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Homecoming Carnival, The Park, Friday

The weather had been kind, and it was just the right amount of cool for a Halloween-themed Homecoming carnival. The booths and activities were ready for visitors, and the Halloween decorations and spooooky music playing everywhere aimed to set the right kind of mood for everyone.

Yes, there was also black and orange glitter everywhere, because of course there was. Feel free to take some home with you, because it's going to be difficult not to!

[Have at it! Kissing Booths | Dunk Tanks | Pie Tossings | Food and Drink | Tables | Rides | Games]

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“I thought about puttin’ up a ‘bidding starts at 20 bucks’ sign, but then I thought, hey,” Margo said, her shrug big, amused, and full of ‘whacha gonna do?’ energy. “Power to the people, fuck capitalism.”

Life was easier when you could just make ATMs give you money!

"'Fuck capitalism' should be embroidered on your coat of arms, Your Majesty," Irene remarked, amused. (The other royals she knew and had known generally had fewer proletariat-friendly attitudes.) "Did you actually sign up for this?"

Honestly, Irene might consider a kissing booth next year. They did seem like an awful lot of fun (though if a student approached she didn't know what she'd do. Pat them on the head and send them on their way?)

“Yeah, I did. I was bored,” Margo said, smirking. “And the shy ones are so cute.”

In a fucked-up fear monster kinda way.

"Oh, they're adorable," Irene agreed readily. "I did that to Dwight because he was all shy about it."

The cartoonish lipstick print was probably still visible even from here.

"I, on the other hand, was drafted," she added, gingerly plucking at her shirt and wiping away a bit of whipped cream.

“You definitely shoulda signed up for this one to keep your pretty face away from all the pie.” Margo leaned over her booth with delicate grace, trying to swipe her fingers through the mess on Irene’s shirt.

Irene held still for her, clearly reveling in the attention. (Maybe even worth getting pied?) "Lesson learned for next year, love, and flattery will get you everywhere. What's the going rate for a royal kiss, anyway?"

Irene was sort of obscenely wealthy, anyway, why not. Supposedly this was for a good cause.

Now Margo absolutely had to eat the whipped cream from her fingers, right? She knew how to play a rapt audience.

“I did actually charge the last guy a twenty,” she said.

"That's a bit steeper than the market price, I think," Irene noted with a lift of her brow, watching Margo quite closely even as she slid a hand into her bag to find her wallet. Without looking. Better things to look at right there in front of her, and all. "But well worth it. And it's for a good cause."

She still had no fucking idea what they were raising money for. Textbooks? Did kids even use textbooks here? Oh, maybe this was how they paid for those obscenely amazing trips!

Edited 2021-10-29 20:00 (UTC)

“Hey, he was willing to pay. Capitalism sucks, but we all play the game, right?”

Did Margo sit back just to make her cleavage pop just right in this blouse? Did a talking bear shit in the woods?

Flirting with Irene was fun.

God, but it was good to have someone who flirted back. Irene loved her awkward, awkward friends, but flirting into a vacuum for reactions was only fun for so long.

Also, Margo's cleavage was not exactly going unnoticed or unappreciated here.

Irene pulled out a crisp twenty dollar bill of her own, holding it up. "So what's a twenty get me, exactly? At these prices it had better be quite a kiss."

Was she intentionally trying to make it sound a little like a challenge? Yes, because flirting with Margo was fun, and Irene suspected she'd rise to the occasion.

“The other guy just gave me a peck on the cheek.” Margo hammed up the smug on her smirk for all it was worth, because Jon was. . . Jon. Not exactly a shining example for anyone, let alone Hot and British.

She leaned across the booth.

“But if you’re angling for more, I guess I can give you the pretty girl discount.”

She tried to pluck the bill out of Irene’s hand.

Irene let her take it, opting to lean in with her elbows on the booth (which allowed a little peek down her shirt. Two could play that game.) "I just want to get my money's worth," she replied, dropping her voice a little with a slow smile. "Do your worst, Margo."

By which she meant her best, of course.

Margo took note of that little peek down Irene’s pretty expensive shirt with all the deference it required. (By which she meant a quick flick of the eyes just slow enough to be noticed.)

“You don’t deserve my worst,” she said, drawing out each word until her hand fell on Irene’s cheek and her mouth found Irene’s lips.

She wasn’t planning to make this a short one.

Irene let out a low, pleased hum into the kiss, leaning a bit more across the booth to meet Margo halfway. Her hand drifted up to lightly trace a fingertip along Margo's jaw as she kissed her, her touch feather-light and gentle.

All for a good cause, et cetera, et cetera.

This was totally for charity. What if Irene got outta this thinking she didn’t get her money’s worth, huh? Maybe she’d leave and take her money with her, and then what would all those poor. . . orphans or whatever do?

Yeah. So she might’ve traced Irene’s bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. Greater good, check.

The sacrifices that had to be made for these poor, nebulously charitable causes. So sad. But twenty dollars was for sure worth some tongue, so Irene was glad for that, making it clear with another appreciative hum.

And, in turn, maybe Margo's lower lip deserved a little nip. Just a little one. As a treat.

Awww, how thoughtful. It was rude not to reciprocate, wasn’t it? Sure, it was time to pull away, always leave them wanting more, but. . . Margo sucked on Irene’s upper lip before she withdrew.

She lingered a bit.

Always leave them wanting more. Just because Irene would do the same and knew it didn't mean she wasn't a little sad to end the kiss, even if the desire for more was part of the appeal.

And even if it was the middle of a damned harvest festival thing, so far from what Irene would consider ambiance, her visit to this booth was still her favorite part of today so far.

So far. "I feel like I underpaid," Irene murmured, staying close.

“You got a great deal,” Margo agreed, her voice low and her smile smug and pleased. “But I like you, so I’m okay with it.”

"I promise not to tell anyone I got such a steep discount," Irene assured her softly as she pulled back, a little color rising in her cheeks even as she tossed off a playful wink. For all that she was a good liar and a massive flirt, she at least did know that her body would always betray when she was actually attracted to someone. Hard lesson to learn, that one. "I'll be around if you're bored later."

Just to throw that out there.

She probably had a few more rolls in the hay left before she had to break out the ‘I don’t do anything but casual’ talk, right? Irene didn’t seem like the clingy type.

“I just might be,” Margo said. Her smugness was terribly cheerful.

Much more the pursuing type. If Margo didn't come through, she'd just keep making increasingly bold plays towards Amaya's petticoats, probably.

"Then I just might see you later." Irene pulled back all the way, straightening up with a smugness of her own. "Maybe you can help me clean up."

Sometimes the easy line was the winner, what could she say.

“I did like the taste of that cake,” Margo mused lazily, leaning back into her seat. “Save me some.”

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Homecoming Carnival, The Park, Friday

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Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson

Re: Kissing Booths: Margo Hanson