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Turn the right way down any street, glance down an unexpected alley, maybe you'll see it out of the corner of your eye. Maybe you'll catch a hint of the music drifting out of the invitingly open wooden doors. There's always something. It wants to be found, this in, this bar, this club, this pub, this restaurant. It has many
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This is probably for the best. She's easily confused.
Besides, she doesn't have the time to worry about trite things (big word, and she totally knows what it means. She cheerfully moved through the party, not at all worried whether or not she recognized most of the people there. After all, she was Tabby, that meant she was awesome, and after the night was over there'd be no strangers, only new friends.
As long as they were cuties. She doesn't associate with non-cuties.
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Mark can't help but stop and stare. Because, the hair! It was so blond, and shiny. And... woooow!
"You're pretty," Mark says to the blond girl. He almost looks embarrassed for a moment, but then a happy grin spreads across his face.
"Hi! I'm Mark!"
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Not that she minds. He seems to understand the only thing her shallow little heart needs is to be told plenty of times she's pretty.
"Hai thar!" She beams. New friend number 1. Or Mark. Whichev. "I'm totes pretty, cutie. You can take a picture if you'd like."
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"A picture? Really?" He goes to reach for his backpack but remembers... "I don't have a camera. And my cell phone is broke." Stupid dad, not helping him out with that one. He grins. "But I'll remember you."
He pauses, and repeats. "Hi! I'm Mark!" Obviously, she doesn't get that this is where she fills in her own name, so he adds, "What's your name?"
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Oh, riiiight. He came with Lucas... who was around here somewhere.
They're friends, okay? Co workers. They're... friends!
It's not like this is a date. Because, um. They didn't do that!
Mark makes his way up to the bar, and orders a drink. There's a robot! And...
... It asks him for ID.
Mark pouts. "Well. I'll take a coke then."
Good thing he has special holiday cookies in his backpack!
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"This place is fascinating," he states, then pops a baby carrot in his mouth
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It did, really! Only not really, because, "They were holograms!"
Mark stands beside Lucas, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little. "Thanks for bringing me. And coming with me." Mark giggles. "I mean, thanks for coming with me and bringing me here too!"
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His lips quirk at the corners, the best Lucas can do in terms of a smile. "You're welcome, Mark. Though you sort of brought me, I'd say. You've been here before after all. So thank you for bringing me."
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She's here sans boyfriend though. She could only convince him to attend one social engagement with her this year and he was happily at home playing with his new guitar. And hopefully not killing their fish.
Poor Fishy Starsmore. The thing was loved just a little too much.
But so here she was, in simple jeans and a sweater and intent on figuring out how the hell the magic worked.
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"I ain't allowed ta go home drunk, Jean-Paul. So if'n I do get a drink--an' it ain't gonna be eggnog--it's gotta last me all night." Because one drink is all it takes to do Paige in. Seriously. Canon fact there. Her pool table appearance is legendary. "An' ya ain't allowed ta pour it down my throat."
It's her turn for a wicked grin. "So ya hangin' out near the mistletoe?"
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"Lorna!"
Kara comes over with two glasses of champange in hand and she hands one to Lorna. Mike's party is great! She hasn't even had to pull out her fake ID! Wait... does that mean she looks OLD?
"I asked Mike - his killjoy wards mean I can't punch someone in the face but odds are I can throw champange on them in anger or yell at them as much as I want."
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For a moment she wonders if Lorna means is the champange to throw on Lorna - then she realises.
"Obviously it's for you. Do you like my shoes? They're like Dorothy's in the movie - not the book. A touch of Christmas cheer."
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Unless he happens to be under it. With one of his boyfriends.
But, guess they'll see how that goes.
"Hey, you," John says, sidling up behind JP and wrapping an arm around his waist. "Looking hot."
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"I always lose you two," John says. "I have no idea why that is." He looks down at his clothes. "Hey I tried. Kinda."
He's wearing a pair of black pants (that JP made him buy once) and a tight, dark gray sweater (sweater, not hoodie) that, uh, JP also made him buy. Simple, but it was something more then usual.
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