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Staring over the rim of her glass, she wasn’t even sure how many she’d had now, but it was taking the edge off. Staring at the people packed into the lounge as the faint delicate of the ice tapping on the edge of the glass was drowned out. There had truly been a mix of emotions tonight in the aftermath of funeral that never happened. There was fear, panic, anger, grief, confusion. But the one that no one else seemed to share was amusement.
She’d done as her mother and father had asked, she’d shown up, she’d even gone as far as to pretend to care ( that was her own theatrics not suggest by her parents ), but now the novelty of the whole night was starting to wear thin and she just wanted to return home. Her head turned ever so slightly as the glass drew nearer to her lips, this one didn’t smell as strong as the others she’d had, it was probably because her flask was now empty. Reaching down to her bag she felt around for her flask only to find it was missing. Shit. Rocking her body forth she was about to get up to retrieve the thing when a flash of curled hair collapsed next to her, pulling Vi back down into the sofa.
“Certainly not a dull moment in this ridiculous town. Where have you been?” It was a unique relationship she had with the oddity sat beside her, not friends because she didn’t really have them, but she supposed this was the closest thing to it. It was the first time that Vi had seen Freya all night, had she been here at the bar? Or was she perhaps at the funeral home earlier and been at the lounge as long as she had herself. Gods she should stop drinking. It’s not like anyone was going to stop her, between who she was and the fact that she could claim she was grieving, it was a free pass.
“Gettin’ high with Patch,” Freya admitted with a light giggle - unable to help herself, despite the situation. When he’d swooped in with the promise of semi-cold beers and bud, the redhead hadn’t hesitated to skip out on the chaos and the drama, enjoying her habit of over-indulging. If it wasn’t chasing Mason around the town, competing to see who could flirt with the prettiest girls, it was Patch urging Freya down the path of bad influence. And the redhead loved every moment of it - but she liked the chance she got to stare adoringly at Vi, too. She liked the way being around the blonde made her feel, like she was apart of something exclusive, elegant.
The giggle was short-lived as Freya allowed herself to sink further into the couch, close to Vi as her friend would allow it. Sometimes, you had to be firm with Freya, and her chatty, clingy ability to take up space and the energy of a room. “I’m glad you’re here,” She admitted, peeking around at the others in stages of partying, or grieving. Freya easily felt lost in crowds, but someone like Violet prevented her from losing too much of her awareness in a room of people. “Are you okay? Like, after everything? Did it freak you out, too? I don’t even know what to think, but if I didn’t believe in ghosts before, I sure as hell do now.”












