It takes finesse to weave through the crowd with both hands full, but Ivar manages, avoiding any major collisions and finding an empty seat without dropping a thing. It takes a bit more skill to unload his cargo, but the coffee table had been cleared in preparation for the festivities and the dark haired man finds a place for everything. He un-stacks the plates of crab rangoon and beer-battered asparagus, placing the plate with a half-dozen miniature mousse cups on the arm of the white leather sofa.
The unopened cans of 312 he'd had in each pocket are lined up between his feet, and he downs the shot of whiskey he'd been balancing atop them as soon as he is settled. Seated across from him is a older woman who watches his unpacking with a pursed mouth and a raised brow, but I var merely shrugs and downs one of the crab rangoon.
What is the point of attending these fancy parties if he doesn't at least enjoy the food?
Ivar is not entirely sure why he keeps being invited, though his sister has told him that it's most likely because these bigwigs like being able to brag that they had a Nobel Laureate in attendance. He tends to trust her opinion on things like that (and on other things as well, such as the fitted grey suit he's currently wearing), but he's not certain how his research on the the real-world applicability of theoretical prestidigitation would matter to the type of people who are here to celebrate the launch of a new brokerage firm.
He's already forgotten the name of the firm, but he is definitely not going to forget these little chocolate mousse cups. It is almost difficult to hold the tiny little spoons they'd stuck in them with his heavily tattooed hands, and Ivar eventually gives in and just licks the last remnants out of the clear crystal cup. He gives the grey-haired woman opposite him a wink as he does, and grins as she blushes and glances down like a girl a quarter of her age. For all his poor manners when it comes to hoarding hors d'oeuvres, Ivar Stillwater is still Business Insider's Most Eligible Bachelor of 2018, described as a 'handsome young man with a striking resemblance to a young Jason Momoa, with a savvy scientific mind and more money than God.'
Turning his head and pushing a handful of locs behind his ear, Ivar scans the party. His sister had said there would be other people his age here, but the scene appears to be nothing more than a sea of grey heads. Maybe the 'cool kids' are in another room, but he is reluctant to leave his hoard of delicacies unfinished, and so he remains on the couch, his amber eyes darting curiously through the crowd.
picture of ivar in his grey suit
The unopened cans of 312 he'd had in each pocket are lined up between his feet, and he downs the shot of whiskey he'd been balancing atop them as soon as he is settled. Seated across from him is a older woman who watches his unpacking with a pursed mouth and a raised brow, but I var merely shrugs and downs one of the crab rangoon.
What is the point of attending these fancy parties if he doesn't at least enjoy the food?
Ivar is not entirely sure why he keeps being invited, though his sister has told him that it's most likely because these bigwigs like being able to brag that they had a Nobel Laureate in attendance. He tends to trust her opinion on things like that (and on other things as well, such as the fitted grey suit he's currently wearing), but he's not certain how his research on the the real-world applicability of theoretical prestidigitation would matter to the type of people who are here to celebrate the launch of a new brokerage firm.
He's already forgotten the name of the firm, but he is definitely not going to forget these little chocolate mousse cups. It is almost difficult to hold the tiny little spoons they'd stuck in them with his heavily tattooed hands, and Ivar eventually gives in and just licks the last remnants out of the clear crystal cup. He gives the grey-haired woman opposite him a wink as he does, and grins as she blushes and glances down like a girl a quarter of her age. For all his poor manners when it comes to hoarding hors d'oeuvres, Ivar Stillwater is still Business Insider's Most Eligible Bachelor of 2018, described as a 'handsome young man with a striking resemblance to a young Jason Momoa, with a savvy scientific mind and more money than God.'
Turning his head and pushing a handful of locs behind his ear, Ivar scans the party. His sister had said there would be other people his age here, but the scene appears to be nothing more than a sea of grey heads. Maybe the 'cool kids' are in another room, but he is reluctant to leave his hoard of delicacies unfinished, and so he remains on the couch, his amber eyes darting curiously through the crowd.
picture of ivar in his grey suit
