Party Hardy

[Aimee Kensington]

-Snuggles-
This whole topic makes me confused. BUT HEY.
-Snickers-
Nice post, regardless.

[Antranig Sutlian]

Meh. Not my best.
But thank you.

[Aimee Kensington]

Well I like it. He's being all nice and stuff.
-Pinches Cheek-
"Be a goodt girl andt listen to your healer."

[Antranig Sutlian]

Oh yeah, he's adorable.
Go lurk in his thread with Lily.
*snorts*

[Aimee Kensington]

I TAKE IT ALL BACK.
Step away from Aimee. And his hand is on her neck and ohmigod.
RAPE.

-Laughs-
O.o

[Antranig Sutlian]

*cracks up*
Not in public, dear.
>_>

He's on his best behavior

[Carrie Martin]

-dies-
things have been so crazy...but I do not want to be skipped, so here comes a crappy post

[Ben Jones]

*throws arms up*
Yeeayyy for shitty posts!
But waiiiiiiiit
Lise!
I will have NONE of your anti-Queen BULLSHIT
It's not about "fannies and nannies" or whatever
It's about BANGING nannies NAMED Fanny

Queen is the shit.

[Carrie Martin]

Carrie was bouncing now. The music pulsed through her body until she couldn't stand it anymore. The Bar was intoxicating, and it had nothing to do with the fourth shot she had just conjured when no muggles were watching. Her face was slightly pink from dancing and drinking and singing and loving every minute of it. This was Carrie's environment, her natural habitat. Where things felt right. Swinging her hips, she dipped lower and lower until her knees hurt, before making her way back up, moving her hands too languidly for someone who was mildly drunk. But Carrie had years of practice on how to control the symptoms of partying. Through the glimmer and half lights, she watched Aimee weave through the crowd, and settling at the bar. She pouted a bit, feeling like a piece of her was gone missing. She shook her head, looking back to Elle and Ben.

"Hey new girl. How was your first day? As crazy as you expected?"

Carrie was one to make nice. It was just easier that way if there wasn't any drama to mess things up. Her eyes darted quickly to Ben, who was starring at Elle like she was the dessert cart. Scrumptious. She rolled her eyes, smirking a bit. Ah, Ben Jones. It was no secret that Carrie and Ben were attracted to each other, but they weren't so upfront about it. It was more of casual thing. A few parties here, a night out on the town there, close dancing, a few quick kisses, but nothing serious. Carrie was too high spirited to form a lasting relationship with anybody. Let alone if she took the chance to sit down and decide who was worthy of her affections. She was too indecisive for that. Not yet ready.

She waved her hand in front of Ben's face, laughing a bit. She was tempted to take another shot and splash a bit in his face, but decided against it. It was hard to tell what mood Ben was in sometimes, and she didn't want to risk making him angry. Mr. Moody Benny Boy. She crinkled her nose, turning her body and leaning into Elle to dance, letting her take place of her other dancing partner, Aimee, who was still MIA. She was fine dancing alone, but it was more fun this way.

"Excuse me miss, mind if I have this dance?"

A large muggle with a beer belly and only half his teeth tapped her shoulder, offering out his hand. She raised her eyebrows, at him, before smirking. Ok, maybe it wasn't always more fun with a partner.

"Hm? Oh! Actually, I'm here with someone." She quickly reached instinctively behind her and grabbed Ben's arm, moving it to her waist. She tossed the man a smile, before continueing. "Sorry. But I'm sure my friend here would love to dance with you. Wouldn't you, Elle?"

She looked to her trainee, a smile plastered on her face. She felt guilty for pawning the deperate man off on the new girl, who had an utter look of horror on her face, but at the same time, she didn't. Every trainee needed an initiation, and this would be hers. She winked at Elle, turning her body away from them as the man dragged poor Elle off onto the dance floor. She stiffled her laughter, looking up to Ben who was also smiling.

"I'm so horrid. Dance with me, Ben."

