<div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i1161.photobucket.com/albums/q503/Monsterancher/coollogo_com-130151241_zpsimzh1pkq.png">[ img ]</a></div><br/><table width="100%"><tr><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-right:10px;"><span style="color: #E6E9FD"><span style="font-family: Nyala;"><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;">Being ignored was, on most occasions, a good thing for Simon. He liked his peace and when people noticed him that didn't usually end in peace and quite. Actually, people noticing him usually meant a rather boring and drawled out conversation about the weather, the Pizzeria, or, in some instances, people falling over entirely. Seriously, what is up with that? Is standing on a ladder or sitting in front of a computer that strange? There is probably a more logical reason than that, but Simon didn't like to think about them particularly. He preferred thinking of ladders. Ladders were much less complicated. <br/><br/>As Angel began to apologize for her brother's behavior, Simon's eyes followed the boy. Unlike previous encounters, being ignored by an uninvited guest, for once, actually seemed rude. Who would have thought that barging into someone's home and then ignoring the inhabitants completely was rude? Not Simon apparently. As his eyes drifted along with the moving figure, his hand refused to do the same. Instead, it was frozen in place until the lad went out of sight, in which case, Simon casually wiped his hands on his shirt for little to no reason. Manners weren't Blade's forte. How funny,"Not mine either." He muttered under his breathe as he finally turned his head to Angel. After all, you were supposed to look at someone when that talked to you. The thought quickly vanished and Simon turned his attention to the other guests again. <br/><br/>"Thank you." Was the first thing he said in response to their compliment of his home. It seems a little big for one man sometimes but it suits his needs. He couldn't imagine parting with it anyway. "More or less, actually." He had some say in the design, and he did remodel quite a bit when putting in the security system, but other than that, it really wasn't his choice. When married, the choice is rarely yours. "But I'm glad you like it." He commented quickly. <br/><br/>The pair went on to answer his question about their weeks, taking the long route to say "fine" or "good". Vivianne's response in particular caught his ear and he squinted at her with uncertainty. Leaning against the wall, his hands behind his back, he held his expression and responded simply,"Do I?" But of course, his response was muffled by Gregory's explanation of a contract or another and all that mumbo jumbo. Of course that was a good thing, that is his job after all, but less words would have been nice. As a matter of fact, he half zoned out in the middle, the story turning from the man's week to "blah blah blah blah blah". <br/><br/>The host's expression had been erased, being utterly blank as he nodded meaninglessly along to the story being told. That was until Angel asked to be escorted to the kitchen. The words pierced his mindless wondering which caused his head to quickly snap in her direction. Kitchen? Smokey? Oh, that's right, he burnt something. His mind included in that statement.  "Yeah, sure!" He said after a taking a long second to break the sluggish pace in his mind. After which he promptly stood up straight from the wall and started heading down the hall to the kitchen. While doing do, he had placed his hand on Angel's furthest shoulder blade to help guide her in the right direction. <br/><br/>Simon's pace in walking was typically faster than most, so he made a conscious effort to slow down his brisk hike. Which was surprisingly difficult, to his astonishment. But even though it seemed like he'd never make it to the kitchen at the pace they were going, they eventually did, Simon holding open the door for Angel as t hey walked in. The room was clear of any smoke since the window was open, but the odor still lingered. Entering the kitchen himself, two things caught his attention. One being that the radio was still on. It no longer was talking about Fazbears, instead talking about traffic reports and various crashes on such and such road and who cares street. The second thing was that there were three dishes on the counter instead of two. He stepped over to them and noted that the mozzarella sticks weren't burnt after all. That's right, it was stuff at the bottom of the oven that was burning. Oh well, just meant more food. <br/><br/></span></span></span></td><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-left:10px;"><span style="color: #E6E9FD"><span style="font-family: Nyala;"><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;">With the tin foil already on the counter, he covered the remaining dish to keep it hot when the two set up the table. He took his sweet time wrapping it though. This fast paced 10 minute span of time is already exhausting him. To demonstrate the overwhelming amount of stimuli, Simon wanted to grab the crock pot and the mozzarella sticks and then ask Angel to grab the remaining dish and bring it to the table, however, what he ended up doing was turning around to sit on top of the counter and asking,"You're brother, huh?" What the hell is that supposed to mean? What type of question is that? Augh! Maybe this whole dinner party thing wasn't such a good idea after all. He's probably going to be babbling like an idiot by the end of the day. <br/><br/>And speaking of babbling idiots...<br/><br/>Through the open window, the man caught the faint sound of his name being called. At first, he shrugged this off, summing it up to shear amounts of stress. But with his head slightly twitching every time it was called out, Simon eventually got annoyed enough to look out the window. And guess who it was calling out his name? Riley... With no clothes. Well, some clothes, including one sock in particular, but that's beside the point. The point was that there was now a drunk bastard who might as well be naked running around the block trying to find him, and likely will find his house. What was one supposed to do about that? Scoffing as loudly as one could manage, the brunette left the window and instead placed his head squarely on the counter. In actuality, he wanted to bash his face into a bloody pulp on the counter, but resting it there would have to do. After all, some of his brains might get in the food and that wouldn't be very good atall. <br/><br/>Taking as deep of breathes as he could, which were nothing less than audible, the host whispered loudly to himself in a malicious manner,"Whyyyyyyy?" Of all days to have to deal with an old drinking buddy who was piss drunk. Of all the times in the day. Why right this second? As if he didn't have enough on his mind. Thanks Riley, you're a great friend. Neither was Simon, but oh well. <br/><br/>After about half a second of starring too closely at the unrecognizable pattern on the counter, Simon finally lifted his head and stood up straight, running his hands through his hair. He did, in fact note that it was probably strange for Angel to see Simon suddenly throw what one might call a fit in the middle of the kitchen for what seemed like no reason. So, to address this awkwardness, if there was any, he said,"I apologize, Angel. I'm just...