[OPEN]

[getsthelastword]

Characters: Damon and anyone who chooses to join in
Setting/Location: Common Room
Date & Time: Day 59
Warnings: Drunkenness and beads
Summary: Damon's throwing a party. He'll probably make himself feel better by making other people feel bad.

Comments

Sorry, not a woman.

[facing_danger]

Face hadn't been expecting to attend a party. He was only vaguely aware of the planning for one, much less whether or not it would go to fruition. However, upon stumbling into the common area, he realized not only had the idea been a serious one, it had been put into practice.

Well, there wasn't any sort of restriction on attendance, was there? Even if there was, Face was fairly certain he could talk his way in. Maybe it was what was needed around the caravan-- something to liven the place up. No harm in having a few drinks, getting to know a few people,...

"Is this the party?" He inquired of Damon, acting as casual as if he'd intended to show up in the first place

[getsthelastword]

Damon glanced up at the sound of his first guest's voice. A man. Possibly a used car salesman, Damon decided. There was something about him, an air, as it were. "Yeah," he said, leaning against the wall with a casual and elegant ease that he had long practiced. "Or at least, whatever passes for a party on this rickety barge."

Well, he wasn't a tasty meal (Damon wasn't that desperate) but at least he could be a source of some information. "So when and where are you from?"

[facing_danger]

Face offered a large smile and a jovial laugh. "Well, I'm sure it won't be that different from other parties." He paused a moment at the second question, somewhat uncertain about giving such information to someone he'd just met. Then again, there wasn't exactly much the other man could do with it, was there?

"Los Angeles. May of 1986. How about you?"

[getsthelastword]

"Earth, 1991," Damon replied with an easy shrug. He could have said Florence. That was where he had been last, just in time for the New Year. Maybe it was actually 1992. He wasn't sure about that, but frankly, wasn't particularly concerned either. Anyway, Florence would always be home, but Damon had probably spent more time in other places, over the course of his immortal life. Hell, he had spent a good hundred or so around and about various parts of the UK. It was a wonder he didn't speak English with a limey accent.

"I'm just arrived. It's fun galore."

Enter Bret and Nick C:

[weedyshyguy]

Bret liked parties, he thought. Well, he went to a lot of Dave's and sometimes there were girls and he would talk to them and sometimes he'd get drunk and forget the rest of the night, so maybe "like" wasn't the right word. He kind of felt 50/50 about the whole idea.

He did, however, know that Bonnie was going to be at the party (probably) so he figured it would be a good idea to go to this one. If only to prove to her that he's definitely not the gay-Bret. So, dragging his roommate Nick along, Bret arrived at a time that appeared somewhere between early and fashionably late.

As soon as he set one foot in the door, he turned to face Nick, expression determined. "Nick, can I ask you a favor?"

[im_driving]

Nick was only interested in the alcohol. That was really all there was to it. He didn't want to "mingle" with anyone (it wasn't as if there was anything to be gained monetarily from this event), didn't want to "celebrate" the holiday (all it did was remind him of the New Orleans he'd left to end up on the caravan), and he certainly wasn't about to "party". Hell, he wasn't even that interested in the alcohol, but his roommate had insisted upon bringing him along.

At least, that's how Nick saw it. He'd be loathe to acknowledge that he might have some interest in getting out and seeing other people.

So when Bret asked him for a favor, Nick rolled his eyes and muttered, "What do you want now?"

[weedyshyguy]

Bret did his best not to flinch. Sure, they'd been getting along...well, Nick hadn't been threatening him as much lately, but things were still a little tense. Actually, Bret was hoping this favor would help them bond more.

"I, uh. I was wondering if you could be my wingman," Bret managed, "Like Top Gun."

[im_driving]

"Your wingman." Nick gave Bret an incredulous look. "That's the sort of shit I'd expect from El-"

Huh. To think he'd actually kind of missed Ellis for a minute there. Not that he was going to admit as much. He continued. "Look, I'm not being your wingman, ok? I'm only here to get drunk. I don't wanna talk to anyone or help you get with any ladies."

There was a brief pause as Nick considered something before adding quickly, "And if you even think of bringing a woman back to the room-!"

[rainingcereal]

Party? Yeah, that sounds like Neil's cup of tea. Not that he spent a long time at parties back home. Those his age threw stuff that were really lame, with stupid games like spin the bottle. The older boys though? Those are the fun ones. They skipped the games and went straight for the sex, drugs, rock and roll.

That- Neil could appreciate.

Besides, it was time to break out the wardrobe that Arthur left him. (He would never admit that he rather missed his older clone. While it was creepy to have somebody with the same face walking around, that familiarity was comforting at times.) A crisp white shirt with too long sleeves that he rolled up, and a pair of slacks that hung low on his too-slim hips. The combination created a vulnerability that Neil could easily cashed in on.

[getsthelastword]

Damon always took note when jailbait entered one of his domains. What he wasn't quite so used to was seeing male jailbait. Bonnie hadn't been kidding. The deck was heavily stacked against him on this caravan.

Curiosity, however, was a bitch, so Damon decided to watch the newcomer. He wished his powers were up to snuff, he would have been interested to know what was going on in the kid's brain. For some reason, Damon felt like the kid was a male version of Bonnie. He wasn't bouncing off of the walls or anything, but there was just...something.

