[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/PExzdE5.png[/img][/center]
[hr]

Dallas was settled into one of the couches near the TV, now free of blood and guts thanks to a quick trip to the showers. He was wearing an asparagus green shirt over a grapefruit colored pair of pants, oblivious to his own terrible fashion sense.

Dallas knocked back another whiskey sour. Everyone had their reasons for drinking, and in his case he just needed to stop [i]thinking[/i] so much. Damn the Lost, the mistle, and his stalker. None of that matters right now. This was a party, and he intended to sleep soundly tonight. He twisted the lid off the jar of homemade sour mix and went about making himself another batch of cocktail. The syrup was made from fruits harvested in the garden and had a fresh flavor. Dallas wasn't particularly fond of sours or anything. He was just tired of splashing water into his whiskey and this was the only cocktail he knew how to make. 

Despite the spirit's high alcohol content, Dallas was having a hard time getting hammered. He was a fairly big guy. The brawny housekeeper downed another whiskey sour and slammed his shot glass on the coffee table. Well, it was at least enough to help him endure Lysandra's terrible impression of Noel Gallagher. Dallas had no idea if she was naturally this tone deaf or if she had too much wine to drink. Erik came to save the day and hustled Lys out of the room, which meant the others would have to decide who was next on the mic. He wasn't in a hurry to volunteer. [color=darkorange][i]It's kind of embarrassing when all the songs you know are from the 70's.[/i][/color] 

Dallas was concerned for Amelia in a broad sense, but Poppy and Akaia seemed far more attached to Desmond's sister than Dallas was. The sleeping girl was already out his mind the moment Erik and Lysandra left the room. Another whiskey sour. The alcohol was starting to lose its flavor. Dallas got up and walked to the kitchen to grab something to eat.