somethingwithturquoise | Room 308; Wednesday Evening [10/12].

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Room 308; Wednesday Evening [10/12].

Ah, yes, what better way to follow up a day heavy on war stuff than a jello shot party in what was essentially a hotel room! But, look, the Wednesday night jello room parties were just a tradition at this point, and Summer practically centered the first half of her trips around making them happen, so she was going to be very disappointed if no one even bothered to show up.

She was going to have a very rough Thursday if she had to do all these jello shots by herself (minus the one or two she could convince Barry to choke down).

So the mass texts to everyone had been sent out, as well as texts to Annie and Rey to show off the jello shot spread and show off what they were missing (with an added text to Annie that went something along the lines of seriously, though, u good? do you need anything? everything cool?), and she just had to finish with the set up. There was some beer and sodas and whatever leftover liquor didn't go into the shots and wine (because France) and some moddable snacks, but, of course, most of the attention was in the jello shots, which included some apple cider ones featuring cider from the countryside and chocolate covered strawberries with chocolate from the local chocolatier. Pears made an appearance in the line up, as did pumpkin. Of course there was champagne, a chocolate eclair, and.....mac and cheese....but, you know, with fancy local cheeses, because that made it better.

Look, just because they were in France, didn't mean you were free from at least That One Shot.

So it was time to party! Chaperones only! Summer will pay Rosa good money to make sure students stay out.

(She would have roped Goose and Sidon into it, but she knew them both well enough to know that while they did cut impressive figures as bouncers, she was pretty sure they would just encourage just letting every one in).

[[ open room party is open! posted here to get the most party bang out of my party buck and general readability. No OCD. Have at it! ]]

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It was a very impressive clock. That fact could not be overstated.

Amaya took a moment look down at the éclair shot, suddenly feeling like she wished she had something more interesting to say, before taking to the task of consuming it and going with whatever came out of her after it had gone down.

"Definitely been plenty of time to see it," she offered. "Been a bit of a more...leisurely trip, this one."

Or maybe she just noticed it a bit more because leisurely meant more time spent just....thinking, more often than not.

"Less safari, more walking tours," Irene commented with a little wrinkle of her nose before downing her own shot. "I don't exactly object. More of a holiday this way. And it's a good way to keep the cheese off my hips."

Vanity, thy name is Adler.

"Roommate situation leaves a bit to be desired," she added, light and airy. "But then, it usually does."

Usually. Not always.

Well. They both knew how Amaya felt about things like holidays and breaks and her expression said as much until that last part wedged a wry snort out of her.

"Did you actually manage to get paired up with the person you were supposed to this time?"

Because she sure didn't!

"I'm kipping with Jon, yes," Irene noted, clearly both intrigued and amused that Amaya had found herself in such a predicament again. (It of course went without saying that she had much preferred the way this mistake had shaken out in Africa, but still.) "Which mostly means I've been averting my gaze, and haven't needed the earplugs I brought."

Which she had brought for no reason. None. Definitely not one borne of wishful thinking.

"Who'd you get stuck with, then?"

Well, for whatever reason Irene had brought them for, it did seem like a particular shame that a perfectly good pair of earplug that she'd went to the trouble of bringing along might not even get put to any use...

"I was supposed to be with Diaz. I wound up with Goose."

"Goose?" Irene repeated, glancing over at the gentleman in question (but keeping her voice low enough that hopefully she wouldn't call attention by shouting the poor fellow's name in close quarters.) "Oh -- how's that going?"

Did Irene suspect she could probably kick Jon out for an evening? Absolutely. (Though she'd be nicer about it than 'kick out' might imply, naturally. She'd at least see to it that he got some divine chocolates or something out of the deal.)

Was she going to make such an offer? Maybe. Amaya had, apparently, so hated waking up with Irene in her own bed, after all; perhaps she preferred Goose. The giant.

Ah, see, but the difference here was that none of these were her own bed. In her own room.

"Very crowded."

And awkward, but, well. Both those things probably went without saying.

Yeah, Irene in a million years would have never set those two together in a matchmaking exercise, even setting aside her own selfish desires regarding half the duo.

"Mmm. I'm sure," she commented, barely keeping her smile contained (and unable to do anything about the amused glint in her eye, anyway.) "Maybe the jelly shots will work to make things a touch more comfortable. It's been wonderful in my room."

Was that the truth? Probably. Did it matter, though, if it wasn't? That wasn't the point at all.

The faint grunt Irene got in response to that seemed to suggest that the jelly shots might wind up making things a little too comfortable, to be honest. Amaya was not exactly known for her spectacular decisions in that department, and if you looked at both past and alleged track records, when she swayed that way, there certainly was a type.

"Well," she commented, and it sounded much more grumbly than intended, "at least someone's having a good go of it."

And now someone was considering the other shots.

"Strawberry?" she suggested, plucking a pair of them up.

"Merci," Irene agreed brightly, taking one of the offered straberries and lifting it in another toast. "Santé. To your health."

She might not be especially merciful as far as the rooming -- yet. Give her more shots and see how mercy might bloom anyway -- but she could absolutely translate what she'd said earlier, going a little slower this time.

