<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/2s68xtH.jpeg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Emma Grey<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Kitchen<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Black jacket, Black top, Belt, Jeans, Sneakers<br/><strong>Content Warning</strong>: None<br/><strong>Optional</strong><br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Lance, Vicki, Nick<br/><hr/>Emma finished her drink with all the haste of a barfly hearing the words "Last call." Ice clinked around the empty glass as she swirled it, as if there might somehow be a few drops of Patrón hiding somewhere underneath the cubes. Convinced that there was nothing left to salvage from her drink, Emma pushed it forward back toward Lance for a refill. She was going to need to cram herself full of all the 'courage' that she could get.<br/><br/>A light snicker followed. "<strong>You know, I'm kind of a serial killer myself</strong>," Emma happily quipped in response to Vicki's professed occupation. "<strong>I killed that one over there</strong>." Emma's head nodded in the direction of Chloe, who seemed just as busy as the Disney Princess with making sure everyone got settled in. It didn't take much detective work to figure out that the two were friends -- and possibly more. With all the paranoid legal crap that it took to get in here, Emma had a feeling that there were only a few people that Izzy trusted to pass out invites.<br/><br/>It also didn't take much deduction to figure out what Vicki's<em>actual</em>profession was. Let's just say that only a certain type of person walked around with plates of pot brownies in their purse. Emma held up a hand to politely decline both offerings left by the dealer. "<strong>No thank you. Not really my thing.</strong>" It wasn't that Emma wasn't into the stuff, she just wasn't into the kind of high that edibles brought with them. All it would take is a brownie or two and Emma would be sprawled out on the couch in a few hours, staring at the ceiling while too stoned to move. Emma chased after highs that were a little more...<em>active</em>.<br/><br/>Something that Lance said shifted the mood. He called the party by what it was: an orgy. Fuck. Emma silently ran a hand through her hair and bit onto a corner of her bottom lip. She had joked around with herself since accepting the invite, but hearing another person say it out loud made reality fall onto Emma's lap like a ton of bricks. Emma wasn't a stranger to the bedroom by any stretch of the imagination, but<em>an orgy</em>?<br/><br/>Ok, so<em>maybe</em>all the guys here were hot enough that Emma would have gone home with any one of them under other circumstances if things clicked or they just happened to catch Emma when she felt a little lonelier than usual. Hell, even Chloe might be fun to chase after to see if there was any kind of connection that went beyond two people just keeping each other company at work. And then there was Izzy. Could you even imagine that? God, what she wouldn't give to go back to high school just so she could gloat about that particular conquest in front of those guys that worshiped her. Playing for the other team just to throw a mental middle finger at some people from her past? Yeah, Emma was definitely not above something like that.<br/><br/>Emma pulled out the phone that peeked out of the back pocket of her jeans. The power clicked on. Emma stared down at the time, watching seconds tick by. There was a choice to make: stay here, get fucked up, party with celebrities, and probably spend the night fucking half the people here or go home, cook some pizza bagels, and browse through Netflix for thirty minutes until she gave up and settled for something.<br/><br/>...When she put it that way, it really wasn't much of a choice.<br/><br/>The phone got tucked back into her pocket and Emma looked back up at Lance with a soft smile. A small kiss of red was on her cheeks. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was something that she was thinking about. "<strong>Sorry. This is just...<em>a lot</em>, you know? I'm just the girl that paints on the faces of people like this.</strong>" She gave a flick and a wave of her wrist to indicate rest of the partygoers. "<strong>Make the pretty ones prettier, put together a couple of monsters, make the ones that the monster kills look dead. You know, background stuff.</strong>" Emma had never really been in the spotlight before. Sure, she flirted her way into a couple of beds, but she was always the side chick that you hid instead of the girlfriend that you flaunted. "<strong>I guess I'm just kind of nervous. Until thirty minutes ago, I wasn't even convinced that this kind of stuff actually went on behind closed doors. It feels so weird.</strong>"