. eager eyes

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There was nothing, absolutely nothing that she hated more than Cake vodka. The assumption otherwise, usually was enough to send her into a bratty frenzy. Such tantrums were not foreign, not in the slightest, her demand for getting whatever she wanted often loud and more obnoxious than people around her cared to admit. Her fathers had always found it slightly endearing, and the lack of legitimate friends in her arsenal should have attested to that fact. Perhaps that was what gave her such internet infamy, her unadultered ability to keep bragging. No one had ever honed the virtues of patience and modesty. "Literally, Nate, get out of my face. I don't want anymore goo fun sing or whatever that is. Like, gross, go away, I don't want it!" Her eyes, dark like her hair, nearly roll in the back of her head as she sinks into the cushions of the couch. As promised, she is wearing a Hello Kitty v-neck, not tight enough to be considered anything but vaguely slopping. The leggings though, on the sticks she often disguised as legs, did not leave much to the imagination. It had thrilled her earlier in the evening, pulling them up and over like a second skin, blushing to herself that she lacked any sort of underwear. Yes, India was still young enough for these things to make her blush. Perhaps not so young, but inexperienced. That was the biggest secret she knew to carry, that there had never been boy (nor girl), to peel back whatever designer layers she stacked on one another. Her eyes slipped closed, her breath reeking of vodka she hated and chinese food she loved. It would be, no matter how savvy she might have seemed, that she didn't know how to touch herself properly, and she thoroughly missed out on whatever it was that Maggie constantly bragged about and what India only pretended to know about. "You smell like boy." music mr. brightside - the killers. location nate's apt. notes go away

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Nate had not banked on this being a competition. Wielding ivory chopsticks with the expertise of someone who had been to Sichuan first at the formative age of six, he deftly swooped up the last of the noodles from the carton that was in his other hand, ignoring the slight spin of the room as he slurped down the remnants of his portion. He'd watched her drinking like a hawk, knowing she'd get drunker than him more quickly, knowing even that she was not as worldly as she pretended to be. The responsible decision would have been to cut her off some time ago, but he'd opted to match her drinks two for one, every vodka lemonade she drank being matched by a healthy dose of bourbon. So she might have been drunk, but that was hardly his responsibility - after all, he was too. He dropped the carton onto the coffee table, leaning back against the couch behind him. The floor was hard under them but he couldn't bring himself to move up onto the couch itself, instead running a hand through dishevelled hair, pulling up the sleeves of his henley shirt like he was about to get down to business. "Fine, don't eat anymore. Though I wasn't kidding-- you should get fat, you'd carry it in curves." He grinned at her, inwardly relieved that at least real conversations couldn't be hacked. "Come here." With a soft grip but firm movement he slipped a hand into the crook of her arm, her leggings against hardwood floor making her easier to pull into him. "Jesus, you weigh nothing at all. Here, get up, I want to see how easy you are to lift up." What she said next was a sharp reminder of her age, and a subtle clue that she maybe wasn't as experienced as she had lead on. The fact that this was certainly untrue of his sister, who had most likely done more than she had ever let him know about, had, he realized, led him to assume that she too was no saint. The temptation of lifting her had already brought him to his feet, but now he was moved by quite different emotional motivation - brotherly affection. He held out a hand for her to take. "C'mere kiddo, let's get you to bed," he said, as if she alone had been drinking. In truth, had he maybe drank less then he might have handled this a little more smoothly, and disguised his true thoughts a little more convincingly. Certainly would have managed to be less hypocritical. "You're drunk, you're gonna get me in so much shit! Do you want a ride home or to crash in my bed? You can borrow a t-shirt and I'll take the spare room." MUSIC: silence, i just woke up! NOTES: ily.