closed starter for @pilifc
– ODETTE KNEW THERE WAS A PARTY TONIGHT. she also purposely did NOT attend, choosing to spend the evening in the music room with her composition rather than pretend to be civil with a bunch of drunk idiots and consequently do something she might regret – a habit of hers when she drinks, apparently.
she doesn’t know why she picks up the phone when he calls. but it’s not his voice on the other line.
“you’re his sister, right?” whoever’s calling is clearly fucked up. she’s slurring her words and clearly picked the first contact labeled cromwell.
“cousin.”
“oh, either way, you should probably come quick, he’s...”
it doesn’t take long for odette to run out the door, because regardless of what sort of relationship she and lip have, she certainly doesn’t want to see him hurt. and the girl on the other line sounded way too fucking incapacitated to do anything about whatever state lip was in, but if she felt like lip was in trouble, it must have been bad, because, well, lip was sort of always in trouble. in the case that it was more than usual, it must have been really ugly.
so, when she steps through the door, she adamantly chooses not to make eye contact with anyone if she can, scouring like a woman on a mission – she’s one-track minded: she’s going to find lip and get him the hell out of there. odette can’t help but worry, she worries about everything, and she hasn’t given herself time to consider why she’s so worried about lip – after all, they haven’t really spoken in years, but here she is, tearing through the crowd asking everyone if they’ve seen him.
finally, someone says, “yeah, he’s back there, in the bathroom.” odette tears through the hall in that direction, PUSHING stumbling drunks out of her way with reckless abandon before she gets to the doorframe. “lip?” she calls, tentative. if he’s alright, she’s going to kill him.
