* hope to god (it was worth it) -&& open

[cecelia emerson reese .]

* cecelia reese !
dance to this beat and hold your lover close

Cecelia Reese was, in a word, bored. She stared intently at her appearance in the bathroom mirror. Couldn’t these places ever have better lighting in the bathroom? No one wanted to look at their reflection and appear horrid, when in a place they most desired to look good. Yes, Cecelia was well aware of what most people came to night clubs for. They wanted to ‘pick up’. It seemed like such a silly ritual to her actually. But alas, there she was, completely in the thick of the mating ritual for the twenty first centenary. Having a completely yawn worthy time.

Of course, and I’m not saying this is true at all, but it could be because the slightly spoiled socialite had very high standards that better places then the one she was currently in failed to meet. Or it could have been that she was not in the mood. A friend had pleaded with her to come, then ditched her for a guy in tight pants. Which, that reminded her, she would inform them was very rude when the night was over. It had also been a waste of the hundred she had slipped the nice bouncer to get in. Her being completely underage of course.

Peering closer at her features in the somewhat dirty mirror, Cecelia screwed up her nose. She didn’t even look that amazing. The band in her hair just barely matched the dress she had thrown on, and her hair was in desperate need of some product, but she didn’t look like trash. So that in itself was a positive sign. Un clipping her clutch, the youth pulled out a tube of dark pink gloss. Applying just the lightest coat to her lips. Checking to ensure it was even, and none was outside of her lip line. Once satisfied with that, she threw the gloss into her purse and closed it with a snap.

“These shoes are probably ruined from god knows what on the floor..” came a slight mutter, as she carefully stepped across the bathroom and pushed the door open. A rush of music meeting her ears, as opposed to the dull thud that she could hear through the bathroom walls. Well. If she was going to salvage the night at all, she could always resort to playing her favourite game; pulling apart every outfit she saw in her mind and thinking up ways to make the person look better… or just make fun of it. Of course, that game was always more enjoyable with Allana. Where was that girl? She had texted her almost an hour ago..

Making her way through the crowd, careful not to touch any of the sweaty bodies, Cecelia made it to the bar. Where she glanced down, moving to put her clutch down on the surface, saw how disgusting it was, and had second thoughts. Instead she held it in her hand. “Vodka Martini with a twist.” She ordered. Not caring she had ordered over someone else.

` w o r d c o u n t ! 500
` l y r i c s ! lying is the most fun a girl can have, panic at the disco
` t a g ! open
` n o t e s ! cec is a bitchhhh

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[brayden william tyler]

cause there ain't no rest for the w i c k e d, 'til we close our eyes for g o o d

Trinity was not Brayden's favorite place to get a drink, to be completely honest. For starters, he absolutely loathed dancing, as he was born with no rhythm, was white and straight. He hated the loud noise from the horrid music; he could never talk to anyone. But here he sat, or stood rather. His arms pressed against the hard wooden bar and his body facing the dance floor. He watched as his friend danced with a pretty little thing whom Brayden had no idea who she was. He had been ditched, yet again. Though he didn't really mind all that much. He had come with his own mode of transport, so he could leave at any time.

He still had more than half of his beer left, so that was what he found himself doing at the moment. Finishing up his beer, taking big gulps as he watched everyone else dance. Times like these made him think of his ex: they would often come to places like this. They would be the ones on the dance floor, oblivious to everyone else. But now it was his turn to be the stereotypical purse holder, the designated driver. Though his friends always knew that he couldn't resist a drink.

Just as he was about to order another drink, he spotted someone vaguely familiar. She walked with an air of confidence that he had not seem any many of his fellow female peers. She was captivating; the way she walked to avoid the sweaty bodies, the way she walked up to the bar and order over him. Even the way she held herself was just so unlike anyone, and yet she reminded him of Jenna.

He had to hide a laugh. While she ordered, he turned his head slightly towards her and looked at her. She was very beautiful, but yet he knew that she wasn't his type. She just seemed too ... stoic, maybe? He didn't like snap judgments and tried his hardest to resist placing them on unknown strangers. But she simply seemed to fit the profile.

Turning around to face the bar, he ordered another beer after the unknown princess. After he made sure the bartender had heard him, he turned slightly to her and smiled. "Didn't Mommy tell you it's rude to cut in line, Princess?" he asked, his tone playful. He had no idea how his words would go over with her, and was ready for her drink to come flying in his face. Though on the outside his face was calm, pleasant.







ooc;; mind if i cut in?

outfit:
here

[cecelia emerson reese .]

* cecelia reese !
dance to this beat and hold your lover close

Cecelia offered the bar-tender a slight smile as he placed her drink down in front of her. While she never really thought much of people who worked as bar-tenders and other such people in positions of service, Cecelia was always polite to them. It was manners really. Until they proved incompetent, it was only proper to be polite to the hired help. Once they showed they couldn’t do a simple task, then it was time to chastise them. So far, the bar-tender’s only mistake was to choose such a horrid place to work. She couldn’t exactly hold that against him now could she? Well she could but she wasn’t going to. Wasn’t she lovely?

Picking up the drink, she took a small sniff. You never did know with these places. They could have used some lesser quality liquors in her drink. Which would have been completely disgusting. Cecelia had rather expensive tastes (if that wasn’t already obvious) and liked things to be the best. Well, the drink smelt alright. That was something. It would be alright to taste. She brought the drink to her lips and took a small sip. Hmm. Better then what she had expected actually. Maybe she had misjudged the place? Instead of being ghastly it was just horrid. A step better.

Before the girl had a chance to even lower her glass, she heard a voice beside her. Rather clearly addressing her. The girl frowned. Well, actually the frown was more like a scowl. Someone was daring to be so patronizing by calling her princess? My my, whoever it was had some nerve. Turning, she appraised the man. Raised eyebrow and drink clutched in her left hand. Well. He was certainly not bad to look at, perhaps a little blue collar, but none the less, not ugly or as dirty looking as she was expecting. However, none of that mattered considering what he had just said to her.

Cecelia pulled a sweet smile onto her features. Mean with a side of sugar was her favourite dish to serve. At always confused people. Left them wondering what had happened and unsure if they’d been insulted or not. It was so amusing to watch. Far more entertaining then just the usual serve nasty with a side of snide that most people seemed to enjoy. Then, Cecelia wasn’t like most people. “Oh, sorry. My mother was a little pre-occupied with teaching me how to bathe and the correct methods of personal hygiene.” She paused, sniffing the air. “Which, it seems your mother skipped entirely..”

Glancing at the bench, the girl noticed the drink that was being placed in front of the young man. A beer? Oh groan. Could it get any worse? No classy man in the history of good taste ever drunk a beer. Any points he may have had, or could have gained were now wiped. Beer. That was… just. Words did not even cover it. Composing herself, Cecelia replaced her look of disgust with another smile. “Is this yours?” She asked sweetly. Without waiting for an answer she picked up his beer. Putting down her own drink, she leaned over the bar, tipped his beer into the sink then straightened back up. “Cheers.” She cooed, handing back his glass.

` w o r d c o u n t ! 534
` l y r i c s ! lying is the most fun a girl can have, panic at the disco
` t a g ! open
` n o t e s ! don’t mind at all doll.

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