"Ohayou, minna-san! Nancy-chan desu! Reporting from a new location of who-even-fucking-knows island! This is first appearance since I've become a full-fedged idol, but Nancy-chan will do her best! Ganbarimasu!"
Those who bothered looking at the feed of the staff lounge would see a blue-haired, eccentrically dressed girl talking to the camera with an enthusiasm completely unfitting for the situation.
Those who weren't put off enough, and watched closely, would notice how forced the girl's smile was.
G036 - Nancy Kyle: START
It was a particular form of denial. It may have seemed strange to anyone else, but to Nancy it just... felt natural.
It was, at the very least, distracting her somewhat from the sickening feeling in her gut.
She'd gotten a hatchet for a weapon. A real axe with a real blade.
This was real, and Nancy was expected to kill her friends with it.
There was... there was no way...
She turned away from the camera, wiping a few tears, before facing it again.
"Nancy-chan will be here to give you all the details of the happenings here, so stay tuned! Nancy-chan smile!"
She then approached the corner of the room the camera was mounted on, ducked into its blind spot, curled into a ball, and started to cry.
デビュー
Debut; Open
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CondorTalon
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((G050 – Vanessa Stone: start))
"Hellooooo? Anyone around?"
Vanessa Stone was strolling down the corridors of the staff area as casually as if she was back at school. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate: there was a deliberateness to her demeanour, a stubborn refusal to appear nervous that translated into a brash stride. She had her bag slung over her shoulder, holding the strap with one hand, whilst the other traced along the walls of the building. It was a locomotive "Fuck you" to the idea that she should be scared.
How was she supposed to react to this situation? Ok, yeah, that presentation had been terrifying as fuck, there was no pretending that wasn't the case, but she couldn't sit in a room curled up crying for the rest of her life. She got pissed, she didn't cry. And right now, who was she even supposed to be pissed at?
Those terrorist fuckfaces, yes, they were worth being pissed at, and she had been very pissed at them when she'd first come to her senses. It was lucky for those fuckfaces they weren't with her right then, or she'd have slugged them for good measure.
She probably would've gotten shot for her efforts, but fuckin' aye at least she would've decked them first.
It was really hard to stay pissed, though, when she found a bag full of Maryjane in her duffel bag. It was so damn absurd, that she'd had to crack into a mad laugh.
So with that giddy thrill having put her in a simple-minded bliss, she'd decided to go exploring and see who was around. Because, fuck it, what else was she going ot do?
Were they going to try to kill her? Who the fuck knew. Was she going to try and kill them? Probably not. No, scratch that: there was no fuckin' way. Or at least, she wouldn't just stand there and think "yeah, I'm going to murder all my classmates. That sounds fun."
She bit her lower lip as she hummed a frustrated hum. It was the best she could to keep it together.
As she strolled past the door to the staff lounge, she could've sworn she heard the tail end of Nancy signing off to her fans. Stopping, turning the handle and opening the door, she called in.
"Hello? Someone in here?"
"Hellooooo? Anyone around?"
Vanessa Stone was strolling down the corridors of the staff area as casually as if she was back at school. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate: there was a deliberateness to her demeanour, a stubborn refusal to appear nervous that translated into a brash stride. She had her bag slung over her shoulder, holding the strap with one hand, whilst the other traced along the walls of the building. It was a locomotive "Fuck you" to the idea that she should be scared.
How was she supposed to react to this situation? Ok, yeah, that presentation had been terrifying as fuck, there was no pretending that wasn't the case, but she couldn't sit in a room curled up crying for the rest of her life. She got pissed, she didn't cry. And right now, who was she even supposed to be pissed at?
Those terrorist fuckfaces, yes, they were worth being pissed at, and she had been very pissed at them when she'd first come to her senses. It was lucky for those fuckfaces they weren't with her right then, or she'd have slugged them for good measure.
She probably would've gotten shot for her efforts, but fuckin' aye at least she would've decked them first.
It was really hard to stay pissed, though, when she found a bag full of Maryjane in her duffel bag. It was so damn absurd, that she'd had to crack into a mad laugh.
So with that giddy thrill having put her in a simple-minded bliss, she'd decided to go exploring and see who was around. Because, fuck it, what else was she going ot do?
Were they going to try to kill her? Who the fuck knew. Was she going to try and kill them? Probably not. No, scratch that: there was no fuckin' way. Or at least, she wouldn't just stand there and think "yeah, I'm going to murder all my classmates. That sounds fun."
She bit her lower lip as she hummed a frustrated hum. It was the best she could to keep it together.
As she strolled past the door to the staff lounge, she could've sworn she heard the tail end of Nancy signing off to her fans. Stopping, turning the handle and opening the door, she called in.
"Hello? Someone in here?"
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CondorTalon
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Nancy gasped when the door opened and a girl peeked her head in. She scrambled, awkwardly standing before diving for the hatchet. She grabbed it, before scurrying to the opposite corner and staring at Vanessa.
