[ If Gokudera's seeking assurance, he won't find it from Patsy Stone. But at least he'll find a smoking partner... and in that, she may be able to offer some kind of something.
He'll find himself on the balcony with another chain-smoking ball of nerves who's isolating herself from the rest of the party, privately having an existential crisis over being separated from her own better half — which is a pretty generous way to describe her now-long-lost best friend Edina. The spirited away element at play here is, well, sure, panicking, but— she's survived worse trips than this. This is a literal ball compared to that K-Hole she fell into with Eddy at that one fancy dress party in 1982. Really, her present cosmic displacement is irritating more than anything. Or at least so she's convincing herself to keep some semblance of calm.
Patsy, however, unlike Gokudera, is keeping up that cool facade rather well. The elaborate outfit the fairies magicked up for her does well to lend itself to that air of power, elegance, and control. Her golden chainlink mask hides her age well, to boot, for a woman in her late ▒▓▒'s. And you better bet she fucking fought those old bags to create such an impactful illusion. Patsy Stone doesn't let anyone else dress her, thanks. And certainly not in anything off-brand... Terrified of being spirited away and alone and bewildered or not, her first social event here will not be left up to such apparently chaotic fate. She'll demand at least that much control from the universe. She will always pick her own shoes and light her own cigarettes, that much must stay true no matter what is going on.
Likewise, no matter what's going on and no matter where she is, she'll also take notice of attractive young men. Ahem. Doesn't matter if she can't see his face, she can tell he's hot. Kinda hotter that she can't see his face, really... The cold allure of mystery. The unspoken sexiness of anonymity. ...That also reminds her of that ketamine-riddled fancy dress party in 1982, yup. She quietly observes Gokudera smoking for a few moments, leaning against the railing of the balcony quite comfortably, admiring the way the wind tussles his silver hair. Quite nice. Finally she speaks up as he's lighting up his ???th cigarette, first taking a long drag from her own ???th cigarette, her voice husky and breathy behind the billow of smoke she lets out with a thick, posh London accent. ]
That fag's not really doing the trick, is it, luv?
balcony; tdm
He'll find himself on the balcony with another chain-smoking ball of nerves who's isolating herself from the rest of the party, privately having an existential crisis over being separated from her own better half — which is a pretty generous way to describe her now-long-lost best friend Edina. The spirited away element at play here is, well, sure, panicking, but— she's survived worse trips than this. This is a literal ball compared to that K-Hole she fell into with Eddy at that one fancy dress party in 1982. Really, her present cosmic displacement is irritating more than anything. Or at least so she's convincing herself to keep some semblance of calm.
Patsy, however, unlike Gokudera, is keeping up that cool facade rather well. The elaborate outfit the fairies magicked up for her does well to lend itself to that air of power, elegance, and control. Her golden chainlink mask hides her age well, to boot, for a woman in her late ▒▓▒'s. And you better bet she fucking fought those old bags to create such an impactful illusion. Patsy Stone doesn't let anyone else dress her, thanks. And certainly not in anything off-brand... Terrified of being spirited away and alone and bewildered or not, her first social event here will not be left up to such apparently chaotic fate. She'll demand at least that much control from the universe. She will always pick her own shoes and light her own cigarettes, that much must stay true no matter what is going on.
Likewise, no matter what's going on and no matter where she is, she'll also take notice of attractive young men. Ahem. Doesn't matter if she can't see his face, she can tell he's hot. Kinda hotter that she can't see his face, really... The cold allure of mystery. The unspoken sexiness of anonymity. ...That also reminds her of that ketamine-riddled fancy dress party in 1982, yup. She quietly observes Gokudera smoking for a few moments, leaning against the railing of the balcony quite comfortably, admiring the way the wind tussles his silver hair. Quite nice. Finally she speaks up as he's lighting up his ???th cigarette, first taking a long drag from her own ???th cigarette, her voice husky and breathy behind the billow of smoke she lets out with a thick, posh London accent. ]
That fag's not really doing the trick, is it, luv?