She drapped her arms all to nonchelantly around Ben's neck, moving her hips in time with his. He was a good dancer. Better than Sean at least. He didn't do the awkward shuffled. No, he actually danced. She caught the temp easily enough, it was slowing down significantly. Dancing with Ben was just a natural thing. She liked how it didn't have to mean anything. No decisions had to be made. Nothing had to happen. They both just liked to have a good time, to loosen up and party. The song ended and someone went about changing it again, but she didn't put the normal space back between the two of them. Scanning the crowd, she watched Elle prowling back towards them, looking utterly mortified.

"Lovely, you are officially part of the St. Mungo's family. And now I owe you a drink for that one."

She nodded, smiling, hoping the girl wasn't too sour for what Carrie had made her do.

[[bleh. I told you all...crap]]

[Tatum MacNamara]

I love Queen
Antranig does not
*shrugs*
They're not really his style
*frowns*
I will post Tatum once I figure out what to do with her . . .
the people she was talking to are AWOL

[Addison Blankenship]

( 1. I probably screwed up the posting order, and for that I apologize.
2. I’m lazy, so I didn’t read all the posts. I just winged it with a summary.
3. This post sucks.

That is all. )

“Can you take her again Sunday?”
“Amandine...”
“Because I have a meeting with a client. A very important client that could decide the direction my career is headed.”
“Amandine...”
“If I don’t get a sitter for Maggie I’m in deep.“
“Amandine…”
“So if you could help me ou-“

“AMANDINE,” Addison boomed at his sister, causing her to stumble backwards in shock from the doorway and onto the porch. It was a rare thing, Addison raising his voice, but the effect had gotten his desired results: she’d shut up. He rubbed his eyes. He’d gotten back from a shift a while ago and had been greeted back home by his sister standing on his front porch. Thankfully, Maggie- his niece- wasn’t with her mother to witness how close he was to snapping at the moment. He hadn’t even changed out of his robes before he’d been bombarded with his sister’s desperate pleas for babysitting.

Inhale. “I need to work. On Sunday,” he said, speaking in choppy fragments, afraid he’d lose his mind if he tried to form a whole sentence. “I don’t know if I can get a trade in shifts. If anything comes up, I’ll see. Now please.” Addison pointed to the street, not saying another word. Amandine’s reply was harsh and had to be censored for this post, but she eventually left Addison’s place, leaving him standing in the doorway. Exhale.

The more logical thing to do when he changed out of his work clothes would have been to sleep for as many hours as he could get, but he couldn’t sleep after the tongue lashing he’d gotten from his sister and the words that had been exchanged. She was going through a divorce, so she needed help from him. Help he hadn’t given her. And yet, that was just his problem: he was becoming a doormat. He felt guilt for his sister, so he babysat his niece with no tip in exchange for his compassion. Standing up for himself was unthinkable when it came to his sister’s situation. And he’d just done that.

That led him to go for a walk, to clear his mind, whatever the benefits walking would give him. One street led to another, one shop to the next, and he found himself in front of a bar. The Bar. For some reason, that title seemed familiar, but that didn’t stop him from going inside the building. That was one hell of a mistake, however, because familiar faces lined the whole place when he came to his senses. He backtracked to at the hospital. He’d overheard some kind of rendezvous at…at...Oh, crap. He was there.

So he did what was best: he turned on his heel to leave. A few seconds after he did that, however, he caught the eye of a familiar face he wasn’t nearly as horrified to see, despite this horribly awkward situation. “That’s funny,” he said to Tatum, faking forgetfulness of her name. “I could have sworn I’ve seen that face before.”

[Tatum MacNamara]

{so yes, this post shall begin in a way that can only be described as >_> but meh poor charrie has been abandoned . . . so lise appreciates your patience}

It was the stuff of Caesar and Pompeii. Her forward charge to the dancefloor had been put under blockade, and her only hope of redeeming her evening (reads: not having to watch the human tragedy of Andrews v. Andrews v. Kensington) was seemingly thwarted. All she had wanted was to dance with someone and forget the rest of the world for a short time. But wham! there was reality, and all prospects of fun were quickly being squashed by awkward colleague conversation. EEK!

But then it was as if the Heaven's from above had opened and out fell a savior, a savior in the shape of one Addison Blankenship who she head met a week prior in (surprise) another pub.

