Somewhere masked behind the energetic group, a slender hand cut with ease through the havoc and relieved Dinosaur of the newest shot glass he filled.
"Ah, so kind of you to know just what I need, compass," came the nonplussed voice of its owner, bizarrely polite as it was almost mocking, and ever accompanied by her perpetually amused-seeming smile. Tamsin might have gotten held up from heading in together with Margarita, Cristopher, and the rest of the group, but it was easy to find where she was supposed to go amidst the throngs of partygoers—just follow the loudest voice.
Surprisingly, that was not Margarita's, for once, but all roads led to Rome.
Having swapped out her healer robes for a pale blue slip of watery silk that clung to her subtle curves like waves hugged the edges of a jagged rock, the fair-haired newcomer lifted her plunder in a toast to her former classmate before tipping its contents down her throat. She shrugged unapologetically at his female twin as she briefly met Orla's eyes before turning away. Can Tamsin truly be blamed for Orla's brother being a subject for her amusement? He made it so easy.
"Don't look so pissy. I just needed the bathroom and got held up by some poor scriptwriting poet who was trying to drown out his breakup with mandrake rum," Margarita's best friend warded off the inevitable from her as she leaned in to brush a kiss against her own brother's cheek, "Hello you, stranger. I thought you'd be here tonight." It was not a difficult guess, admittedly, since she knew precisely who was his neighbour, much to her initial chagrin. Still, it was what it was. And it was good to see him. They had only begun speaking again last month at Arthur's birthday after what was nearly five months of radio silence. Tamsin hadn't missed Oliver so much in one year of working abroad in Indonesia than she had in those five months. Her smile did not waver, not even the tiniest wobble, but there was a hint of apprehension behind their mother's eyes if Oliver looked closely enough.
"I suppose I should say hi to the birthday ninny, shouldn't I? It won't take long. I'll be right back."
Somehow, talking to Fitzralph felt like the easier option. What a world. Before either of them could protest, Tamsin sidled past her brother and Margarita and the O'Sullivan twins and the Arundael triplets and some strangers she did not recognise. It took some deft manoeuvring for her to approach her one-time school junior, who seemed to be in the throes of a mock-argument with some jughead in a cap and shades.
"Well, happy birthday, Fitzralph. I must say, you need better friends. I will have you know that I am off duty tonight and regardless, it isn't acceptable for the drunken emesis to begin earlier than four hours into a party," she tilted her head at the jughead, "wouldn't you—"
Words abruptly stopped dead in their tracks.
The healer stared at the jughead, or rather, she stared at what little was visible of the jughead beneath the cap, the shades, and the beard. It was a very familiar jughead.
Tamsin turned around immediately and attempted to quickly retreat back into the crowd.
"All right, who had that firewhiskey, don't be a hogger now...."