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Kostya grinned sharply as he saw his two favourite nerds hiding out together. They came after Lucky, of course, but his Wonder Twin couldn't be around all the time. He stalked up behind them-- he was in dress uniform, his goatee carefully groomed, the streak in his hair a bright, radioactive green.

He came up behind the pair of them, and set his boot on the back of Dwight's chair, shoving it slightly, just enough to jostle him.

"Hi dweebs," he said, airily, and snatched the beer out Dwight's hand. "Still talking about your little online vorld?" Another little shove on the back of the chair as he took a sip.

"Selfie time!" the advanced cell phone camera went off with a flash as Mark immediately began to instagram his work of art. "Awesome! I look great in my suit, charming and a dash daring and stuff, if I don't say so myself." He waited for a moment for Kostya and Dwight to reaffirm this which they obviously didn't.

"Dude Kostya, commie bro, we've talked about this." A friendlt arm snaked around the Russian patriot's neck as Mark flashed his retina display cell phone. He moved to his home screen, which had an affirmation of his not singleness in the background. "Not single man, unlike my bro-homie SexyLadyWithBoobs32." At this range it was pretty obvious to tell that Mark had put on way too much cheap cologne. "Unfortunately for you, I have given up my old ways, no more wasting time on the computers for me." This was a lie. "I have a real life now and I've spent it doing like real life things like working out and stuff. And like, sports too."

For some reason he decided that showing everyone close to him the couple picture was important, and this included Jason as well.

It was a bad thing to do. It was something terribly, terribly naughty, against the established rules of society, but there were times when Mimsy simply could not resist acting upon her darkest desires.

The shy woman had learned the best ways to go unnoticed by now, and employed her techniques to successfully slip through the main ballroom, opting to go directly to her goal in the dining room instead. Each step was steady and calculated in the shiny black heels she wore - despite no real reason to be concerned that someone might hear her quiet footsteps through the din of the party, she found it impossible not to worry over accidentally calling attention to herself. Of course, the appearance of someone moving too cautiously in the middle of a relaxed party risked doing that, but she failed to register that fact.

An anxious, shaky exhale did nothing to calm her, pulse racing as her thoughts fixated on what she was so close to acting upon. Her eyes looked glossy, stare detached as she tried to avoid losing herself in her imagination; there was no reason to fantasize when this was at her fingertips. The knife felt cool beneath her fingertips, and she hesitated for just one brief moment before she sunk it into the form in front of her.

Oh, this was her favorite. She'd been so good all year, had achieved so many of her most critical goals, and it was about time that she broke some rules and spoiled herself. Having dessert before completing her recommended daily intake with a well-balanced dinner of protein and nutrients was wrong, but this was a party, and the horizon held another new year to make up for it.

She hung back from any gathered groups of people as she put a perfect forkful of rich black forest cake into her mouth, savoring the taste on her tongue. This particularly delinquent indulgence was simply incredible, but she still had to pair it with continued attempts to reason away the guilt she felt for partaking in it. It was best if nobody saw her, lest they be disappointed.

"Famished," Corbin agreed. He edged along the outskirts, curious to see what was on offer. Much to his surprise, they somehow managed to outdo Christmas. "They have everything," he remarked out loud before shifting his attention fluidly back to Noah. "We should probably find a spot to sit first?" His tone was questioning and his hazel eyes fixed on Noah's face as he attempted to seek any subtle cues for where the older boy might actually want to sit.

"We can take our plates with us," Noah suggested. He scanned the tables, taking mental notes on what was there, what he wanted to get first, and what he wanted to make sure to get to before the ravening hordes got to the tables en masse. "Ooh, shrimp." It was his turn to pull Corbin along now as he made a beeline for the appetizer section.

As he picked up a plate, he shot a sneaky look over at the bar. "D'you think we could get away with getting champagne?"

"What? Really? What's drinking age there? Hey, you gotta take me sometime," Noah said, and pointed at Corbin with a fork that had an olive speared on it. He'd gathered a considerable amount of food for himself. He contemplated whether another couple of tiny sweet pickles would fit, decided they would, and acquired them.

He wrinkled his nose at Corbin in response to the question. "Are you going to dip yourself in cocktail sauce?"

Corbin waggled an eyebrow, "If that's what you're into..."

As far as the drinking, Corbin decided not to comment. Age to buy was very different from age for consumption. He could drink anything he wanted as long as he stayed at home. Home however... "Are you sayin' you want to meet the folks?"

It was then he finally found a spot to sit since Noah was clearly fine to eat standing if he had to and was a bit slower to finish claiming his fill.

Noah laughed at the answer, but the grin slid off his face at the question. Pokerface. Truthfully, he did sort of want to meet Corbin's family, but it wasn't a good idea. But this wasn't a good time to be thinking about depressing things. "That reminds me, you should meet my folks," he countered. "And my sisters. They really, really want to meet you."

He balanced a roll on top of his plate of food and claimed a chair next to Al.