Alright, so maybe that was a bit dramatic, but it certainly felt something like divine intervention after seven martinins with those darling little olives. The Irish witch traced Blankenship's movements with her eyes as he navigated the crowd, looking utterly horrified. Now, what was he doing here? This place certainly didn't fit him any more than it fit her, though she couldn't quite imagine Addison being the sort for a 'what the hell let's give it a go' attitude as she herself had adopted on this evening. So why?

Tatum found herself listening to less and less of what the pair beside her was saying, until she was focused solely on Addison and ignorning them completely. It might have been a bit rude, perhaps, but everything that they were discussing were the common knowledge ramblings of small talk. It wasn't anything new to her. Everyone worked too many hours. No one made as much as they'd like to. And if she wanted she could see how bloody cold or hor or rainy or foggy it was outside by just going out the door.

The door! Was he leaving so quickly? Her light blue eyes stayed locked on their target, and then by either some happy chance or an embarrassing twist of fate, he glanced over her way. Tatum flashed him a smirk that read like she didn't care that he had seen her looking though inwardly, well . . . that was another story.

Turning to Jack and Damita, Tatum gave a look of apology, "Ye'll excuse me fer a minute, aye?" she asked as if she had been speaking with them in the first place. And without waiting for a reply to her rhetorical question guised as an exit stradegy, she took a few steps in the direction that Addison was heading, their trajectories intersecting in time for her to catch his words.

Placing a hand upon a narrow hip, she tilted her head, "It's funny, really. Ye save me, ni once, but twice, in a pub o'all places an then ye ferget who I am."

Leaning forward so she could speak a bit more lowly, though it probably was not needed for the volume of the music, she whispered, "An if ye feel like playin nice with yer fella healers fer a few minutes, I'll buy y'a drink." Standing back from him again, she arched both brows.

"We can drink te . . . amnesia."

{omfg. lise = sucks}

[Cassandra Andrews]

{Casandra = New player
Post = Sucky
Lise = Sorry}

When she was girl, Cassie's father had bought her a dog for her ninth birthday. It was a chocolate lab with big baleful eyes and a cuddly face that just begged for hugs. The moment she met the dog, who she came to call Euclid for reasons she is still unsure of to this day, he stole her heart and for the next few years the two were inseparable. When she had gone to Hogwarts for the first time, she had cried all the way in the train, wondering just how she was to survive the next few months without her friend. Merlin, how she loved that pooch.

Her mother, however, was another story entirely. You see, for all his adorableness and sweet, charming disposition, Euclid was, above all things, obscenely dumb. It was apparent just iat first glance in that vacant stare in those big spaniel eyes of his. And atop of his stupidity, there was his bumbling, clumsy ways. Mrs. Wilson's poor vases and delicate china stood no chance in the path of the beast, and consequently, the sound of something shattering was as commonplace in the Wilson Residence as the sound of someone sneezing. Cassie's mother spent a good deal of time scourgifying the wreckage of her precious treasures, cursing out the poor creature that her daughter loved so dearly. And to make matters worse, Euclid sat there, like the big oaf that he was, a horrible guilty look upon his poor face.

Not even smart enough to play innocent.

It was the stuff of tragedy.

As much as Cassie defended her poor pooch, her mother had gotten rid of him sometime during Cassie's sixth year. He was just too bumbling for her tastes. He had to go. Poor Cassie was devastated for months.

But time wore on and Cassie grew and became less like the girl who had such a soft spot for one hapless mutt. She grew to be a woman who preferred to be called Cassandra rather than Cassie, who had her own collection of fine china and crystal vases, and who most likely would have despised any dog who violated the serenity that she valued so highly in her home. She was no longer a witch moved by an adorable face and a guilty look would buy no one sympathy from Healer Cassandra Andrews.

And so as Sean approached her with his deer in the headlights expression, her features screwed up into a scowl. She might have been able to dismiss the dancing as the result of too much alcohol and -- Merlin -- was that the smell of pot? -- but that look on his face, the way he was trying to fight the haze of drink and smoke to appear oh so casual, it made what she had just caught a glimpse of all the more sinister.

