[Dated 12/31] For Scripps

[madeofstories]

There's something almost magical about tonight, and it goes far beyond the fact that the building that used to be the compound is so wonderfully decorated, that the kitchen seems to somehow have anything to eat or drink that anyone might ever want. There's almost an electricity to the night that she can't quite put her finger on, something that brings to mind the party in Baz Luhrmann's version of Romeo and Juliet. They've all been forced into something wonderful and formal, even if part of it is only a facade.

It isn't that she's been looking for Scripps in particular, but admittedly, when her eyes scan the crowded building, he's one of the faces she's hoping to see. So, it's no surprise that she brightens upon seeing his familiar face in the throng, and approaches, a glass of champagne in each hand— one for herself, and one as an offering.

"Enjoying the party?" she asks.

Comments

[turnedtoproust]

Scripps feels like he can practically fall right into her arms if she keeps welcoming him forward like this. He inhales sharply, pulling away in order to simply breathe before he utterly loses control. "Oh, Grace," he murmurs fondly. "There could be no other name for you."

[madeofstories]

She doesn't expect him to pull away when he does, and for an extended moment, Grace is left there with her eyes shut, her hand still firmly on his shirt. She dips her head for a moment before looking up at him again, smile somehow even wider than before.

"So," she says, "what happens now?"

[turnedtoproust]

"I'm not sure," Scripps admits as he tries to put himself slightly back together. "I do know one thing with all my soul," he says, quite serious about the whole affair. "Come the stroke of midnight, I want you to be the one at my side to ring in the new year."

[madeofstories]

"There is absolutely nowhere else I'd rather be tonight," she tells him, and in an instant, Grace is up on her toes again to press a soft kiss to his cheek.