With a tequila sunrise in one hand and a piña colada in the other, Gaspard started to make his way back. He didn't even notice Connor had taken his leave of the party until he saw that Faris was no longer in the company of him. [I]Great[/i], now what was he gonna do with two drinks? He definitely wasn't going to finish them all by himself. Sure, getting completely wasted sounded fun, but the last thing he wanted was to look like a complete idiot in front of everybody - getting sloppy drunk just wasn't his style. Plus, the hangover in the morning would be killer. And so, Gaspard offered Faris one of the drinks, noticing that her own had already been depleted.

"Last drink for the night?"

Maybe it was because he was more than a little buzzed, but Gaspard hadn't quite caught the subtle shift in the girl's inflection. Normally, he'd notice such an indication in a heartbeat, courtesy of a lifetime of practice. It was something of a survival mechanism - after all, he needed to know when his dad and stepmother were in a particularly bad mood. Then again, sobriety was so passé, and he didn't have to worry about those two anymore. Alcohol was only a temporary escape, but an escape, nonetheless. Gaspard almost laughed at the suddenly depressing train of thought. [i]Where did all that come from?[/i] He was glad he didn't just blurt all that out, though, because it would certainly have made for an awkward moment.

Looking around, Gaspard noticed that more and more people were starting to leave. Seemed like it was just ten minutes ago when the party was just beginning. Maybe he wasn't as bored as he thought, or maybe it was just the multiple rum and cokes that made time fly by. Well, whatever it was, he realised that starting a fire would be pointless if no one was around to see it. In Gaspard's books, unwitnessed disobedience was just wasteful. He had to admit, though, it'd be quite the anticlimax. After everything that he said, was he really just going to call it quits now?

It was a tough decision, but [i]not[/i] committing arson won out in the end. All of a sudden, the idea of getting nailed over the head by Mr. D with his turkey leg club didn't sound too appealing to Gaspard. Especially because he was currently a tad inebriated. Besides, he'd be throwing himself under the bus for something that wasn't even his idea in the first place. Gaspard had nearly forgotten about his original plan of getting Faris to set everything on fire, so that he wouldn't have to do it himself.

"Mo chagren, cher. I'm afraid you're gonna hafta light this place up yourself." The familiar lilt sloshing out despite himself as he shrugged, a not-so apologetic grin on his face. For now, all he cared about was getting something to eat. He'd been doing nothing but drink all night, and his stomach was audibly starting to complain. Shifting his gaze from the swirling liquid in his cup back to Faris, he opened his mouth to speak. "I'm jus' gonna go get somethin' to eat. You want anythin'?"