[ so, parties. not wolfwood's thing, even if his circumstances growing up allowed him to experience something like this. oh, the eye taught him all kinds of shit—how to mingle, how to schmooze, how to observe, all that good stuff. and yeah, he doesn't quite look like he'd rather be anywhere but here at first glance, but it's safe to say that he... really would rather be anywhere but here. he hasn't had a smoke since he woke up in the parking lot and the lack of nicotine is enough to give him a headache even without the glitzy lights in his face.
at least he has the glasses the hotel had graciously given him. it's the only thing keeping him from wanting to put his head between his knees, or from keeling over while the ghost hands push him inevitably along towards the party. which means that, after a particularly enthusiastic push against his chest, wolfwood stumbles into angelika's path, just managing to throw an arm out against the wall to avoid colliding into her entirely. ]
Shit, [ he grunts, straightening up and whirling around with a glare and a balled fist as if he could actually see the ghost hands. stupid. he runs a hand roughly through his hair before turning back to her. ] ... Sorry about that.
im wildcarding this
at least he has the glasses the hotel had graciously given him. it's the only thing keeping him from wanting to put his head between his knees, or from keeling over while the ghost hands push him inevitably along towards the party. which means that, after a particularly enthusiastic push against his chest, wolfwood stumbles into angelika's path, just managing to throw an arm out against the wall to avoid colliding into her entirely. ]
Shit, [ he grunts, straightening up and whirling around with a glare and a balled fist as if he could actually see the ghost hands. stupid. he runs a hand roughly through his hair before turning back to her. ] ... Sorry about that.