one night of magic rush

[blyat]

WHO: Cain, Prompto, Hideki Maeda, and you!
WHERE: The popular Asylum club.
WHEN: Night of October 26.
WHAT: Cain and Prompto's joint birthdays!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Beyond drinking/smoking, general wild party behavior, and fake friendship, there shouldn't be much. Will update as needed.


[Set deep in the downtown of New Amsterdam's entertainment district is Asylum, arguably the most popular club in the city. The exterior is cool steel beams and tasteful futuristic architecture with a long line down the corridor, suited bouncers posed at the entrance all armed with a virtual guest list. Its interior is fashioned with bright, colorful lighting dynamic to the music of the infamous DJ Semicolon, high ceilings and acoustic sounds to lend that feeling of a constant full-body hum. Any partygoers on the guest list for this event will be funneled toward the VIP section. They will have received an invitation a few days prior via their Cooltalk profiles. Jason is specifically blacklisted, sorry buddy.

DANCE YOUR HEART OUT. Nearly impossible to book without deep pockets or wide-reaching connections, Semicolon is at the top of their game mixing popular contemporary hits with Whitney Houston's classics. From song to song, Semicolon provides a unique and talented contrast of the slow to the energetic, so no matter your dancing style, you'll find something to move you on the dance floor.

DROWN YOUR... LIVER. Courtesy of the party's host, Hideki Maeda, the VIP section's private bar will provide an ever-flowing river of your favorite expensive high-proof alcohol. Pick your poison.

CHILL OUT. Tired on your feet from too much dancing, or just need a break from the packed atmosphere? There are plenty of comfortable areas where you can relax and take it easy until you're ready to get back out there. The lights around this area cycle through different colors in reflection of Semicolon's performance set, so a slower song might lend toward romantic shades of red while a faster-paced song is brighter blue.

SMOKE, EAT & MINGLE. Asylum will be serving real, fresh meat at this party, so enjoy that luxury while it lasts. There is also an outdoor area with a beautiful view over the city itself if you want to take your vape pen out there for a smoke, just get some air, or see who's around for a chat.]

Comments

[verselet]

[While Prompto busies himself with wiggling out of the jacket they had gone to such lengths to find, V can’t help but raise a brow at the sight as he moves again to the railing. A hip leans against it as he considers the other, a little pleased at what he chooses to take as a compliment.]

It wasn’t terribly related to your actual birthday, but I saw an opportunity that I couldn’t ignore. Still, I’m glad you enjoyed it, even if it wasn’t the full poem.

[He places his cane down, leaning against the railing, as well.]

Consider it a... [Motions vaguely with a hand.] ...birthday present, since I didn’t get you anything else.

[mercurio]

Feels like you just want an excuse to say poems whenever.

[picking up after himself, prompto tries to sit up straighter. no matter how mysterious v (consciously or unconsciously) tries to paint himself as, there's clearly that layer of him being a big nerd over his favored hobby: poetry.]

[prompto can appreciate that in others. noctis and video games, ignis and cooking, gladio and camping. he really can't say much, though, for he is—after all—deep into photography.]

It's a good present, so thanks. Y'gonna be reciting a lot of poems in the apartment? I'd be down.

[verselet]

[V won’t give so much as a shrug at that assumption — however correct it might be. Not that it’s particularly difficult to ascertain; Prompto should be well aware of his proclivity to slip quotes in now and again, if not complete verses in conversation, based on nothing more than a passing whim.

He’s right, V’s definitely something of a poetry nerd, no matter how taciturn of a picture he usually paints.]

Are you saying you want to be an audience? If you’re interested, why would I say no?

[mercurio]

[as per usual, there's something about the way prompto sees this friendship that has him reaching over and trying to swat at v. he doesn't really manage, losing his balance easily to the world spinning while still seating.]

[the attempt was there, at least.]

Roommate tradition! [he may have had his fair share of drinks, but he's definitely into this idea, and he'll somehow remember it while sober] Roommate tradition!

[this your life now]

[verselet]

[The swat is far from landing, though it does motivate V to pick up his cane again and prod at Prompto's shoulder with it. It's equal parts to keep him from kneeling over face-first onto the ground, and to tease him.]

I haven't been living with you for a week, and you're already trying to instill traditions? [prod] You might be getting ahead of yourself.

[Besides, V doesn't know how to "roommate". What's the point of a tradition, if he can just recite a line or two to keep Prompto's curiosity fed whenever he needs it?]

