Party Preparations

[SansaSaver]

((Will Brackenrig continued from Pimples))

"Yeah. Yeah, it's called...The Cobra Event, I think. Oh. Well, if one comes available d'you think you could call me? Right. It's 06-"

"Will, it's almost time!"

"Oh, shit. Uh... Could I ring you back? I'd kinda lost track of the time. Right. Thank you."

Will ended the call and dropped his phone back onto his pocket, gazing over the mess he'd made in the past few hours. His room was usually clean - nothing to boast about, but clean all the same - but it didn't take too long for the floor to be littered with scrunched up notepaper and fashion magazines to be strewn over his bedspread, adorned with multicoloured tabs. The only places that were ever really free from mess were the shelf of DVDs (all one show) and his wardrobe. He'd never let mess touch those things. They were too important to him.

He'd spent the better half of the afternoon searching through his wardrobe, looking for the best outfit to wear to Ana's party. The two were friends, no doubt about that, but not to the point where Will knew exactly which outfits she preferred. And he had to add the other guests into the equation; he didn't want to wear anything too muted, nor did he want to choose something too over-the-top.

Ah, the perils of fashion-consciousness.

After a few hours of rearranging shirts and loafers and blazers, he'd pieced together what he thought might be an acceptable outfit: a pinstriped powder blue shirt and a pair of meticulously ironed black slacks, alongside a pair of caramel loafers. There'd been a time where he'd thought of starting over, but when he'd already showered and shaved and gotten changed, and the time had flew by, there was no such opportunity.

"Coming mum!" Will shouted, before pulling the finishing piece of his outfit - a spearmint green jacket he'd slowly developed a liking for - from the neat pile at the end of his bed. He gave himself a brief glance in his bedroom mirror, checking that he looked presentable. Giving himself a curt nod and a smart grin, Will opened his door and left his bedroom, bidding farewell to the mess that it contained. Except for the shelf of DVDs (all one show) and his wardrobe. He'd never let mess touch those things. They were too important.

Padded feet clopping against a carpeted staircase, Will took a moment to gaze over the breadth of the teashop. From the upper levels he could see almost all of Curiositea, from the restaurant to the register to the parlour to his mother, who stood impatiently by his father, waiting for him. Will grinned as he rushed through the last couple of steps, before walking briskly towards them once returned to ground level.

"What was it, mum?" He said jokingly, smoothing out the cuff of his jacket. "Something I should know about?"

Whilst Will's father merely grinned sheepishly in return, Elizabeth sighed, hands on hips, before undertaking her routine outfit check.

"Oh, Will. Don't be silly," she said, lips pursed as she surveyed Will's outfit. "Now, have you got everything? Said goodbye to your sister?"

Will patted his pockets, feeling the familiar warmth of his phone and wallet. There wasn't much else he'd need, right? Not unless he intended to sneak booze into Ana's party or something. And there was no chance he'd try anything like that. As for Gwen - well, she was no doubt tucked away in her room studying for a Latin test or something like that. He hoped she wasn't stressing herself out too much, and barging in to say farewell wouldn't help matters.

"I'm sure, mum. Ready to go da-"

"Oh! There's something else too..." Elizabeth shuffled back to the pastry counter and withdrew a freshly polished tin, adorned with an intricate ivy pattern. Will was more than familiar with that tin - whenever he went out to hang with friends his mother made sure to ply him with biscuits and pastries and the like. And it was always in this tin. Will couldn't help but suspect it had something to do with how elegant and expensive it looked.

"It's just some florentines and biscotti. Nothing special."

Elizabeth tucked the tin into Will's hands, a wide grin passing over her flushed features.

"Have a great time, Will. Oh, and peck!"

Will sighed and leaned in, lips brushing lightly over his mother's cheek. She always adhered to these sort of rituals, the sort of stuff Will felt was more suited to a grandmother and grandchildren than mother and son. But it didn't matter much. He'd much prefer coddling than abandonment or the like. He didn't have much to complain about, and to complain about loving parents would be silly.

"I will, mum. Let's go dad."

Will held open the door of the teahouse for his father - the cool evening breeze entering the restaurant as he did so - before clicking it shut and moving onto the bustling street beyond.

This ought to be a good night.

((Will Brackenrig continued in A Party...))