college party, o

 James had left halfway through the first year at college and even while he attended it, his domineering attitude hadn't won him many fans; why in hell had he been invited to a party?
 Well, whatever, in the end he got free booze and that was pretty much all the reason he needed to go.

 When the dropout entered the house in which the party was taking place he realized exactly why he had been invited; because everybody else and their grandmother too had been invited. All the better, really, now he wouldn't even have to worry about standing out or socializing- and just so, James proceeded to follow his agenda for the night; get well and thoroughly drunk.

 Ten minutes later yet another drink sloshed around in his cup, a vodka and a sprite if he remembered correctly- or was that the third drink he had had? This was turning out to be the sort of a party that would result in James winding up with a new tattoo, or knowing his luck; a new scar to add to the collection. Not to mention the hangover the next day.

 Somebody pushed past him to wrap their arms around another person, causing James to sway on his feet. Yeah, at this point he was well on his way to fulfill his 'agenda'. With another song starting up, James just kept on swaying while moving through the room- it was sad really how he his drunken swaying was a better dance than any he could do while sober.

 But really, drunken dancing? Almost as bad as drunk driving- it didn't take long for the teen to lose his balance and donate his drink to the clothes of the closest people in his vicinity.

 People just stared at him for a moment, because he certainly did cut a unique figure; the scarred guy with feathers and a raccoon tail braided into his overly spiky hair.
 In the face of the stares- some hostile, James just gave a hearty guffaw, his mind too intoxicated to really care about- well anything at this point. He was a jovial drunk, and now he knew that he would have a scar to add to his collection.


 If only he wasn't too drunk to care

   There was a reason why James was not invited to a party by the same people twice; it was because when drunk his mind reverted to a seven year old's. A seven year old's who had one too many liters of coffee. Coffee mixed with Red Bull.
 In other words it was a Bad Idea. Notice the capitalization.

  Right now the subconsciousness of said person was trying to garner the attention of its host, seeing as how he was merrily laughing after tripping over half a dozen people and dowsing them with a cup full of booze, half a dozen people who were more likely drunk than not- and not everybody was a jovial drunk like James.

 'Stop laughing.' Mr. Subconscious urged James

 'It's a party, they should lighten up!' James argued with his mental, stabler self.

 'You'll start a fight.' his desire for self preservation responded.

 'I can handle myself.' James argued childishly.

 'You'll be kicked out of the party. Away from all the drinks.'

 Well, they couldn't have that. 

 So James brought himself back down to earth and tried to look bashful (unsuccessful as he couldn't keep the smile off his face) and apologized.
 "I'm sorry guys~"

 Nobody was convinced of the sincerity of the apology so James found himself by the most tangled up group of fallen people.
 "Here; lemme help." he said, offering some tissues to a red haired guy who had been hit by the drink particularly bad. 

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