𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋, jschlatt

𝔳𝔦𝔦𝔦. granger danger

𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯

                "SHIT, SHIT, SHIT."

It was no understatement to say that Vera, Wilbur and Adam were very, very late. That was all thanks to Adam Aquino's pathetic attempts at navigating through New York City's evening rush-hour traffic and taking every opportunity he got to shout and swear at every passing pedestrian he saw, even if they weren't in his way. That was something Vera snorted about to Wilbur, knowing that the fool was acting as though his fifteen-dollars-and-a-hot-dog salary was the equivalent of three hundred gummy laxatives jars.

The car door slammed shut behind them, followed by the squeak of the vehicle locking as the trio hobbled their way across the pebble-paved pavement. The venue itself lay in an ivory circus-Esque tent, hidden behind shrubs and birch trees, branches entangled with fairy light. The soft hum of jazz resonated from the tent, leaking out from the small gaps in the fabric as people slithered their way in and out. To add to the humble splendour, a pink limousine rested beside the marquee and was decorated with masks of Mr Beast's face taped to several of the windows.

Adam, by now, had dashed in and disappeared into the party.

"Heh, I guess it really is a beast." Wilbur's joke landed pitifully.