SOBBING AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE + office party au

[smogstar]

A sickening amount of funding went into this function. And for what - crappy tree-shaped cookies and nonalcoholic eggnog? What a waste of time and money. He and his colleagues should have received bonuses if the higher-ups had so much cash on-hand. But no. Corporate consisted of fiscally irresponsible simpletons who'd much rather rent out a private lounge for their workforce than distribute gratuity cheques.

It hasn't been all too exciting thus far, but then again, the night is still young.

Familiar faces continue to pile into the compressed space, leaving their winter wear on a rack by the door and making a beeline for the refreshments. Bowls of store-brand chips, trays of baked goods, and previously-frozen savoury snacks were set up along the surface of a bar-top. Sizeable pitchers of holiday punch and the aforementioned eggnog also sit in the midst.

Apart from partaking in food and drink, the majority of people drifted into their own little social spheres or retreated to their cellular devices. A song request sheet had existed at some point, but whoever was in charge of that seems to have abandoned the idea, and rumour has it that Mariah Carey is to blame.

Soles squeak against the hardwood floor as Mick involuntarily fidgets his foot. The light cast forth from his phone's screen envelops his features, his eyes caught in a daze as his thumbs tap away.

One of the drinks has been sabotaged. Do not let anybody else know.

The text is addressed to Tio in HR. In defiance of the department they worked in, Mick knew he could place his trust in them. This party had to become interesting at some point.

Tucking his phone in his pocket, the man strolls on over to the pitcher of eggnog as casually as he could. Grabbing the ladle that rest within, and then snatching a cup, he tops up his glass with the inconspicuous liquid. Immediately, he presses it to his lips and imbibes. You couldn't even taste the rum.

// au notes; his name is mick, and he's a lead marketing strategist. wearing leather shoes, jeans, and a black sweater. thick salt n pepper coloured hair, combed as best as he could.

// i dont know what this company does or what its called just roll with it​

 

[betonyfrost]

There was a scant few places Toni would rather be. On her way here, she couldn't stop catching her own eyes in the rear-view, had even lifted herself from her seat to inspect a place where her carefully applied mascara had smeared and narrowly avoided a collision. Wouldn't that make this little get together into a party? We have the honor to inform you that your very least favorite coworker had rear-ended a semi on her way here. Early crash scene analysis shows she was obsessing over her face while trying to merge onto the highway. Please do not let the celebration get too rowdy.

Even that little fantasy overstates Toni's importance here. She doubts she is anyone's least favorite coworker-- she doubts she is a coworker anyone notices.

It is through misfortune, or fortune, that Toni had made it to the party without any fiery explosions. She had promptly squirreled herself away to a quiet corner and asked herself repeatedly why she had bothered to come. She had been under the impression that this was either paid or mandatory-- but was that actually the case? Toni slips a vape from her purse and fiddles with the buttons for a moment. It's one of the fancy ones, expensive ones, with far more settings that Toni knows what to do with. In her need to be doing something with her hands, she settles on turning the temperature up and down in two degree increments.

...What does she think she is doing?

HR had been rather clear that the vape counted as smoking indoors, no matter how many posters Toni had sent them explaining how they differ from a more traditional cigarette. She returns it to its pocket in her purse with some amount of remorse and, with a loss of something to do to occupy herself, stands and meanders over to the drinks.

"You're... Mick, right?" Toni asks, even though she knows all of her coworkers' names. She couldn't handle the humiliation of being overly familiar, and finds it easiest to pretend to be uncertain. Her hands have gotten sweaty, and she tries in vain to wipe her palms against her skirt discreetly.

"That's a cool phone. Really cool. Mine is..." Toni trails off, and opts instead to fish her phone from the bottom of her purse and present it to Mick. It's an old sort of cell that flips open and takes more than a few minutes to connect to wifi. It had come with three free games of snake, which Toni has long since used.​

shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | 15 moons | tags​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

they had been slightly late to work. it wasn't exactly their fault that someone was stupid enough to get in an accident. there was no injuries, it was just a simple fender bender with a little more damage to the cars. charlie stepped into the office with a look on their face that couldn't been seen, due to the motorcycle helmet on their face. they pulled it off, shaking their head and letting their locs fall over their face before they pushed them back with a huff. was it dangerous to ride in the cold, sure. but there hadn't been ice or much snow. thanks climate change.

"hey, toni. mark."

they offer a greeting, looking around before grabbing a cookie and humming at the taste of it.

"who made the cookies?"
​

[ NOBODY ELSE MATTERS, GIRL ]​