"Nancy-chan's in a pinch here..." she mumbled to herself.
"What do you... want?" she said, clutching the hatchet against her body.
She tried to size up Vanessa, but of course she wasn't really the type of person to read people. She didn't know what had brought Vanessa to her room, and she didn't want to find out the hard way that this wasn't going to be a pleasant encounter.
"Nancy-chan's in a pinch here..." she mumbled to herself.
"What do you... want?" she said, clutching the hatchet against her body.
She tried to size up Vanessa, but of course she wasn't really the type of person to read people. She didn't know what had brought Vanessa to her room, and she didn't want to find out the hard way that this wasn't going to be a pleasant encounter.
"Woah!" Vanessa jerked, raising her hands in a nonthreatening 'don't axe my face a question' posture. "Chill, I'm not looking for trouble."
She sized up the hatchet wielding girl, edging slowly into the room and leaving the door wide open. She could've left, of course, said "Well fuck you too" and turned heel with the flip of a bird, but this was not the time to start fighting with everyone. That was supposed to be what this time was, since everyone was supposed to be murdering everyone after all, but refusing to partake in that was just another casual way for Vanessa to be obstinate: by casually not attacking everyone she met.
Besides, she kind of really wanted to talk to anybody right now.
Vanessa did not know Nancy beyond her distinctive appearance in the hallway. Personally, she dug the blue haired look (though knew that it wouldn't suit her, unfortunately. Cams could probably pull it off though), and had to admire her current ensemble. The naughty Catholic schoolgirl outfit was a bit last decade, but it was a pretty good style on the whole. If she'd paid any attention to Nancy wearing her more weeabish wardwrobe, then Vanessa had not remembered it.
It would probably have helped if Vanessa could actually remember her name at least, though. Oh well, easy enough to find out.
"I'm Vanessa; what about you?"
She sized up the hatchet wielding girl, edging slowly into the room and leaving the door wide open. She could've left, of course, said "Well fuck you too" and turned heel with the flip of a bird, but this was not the time to start fighting with everyone. That was supposed to be what this time was, since everyone was supposed to be murdering everyone after all, but refusing to partake in that was just another casual way for Vanessa to be obstinate: by casually not attacking everyone she met.
Besides, she kind of really wanted to talk to anybody right now.
Vanessa did not know Nancy beyond her distinctive appearance in the hallway. Personally, she dug the blue haired look (though knew that it wouldn't suit her, unfortunately. Cams could probably pull it off though), and had to admire her current ensemble. The naughty Catholic schoolgirl outfit was a bit last decade, but it was a pretty good style on the whole. If she'd paid any attention to Nancy wearing her more weeabish wardwrobe, then Vanessa had not remembered it.
It would probably have helped if Vanessa could actually remember her name at least, though. Oh well, easy enough to find out.
"I'm Vanessa; what about you?"
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CondorTalon
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"N... Nancy..." she said, in response to the girl's question. She gripped her axe tighter, still not feeling completely safe in this situation. Even though Vanessa had said she wasn't looking for trouble, she was still too close to the door.
It meant that Nancy would have to pass by her if she wanted to leave. Too close. There was the possibility of any number of things going wrong there. What about other avenues of escape? There were several windows in the room, but knowing her luck, they weren't on the first floor.
Besides, crashing through a window was not behavior fitting of an idol.
And that is when Nancy started to laugh. It was crazy to laugh in this situation, but she laughed. It was a slow, hoarse laugh that devolved into coughing. She took a deep breath, and shakily stood up, wobbling over to a trash can in the corner of the room.
She then expelled the contents of her stomach into it.
Don't look at me.
It meant that Nancy would have to pass by her if she wanted to leave. Too close. There was the possibility of any number of things going wrong there. What about other avenues of escape? There were several windows in the room, but knowing her luck, they weren't on the first floor.
Besides, crashing through a window was not behavior fitting of an idol.
And that is when Nancy started to laugh. It was crazy to laugh in this situation, but she laughed. It was a slow, hoarse laugh that devolved into coughing. She took a deep breath, and shakily stood up, wobbling over to a trash can in the corner of the room.
She then expelled the contents of her stomach into it.
Don't look at me.
Well, that was unsettling.
She wasn't really trying to get Nancy to loosen up or anything, but the creepy cackling that followed her attempt at smalltalk certainly took her off guard. If Nancy hadn't insisted on following her creepshow by heaving up her last meal in front of her, Vanessa probably would've noped her way back out of the room and been on her merry way.
Still, Nancy losing her lunch was enough to at least hold her attention just a little bit longer. As unnerving as an axe-wielding schoolgirl laughing like mad when you were stuck on murder island might've looked, it kind of lost its lustre when she started puking up the contents of her stomach into a trash can.
