Tactful answer seein as that lot can hear; yes, o course I am, who wouldnae be?

Jam couldnt hold back a smirk. If he could have expressed his opinions without the whole community being sure that he was an absolutely nutcase, it would be much easier. If he could take his guitar down from his flat, stand on top of one of the table and begin his performance by kicking around the food and throwing it at the attendees, things would be more amusing. Then there would be a grand spectacle that would involve him possibly singing at the top of his lungs about how useless this bloody thing was, how mundane and ordinary all these gits were. It was a tempting scenario, and one could only imagine that it could possibly happen with the aid of a drug or perhaps just lots, and lots of alcohol. But he was somewhat pleased to hear her sarcasm ring true through her words. Jam wouldnt have picked her as a goody-two-shoes coming to these kinds of boring functions for a ring-a-ding-a-ling spiffing time without some kind of help.

Honest answer; no. No one under the age o about twenty, all o them clearly nice people who ken each other. Hell, there aint even drink you can get pissed on.

I know, its dire. Trying to interact with nice people when stone cold sober, Id rather be shot in the foot. In fact, if you have a gun handy do it. He invited, lighting up yet another cigarette as he tried to push down that urge. The urge that was telling him this just wasnt worth it and that he should just give his body and mind to his addictions, if he didnt have his cigarettes it would have driven him insane. Not that he wasnt already close to insane, but none-the-less the signs werent looking good. Particularly when he had that twitch in his eye going again.

Jam tapped his fingers against the table impatiently, pondering an escape route or something to cause a scene. Hed done his good deed for today, and had come to the barbeque without much commotion or harsh words flung about. Jam much preferred the backstreets and the underground clubs where there was always something dirty going on, this was far too clean.

No really my idea o fun, though unless youve any better ideas were stuck here?

Jam delved in thought, a small, wry smile on his face as he pondered inviting her over to his flat. She did seem open minded, and he could provide her with some treats to make the afternoon pass a little quicker, a little more interesting. Besides, itll give him the excuse to get his hit too and all would be solved. Escape was what he wanted, was what she wanted and he supposed that letting her in to a bit of his idea of good fun would do them both good. He might end up with a new customer, or a casual hook up and shell fulfil those adolescent urges of being illicit and bad. It sounded good, and he was just about to let her in on what he had in mind by leaning forwards to speak quietly to her. Alas, his plans never came out as he wanted.

"You wouldn't be leaving the party already would you Mods? Not even a hello for your former housemate? I'm crushed. Here I was expecting hugs and kisses rained upon my face, and I don't even get a hello."

Merlin, he muttered with a roll of his eyes, neglecting to notice the minor slip up as a boy suddenly sat down besides Modesty. Jam slouched back into his seat and continued his impatient tapping. It was one of the Happy People. Jam honestly resented Happy People and their god awful nice lives. However, this bloke seemed familiar and he did refer to her as a housemate. Jam quirked an eyebrow at them, was she a witch? Bloody hell, who the fuck cares?

"Afternoon mate. Dam Belby."

Happy People who interrupted a potential corruption were resented all the more by Jam, whose eyes quickly scrutinised over the other young man. Who was annoyingly friendly, but of course he would return courtesy with courtesy however much he defied his family, Jam didnt seek to forget all that they taught him.

Jam Morrison, he introduced, forcing a smile and extending a hand. So, you two are close I take it? Jam said in a feigned cheerful way, complete with a bouncy nod to the head. Whilst really, in his head he was shooting his own foot over and over again.

I know that you want me to leave
I'm amazed at how cold you can be
Well, May my weak and insipid soul grow stronger in your absence