It’s been an hour into the party at this point, his mask already half way up his face for the large amount of fries he’s been consuming. He had taken pictures, lots of pictures. It was a whole lot easier to take them when most people were dancing. One amusing thing he found was that not being able to hear the music made everyone’s dance move seemed stupid. Funny, but very stupid.
He caught sight of a Batman walking pass him, he threw the guy a thumbs up, grinning when he got a shooting web motion in return. His eyes continued to scan the room, landing on the bar before walking over. Waving at the bartender, he cleared his throat and nodded. “Can I get a beer?” He asked along with his hand.
The man eyed him with a brow arched. “ID.”
He frowned. “I’m Twenty-five.”
The man continued to stare, now with his arms crossed. “ID.”
Kyle felt a vein popped on his neck. “Are you kidding me? I’m freaking twenty-five! Fine! You want ID?” He reached into the pocket of his spandex, digging inside and froze. “Shit,” he murmured, realizing that he had left the card at home.
He closed his eyes, (not that the man could see), and turned to the man, mumbling lowly. “Get me a can of coke,” he mumbled before hitting the counter. “Make that two! Two cans!” He snapped with two fingers up.
After he grabbed the two cold cans, he huffed, decided to step out of the lame party. Once he got out, he sucked in a deep breath of the late night’s air, just to be attacked by the smell of cancer. He let out a yelp of disgust, looking around for the culprit before spotting her, cancer in hand and sitting on the steps.
“Hey! You with the cancer stick!” He marched up to the girl, kneeling down with annoyance. “Do you know how shitty those things are?” He shout with his hands moving frantically.
