in a combination of excitement and alcohol.
Speaking of alcohol, there's plenty of wine left in the bottle at the table where she's sitting (or more acurately, sitting on). Company is very much encouraged.
[ooc: To all my lovely threaders--I must plead slowtime before I fall over
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....mmmmmm."
".... oh yeah. That's what ahm talkin' 'bout."
"I really shouldn't do the negress thing, should I?"
Yeah. Goldy's drunk.
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She wrinkles her nose.
"Nope. Though you definitely get points in all other areas. Happy New Year, gorgeous."
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"Licky boom boom down?"
"I mean... HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
No smile can be that sunny. It's just not possible. There are external forces at play here.
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"I'm not even going to try and guess what that first one was supposed to mean. But yeah, Happy New Year. So pull up a seat. Or a corner of the table. Or whatever."
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Okay... that's a bit weird?
"You totally rocked the piste this afternoon, girl! And you looked fuckin' amazingly hot too!"
At this point Goldy hits her with the X-treme thumb and pinkie salute.
Doubled-handed.
Uh oh.
Don't fail her!
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She just has to set her glass down first.
See? Two-handed salutage.
"All thanks to my amazing and sexy instructor."
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She stabs a confirmatory finger at Mary Anne.
One...
Two...
Three...
Annnd, let the face-palming commence.
"Please... just... stop me."
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"I will do my best. Care for a drink?"
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crump!
The rest drifts up from the floor.
"...ow."
"I might have had enough?"
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"Ah. Seems that way. Can I get you water, then? And maybe a pillow--that is, if you're staying down there."
She'd offer to help her up, but...she doubts she'd be much help.
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The effort is in vain.
Because Mary Anne is mean.
"Mary Anne is mean," she says, to back up the narrative, as she flails uselessly at Mary Anne's knees. "Really, really, mean!"
"I can't believe I gave you twirly tongue goodness yesterday night in the hot tub."
"...So mean."
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Mary Anne flails back with her feet while doing a terrible job of a stage whisper. "D'you want everybody to hear and get jealous of tongue goodness?!"
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"Why... yes. Yes I do."
"I'm not ashamed of my awesome tongue goodness."
"Are you?"
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"Me? Never!"
She leans a little closer to add, "I just don't want to share."
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"...Really?"
"But... I'm a whore," she says in woefully plaintive voice.
"I share with everyone."
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"That's different."
As for how, well...that's drunk logic.
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