{clubbin'} this is how we do. {sarah}

Reagan couldn't remember the last time they'd had a proper girls' night. New Year's Eve, maybe? The point was that it had been far, far too long and there had been a general consensus between the two that it was time to remedy that problem. Some girls only went out with their boyfriends, shoving their best friends to the back burner and forgetting about the mere existence of platonic loyalty -- but that was, perhaps, the opposite with Reagan and Sarah.

Inseparable since age eleven, the two did everything together, knew everything about each other, were endlessly supportive of one another, and even lived together in Islington. They popped in and out of Grimmauld Place frequently, but since Sarah had gotten a job bartending, they hadn't wanted to impose for too long and thus had moved into a nearby apartment. Harry had been endlessly gracious, letting them live at his house, until they'd become financially secure enough to get up on their feet. That didn't mean, however, that they had multiplying stashes of money they could use to go out every weekend, so nowadays, when they had enough money put aside for a real night out, it was a treat.

The brunette had gone a classic route for their outing tonight -- a heavy dose of black and gold included. She wasn't particularly in the mood to be hit on tonight (though she wasn't counting on that), so she'd gone the opposite of flashy. Sometimes, she didn't know if Sarah knew that there was an opposite to flashy, especially where clubbing was concerned. After fluffing the last long curl that draped over her shoulder and touching up the heavy application of nude lipgloss, they'd decided on a location. New club just uptown from their residence, it was said the drinks were good, cheap, and that the establishment was particularly polished. They always saw too many people they knew, if from work, school, or elsewhere when they went to Nyx, so they often avoided it.

"Ready?" She inquired excitedly, lips quirking into an enthused smile, before she took her best friend's arm and apparated them to the club. The music bumped loudly, plenty of lights flashing from inside the building. Reagan almost felt sorry for the people living on that street and then reminded herself that tonight was anything but a night of guilt. "Certainly as flashy as described." She commented, pursing her lips before making a minute shrugging gesture toward the door. "Let's go in and get drunk, I s'pose."

That drew a wink and a giggle from her, hand gripping Sarah's wrist gently while she pulled her through the threshold.

  The build up to a night on the town had always been a sacred rite to Sarah. It was one of the few times she truly put effort into her appearance in any way that could be described as being typically female. Hitting town wasn't just going out, though... It was an event. If you didn't look shit hot, you just looked shit. She was supposed to leave with Ray at eleven in the evening, so she'd started getting ready at four. That was reasonable, right? Her bath came first. In Sarah's opinion, if a girl didn't make sure every inch of her from the eyebrows down was shaved then she had put a piss-poor effort into the night. Sure, she wasn't intending to go on the pull... But who knew? Stuff could always happen with anyone. Better to be safe than sorry. Once out of the bath, it was time to do something about her hair. She liked to think that she had perfected her specific hair styling method by now. The secret was to put effort into curling it, then tip it upside down and backcomb the living daylights out of it. The result was the perfect I'm-already-on-the-piss look. She was damn good at this.

  Next it was time to shimmy into that dress. And that was a serious shimmy - the thing was practically painted on. She hadn't eaten that day not only so that she could get drunk on the cheap - because hey, drinking in London was pretty damn expensive - but also so that she wouldn't be getting people giving her the stink eye for drinking in what looked like the second trimester of an imaginary pregnancy. Still, she was hoping she had enough up top to detract attention from that. Finally came make-up. More was definitely more. Sare could never bare those preachy girls that were so anal about strong eyes with soft lips or bold lips with bare eyes. Why the rules? Artfully smudged eyeliner in place with a scarlet lip smeared on she decided she still looked fit even if she had broken the rules. Having seen what her best friend was getting into, Sare had decided to do enough flashy for the both of them, anyway.

  Once she was finally done, she shoved some money down the front of her dress - clutches were a pain in the arse - and indicated to Ray that she was ready to roll. She was pumped. It had been far too long since the pair had gone on a proper bender. If Sarah hoped to accomplish anything tonight, it was getting herself and her best friend absolutely mortal. They were drinking to make up for two months of absolutely nothing! Being an adult and responsible for her personal finances was depressing. Tottering over to the smaller witch - who seemed even smaller with Sarah in ridiculous heels - she held her arm, gave a quick nod to her question, and they were off.

  Sare shuddered when they jerked to a halt. Apparating on an empty stomach was so grim. She shrugged the feeling off, and rolled her shoulders a few times to loosen back up. She was ready.

  "Let's bounce then, doll." She said, and confidently walked in. It looked pretty ok from her first glance at the joint. The music was loud enough to feel, the lights flickering in what was almost a comfortingly familiar way, and the bar looked well equipped. Sare tugged Ray in that direction. It was time. She leaned over the bar and waited for the bartender to get around to her.

  "You do rainbow shots?" she shouted at the man. He nodded. "One rainbow then!" She responded. Shouldering some space at the bar beside her for Reagan, she watched as the man prepared their drinks. They were more of a novelty than anything, but certainly a good way to kick off the booze. After a few moments, he poured their shots out for them in a line. She counted nine in total.

  "I'll start green, you start red!" She shouted to Ray. Her best friend knew the drill. The aim was to work your way in as fast as possible. The person that got to the fifth shot first had their drinks paid for by the other for the next hour. The pair got pretty competitive, even if it was for fun. "One, two, three, drink!" The words were barely out of her mouth before she launched forwards. They were getting hammered tonight.

