[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]

He's wearing the good waistcoat that Kurt's found him because if ever there's an evening in which he wants to look his best, tonight is it. He's brought with him the intention to throw caution to the wind and truly enjoy himself, which means that an hour into the party, he's well-liquored up and loosened and so when Grace finds him -- or does he find her? -- he threads his fingers in hers to pull her closer, drunk on courage, theatrics, and joy. "Far more, now," he assures her, feeling his heart skip several beats when he's pushed forward by intruding bodies and ends up in the space of her body where he can feel the warmth of her skin. "And you?" he breathes out, a hitch to the words.