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It’s just how she presents herself all the time, always gotta be so stern, so strict and that’s all you expect to see and hear from her, until like a quiet hiss in the ventilations, you feel the poison start to seep. Then all of a sudden she’s acting timid, muttering meek... and before you know it-suddenly you’re blushing too.

Irene cleared her throat, turning her heels in a seemingly random direction, wandering just for the sake of wandering, with me closely following suit. One perk about having such prominent of a presence as hers, people just automatically get out of the way for you and indeed there she was parting the crowds like a sexy Moses to an anthropomorphized red sea.

Still had her guard up, her arms still so close to her chest, it was like she was doing everything she can to keep herself from unwinding in any way shape or form.

Getting her to relax was going to be a bitch and a half to pull off, but like hell that’s going to stop me from trying anyway. A certain colorful trio would have my head if I didn’t at least try, and also besides... that poison of hers is rather addictive.

I swiped up an empty cup from a nearby batch of them, cracked open a can, poured away, and quickly caught up to her with a fresh serving of refreshments on offer, “A drink?” I said, raising the cup to her with my most charming smile.

“No thanks.”

.....

“Fine, sure,” I said, swiping up another cup in my other hand as we walked and poured half into the other before raising both and trying again. “How about a toast? To Christmas! To us! Or whatever the hell you feel like toasting to.”

She glanced away from me, shaking her head so drearily. “I didn’t come here to drink.”

“Oh, yes you did, there’s no mistaking that,” I refuted right away, passing over both undrunk cups to some bewildered bystander loitering nearby. “Just haven’t found the right drink for you is all. So what will it be-soda? coffee? If you like, I actually just got my hands on this expensive wine brand that you can...”

“Restroom,” She blurted, stopped, turning back towards me so rigidly I’m half surprised her joints didn’t squeak. “Point the way, please?”

Now it was me folding my arms across with scrunched lips. “Irene, you did not just gatecrash just so you can use my bathroom. If you’re gonna-”

She shot her hand up. “Look, I get it. Please, I get it! You want me to have fun, to enjoy this party, to not be so... so uptight and, yes, I’d like to, but...”

I cocked my head left, looking over her raised palm. “But?”

“Just not here, not now...” She muttered, softer, meeker, that poison permeating again. “I can relax with you, I can enjoy with you... but if there’s a crowd, you add in noise, eyes, people, then I just can’t...”

“You don’t like being watched?”

She lighty scoffed. “Are you surprised?”

“I understand colleagues, underlings, gossips, rumors, all that, yeah,” I flailed my arms to the crowd. “But strangers? Just what...?”

“Some people are bold, some people can be shameless,” Irene shuffled forward a little closer. “And some people are just shy in nature.”

“You?” I blinked at her... her, with her eyes constantly veering to the ground, and it was like I wasn’t hearing right. “Shy?”

“Again,” another light scoff. “Are you really surprised?”

“Not really, just... I never expected you to just admit to it just like that...”

“Well, you forced my hand, exposing another side of me I hate showing,” She gave a weary sigh. “Just like you always do.”

Not like I do it on purpose... it just sorta happens.

“So, then...” I began slowly. “I take it that means you won’t be participating in much of the festivities tonight?”

“Alone is more intimate anyway, personal... special...” She said, ever so subtly reaching for my arm from below. “So later, alright? When it’s quiet, when it’s empty, when it’s... personal. I promise you... I’ll enjoy what’s left over with you then. I won’t dare waste a single second of it.”

If nothing else, Irene was second to none when it came to convincing me of things I have no way of pushing back against to the point that I don’t doubt she can talk me into jumping off a cliff, and the only question I’ll be asking is if I’m supposed to dive headfirst or not.

“And how about that gift of yours?” I asked, scouring her up and down. “By the looks of it, you showed up pretty empty-handed.”

“Like I said,” She said, her lips in the vaguest, subtlest trace of a smile. “Later, alright?”

I swear, it has to be a Succubus thing she’s using. It’s the only reason why I’m willingly letting her have her way on this. That, or I’m really just that easy to sway.

“So,” Irene coughed, taking a firm step right back into stiff and stern. “Restroom?”

I sighed, and complied. “Right turn before the kitchen, second door in the corridor on your left. Amanda might be in, so knock.”

“Thanks,” She said, setting her eyes and march to the corridor, only briefly turning back once just to say. “Just pretend I wasn’t ever here, alright? When it’s time, when it’s later... I’ll come find you.”

Yeah, easier said than done pretending she was just a figment of the imagination when seemingly everyone else was seeing that same imaginary figment walking off. It’d be easier finding a needle in the haystack than it was being oblivious to her glaring presence.

Even when she had completely gone, I could still hear the excited mutters of the crowd persisting on with her memory. A babe out of the blue, showing up so mysterious, so enigmatic...and really I’m inclined to agree.

Irene just drops in, pretty much admits to being envious of all the fun I was having without her, and when I sprang up the offer of involving her, she flat out denies the prospect, and scurries off back into isolation essentially landing right back into square one where she started.

Make this make sense.

Make Irene make sense.

And this mysterious present of hers... just what on earth could she have gotten me? I got her a box of chocolate and she knows it. Would mine even measure up to hers, whatever the hell it even was?

Irene wasn’t the only one with a mystery box either. Mom, Dad, Amanda... by my count, that’s four gift-wrapped mysteries I’m yet to uncover. Seriously, just what could they have...?

Oh.

I’m thinking again, aren’t I? I’m worrying again.

No, fuck it, stop it, don’t think. Just this one night, just this one time, remember? Have some damn fun, for God’s sake...

Calm down. Shake it off.

Alright, good.

Now... just where the hell was that guy I passed the drinks to disappeared to?

“So,” I heard a voice. “So, so, so, so, so, so.”

Before I could pinpoint where that loop of ‘so’s was coming from, I felt a rough arm coiling around my neck and shoulder like the snare of a snake, and immediately I caught the strong stench of booze.

“Now you show up,” I muttered, glancing to my right and finding Tyler staring back at me dead in the eye. “Where were you hiding all this while?

“Right, no, let me get this straight, first things first,” He ignored me, squeezing me in his arm a little tighter. “So I sent you to settle things nicely with the police, and ‘stead of getting a summons for court, you got the scary-hot police gal to join in on the fun here. Am I getting this right?”

“So far, so good,” I said half-heartedly, too busy trying to wriggle free. “Tyler, I can’t breathe.”

“And what’s more...” He went on, too immersed in his private world of conspiracy and secrets to focus on anything else. “You over here talking to her acting like you’re close... like close close, you know? Like you know each other, like really, really know each other. The way you go smiling at her, chasing after her. The way she stares looking at you, squirming next to you, red in the face and I don’t even... Hey, big Man, I’m not tripping, am I? I didn’t imagine all that, did I?”

Irene had the right idea. Alone was way better, alright. Being in crowds, all the noise, all the people, all the eyes everywhere... too much trouble.

“Look, couch’s free over yonder there, perfect timing,” Tyler said, nodding his head over at an empty two-seater, and against my will, started dragging me with him towards it. “Nothing like a comfy seat and some beer to start a good story with, right?”

“There’s no story.”

“No?” He raised both eyebrows at me before pushing me down onto one side of the couch. “Fine, there’s no story. But for damn fucking sure there’s a name. There’s always a name.”

Then he planted his ass down right beside me, pulling two cans of beer from out of nowhere and cracking them both open one after the other.

“So then, Big Man,” He said, passing one over to me. “What’s her name?”