"Hello, Sean."

To say her tone boredered on venomous would be like calling the sinking of the Titantic a minor incident at sea.

Wwwhatdareyoudoinghere?

"Not having nearly as much fun as you are."

Taking a sip from the wine spritzer that marked her first drink in over a year, she eyed her husband warily.

"You look suprised to see me."

And then silence from the redhead and nothing more. Silence and an unreadable expression though something in her eyes warned just slightly that she was not in a mood to be trifled with on this particular evening.

Truly, men were dogs, and her husband was their canine king, she decided as she took another sip in stony silence.

And when his face was red from drinking, dancing and . . . was that embarrassment? he was far less adorable than Euclid.

[Aimee Kensington]

Posting with Eleanor...real...soon.
-Laughs-

[Eleanor Jansen]

From a young age, words like pancytopenia, haemorrhagic diathesis and ecchymosis found their way into Eleanor’s vocabulary. The doctors, the specialists and her parents used to toss the words over her head in a flurry of conversation, using technical terms so the little girl would be lost in their wake, but not frightened. Elle however picked up on the words quickly, finding a fascination in how the many syllables bounced on her tongue. Because of her early start into the world of knowledge Elle missed the time of dolls and tantrums, where adorable faced children would scrunch their brow and stamp their foot demandingly. No! They would say. No. No. No.

Elle never went through that stage. Elle never really had a loud enough voice to say no and among the sea of faces that grew more and more familiar as time dribbled past, she found something like an animal would. Congratulations for the right behaviour. If the dog sat properly, rolled over and stayed on command it would be given a food reward and overtime that would be the behaviour the dog would adapt to. If Elle went quietly to the hospital and didn’t bite the doctors and struggle when they poked her with needles for Kate then she would be given the few fleeting moments of attention over her sister. There were no favourites with the Jansen children but there was an unequal distribution with attention. Jesse never got any and in response, played with fire, literally and metaphorically. Eleanor was given the doorway and the directions. If you want to be acknowledged, if you want to make us proud then this is what you have to do. Eleanor could help and Eleanor was given the key where Jesse was not.

Saying no was not an option. Saying no simply wasn’t in her vocabulary.

And that moment when the large man with his gut hanging over the waistband of his pants appeared and Carrie offered Elle as a sacrifice wasn’t the first time that she felt her voice melt into the background. Abandoning her.

Shooting Carrie a look, a cross between shock, horror and annoyance, as her hand was snatched up in the strangers and she was dragged away Eleanor shook her head. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. She had mentally wanted to dance and look where it had landed her, with some strange man with wandering hands.

“Uh uh. No way buddy. Hands above the waist.”

Eleanor took his descending paws in her hands and returned them to him, taking a small step backwards. The oaf smiled somewhat sheepishly, caught at his game. A muggle, no doubt, a tired muggle with perhaps a family left at home and a wife wondering where he was. This man was nothing like her father from first impressions. Sure give him the next day to sober up and may have stood a chance but right now looking and swaying as he did, he could simply not measure up to the great man that was her father. Eleanor smiled easily with that knowledge but her eyes read something different. She wasn’t drunk enough for this. She needed at least another ten shots of pure vodka, or perhaps a rain check? Her eyes searched for a quick exit while her hands focused on keeping groping hands at bay. Now really.

“I have to- go to the ladies room.”

She offered him the only smile she could muster before turning and walking, or rather weaving, as fast as she could back in the direction she had come. She caught sight of Carrie and Ben and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Thanks for that Carrie. I owe you one.”

She kept a glare for a second longer before shaking her head and cracking a smile. Her eyes traced from Carrie to her dancing partner Ben. She raised an eyebrow. But at the mention of a dring she lowered it smoothly.

“A drink? A drink? You owe me more than a drink.”

She laughed and waited for Carrie to lead the way.

Tonight she was Eleanor. Not Eleanor and Kate, not one part of a duo act, not a patient or a trainee or someone else’s miracle or hero. She was Elle Jansen and that was okay by her.