- a drunk guy, who happens to be a friend, is probably going to have to stay with us for a while." He turned to her with a now much more composed smile. " At least until he puts some clothes on." He added. He really didn't want to deal with this right now so the sooner he could get him out of here the better. <br/><br/>But until he finds the house, he was fine. "Did you want me to take that? " He gestured to the wine as he walked toward her. "You don't have to set up. Dinner is almost ready so you can talk with the others if you wanted." He offered an affectionate smile. <br/><br/>All he really needed to do was just check some things off his to do list. First thing on that to do list was to finish preparing dinner.</span></span></span></td></tr></table><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i1161.photobucket.com/albums/q503/Monsterancher/coollogo_com-70561129_zpsju0r8ul2.png">[ img ]</a></div><br/><table width="100%"><tr><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-right:10px;"><span style="color: #E6E9FD"><span style="font-family: Nyala;"><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;">When it came to parties, Amanda really tried her best not to arrive early. As a matter of fact, she tried not to arrive on time in order to not look too eager to go. Although she was always excited about parties and hardly failed at attending one, she was always paranoid people would accuse her of being... well, whatever. There are many words in which they could make up, she was sure. She didn't like the idea of gossip and thus, tried to avoid the situation entirely by not giving the whole idea fuel. And she really did try t arrive late to Simon's party, she honestly did. However, this is the first time she ever heard of Simon doing anything outside of Fazbears, so not only was she excited about the party and getting to know her other coworkers, but she was also eager to see what Simon was like at home. Where did he live, what was his house like? What were his hobbies? Did he have a family? She wanted to know it all, and because of the cat inside her that it too curious for her own good, she still arrived on time. Actually, five minutes early. <br/><br/>She didn't see any cars besides what she assumed was Simon's car, which meant no other guests had arrived yet. Which was rather annoying, seeing as she hated being the first one to arrive at any social gathering. So, instead of parking and just arriving like a normal person would, or at least just sit in the car, Amanda decided to drive away. Drive for a few minutes until people arrived. That was her plan. So, she drove out of Simon's driveway and started to drive around. She mainly just looked at the neighborhood in which he lived in, noting that all of the houses were rather fancy. Which was funny because she didn't expect Simon to be someone with a lot of money. At least he didn't act like he did. Or show it. Either that or these gorgeous houses were ridiculously cheap, and if that was the case, she might buy one herself instead of living in a cramped apartment. <br/><br/>She also noticed the neighbourhood was rather... distant. It felt like one giant alley, tucked away behind the crevasses within the suburbs. If Simon didn't print out a map with the invitation, it would have taken her hours to find it. Literally, without living in an alley way, this is as close to it as you can get. You had to go left, then right, the two lefts, then a straight, the another left, and it all felt like one giant spiral leading to his house. What sort of neighbourhood is shaped like that? And it also seemed like she was driving downhill the entire time. It was very odd. But it must be a quite little place to live, which would be a nice contrast to her bustling and loud apartment downtown.<br/><br/></span></span></span></td><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-left:10px;"><span style="color: #E6E9FD"><span style="font-family: Nyala;"><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;">The last thing that Amanda really noticed was that no one was outside. Maybe it was the city girl in her that was expecting to see the street packed with hoards of strangers, but the area seemed so... empty. Granted, the people were probably inside their homes or at work, because why not if you live in a house like that, but it just seemed lonely. But maybe Simon likes being alone. It would explain a lot. <br/><br/>After about ten minutes of driving around aimlessly, Amanda started to head back to Simon's house. There had to be people arriving now. So she took a U-turn and headed back. But to her surprise, a man had suddenly appeared. A man with no pants. More importantly, a man with no pants in the middle of the road. Amanda slowed down but groaned, hoping the drunk bastard would hobble his way into the sidewalk eventually. But being the impatient woman she was, she didn't wait more than five seconds before cranking her steering wheel to the side to avoid the man and speeding past him. She stuck her tongue at the drunk as she passed by, thinking he wouldn't notice since he was clearly looking for something. Probably another beer. <br/><br/>After another short drive, she arrived, yet again, the the man of the hour's home. She parked her car on the street in front of the house and made her way to the door. She could hear the sound of people talking inside before she even knocked, which indicated that people have already arrived. If not then she had some serious questions she needed to ask Simon. So, standing in front of the door with her bell bottom pants and her light coloured tank top, Amanda firmly knocked on the door.</span></span></span></td></tr></table>