lord of a dream
The owner of Spades Records had become a Gatsby in their own mind, seeming to hold some kind event monthly and sometimes weekly because they could. The parties had always included those in their own business, as well as those in other industries. They found it ridiculous to have any kind of rivalry between the different businesses - they were all set out to entertain the masses so befriending the others were only fitting. Besides, they were all pretty faces - they could accumulate some nice media attention if they all just sat together.
Inscius had held another event at a cozy little ballroom this time - one that now looked like a club with the decorations. They had a few outfits hidden in their car, unsure just how messy they could get from the sweating dancing bodies and the spilling drinks.. as well as their own ever changing mind. For that particular moment, they felt more inclined to wear the comfort of dark jeans and some basic shoes. Their button up shirt was loose on their frame, the first two buttons undone and their suspenders there to compliment the dark black of the jeans. Their ever present jacket was half on, bunched up around their elbows and leaving their shoulders bare.
The deity was bored. The music was forcing their blood to pick up the pace, but they felt no urge to dance. They scrunched their nose up at their glass, which was empty. Giving a sigh, they peeled themselves away from their booth of chatting musicians to wander over to the bar to get a new drink. They leaned against the counter, their chin on their palm.
Inscius had held another event at a cozy little ballroom this time - one that now looked like a club with the decorations. They had a few outfits hidden in their car, unsure just how messy they could get from the sweating dancing bodies and the spilling drinks.. as well as their own ever changing mind. For that particular moment, they felt more inclined to wear the comfort of dark jeans and some basic shoes. Their button up shirt was loose on their frame, the first two buttons undone and their suspenders there to compliment the dark black of the jeans. Their ever present jacket was half on, bunched up around their elbows and leaving their shoulders bare.
The deity was bored. The music was forcing their blood to pick up the pace, but they felt no urge to dance. They scrunched their nose up at their glass, which was empty. Giving a sigh, they peeled themselves away from their booth of chatting musicians to wander over to the bar to get a new drink. They leaned against the counter, their chin on their palm.

@Claire
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