social call ; chanyeol & minki
Minki has found that he rather likes parties. He likes loud club parties because they’re chaotic; they speak to his more feral instincts, he thinks. He likes quiet dinner parties, because those are good for learning; any learning opportunity is good. This party is a bit in between, too slow to get his adrenaline pumping but not slow enough to become boring. Most of all, he’s enjoying it because tonight the invitation list consists of just about everyone who means anything to the entertainment world at the moment, and Minki is beyond pleased to be in attendance.
This is a shining opportunity to mingle not just for reputation sake- but because if there is one thing he’s found that pretty models like to do, it’s gossip. What better way to learn about human society than from the mouths of those at the top of it’s shallow hierarchy? Maybe that’s why he likes humans so much- there is no rank here to be born in to.
He arrives after trays of champagne and liquor begin to be passed out, but before the official toast is made. He’s approached easily and is integrated into conversation with just as much lack of difficulty. He is a hot topic, at the moment, after all. Such a smooth rise in recognition is notable after all- not that Minki particularly understood that at the beginning. No, all he had known was that he took the jobs offered and was paid, simple enough.
Now he smiles over the rim of a wine glass, not really caring for the taste but having politely accepted it from an over eager manager; who’s he’s not sure- his is negotiating terms subtly with a designer, at the moment.
So caught up in the details of an up and coming company, the winter chanel line, who would model it, and a scandal having something to do with some actor who was supposedly sleeping their way into choice roles, Minki pauses. His focus switches, those speaking around him suddenly going dull in both noise and vision.
Head lifting and pupils dilating Minki scans the ball room, barely moving when his shoulder is jostled. He’s caught the scent of someone… someone like himself. It’s a bit surprising, really, and that is why he goes still, skin tingling. It’s instinctive to suspect a threat and he’s on high alert when he finally pinpoints him. Tall. Male. Unfamiliar. There, across the room. The scent isn’t strong at all, but it’s not totally human. Not the heady, intoxicating scent of an alpha and not the pungent scent of another omega, he realizes it must be a gamma. A few more drinks and Minki might not have noticed at all- that worries him.
He needs to go and scout out exactly who and what he’s dealing with, and so he suavely excuses himself, sifting through the loose clusters of people and stopping by the bar, lingering there and eyeing the other man from under his lashes with the pretense of making himself a cup of coffee. It’s only when he has to pause and turn down the polite offer from someone- maybe a host? -to prepare the strong drink themselves, that Minki loses his sights on the other. That doesn’t sit well with him. He panics.
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