After dismissing himself from the chattery dance floor, Ivan walked alone toward the dark end of the massive room where the food and drink was. His amethyst irises drifted lazily over the sweets, fruits, veggies, and that large chocolate fountain over the brilliantly decorated tables; he scanned the platters until his eyes fell on the large punch bowl standing in the middle of everything. No one had bothered to turn the lights on in this corner, so he knew he was safe at the moment...
He knew everyone else was distracted with dancing and chatting with old school friends, so he took this as an advantage to go and do something he'd been planning on for a short while now...
A glint of silver flashed a reflection off the colored dance lights for just a brief moment as the Russian teen slipped out a bottle and flipped off the top. Ivan glanced to the side a bit before touching his lips to the mouth of the bottle and taking a sip of the chokingly strong liquor inside. No one would have guessed it by his outward appearance... but Ivan had a bit of a drinking problem at his age.
With him being Russian, vodka was like water to him and his people; it was normal to drink it like any other beverage. However, he had learned the hard way that heavy underage drinking was frowned upon in these parts. That didn't stop Ivan, however. he had his own stash of vodka hidden from sight. No one realized Ivan's little 'problem,' because first, no one had ever gotten near enough to smell it, nor has Ivan ever gotten or acted drunk once. He could hold alcohol very well for his age, and he honestly didn't drink enough for it to mess with his senses.
Ivan lowered the bottle and eyed the punch bowl. For once, his smile was nowhere in sight. Instead of his obliviously tranquil expression, a look of calculation was the one that held. The Russian's eyes narrowed, glancing around to make sure no one was near.....when a sly smirk touched his features.
With one last monitoring glance, the Russian tipped the clear contents of the vodka bottle into the punch bowl.
Yes.. this was bound to turn out to be an interesting night indeed.
Who would know? Ivan was sort of a teacher's pet. He got along especially well with the Russian vice principle, so who would suspect that quiet Russian boy?
No one suspected him when two janitor's closets caught fire and they had to evacuate the school for safety reasons. Ivan knew that setting fire to the closets /might/ have been a bit of an over-kill for his intentions, but his plan worked: He didn't have to attend classes that day.
But no one suspected him.. hell, Ivan doubted anyone important glanced his way.
With a cheery, self-satisfied smile, the Russian first made sure the bottle was stashed and hidden on his own form, brushed his bangs out of his eyes and grabbed a cup and scooped the spiked punch into it with a nearby ladle.
Ivan casually rose the clear cup to his lips, sipping the punch as he continued on his way of browsing the variety of foods on the tables. After finding nothing else that interested him, Ivan tossed his cup into the garbage can and began to wander aimlessly around the grand dancing hall, humming faintly to the music.
He knew everyone else was distracted with dancing and chatting with old school friends, so he took this as an advantage to go and do something he'd been planning on for a short while now...
A glint of silver flashed a reflection off the colored dance lights for just a brief moment as the Russian teen slipped out a bottle and flipped off the top. Ivan glanced to the side a bit before touching his lips to the mouth of the bottle and taking a sip of the chokingly strong liquor inside. No one would have guessed it by his outward appearance... but Ivan had a bit of a drinking problem at his age.
With him being Russian, vodka was like water to him and his people; it was normal to drink it like any other beverage. However, he had learned the hard way that heavy underage drinking was frowned upon in these parts. That didn't stop Ivan, however. he had his own stash of vodka hidden from sight. No one realized Ivan's little 'problem,' because first, no one had ever gotten near enough to smell it, nor has Ivan ever gotten or acted drunk once. He could hold alcohol very well for his age, and he honestly didn't drink enough for it to mess with his senses.
Ivan lowered the bottle and eyed the punch bowl. For once, his smile was nowhere in sight. Instead of his obliviously tranquil expression, a look of calculation was the one that held. The Russian's eyes narrowed, glancing around to make sure no one was near.....when a sly smirk touched his features.
With one last monitoring glance, the Russian tipped the clear contents of the vodka bottle into the punch bowl.
Yes.. this was bound to turn out to be an interesting night indeed.
Who would know? Ivan was sort of a teacher's pet. He got along especially well with the Russian vice principle, so who would suspect that quiet Russian boy?
No one suspected him when two janitor's closets caught fire and they had to evacuate the school for safety reasons. Ivan knew that setting fire to the closets /might/ have been a bit of an over-kill for his intentions, but his plan worked: He didn't have to attend classes that day.
But no one suspected him.. hell, Ivan doubted anyone important glanced his way.
With a cheery, self-satisfied smile, the Russian first made sure the bottle was stashed and hidden on his own form, brushed his bangs out of his eyes and grabbed a cup and scooped the spiked punch into it with a nearby ladle.
Ivan casually rose the clear cup to his lips, sipping the punch as he continued on his way of browsing the variety of foods on the tables. After finding nothing else that interested him, Ivan tossed his cup into the garbage can and began to wander aimlessly around the grand dancing hall, humming faintly to the music.