the house party seemed to be in full swing and faust was working on a pretty decent buzz. it had been a long time since she’d knocked back a few drinks and just relaxed. having only been in town six months, she still didn’t feel like she really knew anyone. still, she’d never needed to be the center of attention and hanging out on the sidelines watching everyone else’s interactions suited her just fine. it was free entertainment, but it was also a good way to gather intel. to learn who greased each other’s palms and who hated one another. charming was new territory and she was certain she had decades worth of grudges and alliances to learn.
francisco had disappeared into the crowd and she was soon left to her own devices, wishing she’d brought a joint or that her cell phone battery wasn’t too low to dick around on words with friends or something else to occupy her time. without something like that, she was lible to be approached by any idiot desperate to make a friend or a sounding board for what ever alcohol induced drama they had going on in their lives or to ask her about doing their nails. the latter was even more annoying, because people loved to get free fuckin’ advice and then ask for a friend’s discount later on just because she’d talked to them at a party once. so when the blonde in the bedazzled jeans approached her, she was pretty sure it was gonna be the latter.
“yeah, sure, of course i could do flip-flops and footprints on a manicure–” faust couldn’t help but chuckle. just how corny were people in charming? and did they all have that fuckin’ haircut? “–but why would i want to? why would you want to?” she was pretty sure she already knew the answer and hardly listened as the woman went on to tell her about her upcoming trip to hawaii in a terse tone. looking past the woman, she caught the glance of the first person who would meet her eyes and gave them a get me out of this fucking conversation look, before plastering a forced smile on her face and looking back at the woman who was someone her brother had deemed important’s sister or girlfriend or something. ( @charmingstarter ).
if there is something hector needs to survive (beyond copious amounts of drugs and neverending chaos), it’s interaction. house parties are the source of many things, they provide sustenance in many different ways and all those things necessary for his survival, but above all, they give him people to talk to. what sort of chaos can he wreck havoc if he’s totally alone? (tons, but it’s more fun with an audience!) those houses filled with people letting loose or whatever it is that actual functioning members of society do, they’re like beacons to hector. lit up, all the noise, it’s easy to find when just simply walking around. that’s how he’s found himself at this particular party, no one seemed to question him upon entering and really, he knows how to lie and say he was invited. it’s a little different when most of these parties, as far as hector can gather, are thrown by different, warring crime syndicates that have some tense treaty or whatever—he’s only picked up this information secondhand and he barely paid attention to it because it wasn’t about himself—but if any of the bikers noticed he was out of place, they hadn’t bothered him. so far.
moving easily about the house, he’s found the source of the alcohol quickly, but that’s not his ultimate goal, and that goal can be left unsaid, it’s obvious. drinking can help, especially when mixed with his favorites, but it’s not his preferred way of getting fucked up. he’ll have to search for the best connection in the canaille, but parties are the easiest way, behind nightclubs of which there aren’t any he’s found, to find his favorites; cocaine might as well be snowflakes falling in the californian desert. the twist top on the generic beer that hector didn’t bother to read the label of pops off easily and he’s taking a large swig as he walks through rooms. swallowing grotesquely, he catches the eye of some woman that looks like she’s been cornered. he’s not too self-absorbed to not realize the obvious plea for help so hector starts to close in, catching the tail end of some conversation about manicures and hawaii. the woman in conversational peril is probably a nail lady or whatever it’s called.
hector goes in for the kill. stepping up and looping an arm around the blonde woman, she’s too confused to shove him off quickly so he leans forward, somewhat pinning her in place. “gosh, that sounds like it would look fuckin’ awesome, mija,” hector’s putting on a voice that’s too confident and old-timey mid-atlantic, reminiscent of katharine hepburn if he knew who that was, to show that he’s clearly being a dick, “but i have to wonder.” he turns his head to look at the other woman, leaning even more further but dropping the affectation, “do you happen to do scrotal waxings? i’m in need of some upkeep and i think it’s better to just wax your balls clean. don’t you think, babe?” he looks back at the blonde, smiling innocently to the point it looks devious.
