Archibald senior had just been dragged out by the scruff of the neck. But Jason didn’t really care and hadn’t paid a jot of attention to the whole thing. Gossip Girl would undoubtedly fill him in later. Right now his attention was on one Benji Howell, and the fact that his arm was draped around the waist of Scarlett Vandervort as they made --what he was sure would be exceedingly polite-- conversation with Ms Fitzherbert.
It mildly disgusted him, watching them laugh and smile together. His scowl deepened as he drained the last of his third scotch and placed the glass on the tray of a passing waiter. He was definitely drunk now, and it still wasn’t enough for him to forget about her presence, or the fact that some no name neanderthal had his arm around her waist.
Fuck it, he was way too sober for this. He needed another drink.
He’d just started moving through the crowd towards the bar when he saw Howells hand, slipping downwards and definitely into ass territory and pulling Scarlett to him as they walked away from Ms Fitzherbert, and then he leaned in and kissed her. It was all a bit of a blur after that, his drunk brain thoroughly over ruling any part of him that was even slightly sober.
His hand hurt, and Benji Howell was sprawled on the marble floor, holding his now bleeding nose with a bewildered look on his stupid face. His pulse thundered in his ears, but he slowly became aware of the people watching him, again.
