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There's a party in Mystic Falls!
Isn't there always? In Bonnie's twenty one years of life it's always been this way. A party for this or a party for that. It's a wonder they find the energy for it, with all the trauma of living in the town. Maybe that's it, though. Maybe it's the trauma that drives these events, the desire to find something somewhere to celebrate instead of focusing on all the death, destruction and mayhem.
Bonnie can get on board with that sentiment. She has gotten on board with it, having had several drinks since arriving to the Lockwood estate with Damon. Yes, Damon. She got a few looks for it, and some questions, but like she's ever given a damn about what the people of this town think of her. She wants to dance and have fun tonight, and those are two things she knows the elder Salvatore can provide.
Besides, if he's here with her, there's little chance of him killing anyone who doesn't deserve it. He knows better.
At some point she excuses herself, drink in hand, and takes a seat outside. She just needs a little air.
Isn't there always? In Bonnie's twenty one years of life it's always been this way. A party for this or a party for that. It's a wonder they find the energy for it, with all the trauma of living in the town. Maybe that's it, though. Maybe it's the trauma that drives these events, the desire to find something somewhere to celebrate instead of focusing on all the death, destruction and mayhem.
Bonnie can get on board with that sentiment. She has gotten on board with it, having had several drinks since arriving to the Lockwood estate with Damon. Yes, Damon. She got a few looks for it, and some questions, but like she's ever given a damn about what the people of this town think of her. She wants to dance and have fun tonight, and those are two things she knows the elder Salvatore can provide.
Besides, if he's here with her, there's little chance of him killing anyone who doesn't deserve it. He knows better.
At some point she excuses herself, drink in hand, and takes a seat outside. She just needs a little air.

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And it's not as if he's going to turn down a party, even one in Mystic Falls. The alcohol, as awful as it is, is plentiful and Damon had managed to sweet talk some girl into finding him a bottle of Scotch. It wasn't a nip the feisty witch that came with him, but it would do.
When Bonnie leaves, Scotch girl sidles up to him. Just as quickly, she backpedals, bumping into a chair and almost falling over in her haste to back away from him. Damon may be incorrigible and inappropriate, but his slutdar was as well tuned as some people's gaydar. Even if he can't get sick, he doesn't want to take the chance of contracting slut rabies.
After a couple more gulps of his drink, he refills it and heads outside, taking the bottle with him, lest some moron attempts to steal it.
"I've thought of a theme song for you," he says in lieu of a hello. "Black Magic Woman." Cocky grin firmly in place, Damon sits down next to his 'date'. "It's got a certain ring to it, doesn't it?"
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"Good to dance to, but a little too classic for me, don't you think?"
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It's not an insult, not an intentional one, it's just Damon's idea of how witchcraft works.
There is a reason all the Bennett witches hate him, aside from Bonnie.
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It's the wrong way, but he doesn't mean anything by it.
She shifts her position, resting her forearm on her leg and leaning forward slightly. "Have you known many hippies who set you on fire?"
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She lifts her glass to her lips, shifting a little as she does so. That shift causes her leg to brush against his. It's not intentional, but it's not the worst thing to ever happen. The contact actually feels kind of nice.
Not that she's thinking much of it. Those sparks don't mean much in the grand drunken scheme of things.
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It's his superpower.
"Let me ask you something BonBon. Why did you stick around Mystic Falls? You hate everything here, why didn't you just leave?"
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"Please. If I left, this town would fall apart." She is last witch standing, after all. "Hate it or not, it's home. As long as someone's still breathing, I'll be here."
That might just include him, but she'll leave that part out.
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"How would that be bad?" Really, if they town imploded, providing the people he like were out of it, then who would give a shit? One less hotbed of moral turpentine.
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She raises her eyebrows at him. "People I care about still live here." Himself included. Speaking of which. "What about you, Damon? Why are you still here?"
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"I'm just going to pretend you mean we throw a lot of parties." While she pretends her mind wasn't just in the gutter. (It's a good thing she already has a drink in hand.) "As fun as it is to argue with you, I'm not in the mood."
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Her lips turn up, though not (completely) in amusement. It's a look he should recognize, because it has you're not as cute as you think you are written all over it. There's a soft hum to go with it, but it's warmer than it would have been a few years ago. "But I didn't bring you here for that. I brought you here to dance."