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"No," Enjolras says, finality in her voice.
"Absolutely not," agrees Joly, who shudders. "One of you could be sick, or a carrier not showing any symptoms. I am not getting that up close and personal with any of you." Joly is pre-med and a hypochondriac, and they're all taking bets on how long she'll actually last in a hospital once she gets there.
"Come on," Grantaire wheedles. "It'll be fun," She says in a sing-song, dangling the bottle of alcohol in front of them.
Courfeyrac is smirking. "We're doing it," she says.
"Cheri!" Grantaire crows gleefully, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek. "I knew you'd back me up. Let's do this!"
"No," says Enjolras one more time, but she sounds less certain.
"Seriously girls? Drunk twister?" Combeferre states one last time, as if she doesn't understand, though they've made it quite clear.
"Okay so one of us sits out to spin the board- Joly," Grantaire acquiesces as it's clear that Joly does not want to play. "And it's just like regular twister except when you fuck up, you take a shot instead of sitting out." Grantaire looks thrilled with herself.
"And," adds Courfeyrac. "If you don't want to take a shot, you have to take off an item of clothing." Enjolras groans internally, because of course they'd come up with a clause to affect her, since everyone knows she doesn't drink that much.
Everyone else looks game to play it, so Enjolras and Combeferre give each other resigned looks and shrug as if to say, "Why the hell not?"
"Left foot, green." Joly calls out, and Courfeyrac uses the opportunity to wind herself more closely around Merci Pontmercy, a new addition to their sorority, but already well-liked. Merci is sweet and earnest (if a little dopey and scatterbrained), and Courfeyrac likes that. She's already used the game to "appreciate" Combeferre and Jehane- well, she calls it appreciation, they call it downright molestation- and she won't touch Enjolras on principle; none of them will. So she sidles up to Merci, enjoying the way Merci's skin breaks out in goosebumps when Courfeyrac brushes up against her.
It's interesting to see who drinks and who strips. Enjolras strips; she hates getting sloppy, and at least like this she's still in control. She knows the girls won't hold it against her if it goes further than she's comfortable with and she gracefully bows out. A little teasing, maybe, but she's used to that. Bahorel is raucously drunk and someone will have to watch out for her later, Enjolras knows. Merci is new and is constantly trying to figure out her place amongst them. She doesn't want to get too drunk, so she alternates between shots of whatever Grantaire's cooked up for them and taking off the smallest pieces of clothing she can manage.
Joly spins the board again and this time says, "Right hand red," and there's a collective groan. Bahorel is practically underneath Bossuet and as she tries to maneuver her right hand around Bossuet's thigh, she slips. Her arm is hooked around Enjolras's, and she falls as well. Bossuet, miraculously, remains in place.
"Fuck!" Bahorel shouts, and she knocks back one of the shots that are conveniently placed by the twister mat for just this occasion. Enjolras is very strong-willed, and it translates to her body as well. She isn't flexible, and it can cause problems for her, as it is right now. She's already stripped off her socks, neat cardigan, and pants. Now she straightens and pulls off her top as well, and she feels naked and silly standing there in just her underclothes.
"I'm out," she announces and collapses back on the couch, and the rest of the girls just murmur their recognition. It's been a stressful week, and they're all enjoying the chance to have a little fun.
The game only deteriorates from there. Without Enjolras to keep even a semblance of order, Feuilly forgets that she's in America now and won't stop speaking Polish, and Grantaire just starts taking shots for the hell of it, because she has fantastic balance and never falls, and she's annoyed that everyone else is drunk and she isn't. Then she slithers out from the tangle of limbs to come sit at Enjolras's feet, pressing a kiss to Enjolras's bare knee. Enjolras bites back a smile. They have a shaky truce right now, so Enjolras takes what Grantaire gives without questioning it. They all like to see Grantaire happier, anyway. The Great Binge of spring semester sophomore year has not been forgotten.
Feuilly gives up too, falls back onto the floor and starts singing the Polish national anthem at the top of her lungs. Bahorel somehow gets Bossuet into an accidental headlock, which turns into a real headlock, until Jehan has to break them up, crying, "We didn't all take self-defense classes, okay, you can't just do that!"
It creates a domino effect of a sort, sending the rest of them still on the mat tumbling down one after the other, and Courfeyrac ends up exactly where she wanted to: on top of Merci, arms on either side of Merci's head, propping herself up. There's a moment where neither of them move, and then Merci catches them unawares, reaching up and kissing Courfeyrac for all she's worth. Courfeyrac makes an undignified squeak, and laughs, kissing Merci back and Merci's legs come up to lock themselves around Courfeyrac's hips.
Grantaire is cackling from her place on the floor, and Enjolras has to bite her lip to keep from grinning. She'd been unsure of Merci, at the beginning. The girl didn't seem as strong-willed as the people Enjolras is usually drawn to are. Each of them are strong in their own way, equally passionate- even Grantaire, though she dulls it with her vices. But as unassuming as Merci is, she'd surprised them all, Enjolras most of all.
Merci speaks English, French, and German fluently. She's here entirely on scholarship because her family disowned her for taking a stand against their politics. She may be spacey, but she's intelligent and kind and has not disappointed a single one of them once. She's a good girl, she just needs to find herself. So Enjolras is probably the only one that actually isn't surprised just then when Merci takes the initiative to kiss Courfeyrac. University was made for people like Merci; she's going to find herself, and come out all the better for it. Enjolras actually can't wait to see it.
And she's in a good mood, so she presses the pad of her thumb into the soft skin behind Grantaire's ears and Grantaire hums happily. Enjolras feels relaxed and content, and at this moment, she doesn't need anything more than that. She just really hopes nobody slaps Courfeyrac with a sexual harassment complaint. That might cause complications, to say the least.