[NYE Party] happy new year and lots of fun

[nascensibility]

Who: EVERYONE, but especially you!
Where: Wonderland Ballroom
When: New Year's Eve
Rating: PG - PG13 (will change if applicable)
Summary: New Year's Eve Party
The Story:

[ Previously in the month all residents received an invitation to a formal event: a black tie affair to ring in the New Year. The ballroom and adjacent areas are decked out for the party starting at eight o'clock sharp, meticulously planned and executed, glittering décor to match the no doubt glittering attire as music pours into the halls from the dance floor.

Bars flank each side, service for all manner of alcohol unless a minor requests something, and the primary setting stage features an enormous clock for the countdown. ]




[ Where will you be when the clock strikes midnight? ]

Comments

[directed]

[It's accident and coincidence both that has Jane stumbling into Rip. Fortunately his hands are empty at the moment; he'd been at the bar to amend that bit of lacking, point of fact. Yet now it would seem he's rather preoccupied with making sure that neither of them takes a full on tumble down--no simple task, given that apparently, at least one of them hasn't shown much restraint when it comes to the alcohol flowing this evening.]

That's quite alright. [He recognizes Jane, and in turn it's simple enough to offer up that easy forgiveness. He keeps his hands on her arms a moment longer, just until he's sure she's upright (and set to stay that way), before letting go.]

You know, I'm rather certain that they won't be running out of alcohol tonight. [In case that's why she feels the need to have imbibed so much of it so early on. Doubtful, yet it seems the polite way to ask without asking just what has her drinking so heavily.]

[endingpoint]

Rip!

[ She does remember him and the alcohol makes her smile instead of cry at random moments. ]

If I keep drinking, then no thoughts happen. That's really good. Good. Real good.

[directed]

[Oh, but she is utterly sloshed isn’t she? He puts on a tight grin when she greets him, glad to see that at least at present, Jane seems to be a happy drunk at the very least.

A temporary condition, given what she slurs out next.]

That is a theory, yes. But there might be a few other things that happen that are less good. [And somehow, Rip expects that Jane doesn’t want to remember getting sick all over the New Year’s Eve party—or worse, have to be told it happened because she forgot.] Why don’t we go for a glass of water next, hmm?

[endingpoint]

Boo, water. Water does not help things. Like...

[ She tries to think of any example except what she's going through. ]

Like when your husband is a terrible liar who keeps secrets from you.

[ Nailed it. ]

[directed]

...Ah.

[Well that's a rather specific complaint, isn't it? And while Rip's first instinct is to think of a half dozen reasons why a lie might have been necessary, he knows damn well not to voice any of them--especially not without details.]

You might be right, but water will keep you from feeling rather sick. [Ideally. It might be too little too late, but Rip has to at least try.] Which means you can drink more of the good stuff later.

[And here Rip will be trying to gently guide Jane towards the bar where he can fetch that glass of water for her. Or perhaps a pitcher.]

[endingpoint]

[ Jane's really in no shape to protest, and she lets him lead her along where she sits heavily once they're within reach of the stools. Sighing heavily, she rubs her forehead, not because of a headache but because she's completely spent. She has nothing left for anyone to take from her. ]

Imagine you have everything, and then you have nothing.

[ She takes the water when it's put in front of her. ]

I have nothing.

[directed]

[He need not stretch his thoughts far to do as Jane suggests; Rip has known the soul-crushing weight of such loss, the agony that drove him to simply want to linger in that field, the bodies of his family clutched in his arms, until he joined them in whatever afterlife they might find together.

But the nature of humanity is not often so kind. Jane takes the glass, and Rip is glad to see it, along with the second the bartender pours.]

"Nothing" is quite a claim to make, Mrs. Weller. [He offers up the observation as gently as he can; he does not mean to come off as one who doesn't believe, but rather one who seeks to understand.]

[endingpoint]

[ Jane turns slowly to look at him, staring at him before speaking words that actually sound steady because they're the facts she's certain of. ]

My husband shot and killed a daughter I didn't know I had because he lied to me for four months.

[ Now, she looks at the bartender. ]

Bourbon.

[directed]

[...Well that does neatly answer a few questions, doesn't it?]

You should at least finish the one glass of water first. [It's weak as replies go, and he doesn't meet her gaze as he says it. But he of all people knows better than to try and offer up trite condolences or sympathies. The loss of a child is unimaginable regardless of the circumstances; to know it's someone she trusted so dearly that did the deed only makes the tragedy that much greater.

Really, Rip feels like going for something a fair bit harder than water himself at the mention.]

[endingpoint]

[ She doesn't want the water. She wants to hurl that glass at a wall. But rather than make a scene, she drinks what's in the glass and puts it down. ]

Can I please have the bourbon now? I need it.