Cliché has it, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. This isn't entirely true, but there's some merit to the old adage. If you want something done right, it's alright to let other people do all the work - just so long as you're the one supervising
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Parties, at least, meant alcohol. Gideon had pretty much made a beeline for the supply and poured a glass for himself as soon as he was able. After the shit weeks he'd had, he was pretty ready to relax for a while.
He eyed the rest of the area once he had a full glass, seeing if he spotted anyone interesting, or at least where Penny ran off to.
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"Gideon," he said, taking her hand and shaking it. "Yeah, it's not bad. Different from the usual dress up shit that goes down around here. You're the Serena that's throwing this thing, right? Penny mentioned you."
He normally wouldn't have minded the formal parties, but he still hadn't found a decent suit to replace the one that got ripped up. It fucking figured, really.
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Gideon was secure in the knowledge that unless the island did something to him, he'd never be drunk enough to try that shit, but he'd always enjoy watching other people do it.
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Drugs appeared too, which was what he had enjoyed most.
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"Hey, at least the colors weren't like, puke green or something. Though that'd fit the stripper," he snorted. "You're looking pretty hot today, by the way. You get the fucking box to give you that shit?"
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