Welcome to Gaia! ::

After a deeply grateful smile to Clarice, Mimsy's gaze wandered just enough for her to catch the way Clerise was looking at her find herself unable to swallow past the lump that rose in her throat. Even though it was just a glimpse, she reflexively held onto the last few things her cousin had told her, cherishing their last moment of the year they managed to accomplish so many important steps together. She helped her cross off entire lists, and took the time to talk her through the difficulties and tangled logic that refused to make sense. She reminded her which of them was the 'doctor' between them, but it was an important piece of paper that never could have happened without her cousin by her side.

"Doctor," she quietly repeated, cheeks burning with a more persistent blush as the champagne made her head spin, creating a euphoria she had not yet felt in regards to her most proud achievement. Or one of them, she corrected herself, strategically stealing another flute of champagne from another passing waiter.

The bubbly drink spilled over the edge of her tilted glass, and she laughed as she steadied it again, closing her eyes to savor the moment.

"Doctor Mildred Kercher." It sounded flawless as she whispered it aloud to herself, but she frowned into her sip of champagne when she realized what would make it sound perfect: a different surname. She giggled deviously at the thought, and her drink sloshed dangerously close to spilling again as Jerry encouraged one of them to dance - she only smiled in an effort to avoid embarrassing herself and watched Ramona join him instead, turning to rest her arms on Robert's shoulders.

"I'm happy," she calmly announced, taking advantage of the few seconds that remained. "Thank you. For helping me not feel afraid anymore."

Jerry was hard to keep up with, especially if you were an 8 year old child. Ramona kept looking back at her father with a help me expression, but they were all lost on him. He was going to owe her some serious candy and cake later.

Watching Clerise retreat away, coupled with the sudden loss of his daughter to the dancing queen, meant Robert and Mimsy were simultaneously surrounded by friends and loved ones, and alone. With the clock ticking ever faster, and the countdown continuing despite his best attempts to make time stand still, he realized he needed to do one last thing. It wouldn't be right, if he didn't ask.

Before he could say a word, she interrupted him. She sounded so pleased, so comfortable. He never wanted to ruin that. Especially since he was the scared one, now.

"Mimsy?" He settled her back down, but her feet never touched the ground - he just held her at eye level. He spared one glance at Clarice - it was her voice, in his head, reminding him that nothing should be taken, only given. She, the reason he knew this was the right thing to do. She, Clerise, and Ben - if Robert wanted any chance of love that happy, he would have to take every step with her guidance in mind.

His next words were very quiet, and very subdued.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you on New Years?"

Date or not, he couldn't make a move like that without permission.

The majority of the conversation seemed to go over his head. Lucky wouldn't have pegged any of them as mean, not even Jack. He laughed at Shiloh's 'joke' completely unaware of the actual meaning. Everything just seemed really funny right now.

"M'not that drunk..." he protested as Jack pushed him away, stumbling. He barely reclaimed a proper angle for his glass, which he waggled at Jack. "Not yet."

"Are they counting down already?" The push didn't seem to deter him. The only thing he could do was try again, and again, and again, until Jack realized that he was committed. He was already reaching out, very obviously, to try and grasp at Jack's hand with his own scar-calloused one. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Where did we put the fireworks... Quinn! Hey! Fireworks!"

"No," he objected stubbornly. He made an attempt to cling to Jack's nearest arm, and missed by a fair distance, which had him grasping at the lapels of the suit jacket instead in order to convey just how serious he was about their relationship. He certainly looked desperate now. "I'm not going anywhere. This new year is going to be different... I want to spend it with you, Jack. Together."

"Please," he added as a quieter plea.

It wasn't driving Taym's actions, either, but neither was curiosity: it was the vicious combination of a need to prove that he could and several hours of slow-but-steady drinking, instead, and the way a girl's legs looked in knife-heeled shoes--hers or anyone's--and the fact that she seemed, to put it crudely, into it.

That counted for a lot. Always had.

"I refuse to be so trite as to say 'happy new year,'" he informed her lowly, and that was the last thing he bothered to say, dismissive, smug as ever, before he curled his fingers under her chin and, a second or two early, satisfied her curiosity.

(Or at least some of it.)

He tasted like liquor and smoke, a combination Peyton would never have considered appealing, but as he curled his fingers under her chin to lift her head she found it almost as intoxicating at the champagne.

Pale eyes had closed before their lips met, and because neither one of them was soft, or delicate, or patient, the kiss wouldn't be either. Teeth grazed his lip, and melting against him. Not because of who he was or what he meant, but because it felt good.

And she'd been right in her idle wondering, he was a good kisser. He was probably good at a great many things.

Some of her curiosity was sated, but more just rolled in to take it's place. Curiosity and something more, something simpler, something basic. Something absolutely uncomplicated.

"It's almost time," she murmured to them, fingers wound in blond curls, entwined into calloused fingers, heart thudding in her chest. "I love you," she said to them both-- a whisper, a prayer, a truth told that reverberated in her ribs with the rightness of it all. "I don't know what I'd do without you both."

After they surely kissed each other, Clerise pressed her lips to Ben's, a smile and a grin and a secret for three. Then to Clarice's, fingers pressed to the hollow of her neck; below her ear; the hint of a collarbone.

She felt happy; and so, so alive.