Stef would so try to play matchmaker.

[rainingcereal]

Hey, people dig jailbait. At least, those who were willing to pay. His shoulders twitched as Neil sensed somebody watching him. A little thrill that ran down his spine which he usually thought came with the fun of the chase. Catch the eye of a man, follow him back, fuck, and get some cash out of it.

Now, he wasn't so sure. Perhaps it was just the fight-or-flight instinct of a prey who recognized a predator.

It didn't stop him from looking up though, from tilting his chin invitingly at the stranger. Hi.

[getsthelastword]

Oh gross. Was the little boy flirting with him? This place was becoming more and more like Rowan, in Damon's opinion. So far, he hadn't heard a lot about that sort of behavior on the caravan, but frankly, he thought it might liven up the place. Still...yeah...not Damon's type.

"Hey kid," he said, "Don't get me busted by the morality police if you get skunked."

[blytheandbonnie]

Bonnie had never been much of a heavyweight. Time in Rowan had somewhat raised her tolerance for alcohol--after all, there wasn't much to do there but drink and gossip--but still, it wasn't taking more than a few pints of ale, it seemed, to get her buzzed. Well, good. She wanted to be very, very drunk.

She sat in a corner, twirling a piece of red hair around her finger as she gazed around the room. Bonnie was upset, and she wasn't very easily upset. Still, the last few months had been more than a young vampire could really take without any sort of anger.

First, she'd been taken away from home. And then turned into a vampire. And then taken away from her new home. And then she'd fallen for a boy who had, par for the course, decided she wasn't worth his time. And now Damon was showing up and for some reason, he always was able to get her goat.

"Goat," she mumbled to herself, pulling her legs to her chest. That sounded good. Damn it, she was hungry. Like the wolf.

She began to hum Duran Duran to herself.

[getsthelastword]

It wasn't really Bonnie sitting alone in her sad, pathetic corner that got Damon's attention. It was the intense smell of alcohol coming from said corner. When he glanced over, he didn't really expect to see Bonnie there. Then again, she was a girl and had clearly been acting irrationally lately. Was he getting to be out of practice with the fairer sex? Now that was unacceptable

[blytheandbonnie]

Bonnie looked up as Damon came into her range of smell. Her brown eyes narrowed in concentration as she examined him. Wow. He was really, really handsome. She sort of forgot about that until he came into her eyesight and then it like--woah.

All that was, of course, forgotten as soon as he opened his mouth. For someone who wouldn't shut up about how charming he was, he was really bad with women sometimes.

"That's very gen-rous," she managed to get out. Wow, that was a hard word. "Generous," she carefully repeated, enunciating every syllable.

She thumped her head against the wall, sighing. "What do you want, Damon?" Bonnie asked very softly, and the tone of her voice was more weary than it was spiteful. She wasn't sober enough to be spiteful.

[getsthelastword]

Damon raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall casually. "What do I want?" he repeated. "Are we talking at this cosmic moment in history? Or in a more generic sense, what do I want out of life? Because I think the latter would be an inappropriate discussion for the middle of a Mardi Gras celebration, Bon Bon."

More like inappropriate for any time or any place. Damon didn't want to talk about his feelings, not now, not ever. But he had the sinking feeling that Bonnie could pretty easily guess what he wanted out of life. The impossible. Well, there were two things he would take. Both quite impossible. He either wanted Elena back (highly unlikely, as she had never even been his to begin with and, well, dead was dead) or else he wanted all of his time in Fell's Church to just...poof...vanish.

Either one would make him a happy man.

[itsahotone]

Santana strolled in, eager for alcohol. After half of the people from home vanished, she really needed to just get trashed and forget about where she was stuck.

She had no idea what the guy she talked to looked like, but she took the risk and wore her Cheerios uniform anyway. Even if he was a total fug, maybe the skirt would attract the attention of someone worthy.

Looking around, she sighed heavily. Maybe not.

[getsthelastword]

The cheerleading outfit was hard to miss, but it took Damon awhile to break away from other company and approach Santana. That was probably for the best. He didn't want to appear too eager. Frankly, he was so hungry that he knew he had to be careful, lest he come off as a spaz. With age, he had gotten better at controlling his savage side, when he wanted to, but when he was hungry, that control was a bit like Jello

[itsahotone]

Oh, someone actually kind of attractive. Awesome. Santana sipped at her drink and gave him a scrutinizing look. She didn't recognize the voice just yet.

"Excuse me? What's old-fashioned?" And what kind of greeting was that?

[getsthelastword]

Damon flashed one of his most charming smiles. "The cheerleading get up. Not what I was expecting. I was imagining something in the bare-midriff family. But this is old fashioned. It's nice. Sort of classy. Makes me think of a John Hughes movie or something."

He reached out for Santana's hand and planted a kiss on her knuckles. "Damon Salvatore," he said, in case she hadn't figured that part out yet. "And you must be the 'exotic-looking' Santana?" Briefly, he considered busting out the Italian, just to show off, but he got the sense that Santana probably wouldn't be so impressed. In a way, he kind of liked that in a woman. Not so much in a herd, but he was still open to the possibility of liking her.