@"Poptart"
Loud music, music that he could feel the vibrations from, was something that always put Clarence in a nice, dazed state. Got his thoughts to slow down a little, if only a little... and he'd needed that lately, more and more, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself most days. Parties were a damn escape and chore all at the same time. Chatter at people, dance a bit, drink, repeat.
Neon lights swirled across the floor, walls, and Clarence's form. He sank down further in his chair, making vague noises of recognition at the conversations that were going on around and presumably at him. Maybe it was time for a break from the ballroom after all, time to slip away somewhere a little less crowded, as nice as the thrumming vibrations were. They'd follow him across the house anyway, albeit milder.
Clarence stood, brushing off the whines of those at his table wondering where their host was going. Gave a dismissive hand wave, muttered something. No more complaints. The boy smiled and strode off, satisfied he wouldn't be bothered by that particular cluster of people, at least. He wasn't feeling antisocial or anything- sometimes you just needed to... rotate people around, nothing personal to them! Besides, they weren't really friends, were they? Any of them? Wasn't he more of a showcase to gawk at, as much as they were accesories? Whatever. No need to get philosophical. Didn't think I drank that much...
Clarence soon found himself in the sitting room. Not too many people, not too little, which suited him well enough. He offered casual greetings to a few people, most of which were too drunk to really try to get overly talkative in return (probably in here to cool off), but mostly made a beeline for the collection of sofas. Then went about settling into an expertly crafted nest of poofy pillows. I'm an adult, Clarence thought to himself. An adult in his own magnificent home, and a glorious party host, which means I've earned the rights for any and all public pillow nesting. The logic is sound.
Still, sitting in and around a bunch of pillows with his feet on a coffee table or not- his posture was still as perfect as ever. Clarence was proud.
Loud music, music that he could feel the vibrations from, was something that always put Clarence in a nice, dazed state. Got his thoughts to slow down a little, if only a little... and he'd needed that lately, more and more, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself most days. Parties were a damn escape and chore all at the same time. Chatter at people, dance a bit, drink, repeat.
Neon lights swirled across the floor, walls, and Clarence's form. He sank down further in his chair, making vague noises of recognition at the conversations that were going on around and presumably at him. Maybe it was time for a break from the ballroom after all, time to slip away somewhere a little less crowded, as nice as the thrumming vibrations were. They'd follow him across the house anyway, albeit milder.
Clarence stood, brushing off the whines of those at his table wondering where their host was going. Gave a dismissive hand wave, muttered something. No more complaints. The boy smiled and strode off, satisfied he wouldn't be bothered by that particular cluster of people, at least. He wasn't feeling antisocial or anything- sometimes you just needed to... rotate people around, nothing personal to them! Besides, they weren't really friends, were they? Any of them? Wasn't he more of a showcase to gawk at, as much as they were accesories? Whatever. No need to get philosophical. Didn't think I drank that much...
Clarence soon found himself in the sitting room. Not too many people, not too little, which suited him well enough. He offered casual greetings to a few people, most of which were too drunk to really try to get overly talkative in return (probably in here to cool off), but mostly made a beeline for the collection of sofas. Then went about settling into an expertly crafted nest of poofy pillows. I'm an adult, Clarence thought to himself. An adult in his own magnificent home, and a glorious party host, which means I've earned the rights for any and all public pillow nesting. The logic is sound.
Still, sitting in and around a bunch of pillows with his feet on a coffee table or not- his posture was still as perfect as ever. Clarence was proud.
