ArchivedLogs:Party Forever

Party Forever
Dramatis Personae Hive, Tag
In Absentia	2016-02-08 "{Better to start the year off with -- not. Undead.}"
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Media Room - Lower East Side
Though this sound-proofed room comes equipped with the same complement of bright airy windows as most of the rest of the rooms around here, it /also/ comes with thick heavy blackout curtains for them, easily drawn to reduce the glare on the myriad screens around the place. The place of honor in the room goes to an enormous flatscreen television mounted on one wall; beneath there are a number of video game consoles hooked up to it and shelving to either side of the television holds an assortment of DVDs on the right and an assortment of video games on the left. There's plentiful seating with views of the television, in the form of wide microsuede couches and enormous squishy beanbags (plenty big enough to share) scattered around the floor. A mini-fridge up here stands beside one cabinet, both often kept stocked with snacks and (generally highly caffeinated) drinks. Across to the other side of the room there are comfortable armchairs and smaller tables, with plenty of outlets available for those who want to plug their computers in and work or play. Four common-use desktops sit on desks against the wall, accessible to any resident with a login. It's cheerful in the media room, red paper-shaded string lights wound around the walls and glittering red and gold glass flowers on the tables. There are large stuffed monkeys resting on some of the beanbags -- a couple of them are wearing Panthers or Broncos jerseys, one of them holding a plush football. The remnants of a party is scattered around in here -- plastic cups, bowls that once held chips or rice cakes, napkins, empty boxes of mochi, dishes. A soundly asleep dark-haired young man curled up in a beanbag under an exploding TARDIS blanket with a jersey-clad monkey hugged tight in his arm. Hive is drifting through the room, kind of slow. Dressed in scuffed old jeans, an plain sleeveless undershirt under a plain grey sweatshirt, he's kind of slow in the process of gathering bottles and cans into a bag for recycling. Tag's thoughts preceed him, a vague cloud of hope and worry and random scraps of song almost too short to identify. He pokes his head into the room, shoulder-length hair hanging loose and glossy and still a touch damp, scarlet with streaks of bright metallic gold. He's dressed in a red satin Mandarin tunic covered with abstract auspicious embroidery in black and gold, and black trousers with the same motif in red and gold. The cartoon monkeys cavorting over his green socks clash mildly with the rest of his person. "{Hey,}" in Mandarin, with a bright smile, "{happy New Year!}" He pads over and curls an arm around the taller man. "{Want a hand?}" Hive switches his bag into one hand, bottles rattling in it. His other arm curls around Tag's shoulders with a firm squeeze. "{Happy New Year,}" he replies, his own Mandarin rougher, kind of groggy, kind of raspy. "{Please. I haven't recovered from celebrating /our/ most important /American/ festival.}" "{Did your team win?}" Tag's head thumps gently against Hive's shoulder before he pulls away. "{Did you even /have/ a team?}" Some of the random bits of song in his mind coalesce into Beyonce's "Formation." He dropped in often enough the previous night to have caught the half-time show. Picking up the largest empty bowl he sees, he starts stacking others into it. "{Hopefully you'll be recovered in time to party some more, tonight.}" "{What. My team? I didn't have a team. I did win hella money, though.}" A quick smile plays on Hive's lips. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, tapping at it for a moment; shortly thereafter, the "Formation" video begins to play on the large screen. "{Oh shit more partying, right. Partying for goddamn ever. I don't know if I can handle this much partying. My brain recovers slow. For more food though, definitely.}" He plucks up another can, drops it slowly into his bag. "{I'll /probably/ be recovered in time to cook for my New Year party.}" Tag brightens visibly all over when the video starts, even before turning to look at the screen. When he returns to clearing the table, he's doing it at a jaunty bounce in time to the music. "{You don't have to party. Can just eat--we have plenty to eat already but Tian-shin's going to cook more.}" << {I wish she /wouldn't/. I can do it, and she's so stressed--} >> The internal monolog breaks off when he spots the sleeping man on the beanbag, raising one hand to stifle his startled yelp. "{Cooking's probably a nice break from lawyering, honestly. Better to start the year off with -- not. Undead.}" Hive sets the bag down beside a couch, glancing over towards Tag when the other man yelps. His brows lift, lips twisting to one side. "... that's just Dan. He's not waking up for a while yet. Football got intense. Too much Sapporo. {You know how it is.} I should probably make breakfast. {He'll be up /eventually/. You want?}" Tag chews on his lower lip. "{I guess so. She likes it--cooking...}" << {Not just undead she needs a break from.} >> The thought comes with an oddly fragmented sense-memory: slick sterile surfaces, the sharp scent of disinfectant, soft mechanical chirps. He pushes it aside with a will and continues the clean-up. "{Yeah, I'd love some breakfast, and I got the day off anyway. Help you prep if you want.}"