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Banyan didn't need to be told twice. With all their alcohol in the no-longer-discrete tall brown paper bags of the liquor owner, she carefully put them in the trunk so that they'd not break.

All along the drive home, she wondered why everyone seemed so quick to jump to conclusions.

"Do you suppose," she started, "that if either of us were both out with someone we usually weren't out with... that they would have just as easily assumed that we were involved with the person were were out with in any way?"

That seemed a bit of a convoluted question, after another moment of thinking it out loud.

"It wasn't adoration, it was abject horror," Banyan stuck her tongue out at him before laughing. "You do know we're carrying a lot of precious cargo in the back, yes? And that I don't plan on wasting a single drop, hmm? If I break a bottle, not only will I have wasted a twenty dollar hangover, my car will attract every police officer for miles thinking I'm DUI."

Banyan thought it over.

"And not all those officers are even remotely good looking. There's only two that I know of," she added, mostly to herself. "Not that I've been looking..."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. All she could do was look, it seemed. It was a while yet until the hour for the party was officially there, but Banyan suspected they'd be hitting the bottles before the pillaging horde hungry guests arrived. It wasn't but another string of moments more before she parked the car in front of her apartment.

Before pulling off her seat belt, though the engine was off, she took in a deep breath as though to calm her mind for meditation. She turned to Hunter and gave a brave smile as though she were about to head into battle.

"Ready to party?"

“I see; the two are easily mistaken.” He winked back at her. For something to do Hunter opened up the little compartment in front of him, rifled through the rubbish there and then closed it again. “Ah yes, the precious cargo. I almost forgot about that. We’ll be needing it all to make it through night.”

If the police had the nerve to pull them over; they likely would have arrested him on the spot just for being there. His habit of driving fast and fighting with anyone who looked his way often landed him at the police station. “They are all an ugly bunch. Except for this busty blond. Dumb as s**t but she looks like she could smother criminals in her boobs.”

His grin was wide as he nudged her arm. “I bet you are looking. I wouldn’t date a police officer though. You’re just asking for trouble. Why don’t you hook up with… uh…” He considered all the eligible Hyte males. “Um… s**t slim pickings. Go ask Mr. psychic out to the movies.”

Once the car had stopped he opened the door. “As ready as I’ll ever be baby.” He stepped out, instantly spying Jasper. “Oho, the looks like we have an arrival. Hey, pony boy! Come over here and help me empty the trunk.”

"I told you, he never comes out of that damned shop," Banyan said in resignation, mostly because she'd already tried to. "He keeps saying something about 'previous commitments'. Maybe he's got a date with a demon. Ooooo, maybe he sold his soul for his psychic powers. That'd make a fun story, wouldn't it?"

Banyan tousled the little Clyte's hair and kissed his cheek.

"You're so thoughtful, thank you, honey," she said, picking up the basket and sifting through the keys to open the apartment door. "You can help us get all the food in order before everyone else shows up."

With that, she let them both in and pulled off her sneakers as quickly as she could.

Jasper's cheek grew even more red and his smile was beaming at Banyan's tousling and kiss, "You're very welcome," he replied.

The clyte wondered who they were talking about, but shrugged off the conversation and carefully lifted the indicated tray. He followed Hunter inside. He laughed noticing what the raccoon had been carrying. "I see there won't be a lack of beverages," he remarked. "There's some sparkling cider in the basket and Tyg sent some "special" eggnog." After looking around he asked, "Where would you like me to put this tray for now?"

"I'm not a dragon," the accused protested, looking nervously between his dear friend and her rather eccentric addition to the party. "I am the Jabberwock."

Yorick mostly kept to himself because he didn't know what rightly to say. Wendy was such a bundle of nerves that he was afraid to open his mouth and give her any type of reason to burst into tears (though it seemed his very presence was conductive enough for that); Hugo, while stunning, clearly had his eye on the cuisine and Elda had her hands, feet and wings full just keeping them all complacent. The Jabberwock did not envy his friend's family ties.

His long tail snaked behind the flamingo, touching her wings in turn since his own were tightly folded against his back to keep from frightening Wendy further. "He's a brother, it's his business to dishearten," came the somber reply. His flaming gaze caught the llama's tongue and he couldn't help but smile, his own more lizard-like one flicking out in return. If you can beat 'em, join 'em!

Arriving at what he assumed was the place of the party - both by Elda's description and the number on the apartment door - he shuffled his own packages onto the flat of one palm, using his free hand to lift and rap his knuckles against the wood. In retrospect, it was probably a bit thoughtless, given Elda and Banyan's friendship, but Yorick wasn't known for his remarkable memory.

Looking down at the three modest boxes adorned gaily in their wrapping and trappings, he adjusted his hunter green turtle-neck nervously, asking for not the first time that day (or perhaps the days before, but who was he to say?), "Is it okay I'm here? We haven't met...I don't think...after all." A lame excuse, but terrible things could befall a Wonderlandian at the most mundane opportunities.