Post by kyrie fox on Dec 17, 2010 10:29:28 GMT -5
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I have five clocks in my life
Hinako had been a ditz in the first trimester of school. Her after their final reviews hadn’t changed that. She sat just across the table, wearing a loud crimson halter-top that bore shoulders that Kyrie had always found too gaunt to be exposed. Never mind that it was almost ten below and she’d forgone a scarf, the spring jacket she’d thrown on hadn’t looked very warm either. Her black hair now had a sporty stripe of maroon streaked across too long bangs but otherwise had remained the same rolling wave of black. She’d always looked like a bit player in one of those cliché yakuza movies, the female lead that was infallibly useless and ended up a hostage no matter what safeguard. But that would be mean to say aloud wouldn’t it? No. End of the semester reviews had not changed the girl very much; she was still the quirky, radioactive counter girl who had made it her life’s work to see that Kyrie was thoroughly given ample opportunity to test out her newfound freedom. Kyrie didn’t think she’d ever encounter a day where she would fear an invitation to a party so much…
As of two hours ago the foreigner had fervently wished she had stayed home and feigned illness like she’d planned to. It wouldn’t have been a total lie. She could say for sure that the idea of being surrounded by five women, only one of whom she knew beyond their first name, who were all getting flat out drunk made her nauseas. Hinako knew she didn’t approve, or rather, couldn’t understand heavy drinking. Hell, she liked a drink just like any other girl but so much of it that her inhibitions were lowered was out of the question. If she was going to cut loose she wanted to be in control of just how loose she ended up getting. Waking up beside some stranger tomorrow morning was not conducive to a healthy mental state, or a clean criminal record.
She hadn’t wanted to come but knowing that even without her that the girl would drink still until she pickled her brain whether or not Kyrie played chaperone and designated driver, had won out against her reluctance to surround herself with strange women for an evening she could spend comfortably at home, ignorant and virtually blameless to whatever plight they suffered in her absence. But damn it if she didn’t start guilt tripping halfway through a turkey sandwich and send a return call to Hinako affirming that she could count on her to keep them safe and hopefully out of trouble. So far she wasn’t sure she was succeeding in either aforementioned categories. Not when two of them were already fall down drunk and screaming about karaoke, the other three were all on different levels of intoxicated but not far from their own realms of blissful inebriation.
Oh, and did she mention that they were splurging? Apparently their final reviews had been rigorous enough to demand a higher quality of entertainment and where else to go for that than Roppongi? So they’d all piled into her car earlier that evening and driven all the way from Shinjuku to the highlight of Japan’s nightlife hotspot. Kyrie might’ve been interested in what she was seeing for the first time, night clubs all echoing with the throaty pulse of music, trendy teens and adults migrating from one facility to another, lights everywhere. It was beautiful but she couldn’t enjoy it, not when she was trying to keep one of her drunken charges – whose name sounded like Attila and she might as well have been a Hun considering how rowdy she was – from spilling her drink down the front of her buxom friend. Yep, tonight was turning out wonderfully.
By some miracle Hinako had been coherent enough to lead them to yet another bar though its atmosphere differed from the previous ones. The interior was a little more refined, the ambiance not quite as chaotic. Music streamed through the lounge but it wasn’t overwhelming, her ears were thankful. It looked more like a restaurant than any club she’d visited so far and while they were seated in their own little booth she couldn’t shake the unease creeping down her spine. She’d glimpsed other booths and hadn’t been quite sure what she was seeing. Men and women were walking, mingling and comfortably drinking together. It wouldn’t have struck her as weird if some of them weren’t wearing those shiny little plastic tags indicating they were employees. One pair were dangerously close to kissing what looked to be a customer who appeared almost half as drunk as some of the girls in Kyrie’s party. Another pair was kissing each other.
Now as she was sat down in their cubicle a litany was playing itself brokenly in her mind: Why did I agree to this?
Why indeed.
TAGGED open;
MUSIC just dance – lady gaga;
WORDS 814;
NOTES pls don't be intimidated by lengthy opening post;
TEMPLATE BY KYRIE FOX
And only ones got the time right
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