where : wonderland status : open
Wes was spiraling - in true Wes fashion, of course. Because when things went wrong, it’s what he’d always done. Someone who’d spent too much money on college degrees might say it’s some sort of coping mechanism - that terrible things don’t seem so terrible when you’re blowing yourself up like a supernova in front of everyone for their amusement. Ever since he was a kid, it’s how he handled everything - something went wrong? Make something go worse. Which is probably why he’s not holed up, licking his wounds - no, he’s practically half naked in Wonderland, because a mesh shirt definitely doesn’t count as a shirt, but it’s the only thing he’s wearing on his torso beyond the dark bruising over his ribs from that night, a half full glass of something pink and fruity in his hand as he’s dancing in the midst of people he doesn’t know. He’s been there for hours now - and if he didn’t know everyone behind the bar, he probably would have been cut off, but he’s good at sweet talking. At some point, he’d acquired glitter and lip gloss - probably from some woman he’d danced with and subsequently kissed, but he couldn’t quite remember - and now he was draining the rest of his glass before turning off, making his way back over to the bar. “Can I get another round?” he hums, one eyebrow lifting as a bead of sweat runs down his temple. “In fact, make that for all of my friends here-” His arms thrust out, gesturing to everyone that’s currently standing at the bar. “Have to give the masses a reason to love me.”
