Survival Of The Fittest

Stella's shoes clicked a step backward as Meggy rose, then click, a step forward.

Looked her in the eyes, weird being level with them. Nearly opened her mouth to say something. Didn't. No time. Then, down at Clarissa and Sylvie. Questionable base.

"Stay close. Meggy, I need you to keep a hand on my shoulder."

She turned. Click, click, click, she marched out the foyer. The other three girls followed.

"Cut you in on Brixsen's salary," as they passed Niall.

And click, click, click, down the hall, like an ambulance siren. Darker here. Couple faces, friends of friends, performative familiarity but nothing that meant something.

Right turn.

Another right turn, onto the landing.

"Up the stairs."

Hardwood steps, doesn't matter to you what kind of tree. Wooden bannister. Click, click, click, going up. Straight diagonal line. Click click, second floor's big hub room. Hallway connector. Didn't know the actual name for it. By now, mostly abandoned for downstairs.

"Straight from here."

Click click click click, into a hall. Easy shot. First door, second door, third door to the left. Light was still on inside.

"Okay."

Slid her phone between her left palm and her walkie-talkie. Right hand to the doorknob.

Hesitated.

Then opened the door.

Meggy stumbled her way into the room, mumbling apologies while tears shedded down her cheeks “Oh god, did you see how they all looked at me? I screwed up I’m sorry, I ruined the party, I ruined it.”

Oh god, why can’t I stop my mouth from making the words. Shut up Megs, shut up!

"No, Meggy. No. You didn't." Clarissa smiled. Small smile. As trained for her as her grip on a torque wrench.

The moment in this bedroom was quiet. It was a moment isolated from her memories by a walk straight right turn right turn up the stairs straight away three doors left turn. Far away in time and space from when she'd been scared of Stella yelling and Meggy choking on her own puke. When she'd been... dumb. And helpless, and weak, and vulnurable, and Stella could have sniffed out the fear in her blood like one of those hunter hounds. Clarissa was safe from all of that.

She hesitantly scoped out the situation. The girls in their various states of being. The bedroom, somewhat bare and sterile. Looked like a guest room, like one of the ones Lightning or Joanne also had in abundance.

"Everyone we passed was. Super cheerful. And also. Drunk."

"Nobody will remember this Meggy, trust."

Clarissa could once more say words in the right... way. Tone, or cadence, or something like that. Needed to speak a little more bouncy. Make sure the painted on smile matched the tone.

Through the wave of sound and slowly disappearing. Further and further away from the party lights and the sea of faces and the dance of fleeting moments. Holding on tight to the two to whom she was bound and marching forward. Almost stalwart, like a little anchor. Following the captain of the sad-girl ship. The sound dissipated very slowly and very gently as they moved to what would be a haven, so she felt like she could begin to relax again. Smile again. Maybe a little later than this.

Eventually, they were there; well above it all where Stella had led them. Muffled music, imperceptible; the walls were thick here. The simplicity around her was like a breath of fresh air. She took it in and gave that smile she'd promised herself as Meggy was set down. Visible release of tension. Meggy was sad, but that's what happens to you when you waste yourself... Clarissa seemed recovering enough to be able to comfort her properly. Sylvie cast that smile at her, then back down at Meggy, comforting her best she could.

"Exactly. It's a party, you didn't do anything wrong. Just relax... you need a little rest, 'kay?"

She had, though. But it wasn't the time at all. It was time for things to be better.

She sniffled, stumbling towards the bed, falling straight onto the bed. She rolled onto her back, crawling upwards and lying down, staring up at the ceiling as some drool came down her mouth. She wiped it off her arms, groaning softly “Ugh….my headache…”

She glanced over at the clock on the wall before she rolled around on her side, feeling her head pounding from the ethanol poisoning her brain.

Clarissa nodded. To... uh. Herself, she guessed.

"Do you have water in here? Stella?" Okay, Clarissa could look at and talk to Stella now without feeling like she'd burst into flames. Recovery was going smoothly. Amazing how a few seconds of perceieved contempt had hurt worse than the worst ever of Clarissa's hangovers. And had required a much more painful healing process.

"I'll go get some."

Before Stella's staff had to. Was that what was up with the walkie talkies? The More You Know, Clarissa guessed.

General rule: By a person's responses to danger, it's easy to tell how they've lived, and what they've needed to do to survive.

A tree falls in the woods and nobody's around to hear it. Does it make a sound? The physicist says yes. The philosopher says it depends. The psychologist says no.

In actual practice, the distinction is irrelevant.

Stella stared down at Clarissa for a few seconds, genre: elevated cheerleader.

Right eyebrow lowered an iota. Shifted her weight, to the other ankle.

"Oh, like, I'm fine to do it. But if you want to, umm, like, three doors down the hall, to the lefttt. There's a washroom."

Click, click, click, clicked her way from the door to the bedside table. OLDERDALEN with a BLIDVÄDER, phone charger, and a red solo cup, nothing else. Swapped her walkie-talkie for the cup. Club soda, meniscus halfway to the top.

Click, click, click, cliiiiiiick, back to Clarissa.

"Cup."

Eight minutes.

"Cup."

Clarissa nodded, alert, attentive, Up&Up protectively cradled as if Stella had bequeathed onto her an artifact of early civilization.

She stood and opened the door to the room-

I COULD BE THE ONE
OR YOUR NEW ADDICTION!
IT'S ALL IN MY HEAD
BUT I WANT NONFICTION-!

- the door clicked shut.








Clarissa May Shoemaker danced a bit easier when nobody was watching.

"You're okay. It's okay."