[mercurio]

Listen, [he starts] traditions are ... necessary for bonding and for roomies not to get all sour-y on each other. [this makes great sense, he's talking out of his ass.]

[he swats the cane away, not realizing it's meant to help him]

Besides!

[this is already an idea in his head, there's no backing out. prompto opens his mouth as if to say something, hand up with a finger raised as if here be his ultimate rebuttal. except - silence, a wide lean back onto the couch, finger still up.]

Besides, the more you poetry the better person you'll be.

[okay, he's reached a mildly sleepy/drunk state of mind.]

[verselet]

[He doesn’t think any of it makes much sense. His cane is not deterred even when Prompto swats it away, just planting it again on his shoulder.]

Is that right?

[The more you poetry, the better person you’ll be. Prompto says something so ridiculous with the confidence that only a drunk person can exude, it’s hard not to be impressed. An interesting concept, if not altogether wrong.]

If only that were the case. You can be a diligent purveyor of poetry and still be a bad person.

[He presses against Prompto with his cane one final time before finally relenting. It falls parallel to his side.]

But like I said, I will read to you, if that’s what you want. Tradition notwithstanding.

[mercurio]

[the constant pressing with the cane onto his shoulder seems to tap at a more subconscious part of himself, and prompto does—finally—seem to get the hint and keeps himself against the cushions and bench, little of an attempt to move away from in at any point in the near future. he crumples up his jacket into a ball, pushing his hands into its creases, and lets it sit as is on his lap.]

[v is talking and prompto is basically not paying a lot of attention.]

Y'know the tradition will become you reading stuff, right? I thought you knew 'em by memory, though... kinda loses the magic.

[that's disappointment in his voice, but also his brain is muddled by the alcohol.]

—are you havin' fun?

[prompto did invite him, so...]

[verselet]

[He can tell his words don't stick, even a slightly more personal admittance of poetry and how it relates to being a good (or bad) person. But V isn't offended; he isn't even surprised, and he crosses his arms against his chest.]

William Blake is memorized. [Though he still misses the feel of a leather-bound book weighted against his hands, the fine tooth of a page as he turned each one. It isn't the same, even reading from memory.] But I'm not an endless fount of literary knowledge, sorry to disappoint. I'll have to read to you anything else, from any other author.

[Is he having fun, though? A shrug of his shoulders.]

I don't often go to parties. [Ever.] I told you I wasn't suited for them. But it could be worse. It's... interesting, being here.

[Ill-suited as V is to rowdiness and activities made for extroverts, it's still a chance to learn about this world. Experience one side of what it has to offer. He can't say that he was ever bored.]

[mercurio]

[that just means that there's a promise for v to read poetry to prompto at later points into the future, something which he won't be complaining about nor be picky about—whether v reads or recites something from memory. it's the same conduit, after all, and it's the man's delivery which has prompto so full of a feeling he can't quite convey, nothing else.]

[so he just sits here, attention on v, because that's all his primitive monkey brain can do without exerting too much energy.]

Well, you can just not go to any other party. Remind me not to throw y'one for your birthday. Get you instead a mic and a crowd to recite poems to, yeah?

[verselet]

Fair enough and easily done. Better than any birthday party that anyone could throw.

[Not that he’s had many of those in his lifetime, either.]

Not to discount what Hideki’s done for you today. It’s an impressive showing.

[Of both influence and money, but he keeps that much to himself. V leans an elbow onto the railing, turning his body a bit so he can see the expanse of New Amsterdam and all its impossibly tall buildings, like teeth biting into the sky.]

And in the end, it doesn’t matter how much fun the guests are having. Only that the birthday boys have their time to shine.

[mercurio]

Hmm.

[he agrees, in a sleepy sort of way, as if his body finally realized how soft these cushions are and how very comfortable they are. it's almost like they could be the perfect spot for a quick nap—and so prompto shifts and picks up his legs, til he's leaning against his side and he's basically curling onto himself, jacket a light defense against the cold that will later settle over his arms.]

's been fun, even if it could just have been a pool party with toast and juice. [clearly, prompto has had high standards for what parties are] Could y'wake me up in like some five mins?

[verselet]

[He lifts a brow. He's quickly losing Prompto to sleep, heard in his voice and seen in the way his body language is curling inwards to repose.]

Trust me with your sleep as much as you can trust me with your jacket.

[Another lean onto the railing, the breeze carrying away his words. His meaning purposefully goes both ways.]