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It had been a long time coming since the tournament, but Finn was a man of his word (or rather, a man who answered a given challenge). Ripley had said that if Finn lost his match up, then he owed them all a drink, so here he was, preparing his unfortunately small room for a night of manly festivities.

There really was only so much he could do, however. Borrowed chairs from the cafeteria crammed into a small space, with MRE snacks laid out on top of the dresser in bowels that had been borrowed from the common room, consisting of various types of crackers and trail mix. A bottle of whiskey sat near that, one of two that he had possessed, though he had given the other to Jack for his birthday, and next to that were several red solo cups that had been borrowed from the Halloween party.

As far as parties went...kind of lame, but Finn wasn't doing this to try and impress anybody. He was only doing it to fulfill some ridiculous not-bet from the tournament. However, there was at least one little perk that this party did indeed happen to have.

A butler. Or at least, it would once Ian got his a** over, which had better be in a matter of moments since Finn had just sent him a text.



It was currently 8:50.

The other texts had already been sent out inviting whoever else over that Finn thought might be interested in a few drinks and shooting the s**t.

Finn glanced to his phone to check the time as a voice purred out from the other side of his doorway. He maneuvered himself around crowded furniture to get to the door and threw it open, eyeing Ian up and down in his outfit with a smirk.

"You're late." Was his only comment as he gestured for the man to enter. "But that's okay since nobody is here yet. We're all alone~" He filled those last words with a sultry tone of his own, full of all sorts of dark intentions.

And then went completely deadpan as he said. "Whiskeys on the dresser. Go and pour me a drink, like a good little b***h."

Ripley had gotten the text and replied in kind, then spent a little bit trying to find his least dirty clothes. He didn't want to arrive at the party with mud and blood on his clothes, after all! When he arrived at Finn's dorm it was just barely past nine.

As if on cue, Ripley knocked on the door, quite unaware of the littel deal going on inside.

Shiloh had been attending to some work when he’d gotten the text. His work was easily set aside for the day, however, and he arrived at the door only moments after Ripley, his jeans and a t-shirt dressed up only marginally by his coat.

He grinned at Ripley, lifting his hand with a jovial wave.

“Yo,” he said brightly, joining him as he knocked on the door. “Ready for some R&R?”

Finn eased himself into a chair, spinning it to face the doorway. His bandages had only recently come off, his arm still a bit sore and sensitive but at least usable. He was ready and in position, feet coming up to use another of the chairs as a footstool as he waited for his guests to be let in, and as the door came open he raised his glass towards both Shiloh and Ripley with a very smarmy smirk on his face, his eyes as cold as ever though he was absolutely radiating smugness.

"Gentlemen, please, sit down and allow my ladyboy servant to assist you in providing you with drink. He will also be regaling us later with with a special act entitled 'Ian's Desired Dare Hour' at which time I encourage you to come forward with any and all requests of behavioral actions for him to partake in."

With that mouthful out of the way, Finn took a delicate sip of the whiskey in his glass, savoring the taste, and the smoothness with which it went down.

Ah. This was the good stuff.

Shiloh had been expecting Finn on the other side of the door. Shiloh had been expecting, well, Shiloh wasn’t sure he had been really expecting anything but he certainly hadn’t expected Ian to be the one opening Finn’s door, dressed in an outfit that was far too tight in all the right places. Shiloh stared, taking it in, and wondering the same questions as Finn, although for very different reasons.

What had he gotten himself into?

“Special occasion?” he dared to ask, shaking his head with slight disbelief as he stepped through the doorway. Shiloh was aware of the bet, but he hadn’t been aware that Finn, or Ian, would take it quite so literally. He paused for just half a step, thinking he ought to give Ian a better hello than that, but then given their present company, it was probably a better idea that he skirted carefully around him after Ripley, a little smile on his face, and plopped himself down onto one of the cafeteria chairs, kicking out his feet.

He looked tired, but he looked happy.

“This is why I don't gamble,” he said, looking over Ian again with a chuckle. Then he turned to Finn, grinning, as he settled back into his chair.

"Remind me to never take a bet with you."

Finn might have been reveling in the taste of the whiskey as he let himself enjoy another small sip, but he wasn't deaf, and he certainly wasn't ignorant towards pop culture references. Sammy? Crowley? Was Ripley actually suggesting that Finn resembled some character from a television series about....well, hunters?

At least he got to be the king of hell. That was pretty sweet.

"He refused to seal the deal with a kiss, however. I was so disappointed." He let out a mock sigh, waiting for both of his guests to find their way to the chairs, before snapping his fingers towards Ian without even bothering to really notice that he was already working on getting drinks for both Ripley and Shiloh, before his attention turned towards the latter.

"Are you sure? You don't think my luck is bound to run out soon?" He offered, sitting up in his seat and leaning forward so that his elbows were resting on his knees, while he offered the pink haired man a large smile that bared teeth, combined with a cold, emotionless gaze. "If you win I could make it really worth your while~"

And then he let out a bark of laughter to show that he was just kidding. Possibly. Unless Shiloh did decide he wanted to make a bet, because then he wasn't kidding at all.

Glancing back up towards Ian, he reached down to pull out his phone to check the time, then nodded in appreciation at the top up. "Thanks, sweet cheeks. I suppose for all the upstanding work you've been doing, I can allow you to have a drink as well. Also, we're still waiting for at least one more." He frowned, while tapping out a quick text on his phone to said person.

"You're losing your touch." He deadpanned to Finn. Seriously, a crossroads demon not sealing the deal? That was unheard of!

"Thanks." Ripley took the glass from Ian, quite thankful to have a drink. It wasn't as good as he had hoped, and yet at the same time it was better than he'd ever expected; today was going to be good. He was going to forget about red heads and bugs and neck wounds and just...drink. With a couple guys. And a butler, apparently.

"I'm seconding Shiloh." His empty hand raised in a promise; no matter how worth his while Finn could make it, he solemnly swore to himself to refuse it. Losing was apparently way too risky. "...Wait, there's someone else? What poor b*****d are we waiting for?" As luck would have it, he had his answer before he really even wanted it; a shirtless Jack, looking as though he were about to murder the world twice in an abomination's outfit.

The white-haired Trainee was too stunned to even laugh, and all he could do was stare in a strange mix of horror and disbelief, even as Jack's eyes fell on him for the <******** you by Proxy comment. He stood up and crossed the room, grabbing one of the bottles on the table first before heading to their not-so-friendly entertainment.

"You don't need a drink you need the whole ******** bottle, man." The pilfered bottle was held out to Jack. Now that he was up close though, the shock was wearing off and the corners of his lips twitched in a terrible attempt to keep from laughing. This was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.

"And when you kill that b*****d, try to make it look like an accident, okay?"