𝙎𝙢𝙤𝙠𝙚 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙇𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 - 𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙒𝘽𝙊𝙔 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

7.

━━━

So many colours, so many sounds.

They flourish within the wood-panelled home, words and the provided chuckle bouncing across person to person like an active virus.

Contagious, yet ultimately inevitable. 

The air still stands within its heated layers, even once the sun has lowered itself beyond the horizon, and the stars have awoken to glisten the blackness. 

Yet, the town simply doesn't rest at such a time. Awake, clearly and non-inconspicuous, there was little to hold back the excitement they held for such celebrations.

To how tight-knit the community was, one celebration was for all to dabble into, and as Dorothy's birthday party would bloom by nightfall, the town's energy would only arise further than even August ever anticipated. 

But he can only suspect it to be the sharp juxtaposition between his impending friday-night exhaustion, to the volume-bouncing laughter and conversations oozing from her home, that makes it seem all the more intense. 

Even so, he still tied his chocolate-toned horse to the front porch-fence of her home, only to drop by and pay his visits before simply going along with his night. 

━━━

He'd been thankful to himself that he rid of the leather that once previously coated his body, at least somewhat easing his overall body temperature. Even so, he'd be clad in the fresh whiteness of a button-up top, front buttons lazily open, sleeves tucked and rolled to a comfortable elbow. 

Fitted and rigid, a flat, yet flattering brown-toned suit-vest would sit over his white button-up, legs enveloped in the soft, yet dark blue of his denim jeans, leather holster still kept clutched to his hips. 

And even at such a casual celebration, his leather cowboy hat still sat tight within his grasp, the deep, tree-trunk brown of his eyes slowly fluttering over the packed masses that pass him by as he'd weave himself through the people around him. 

He always found comfort in Dorothy's house, it held the same old fashioned, build as the rest of the homes across the town, yet with all the time he spent lounging or dining within her own space, it'd simply become a second home to him.

But now, as its festered with the rest of the townspeople, bustled with rowdy laughter, alcohol on their breaths, singing and the humid heat of the country, he'd only find himself simply trying to travel to the core of the home - the kitchen. 

And once his feet met the arched doorway of the also-jam-packed kitchen, he'd find the familiar red-headed curls of his co-worker, glass of the deep, also familiar bronze of alcohol in her grasp. 

Her ocean-green eyes would soon flicker and meet his, momentarily alighting as she'd weave herself past the people she'd previously been mingling with, wrapping the free, singular arm she had to offer a short hug, mixed with a chuckle. 

"August - you made it," She'd grin, gaze softly crinkling by the tight gleam of her expression as she'd have to raise her voice to actually be comprehensible over the house-party's volume. 

"For the free alcohol, obviously," He'd joke in a deep rumble of a laugh as Dorothy's hand would gently swat his shoulder in a playful swipe. "Yeah - I'm jokin', happy birthday-!" He'd raise his voice with a grin. 

"Thank you - thank you; the alcohol is on the table, Miss L/N is... well, I lost track of her, I 'dunno where she ventured off to, I'll find her for ya',"