#( thread | jackson: crab puffs. )

[cassiehayesx]

@owen-jackson​:

He should be more used to these sorts of events by now, and yet still Jackson gritted his teeth as he’s given the stupid outfit and he grumbles as he stands with the rest of the slaves as they’re being told what to do. It isn’t until he manages to serve drinks for the first part of the party that Jackson actually starts to loosen up a bit, granted he’d likely drank more flutes of expensive champagne than he served. Of course, by the time he’d lost count of how many drinks he’d managed to down, he’d gotten sloppy and a guard caught on, and Jackson had been banished to appetizers with the promise of a punishment after the party.

Groaning and looking slightly more discheviled, Jackson weaves through people clumsily, trying to find a quieter area of the room to escape to. Spotting a group of mistresses eyeing him from the direction he was currently heading, Jackson abruptly switches course only to narrowly miss another person. He struggles for a moment, his tray wobbling and its contents threatening to spill as Jackson almost loses his balance to avoid crashing into the other, but by sheer luck Jackson manages to balance himself and keep everything on his tray.

“Fucking hell that could have been bad,” Jackson lets out with a long breath and a half chuckle. “shit, you alright?” He finishes as he looks up to see who he almost crashed into.

Admittedly, the almost-collision was as much Cassie’s fault as his. She was not too proud to say that she’d been craning her neck to get a better look at a passing woman’s ass rather than watching where she was going, and how was she supposed to predict that the man carrying a tray of snacks was about to veer in her direction? She jumped an awkward step backwards, shuffling like she was about to break out into a dance at the same time her hands came up as if to try catch him--only to let out a little whistle when he managed, rather miraculously, to catch himself, and without so much as a spill.

“Impressive,” she said, and was about to answer his question when she caught a proper look at his tray, and: “Shit, are those crab puffs?” She snatched one off of his tray and stuffed it in her mouth before remembering her manners, though not enough to stop her from talking with her mouth full. “Yeah, nah, I’m fine, bud. You good? You look like you’ve had more champagne than me, and I’ve been tossing them back.” Smelled like it, too, which she almost admired. Mouth still full of crab puff, she linked her arm through one of his and said, “I’m gonna borrow you for a bit, so I can eat your entire tray, kay? What’s your name? Here, you want my mimosa?”