Mostly they've just congregated in packs and bummed cigarettes from each other.
"I haven't been drunk in a month," one of the boys said. He couldn't get his smoke lit.
They aren't loud. They aren't playing music. There is just this constant low hum of conversation and frequent references to being drunk, getting drunk, and drinking. There were some dramatics a few minutes ago when one of the girls had whispered fury in the front yard.
"The guy I came here with is shitfaced and all over every girl here. Whatever. I'm walking home."
When Chuck left for work he said they all shushed each other when he walked from the backyard to the garage.
"They're real stealthy," he texted. "Like ninjas."