Nia - POV (Homecoming Party)

Medically there is no gene that makes you tolerant to alcohol. Of course addiction can be an inherited trait but the "advantages" of being an alcoholic such as high tolerance and ability to stomach things that taste like piss aren't something a person can get from their progenitors.

Although tonight, Nia might be more inclined to believe in some pseudoscience bullshit tonight.

She's been downing champagne like it's her damn job and for some fucking reason I'm as sober as I was when Imre dragged me here.

Speaking of Lucifer incarnate, she knew he was trying to catch her eye from across the room where Margaret Porter was desperately talking his ear off. Poor girl. She's seen this before. And it all ends the same when someone likes Imre.

That's preferable than Imre setting their eyes on someone. Now that person, Nia would pray for.

Her father's clipped voice can be heard to her left. She appreciates this brief reprieve. He's been scolding her all night. For her drinking, for her lack of socializing, for her sour expression.

Nia is usually good at maintaining a face that shows neither cheer nor distain so that people can crowd around her and blab. But today, in this house her grip on herself is slipping. She's angry at herself.

She should be more in control. She knew this day would come. She had thought she had prepared herself but not even she can control everything. Pesky things, feelings. Right now, more than ever she wishes she had never made friends with them. Because now she's hysterical and making a fool out of herself.

She wants to bolt. Go home and never have to say a word to them again. Because really, what could she say? How could she explain? And they would look at her with those eyes, reflecting back to her a failure they must believe she committed.

Damn them, and damn everyone.

Why should she feel guilty? Why should she feel like she did something wrong? Birdie is not her victim.

Birdie. She could just laugh. She always found nicknames so gaudy. Someone's name was fine, she hated when people tried to endear themselves to her by trying to come up with something clever. Her name was a three letter word, what possible nickname could she be called?

She liked her name. It was short and to the point. However, she did hate how it sounded coming out of most people's mouths. But not them. They said it in a way that made it feel as if it were a nickname, a special secret between both of them.

She had her own reasons for calling them Birdie, one of them was that it made her feel like they belonged to her. That no one could take them from her. That they wouldn't disappear and leave her like that woman did.

Ironic, she was the one who left Birdie. Her long nails dig into the mahogany table. No, she's different. Her reasoning was valid, it's not the same. Her mother left because she was—

No she already has enough to set her on edge, she doesn't need to throw herself off the cliff.

She looks to the parlor doors, and then past Imre who also seems to be scanning his surroundings, she grimaces when she sees Lorcan in the corner with a suit two sizes too big for him. Only someone like him can make her most classist ideas come forth.

The clock over the fireplace ticks by slowly. She glares when she sees she's only been here a little over an hour. She imagines slipping out. Undetected by her father's eyes. But not her best friend. Imre would notice this and with a shit-eating grin inform her dad.

She knew that he knew she would likely slap him after the party was over. Small consolation. She sighed and momentarily closed her eyes. Even if she could leave she knows it's best not to. Imre was oddly interested in this party.

In a way that made her suspicious. He had never expressed any interest in Birdie apart from a few remarks her and there. He treated them as if they were this new lake amphibian he just had to label and open up.

Of course she didn't want to think about it too much. Anyway, at least with her here, Imre won't be able to do something to Birdie. It's funny, she's worried about someone she's fucking terrified of.

What are friends for.

She plucks another champagne glass from a tray and is about to swallow it in one gulp when she sees a hand peeking out from behind the wall. As if no time has passed, she recognizes immediately who it is.

She clenches her jaw and quickly swallows. She refuses to look their way as they enter the room. She schools her face into something resembling indifference. She forces the horrible bundle of bees in her chest to flatten under a fist of ice.

Their eyes look around the room, not staying in one place too long. They don't want to be here. Nia almost grins, at least that hasn't changed. From the corner of her eye she catches glimpses of them. Her shoulders stiffen as Imre sits down next to them.

She can't hear what they say but she does turn to face him and catch his eyes. He pretends to not notice her. Asshole. But he does eventually deign to meet her eyes and excuses himself.

When he comes over to her, he does so with a gentle smile. The image of calm. She looks at him from under her eyelashes, her arms crossed. "What are you planning?"

"Do you remember what I told you?" his smooth voice asks.

She wants to shake her head. He tells her a lot of ridiculous things. But the glint in his eyes reminds her of the only other time she ever saw that particular look in his eyes.

But she played dumb. "That doesn't narrow anything down, you yap more than a unmarried fat aunty."

Imre grins, "let's not fight tonight, querida. I don't want to make your mood worsen. I know tonight hasn't been easy for you."

She fingers a curl, her anger with him slightly lessens. His perception annoys her most of the time but it's nice when she doesn't need to say anything for him to understand. Her eyes wonder to the couch.

They're not there. She looks around the room and doesn't seem them with Sally. Lorcan isn't here either.

"Shit," she whispers to Imre.

Imre had followed her eyes and with the same grin on his face her offers her his arm, "let's end this night with a good deed, shall we?"

She gives him an unimpressed look but takes his arm and let's him escort her out of the house.