It's a Party, Right?

@"Nightstripe"

Marco Petrucci

"Why are we here?" Marco asked in hushed tones to no one in particular, grasping his own arms and shifting uncomfortably. He was strong-armed into going here, to a place he wasn't comfortable with, by a bit of himself. "Iulia, why did we go here? This isn't my sort of place!"

As if possessed, Marco's doubtful and rapidly shaking head suddenly stopped and changed to a grin, but only momentarily. His voice was suddenly silky with inflection as he observed the dancer on stage. "Well, Marco, dear, you'll have to grow up someday, and to spend your day marveling at the beauties of nature is a most grown-up thing to do."

"How can you even speak? You're not supposed to be able to use the body unless I say so!"

"Marco, you know full well that your head is fair game. And you know that when we really want to, we can just force you to be served."

Without warning, Marco found his legs starting to disobey, sending him to the dance floor. This was exactly the sort of funky business from himself that he went to Manta Carlos to put an end to, and while most of the time he could keep himself from taking over, he was just too insistent when it came to certain things to be kept down.

And he was confused with pronouns.

Before he could say anything about it, he was against his will dancing - rather unfittingly expertly - by Mina's side. His body was moving to the beat, deftly dancing along, a honed and practiced dance brimming with energy and raw emotion. However, his face was displaying an entirely different emotion. The voice he had shook as he tersely asked, "Iulia, what the hell are you doing? Someone else get her to stop!"

The doubt shifted into thinly-veiled frustration. All the while, his body still danced, piloted by someone else while Marco's head chastised him. "Marco, grow a spine. I lived through a plague. Doran lived through two wars. The least you could do is dance!"

Marco bowed, and his voice was smooth again. "I apologize for the commotion. You see, I am a shy, spineless man and I am trying to improve myself."

When his head went back to normal level, there was that panic again. He would have left, had the rest of him not suddenly resumed dancing smoothly. "God - Iulia - what the hell am I supposed to be doing?"

@"Nightstripe"

Marco Petrucci

"It is, but if I called it that, I'd get mad at myself," Marco said, not knowing how to explain his situation on the fly. It was always a complicated matter, and it always messed up his use of pronouns. "It... it's a long story."

It took a lot of mental effort to not suddenly jerk away from Mina's hands being placed on his shoulders, and he could internally hear Iulia and Hesus grudgingly approving of his lack of reaction. In all honesty, he could feel a lot of different things, and he knew that he was snickering at himself inside. "I feel very uncomfortable," he said. "I, uh, it's not your fault or anything. I just feel very uncomfortable right now."

Still dancing a little from the waist down, Marco felt himself lose control of his face again. It contorted into a questioning glare directed at no one in particular. "Why should you be, Marco? You're in a very good spot right now!"

"I didn't mean to be in this spot!" he replied to himself in hushed tones. Surely this person would be weirded out at this point, having had to observe his quarrel with himself.

His voice became silky smooth and sinister, threatening himself. "She's a beautiful lady, Marco. If you mess this up I will make sure you regret it."

"Iulia, this is not about you - this is about the boy growing a pair."

"I know, Hesus, which is why I'm not completely taking over."

"Silence."

Marco fell silent with an awkward grin on his face, as if apologetic toward Mina. He whispered to himself, "Thanks, Doran."

"I, uh, sorry about that. I'll try to keep myself in check," he said, nodding solemnly and fidgeting. He still didn't know what he was supposed to be doing here, and none of him was helping.

@"Nightstripe"

Marco Petrucci

Great. Now she was offended.

"See what you did?" Marco hissed to himself, frustration evident in his features. When no one responded, both internally and externally, he hissed again, "Now you stay silent. Great."

He regained enough composure to keep his legs and lower body in check. There wasn't much he could do except bow solemnly in apology. "I'm sorry... I was talking to myself too much. I could - I could explain, but it's a bit of a weird story."

The night wasn't going well in the slightest, as far as he could tell. "Actually, a drink would be great. As drunk as I can get. I am not equipped to process anything that's going on right now."

Marco Petrucci

"Ah, God -"

"- don't call out to God in this situation, boy -"

"- shut up, Iulia -"

"-oh, you've finally grown enough of a spine to tell me to stay silent! Very well then."

Marco could only feel his palm slap onto his face as he followed suit behind Mina and joined her at the bar. He let out a sigh and sat down, unsure what to drink. He never was really much of a drinker, and to be honest, he didn't exactly want to test the limits of his liver. Hesus drank a lot, and so did Iulia, which meant he'd have a bit of inherited tolerance.

Then again, their presence meant that in the case he went blackout drunk, someone else would pilot the body.

He took the nearest glass - which was luckily just whiskey, and took a tentative sip. It wasn't for fear of getting drugged, as he knew no one would go through the effort of drugging him anyway. He just didn't want to get tipsy too quickly. "I, uh, again, sorry about that. I've told myself to stop interrupting myself for a bit."

Marco took another sip, deeper this time, relishing the burning sensation of his cells dying. With the alcohol went his inhibitions, bit by bit being erased. "I'm Marco. Thanks for the drinks, lady. You are..?"

Marco Petrucci

"Maybe it's because other people don't have other people living in their head like a damned timeshare," groaned Marco, ignoring his usual insecurities for favor of getting another drink. Another small sip of whiskey went down his throat. He could feel his shyness dissolve into a bitter piece of organic matter in his belly.

He raised his hand in mild frustration, not exactly aware that whiskey was a lot stronger than he thought. Neither did his other selves want to share that knowledge. They just giggled internally, and he waved them away. "Stop that! Stop laughing!"

Marco leaned in closer to Mina and began to whisper. "See, I look down on myself. All of me. I know it. But someday, I'm going to find a way to cut the other people out of me. You just wait. And then I'll come back here."