[ having never been in or even seen a car before, Fidelio's has no first thought about what space he wakes up inside of. it could be a bedroom for all he knows, and frankly it's larger and nicer than almost any he's ever slept in for that matter, so you'll find no major complaints from him here. at least, not about that part. no, the luxury limousine is tall enough for him to stand up straight in (not that that's saying much) and long enough to stretch out on the sectional seats twice or even three times oveer (not that that's saying much), well lit and extravagantly furnished with drinks in ice buckets and snack trays galore. it'd almost be a dream to live in, save for the lack of a bathroom, maybe.

the problem isn't the space; it's the fact that he can't get out of the space. waking up in nothing but an extremely oversized robe, hastily belted closed, with no idea where he is and having figured out the door handles only to find they don't open is a bit more threat than Del's willing to patiently put up with. he throws his shoulder hard into one of the doors, swears under his breath, and then clambers across the seats in the direction of the driver's spot where there happens to be another door.

before he can reach it, though, he winds up damn near climbing into the lap of his car buddy, who just so happened to have slept through the initial ruckus. the abrupt discovery of another berobed living person in the car with him provokes a clipped shout, and he tumbles back right onto the gear shift, which prompts yet another shout, this one in the form of a highly colorful expletive. ]

Don't tell me you were in here the entire time?! Quit messing around and—ngh—get the door open already!

[ there may have been a little urging from the ghosts to get him here, but the decision to head straight into the epicenter of activity and try to get a feel for what's going on was mostly entirely Del's. the choice in attire was not, however, and the result is that he's standing here looking like an absolute dipshit in a tuxedo that's made entirely out of gold scales. scales, as in, like a shiny magikarp. they're obnoxiously metallic and flashy and liable to blind anyone standing in the line of fire between them and the glint of an errant chandelier, but hey, at least it fits. he's already small, hardly breaching five foot even, so finding something in his size seemed like an impossibility, but he raised absolute hell over the notion of being put in something that'd make him look like a dumb child playing dress-up in papa's clothes, so concessions were made. actually, if not for how heinously gaudy the suit is, he'd pass for quite dapper.

in spite of his attempts to, er, "mingle," Fidelio wears a perpetually suspicious and wary expression as he moves through the crowd, studying faces and observing activities. already well aware he's out of his depth and not exactly market standard for what the folks around here are typically going to be looking for, he's chosen to allow this to serve him in favor of some much-needed recon. from time to time, his gaze will pass over someone else's and then travel all over, mostly their face and head, and he'll look puzzled for a moment before he looks elsewhere.

what... tribe are these people from? in a lot of cases, it's almost impossible to tell.

eventually, Fidelio finds himself where many party-lurkers do: at the food table. that's one thing he's not entirely suspicious about, at least, and he has absolutely no qualms with horking down everything on his plate, held in one hand, eating with the fingers of the other. you might even catch him hovering protectively over a tray of meat pies, the hair on his tail standing on end. there are three left, and he clearly doesn't plan on letting them go. ]

Move along, eh. Those're spoken for.

[ of all the games to play, the house of cards seemed like the safest option. answering potentially personal questions honestly in front of strangers isn't his idea of a good time, but between that and sniffing someone's knee in the other room, it's a cross he's willing to bear. as it turns out, Fidelio seems to have some talent for finessing cards out of the house without so much as causing a wobble—probably thanks in part to his steady hand and quiet, thoughtful concentration. the questions thus far have been entirely harmless (favorite food, favorite color, boring things like that), and he's answered all of them straightforwardly, with little to no editorial. while he's clearly listened closely to answers and conversations happening around him, he hasn't seemed interested in participating in talking very much, himself.

shy? (maybe) nah, taking it all in. sizing up this place and everyone in it. figuring out how best to get home and back to his brother, his job, his life.

that's not to say that he's completely socially stilted, though. when his next turn comes around, Del decides to impress the table by selecting a card in a highly precarious spot. he slips it free with care and quirks the corners of his lips in a faintly cocky sort of way—but that smirk fades as soon as he flips the card around to see the question. ]

Uh...

[ What's it say? urges a random Peacock resident who decided to pull up a chair and watch the match. they seem to know it's going to be something juicy, and that's all but confirmed by the way color floods into Fidelio's face like he's not sure it's ever done before, pooling in his cheeks and blotching up his complexion all the way down to his neck. a weak clear of his throat, and he opts not to read the question aloud. he answers simply: ]

No. Nope, sure haven't. Can we just—whose turn is it?

[ and then places the card face-up for everyone to see. the question: Have you ever given or received oral sex from another person?

talk about a royal flush. ]

( feel free to wildcard me anything, i'm down for whatever! ota, m/m preferred but m/f is fine too. regarding Del's age, he is between 19 and 25, but due to a canon reason that is somewhat unfortunate and traumatic, his aging was stunted so he looks a lot younger than he is (like, 15-16ish). i'm not super interested in making that a Thing (other than size diff, which is a rad kink no matter what), but i get how it might be awkward in a sex game setting, so if you'd prefer to keep things gen, that's cool. he's an adult and will act like one, just figured i'd mention!

feel free to pm this journal or pp tarocchi for plotting and whatnot! )