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Underneath the thin sheen of sweat and the heavy plate of her armored ego, a small pinprick of offense had begun to poke at the dance-hall duchess' mood with all the mild irritation of a horsefly bite. She wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe it was just that Nicole, with her pleasantly cosmopolitan background and her voracious hunger for the lights and sounds of nightlife, was just now being confronted with the true meaning of wealth - an opulent yacht that looked like it could have glided from the ocean directly into outer space, fellow cadets who could go fit-for-fit with the [i]enfant terrible[/i] of the Nova Lux High Fashion Association (membership currently two) and still have enough drip to last them through the rest of a fortnight after Nicole herself had exhausted all her nicer clothes. Or maybe it was a lingering affection for Astrelle, who was at least no stranger to partying in general, if not in something of a different tax bracket than her; maybe it was seeing Dana and Penny so hesitant to truly plunge into the vibes of the evening, which she could hardly fault them for given their backgrounds, but would have made the evening a bit less of a guilty pleasure. 

Or maybe it was that she had already pre-gamed before arrival through a couple back channels (Hastan girls having natural inclinations towards finding black market channels was [i]just a stereotype,[/i] damn you!) then drank more throughout the first part of the evening, and had finally started taking shots to the dome of some kind of brandy that would be giving her [i]granddaughter[/i] phantom headaches someday. So many of her lingering, mild irritations could have just been the fact that she was drunk and taking things too personally. Like hearing a girl she vibed with and liked musing on how quaint it was that she could be sent to die at any moment. Or hearing that girl playfully charge her teammates, her little sisters in arms, the girls she'd taken under her wing and coaxed onto this yacht in the first place, with pet-sitting Nicole. Or the smug nature of the toast. 

Stretched languidly along the bottom half of an L-shaped couch, long legs stretched slim so that her tights could brush the smooth, organic textures of the boat's nerve center, Nicole swallowed those misgivings down with another sip of that brandy and told herself it was fine. [color=8882be][i]She don't know any better,[/i][/color] a drunken, unfamiliar voice in her subconscious soothed. [color=8882be][i]She don't go outside.[/i][/color]

Huh. You're probably right. Thanks voice!

And with another gulp, the misgivings vanished. Tonight was all vibes, after all. They were among friends. Or, given the predatory gleam in Aiya's face as she brandished her empty cognac bottle like a status-granting jambiya, people who wanted to be [i]more[/i] than friends.

[color=ec008c]"I,"[/color] Nicole slurred, sitting up and curling into a regal, princess' posture. [color=ec008c]"[i]I[/i] wanna play Spin the Bottle."[/color]

A slight gust of wind brushed through Aiya's long, elegant fingers, and hugged at the lip and stem of the bottle. 

[color=ec008c]"I can't leave my rookies alone without a vet."[/color]