So here's what happened: Delilah's invitation got lost in the mail. She had to hear about the party through simple word-of-mouth, and thanks to that, she didn't necessarily know all the details... As in, she had just heard 'party' and assumed it was the average house party to honor Franziska's birthday. And by the time she discovered otherwise, she and Theodore had already finished pre-game drinking.
Suffice to say, they were fucking wasted
Delilah hadn't recalled the exact location of the party until the moment she had gone to call an Ubor outside the bar, and she hadn't realized how fancy of a party it was until they were two seconds from arriving... at the country club
, which seemed to be surrounded by cameras.
Delilah all but hissed to Theodore, whom she'd been laughing uncontrollably against just a moment ago, about god only knows what. "Theo... It's a fuckin' bougie partyyy."
They were attending a high-class event (that was likely being broadcasted over several different mediums) and they were not only severely lacking in the proper attire, but they were also drunk off their asses with an awful case of the giggles.
Everything should be fine.
"Okay, play it cool, play it cool,"
Delilah told Theodore after exiting the Ubor with him and putting her sunglasses back on. "We just gotta—we gotta pretend we're a bit more sober, and act, like, super classy and shit. No one will know a thing, okay, so shhh."
She concluded by smooshing a finger against Theodore's lips, then nearly burst out laughing again at how stupid he looked. But she resisted.
Approaching the front entrance with her chin held high and with as good a posture as she could manage, she resumed leaning against Theodore for support (though with him leaning against her, too, it made for quite the awkward stumble) and kept her arm linked through one of his. "Greetings, doorkeeper!"
she called out to the doorman, in a tone she thought would classify as 'casual' and also 'dignified'. For some reason that warranted an old-English accent in the place of her usual, faintly Irish accent. Who even knew why.
"My darling fiancé and I request entry to this fine establishment, please. Perhaps you could make that happen for us, my good man?"
she asked. He gave her a funny look, perturbed by her casual clothing and also unsure of what she was trying to do with her voice, then asked for their names. "Delilah O'Reilly and Theodore Jeong,"
she said, with mock humility in her tone, "A.K.A. Flare Magazine's Couple Of The Moment, but we're no big deal, really—"
Looking like he was tired of them already, the doorman urged them along with a nod of his head, and just like that, they were in the party. Delilah celebrated this by giving Theodore a very low-key, very modest high five, before resuming her refined posture and putting her sunglasses into her purse.
"I can't believe I'm wearing mom jeans on live television,"
Delilah muttered to Theodore as they moved instinctively towards the beverage table, "and you're wearing—"
Before she could finish her sentence, she burst out laughing whenever she looked over at Theodore's outfit and realized—fully, truly
realized—that underneath his jacket, he was wearing a tank top that blatantly read, "LIT AS F*CK"
. She fell against him in a hurry, frantically trying to zip his jacket up whilst giggling like mad.
"A-News just saw you promoting fuckboy propaganda at a bougie party!"
she quietly informed him amidst her snickering. And once the jacket was finally zipped up, she proceeded to bury her face in his shoulder until the laughter subsided, hoping to muffle herself that way.
From a distance, all the other party-goers could easily recognize Delilah and Theo, clad in their everyday clothes, giggling to themselves about who-the-fuck knows.
Mission: Stay Classy
was definitely looking like a failure so far.
↳ THEODORE JEONG open to all !