open event starter for: anyone!
setting: the main hall, during the secrets reveal
Bunny knew many people viewed her as vapid. Gossip hungry, catty, judgemental, calculated ( well, calculated, that part was true) - but she derived not an ounce of pleasure as her phone vibrated with text after text of dirt in the chat. Dirt on the other guests, some unknown to her as she read through their intimate mistakes. No, Bunny knew with each buzz she was closer to her potential demise. She was going to be next. Guests gathered, all looking at their phones and at each other, mouths agape like fish without water. The model had wanted nothing all night but to rip off her rabbit mask - but now she didn’t dare touch the lace. God, she regretted the bunny ears.
Her vision blurred, dark eyes already glazing with tears as the blue light shone against her face. Her champagne flute was clutched tightly in her hand, bubbles fizzing as it shook. We’re they fucking saving her for last or something? Voices were rising in arguments as the message finally appeared on her screen. Couldn’t make it big yourself so you just had daddy do it for you, hmm, Bunny Hendrix? Don’t let her fool you, her father paid for her first editorial!
“NO!” Bunny gasped, dropping her glass, holding her phone with both hands tightly. “No, that isn’t true! I wouldn’t–, I’d never–…e-everything, everything I have gotten has been on my own!” Bunny didn’t even know who she was shouting at, wide eyes still glued to her screen. Of all the things they could have scraped up on her, this fabrication was somehow the worst. She had to call Vanity Fair, they had to make a statement. She had to call her agent, her father– no. She couldn’t even breathe, much less focus on regaining control. Bunny dropped both hands to her sides, taking deep harsh breaths. “Who…Who did this?” She choked out, turning around to look at anyone around her.
Dash’s phone was buzzing endlessly. He’d paid attention for the first few messages, but it was a whole bunch of nonsense about people he barely knew and...and there was a limit. There was a point at which you should afford other people some modicum of respect and privacy, certainly when it was so obviously causing so much despair. They weren’t obligated to look, and they knew just what kind of things people could shove into dark corners under the assumption no one would ever pull it back out again.
His pocket buzzed again and he clicked the button to shut off the screen without pulling it out. What he needed was a drink. What he needed was to have stayed home in the first place, with a sketchbook and Markiplier playing FNAF: Security Breach in the background and a glass of chai still steaming next to him. All thoughts of slipping out early were crushed when a glass shattered beside him, followed by the seeming hysterics of someone upset by something on their phone. He had a pretty good guess.
“Uh.” They warred with the thought of ducking away as though they hadn’t heard anything, but judging by the way the room was quickly descending into angry outbursts, if they didn’t stop, it was likely no one else would. “You good?” Clearly not, what a way to start. “I mean, obviously you’re not good, but...listen. You should shut the phone off? And I mean this in the least hitting on you way possible, but let me get you a drink. Water?”
