<div style="text-align: center">"Hey, man!"<br/>
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The loud and boisterous noise of her brother seemed to swallow the sounds of the rest of the party, even as she drifted off down the hallway. In the kitchen, a few people lingered near the opposite archway that led out into the dining room and then their backyard, the sounds of tasteful music drowning their voices. A few people had clearly abandoned their drinks on the countertops, a few red solo cups askew and strewn throughout their kitchen. Katherine found herself hoping she hadn't been volunteered for clean-up duty with her brother and his friends, but somehow she knew without confirmation that it was likely she'd wind up a part of the group anyway. Their parents would be livid if they came home to their house in any semblance of disarray and the girl was too generous to her brother to let him fair it alone, regardless of how much of it was 'his idea'- and this normally meant more than just after-party clean-up duty.<br/>
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Staring with some curiosity and consideration at the line-up of alcoholic beverages before her, the dirty-blonde about leaped out of her own skin at the sudden familiar tone behind her. The drink that was set and poured in front of her left her nose wrinkled slightly at the smell, her pale green-flecked gaze lifting up and settling with some surprise onto the young man beside her. "Logan." The tone of voice she greets him with isn't unkind, but it isn't the same relaxed voice she'd been using to speak with her brother either. "You know I only stick around crowds like that if I'm getting high." Katherine always managed to feel either guilty or completely irked around her brother's best friend. Either he was being pleasant and acting as another protective older brother to her, or he was teasing the hell out of her. So, she appreciated him, she really did. But he also got on every one of her last nerves, too.<br/>
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"Is this... for me?" She stares at the poured drink with speculation, slender fingers drifting over the outside of the cup as it began to gather perspiration. Without waiting for an actual answer, she picks up the cup and downs a few quick gulps before she gasps a short choke and sets the cup back down. "Jesus. That's not what I needed at all." Blinking with a suddenly heavy-lidded gaze, she grumbles a low complaint about the taste and pushes the cup towards Logan. "I definitely do<i> not</i> want anymore of that. Thank you." Leaning against the countertop, she runs a pale hand through her thick locks and shakes her head. Sniffling, she turns to blink up at him with a more-relaxed poise, hip still heavily leaning on the counter as she adjusts her weight. "Aren't you supposed to be with Matt? He <i>is</i> leaving in a few days and this is, in his words, 'his best last party' until he returns." A slow grin spread across her lips. The heat of the alcohol presses like a solid weight in her belly and she finds herself feeling pleasantly warm.<br/>
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"I think I'm going to have something more tasteful, actually," she adds to herself as she goes about- somewhat clumsily- fixing herself a Shirley Temple. When she takes a sip of it, her face still screws up into an expression of surprised distaste, but quickly settles into a pleased smirk.<i> Much better.</i> It wasn't her best idea, to be high and then begin drinking, but so far she was feeling good. And this was her brother's party. He wouldn't let anything happen to her if she decided to loosen up a little and have some fun. After all, he'd been the one to suggest it to her. Fingers dancing around the lid of her cup, she lets her gaze linger over his features for a moment longer than usual. Her lips part as though she wants to say something, but at that moment, a trio of obviously drunken young men stumble their way into the kitchen.<br/>
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The already small space is dwarfed by their stumbling statures, two immediately moving to refill their cups while the third seems to pause and take in the sight of Katherine where she leaned against the counter. Her jean shorts were cut high along her thighs, revealing an intimate expanse of pale flesh, and the crimson-hued tank she wears is made for the warm weather outside. Not so much as a cover from the wandering eyes of crude young men such as that particular stranger. A hand slides across her shoulders, the blond guy's face suddenly way too close to hers, and she finds herself leaning vicariously away to avoid the alcohol stench of his breath. "Uhm, excuse me," she states in a harsh tone, pressed between the counter and the guy, somehow unable to escape. Either he doesn't hear her or doesn't care, because his weight on her side increases and he breathes a slur of<i> very</i> crude words in her ear.​</div>