The strawberries had their own appeal separate from the other shots when it came to their consumption, of course. Don't mind Irene putting on a little show as she ate hers.

And that little show was exactly why Amaya was a little delayed in consuming her own, with a lot less showmanship. It was far more of the simply popping it into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully approach for her.

Very thoughtfully.

"At this rate," she noted, as if all that thoughtfulness had been poured into doing the math, "we'll practically make our way through the whole set."

Look at all that thoughtfulness!

"Don't know that I've ever actually managed that," Irene noted, now definitely feeling the shots' effect and gracing Amaya with a flirtatious smile that definitely said as much. "Seems like a challenge. Least the kids chaperone themselves for the most part, anyway, don't they?"

Meaning that they could sleep in tomorrow if the shots eventually didn't agree with morning sunlight and having to go on some sort of excursion, of course. But then, the question of where that sleeping-in might occur was still a question. (Granted, Jon barely slept, as far as Irene could tell and was also a pretty soft touch, so it was probably a fairly easy-to-answer question once she stopped playing with her food both literally and figuratively, here.)

"See, now," said Amaya, after a moment of all that thoughtful manifesting itself in a slight lift of her chin, a brief and tentative moment of her lip caught between her teeth, "I hate to turn away from a challenge, but there's just one problem."

"Oh no." Irene's expression did not say oh no. Irene's expression said, very clearly, Lip-biting Amaya might be the most enchanting thing I've ever laid my eyes on, actually. "What's that?"

Surely they could overcome any problems if there were jelly shots and scandalous drunken shenanigans to follow at stake.

The red in Amaya's face seemed to be spreading exponentially compared to how much she was attempting to look anywhere except at Irene as she began to lay out exactly what she'd been so thoughtful about, which was to say that the red was spreading an awful lot.

"Well," she explained, "I still owe you those five euros, now, don't I? From the cheese shot. And if I make it through all of those..." Recounting the remaining jello shots even though she knew how many were left was a great not-looking-directly-at-Irene-right-now activity, really. "...four remaining shots, there's a good chance I'll just straight up forget about those five euros. Now, the obvious solution...would be to just fork over those five euros now, but..." Her hands went brushing against her skirt and her pockets, "I haven't got them on me. I'd have to go back to the room."

And now Amaya did look at Irene.

She didn't want those well-earned five euros to be all forgotten about, did she?

Well. Irene didn't like leaving debts unpaid. That was very true.

But a smile had spread slowly across her face -- a fact which had likely gone entirely unappreciated by the very inspiration for that smile given all the careful looking-away, but that was all right. All that studious shot-counting was Irene's new favorite thing, right in line with the lip-biting, and she was doing a poor job of hiding it.

That, and the blush. Always the blush.

"A brilliant idea," Irene pronounced with a firm little nod, her brows creasing as though she, too, were deep in thought. "I'll come with -- keep you company on the journey."

The journey of...six doors away. So far.

"Mmm." It was a soft sound, mostly, with a bit of a grunt in it, as Amaya nodded back, glad to see that Irene could appreciate all the thoughtfulness that went into this particular bit of reasoning. "Good way to ensure that I'm not just trying to bail on the bill, that way."

"Can't have that," Irene noted, her voice going a touch lower, and her smile adopting a slightly more wicked slant. "I'll get it from you one way or another."

Cheese shot had turned out to be entirely worth it, as it turned out.

Amaya was honestly just glad that this elaborate plot based out of a concern to make sure those euros weren't forgotten had worked as well as it did, especially considering that those euros were, in fact, going to be completely forgotten the moment they walked through that door. Her chin lifted a little again, shifting slightly in the effort to keep back any sort of grin of her own, and she didn't quite trust what the timbre of her voice would be once she finally managed to get out of some words.

"One more," she started, and definitely had to clear her throat a little to get it out better, "for the road?"

You know what? Irene could probably afford those five euros.

"Champagne, to see us off?" she suggested, snagging a pair of the shots in question and offering one out to Amaya with the lightest wink. "J'adore ton sourire."

She could argue it was another toast. The truth of it was that Irene was starting to feel the shots go to her head, and complimenting Amaya in a language Irene was fairly sure she did not speak fluently enough to translate seemed like a grand way to get around that whole objection to sentiment.

And besides: she did. And she could tell when someone -- particularly someone whose face she studied so much -- was trying not to smile.

And she was right, of course. Amaya didn't have even the faintest idea of what it was that Irene had said, and while she would probably need a bit more to start feeling the shots in the same way, her thoughts were being clouded by an entirely different sort of intoxication right now. So she took that last shot from Irene with a bit of suspicion, a good amount of curiosity, and weighed whether or not it was worth it to try and figure it out.

She didn't have to consider it for too long at all.

"Sure," she breathed out a laugh. "If you say so."

And, with that, and an unceremonious, somewhat clumsily impatient extraction of the shot into her mouth, she turned to head toward the door, steps maybe just a touch quicker than they might have normally been, pushed by the quick tempo of her own racing heart.

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Room 308; Wednesday Evening [10/12].

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