(kiss day) makarov/RO

If asked whether a SMG tactical doll RO635 liked a crowd, her answer is flat no. Or, perhaps she likes the noise if she is the one making it, which is evident as of why she brought her favorite megaphone to the Griffin parties (though, she knew that it would end up unused eventually).

This is her first-ever attendance to the formal party. Usually, she would too busy to attend; either stranded somewhere with her teammates or literally broken into pieces with only her Neural Cloud left.

Anyway, the party was pretty wild for her tastes, she scurried away from the presence of AR team as M4A1 and AR-15 were suddenly pulled in for a game with others. SAA is in the charge of black jack, so they said, more reasons to avoid the open table, or else maybe she'd be forced to do the drinking game ... with cola. SOPMOD will enjoy her company, maybe, though RO confessed she has lost SOP since she excused herself for a flute of free-flowing champagne. Poor girl (really?) should've been somewhere, dragged to one of strip poker.

Okay, hopefully not. RO didn't want this hall to be coated in rifle holes - courtesy of several drunken T-dolls and their loose tongues.

"Not in for the fun, my dear girl?"

RO was sure she is picking one of empty corner, almost undetected from any angles from the bar counter. She planned to cock the edge of her megaphone to counter whoever drunkard was, but her mismatched eyes landed on one of the patron who wore revealing, almost transparent piece of flowing white satin.

Heck, her white as snow hair almost gave a plus to her translucency.

"I thought the dress code is black?"

"Nyet." she answered with a puff of pride. "Anyone is free to wear anything, or maybe nothing at all."

"That would tarnish Griffin's name. We don't need such party crasher."

"As straight-laced as always, aren't you, RO." Makarov raised her glass, half empty. "Anyways, За вас?"

RO clinked hers, the sizzles of champagne was there from respective glasses. The party escalated on the other parts of the grand ballroom, but their own tête-à-tête is mostly silence. There's no losing chips. There's no punishment game. They were standing, side-by-side, like once RO ever remembered.

The memory when Makarov asked about RO's whereabouts while she is still in her Dinergate form is fresh in her mind.

"... So, what do you want?"

"To the point, I see." Makarov took another sip. A smile played on her small lips. "My tongue is loose enough already because A-91 popped the stash of Vodka early."

RO chuckled at that, "You're dancing at your words, still." And looking sober enough, must she say.

"Shouldn't I be?" the HG rolled the thin glass on her grasp. RO couldn't see her eyes directly, but the reflection there was enough to tell whether she was having fun. It was rare for those red eyes glimmer.

As the crowd cheered on the winning hand, their distance was closing, but neither announced defeat.

Was it even a 'defeat'?

"I miss you."

Clearly, she wasn't lying whether her tongue is loose enough. And it is provided even further as when their tongues met, it was all bitter vodka and citrus, clashing stronger as the crowd out there chanted for an extra game between the victors. Makarov yanked further, impatient. Glasses with unfinished batch forgotten.

"Can I have all of you tonight?" a breath. "Just, tonight?"