Repeated like a mantra as she sat by Meggy on the bed, hand on her shoulder and then her forehead and back. Reassuring her to the best of her ability. Something she'd learned, or was it heard, or was it experienced, whatever, was that it helped drunk people just to be there for them and keep talking to them. Helped shift focus away from the eugh of being drunk, she supposed? At the very least it felt safer for Meggy to be around people she could trust, as opposed to remaining nearly blackout drunk, at a, uh, high school party, where... basically all the girls already had drink covers...

They'd done a very good thing bringing her up here.

Attention momentarily turned to Cs as she did the good thing again. Visible thankful smile towards her. More water was always good. Regardless of situation, really. Proceeding, her eyes flitted to the TV in the room and then to Meggy. Hmm, topics... she couldn't just keep saying the same thing over and over- oh, wait, duh.

"You think you'd be good to watch the ball drop?" In a very gentle voice down at Meggy. "Sevenish minutes to go, yknow. There's a TV in here."

Meghan took deep breaths, placing her head against the pillow “The ball drop….?” She muttered softly and then nodded a little “Sure yeah….I always love the ball drop…”

She adjusted her position so she says up slightly, brushing her hair “Just let this dumb month be over with.”

Stella leant with her back to the wall. Adjusted a dress strap. Peeled her shoes off. One-handed, took a bit of grappling.

"Oh. Actually, up here, the TV's just the start."

White drapery, end of the room. Five feet long, reached two feet from the floor. Almost wall-to-wall across. Big window.

She sashayed her way over to it. Rolled her ankles a bit. Had to make sure her joints were still connected.

Grabbed the left-side curtain. Draggggged it allllll the way open.

Then, the right.

Distant, refracting. A view over Paradise. From the first floor, blocked out by the property's red sandstone boundary wall. Strat, Ahern, Allure, Sahara, Hilton, Sky, Circus Circus, Fontainebleau, Turnberry, Westgate, Resorts World, Trump, Encore, Wynn, TI, Palazzo, Venetian, tree, tree, hill, tree, tree, trees, Rio, tree. Trees, Gold Coast, trees, Palms, Excalibur, shrubs, Mandalay, W, Orleans, trees, closer hill. Front row seats to the city's midnight fireworks show, still impending.


She glanced over her shoulder at the other two girls. Smiled. Curtain in her hand, did a little flourish.

"Yeah, there you go. It won't be long now."

Same smile on her lips as she helped put Meggy back together. Already a far cry from the sad drunk present a little bit ago, though drunks were always far cries from who they were at around minute-long intervals. Now! The ball drop! She'd turned her head to search around for the TV remote before Stella piped up with some intriguing statement. What could that mean, Sylvie thought as she swivelled around slowly to see.

Gasp

City of Sin. City of Lights. Neon and silver and magic. Her home in all its vainglory. Her eyes widened seeing the view, the sky, the world, made even shinier by the impending event. She was brought back, for a tick, to one year when she'd been small (of just age), and her parents brought her up to the top of a grassy hill which overlooked the entire city, just like this. "Wow." In a breathless voice. Every time was like the first, even if you'd lived here all your life.

After a bit of stunned staring, she turned back to smile broadly and thankfully at the friend who'd done this for them. "Stella, you're spoiling us."

Meghan’s stature perked up considerably as she sat up staring our the window with wide eyes.

It was beautiful. Something she hasn’t really seen before in her time in Vegas. She stared at the beautiful lights, as if she was watching the whole town. She swayed her body to and for as she swung her legs off the bed, getting a better view of the window

“Stell’ if my breath didn’t reek of booze right now, I’d kiss you.” She mutters as a joke as she stared in wonder.

"'Rissa! With me, you're not supposed to be up here."
"Wha? ... Oh, are you one of Stella's walkie talkies?"
"Ah shit, my cover's been blown."
"It's okay Alicia! I'm up here because of Stella."
"Oh, so. Trading out your ex for your new girl, I see how it is."
"What-? Nothing like that, I'm up here getting water for Meggy."
"Oh, so. Trading out your ex for your other ex, I see how it is... Aww, god, you're so cute when you're confused. As always. Well, I trust you're up here on Stella's express invite. Honor code? ... Yeah! But. If you're free at midnight... I'd love to catch up, 'Rissa. Old times, y'know? Happy New Year."
"Yeah! Happy New Year, Alicia."





Clarissa May Shoemaker liked dodging awkward situations using the other side of the nearest conveniently placed doors, etc.

YOU DONT HAVE TO STARE
COME HERE,
GET WITH IT!
NO ONE'S TOUCHED ME THERE
IN A DAMN HOT-!

The door clicked shut.

"Oh. Wow."

Clarissa's port of call was by Meggy's side- water, after all, with the barest tinge of the flavor of whatever had been in it prior. Not alcohol fortunately, sniff test. Cup. Clarissa held it up in silent offering to her friend- ex, blah blah- smiling as she cuddled up to her in a very friends way. She kept her hand on the cup if it was taken. What was a friend if not a girl to keep your recovering drunk self from upending water all over yourself?

Silently Clarissa's free hand extended, fingers like a gun. W Charleston, W Sahara, W Desert Inn, W Flamingo, the Tropicana where it became the 593. The 15 arterial. Harry Reid. The city was still humming tonight. Kind of sucked that there were lights on the streets at all, as opposed to all safely in their homes with minutes left to 2025.

Meghan gave a small blush as she took the cup from Clarissa’s hand, immediately gulping it down as it was like she was stranded in the desert. She lowered the cup and gave a soft sigh “Ohh that’s so much better.” She yawned, placing her head against Clarissa’s shoulder “Thank you.”

She smiled, staring out the window with some awe “Wish I had my camera on me. This is a perfect view.”