Once they'd discovered rainbow shots, the things had become sort of a tradition when Ray and Sare had a night out on the town. It was the same concept as lining regular shots up and drinking to the middle, but these ones were special in that they supplied a fancy color gradient to watch and devour as they went along. Reagan shimmied into the sliver of space that had been made for her next to Sarah and leaned on the bar with one elbow until she heard the instructions. She mentally prepared herself, giving a curt nod before she stood upright to face the row of tiny glasses filled with liquid demise. Nine, her mind murmured.

She wasn't a lightweight for such a tiny gal by any means, but nine -- cut in half, four or five, depending on who downed them the fastest -- was still quite a bit of booze. Being tipsy already by the end of this excursion was something she was mildly expecting. On the count of three, both girls heaved forward to grab the small glasses, Reagan's first red shot tipping back into her throat and sliding down smoothly. The second was almost equally as smooth, premature rush of adrenaline setting her veins on fire as she concentrated on getting to the middle. Three was a bit sloppier -- a bit of the alcohol, which tasted like tequila -- slipped out the corners of her mouth and she didn't bother to wipe. She couldn't afford to lose any time.

A fair bit of the time, Sarah won these things. It was okay, of course -- the two had different strengths and weaknesses, but Reagan always felt a gratifying wave of satisfaction whenever she beat her to the finish line. People underestimated Reagan. Frankly, they underestimated Sarah, too, and sometimes, it seemed like only the other knew what they, as individuals and as a pair, were capable of. Those sentiments ran much deeper than drinking for fun; symbolism was obviously present.

Finally, she'd gulped down the fourth and she glanced over with her made-up blue eyes at Sarah to check her progress. She was currently on her fourth as well which meant it'd be a gnarly fight to the death for the last glass. They made eye contact and Ray grinned mischievously before her shorter arm shot out to grab the fifth one, head already swimming from the immediate effects of what was affectionately famous for dropping people to the floor (literally). They both grasped for the blurred mix of red and green at the same time, nearly sloshing half its contents out in the process.

Her dainty hand managed to get a decent grip on it and she pulled forward, head craning toward it so that she could slurp it into her mouth. Sure wasn't as clean as the first few doses had been and some of it may have even found its way down the front of her dress, but Reagan wasn't sloppy drunk yet. Just... competitive. At least -- she was pretty damn sure she wasn't sloppy drunk yet. She tried not to be on that end of the spectrum too often as she meant to always make sure Sarah was okay and staying out of trouble, but the Gryffindor alumna supposed they were throwing all doubt and inhibition out the window tonight.

"Ah, yes. The sweet taste of rainbow tequila victory. 'Nother drink or dancing first?" She shouted over the music, gesturing to the dancefloor in case her best friend hadn't heard the suggestion. "Hour doesn't start til we come back to the bar!"

  One. With a fluid motion Sarah's hand shot out and she threw her head back and downed it. This one was so sugary that the alcohol was barely perceptible. They got stronger as they worked their way in, so the first was supposed to be the easiest to down. Reagan likewise had no problems downing her first shot. Sarah's competitive streak was kicked into high gear as she swallowed her shot and reached out for the second. Buying the drinks for the next hour wasn't so bad a punishment, but it was the principle of losing that got Sare going. They were a pair of Gryffindors, but there was going to be nothing noble about this scrap for the win.

  Two. This one tasted more like alcohol. The dangerous thing about shots really was that they were a dirt cheap way to get drunk without really comprehending how much alcohol you'd drunk. Sare herself had miscalculated on many an occasion and gotten truly wasted without meaning to on very little money and in very little time. That said, it was rare that Sare simply drank for the enjoyment of the taste. Hard liquor and shots did it for the witch. She wanted something that burned on the way down, that announced its presence to her gullet with a firey punch. It was just a bonus really that shots were so cheap - really, living in London was no joke when it came to expenses.

  Three. A trickle slid down her chin as this one hit her. Reagan was keeping pace just fine, which was only fuelling Sarah's enjoyment and competitiveness. She handled her ale better, for sure - but Ray had always been the small and quick one. It had always amused Sare how different they were whilst being so similar at the same. Her best friend was petite and beautiful, and it always seemed like she only had to sniff alcohol before that small body was overcome. On the contrary, Sarah towered over her best friend and could ingest enough firewhiskey to subdue a small dragon before she got as drunk as she wanted to be. Yet it still seemed like they were twins separated at birth with how compatible they were.

  Four. It was down to the wire now. Sarah's throat was starting to burn, and the shot glass clacked against her teeth harshly. Come on! She felt confident that she could do this. Ray had to have felt those shots far more than Sarah. She hoped it would work in her favour. As she reached for the fifth, so too did her best friend. She laughed, despite how badly she wanted it. The shot was sloshing around, and in a sneaky move Ray craned her neck forwards and just about managed to take the win. Sare released the glass with a groan.

  "Shit! You're so jammy!" She laughed. Well, that was it. Drinks were on Sare for the next hour. She turned to her best friend to see if she had any immediate requests. Snorting as Ray made a quip, she decided before they went to dance, she'd better make a move to catch up with Ray. Being sober around her was definitely not on the agenda. "I'm gonna get a couple tequilas to catch up with you. Want one? Doesn't count towards the hour."

  With that the girl turned to the barman and asked for two tequilas for herself. Catching up with Ray was serious business. With the two drinks in front of her, she reached for the salt shaker and tipped a little on her hand. With a mock salute at her best friend with the other, Sarah licked the salt, downed the tequila and reached for the lemon provided. It really did work wonders for negating the admittedly terrible taste of the drink. She repeated the routine for the second drink. She was ready to dance, and to feel the alcohol kick in.