Ode to Remedy

Act V

Smoke twisted in the air overhead, forming artistic curls in the dark, illuminated only by the age-speckled lights strung across the ceilings. Along the wall was every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles that Markus could only assume was Ocean's parents'; every vice that he had been ordered to avoid. He skittishly scanned the room of dancing people and recognized a familiar face above the heads of everyone else, glancing around awkwardly. Carmine found Markus's eyes and pushed his way through the crowd to greet him.

"Marky," Carmine addressed, tripping a bit as he escaped all of the movement. He then forced a laugh. "How've you been?"

Markus responded with a curt nod, clasping his friend's extended hand. Carmine's American accent always seemed out of place amongst his British counterparts, especially because he was never present. Markus was always slightly intimidated by Carmine's powerfully built frame, or his height of 6'5, for Markus was embarrassed to have to look up to speak with him.
"I've been better. This event is quite.. intense."

"Really?" Carmine smirked. "You just arrived. Why not enjoy yourself a little?" His eyes trailed down to the bottle Markus held in his fist, before whistling and falling back against the wall. "Armand vodka? Where'd you manage to get your hands on that?"

"I.." Markus paused, then began to laugh. "Don't know. I can tell you want to try some. Your American urges are seeping into a puddle on the floor, Carmine, I can tell."

"Harhar," He rolled his eyes and reached for the bottle, only for Markus to swoop past him, spinning around at him with finger-guns.

"You know," Carmine continued, ignoring him. "I haven't been to a party this wild since I was in highschool."

"Sometimes I forget you have an education."

"I'm ready to beat you up." He punched Markus, causing him to bump into a table. Carmine then pulled up a chair across from him with two shot glasses between his knuckles. "Seriously though, like you said, this is a little too intense. Yes, even for me. I don't even know where my damn girlfriend went." He slid one glass across the table as Markus popped open the bottle. He hesitated for a moment, shoving his protesting thoughts to the depths of his mind.

"Yeah, I was looking for her." Markus lilted, pouring the vodka into the glass.

Carmine placed an arm over the back of his chair, catching the glass just as Markus pushed it back towards him. "She's always had a thing for partying." He downed the drink in one gulp and let the glass fall back atop the table, his curly, copper hair fell over his dark eyes. "Sometimes I worry. Something could happen while I'm gone. She could get too intoxicated, maybe. Like she is tonight." His face curled in disgust. "It's only eleven, man, and she's already staggering all over the place." 

"But you're here now, right?" Markus said quickly, slightly taken aback at the sharpness in his own voice. Carmine looked to him. Was Markus simply getting tired of being vented to all the time? Markus fretted, before sliding the second glass dripping with intoxicants across the table to him. "You can make sure she returns home safely and you'll be with her as long as you're here. Spend as much time with her while you can."

Carmine eyed the shot for a moment in silence, before skimming it across the table back to him with a grin.

"You do know how shots work, right? Don't be trying to get me drunk here."

"Ah," Markus faltered, taking up the small glass in his fingers, his voice becoming a bit brittle. "Right." He glanced to Carmine across the table, his eyes seemed to glow with strewn party lights in the dim room. Markus's gaze then returned to the glass. He wasn't about to hesitate in front of him, as if he wasn't feeble enough. It's not like this was his first shot. Nevertheless, he drank.

A sour and vile taste slipped into Markus's mouth, nullifying him. As the night progressed and he and Carmine's empty conversation began to spiral deeper, the drink began to steal away reality in favour of fantasy. He came to lust after it, just when he realized that a good three quarters of the expensive drink had been consumed. Carmine urged him to accompany him to the dance floor, and despite Markus's slurred resists, he found himself partying alongside his friend. He would have never thought of himself to be the one to dance amongst other drunkies just as himself, but he was having a better time than at the apartment at least. He took another shot every time that scene replayed that took place with Valentine in his head, and continued on with his fun. Smoke billowed and eddied around them in the dark of the room. He couldn't tell apart the sound of music ringing in his ears from the music vibrating the floors they danced upon. It was only until Carmine dragged him from the dancefloor that he realized how weary he was. He was so thirsty.
Markus would not lie, it was pleasant to be able to catch up with his long-gone acquaintance, even if they both were intoxicated, until his long-gone acquaintance's significant other stumbled upon their chat.

"You sure look like you're having a hell of a night." Markus said through laughter, not necessarily sure if he just insulted her or not. Carmine only looked to her, disappointment burning in his eyes.

She only hummed in response, attempting to fan herself with her hand. "I'm glad you actually decided to come! Didn't think you would." Her lazy, hazel eyes briefly inspected the room. "Did Valentine accompany you?"

Markus's smile melted. Perhaps he could quench his thirst with more vodka, a voice in his head said. He forced the thought aside. "Nah, he had to work."

Primrose frowned, then nodded. "Shame. I was looking forward to catching up with him. It ́s been a while." She then turned to Carmine, her eyes radiated a sort of drunken sultry. "How about you? Are you having a good time?"

Carmine only glared.

Primrose then pushed her red-stained lips out in a pout. "Baby, talk to me."

Markus pushed himself to his feet and excused himself, brushing past Carmine with a brief whisper. "This is no place for me. You two resolve. I'll leave the vodka here just incase." He snickered as Carmine punched him in the side, leaving him to watch as he mindlessly trailed off into the ocean of movement. His nebulous eyes watched the bodies of the room as if they were in slow motion. Some laughed and bared as little clothing as they could, pressing against the shoulders of their acquaintances. Some shielded themselves in corners, their overdone makeup spilled down their reddened faces in the river of their tears, reminding Markus of ink. Their friends all huddled around them, or close near, attempting to cheer them up. The bore on their faces made Markus chuckle. Perhaps they could use a drink as well, but it was not Markus's place to offer one to them. He began to feel the vibration of blaring music in his chest, as if it crept up the soles of his feet from the floor and shook his bones. The waves of the fuzzy sea of voices began to crash into the shores of Markus's sanity. His head throbbed.

He leant against the wall, finding entertainment in the intoxicated emotions of the people he saw around everyday celebrating around him. Was that weird? He closed his eyes for a moment and fell victim to the mass amount of the night's tonic. It seemed to burn throughout his body through the veins of his limbs. If it pained him so, why did he crave more? He flinched when he felt a sudden, slender hand fell upon his shoulder, ripping him from his thoughts.