Vanessa edged further into the room, trying to get a better look at Nancy and her general situation. She wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to be doing in this situation, but she wasn't going to just stand back gaping at her with her mouth hanging open like a jackass.
"You alright?" she asked, keeping an arm's length from Nancy, but not much more than that.
She wasn't really trying to get Nancy to loosen up or anything, but the creepy cackling that followed her attempt at smalltalk certainly took her off guard. If Nancy hadn't insisted on following her creepshow by heaving up her last meal in front of her, Vanessa probably would've noped her way back out of the room and been on her merry way.
Still, Nancy losing her lunch was enough to at least hold her attention just a little bit longer. As unnerving as an axe-wielding schoolgirl laughing like mad when you were stuck on murder island might've looked, it kind of lost its lustre when she started puking up the contents of her stomach into a trash can.
Vanessa edged further into the room, trying to get a better look at Nancy and her general situation. She wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to be doing in this situation, but she wasn't going to just stand back gaping at her with her mouth hanging open like a jackass.
"You alright?" she asked, keeping an arm's length from Nancy, but not much more than that.
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CondorTalon
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"St-Stop..." Nancy said, not even bothering to lift her head from the trash can, "Don't... come any closer."
Her hand grabbed the axe that she'd dropped in the midst of her vomiting. She lifted her head up from the trash can. She crawled over to and under a small table, and laid down. Her lips burned from the vomit.
"I wanna go home," she said blankly, "I hate this. This is the worst assignment ever."
She was still thinking in terms of the idol industry. The denial slowly crept up on her again, and her coping method made its way back to the forefront of her thoughts.
"Nancy-chan is trying her best..." Nancy said, almost in a sing-song, "Her best... her best... her best..."
She turned over, looking at Vanessa.
"I wish I had a microphone. I want to sing my heart out..." she rambled, "Maybe that'll distract me from this ridiculous situation."
She laid her head down, only to lift it up again a few seconds later.
"What's your plan?" she said, "I wanna know."
Her hand grabbed the axe that she'd dropped in the midst of her vomiting. She lifted her head up from the trash can. She crawled over to and under a small table, and laid down. Her lips burned from the vomit.
"I wanna go home," she said blankly, "I hate this. This is the worst assignment ever."
She was still thinking in terms of the idol industry. The denial slowly crept up on her again, and her coping method made its way back to the forefront of her thoughts.
"Nancy-chan is trying her best..." Nancy said, almost in a sing-song, "Her best... her best... her best..."
She turned over, looking at Vanessa.
"I wish I had a microphone. I want to sing my heart out..." she rambled, "Maybe that'll distract me from this ridiculous situation."
She laid her head down, only to lift it up again a few seconds later.
"What's your plan?" she said, "I wanna know."
Ok, so Nancy was losing it. Peachy.
Vanessa backed off the second her cooky companion had grabbed the axe again, but relaxed when it didn't start swinging for her face. It was pretty sad really: watching her hide under the table and start humming her words like a playful little girl. Sad, and not helping with the whole freaky unsettling thing either.
Since she didn't know Nancy at all, she had no idea what scale to consider this freak-out. Her best friend's breakdowns weren't usually of this calibre, but it's not like she played psychotherapist to half the school or anything. Was Nancy going completely off her rocker, or would she chill out with the right prodding? More importantly, was this something she was even capable of fixing?
Dr Stone's Psychiatric Help: 5 Cents; The Doctor is [IN].
"Well," she started, crouching down so that she was a bit closer to eye level with Nancy. "right now, I guess, I'm going to make sure you don't try to take my face off with that axe?" she grinned. It was a very weird joke to make, she realised instantly, but it was already made.
"Seriously though, I'm just looking for my friends so we can sort this shit out. You want to tag along? I mean, if you don't go all Michael Myers on us or whatever."
That's right, Cams was out there somewhere, hopefully doing better than the girl in front of her. Cams, and Brady and BB-
Hang on. Had the last two been on the bus that day?
"...MOTHERFUCKER!"
Vanessa backed off the second her cooky companion had grabbed the axe again, but relaxed when it didn't start swinging for her face. It was pretty sad really: watching her hide under the table and start humming her words like a playful little girl. Sad, and not helping with the whole freaky unsettling thing either.
Since she didn't know Nancy at all, she had no idea what scale to consider this freak-out. Her best friend's breakdowns weren't usually of this calibre, but it's not like she played psychotherapist to half the school or anything. Was Nancy going completely off her rocker, or would she chill out with the right prodding? More importantly, was this something she was even capable of fixing?
Dr Stone's Psychiatric Help: 5 Cents; The Doctor is [IN].
"Well," she started, crouching down so that she was a bit closer to eye level with Nancy. "right now, I guess, I'm going to make sure you don't try to take my face off with that axe?" she grinned. It was a very weird joke to make, she realised instantly, but it was already made.
"Seriously though, I'm just looking for my friends so we can sort this shit out. You want to tag along? I mean, if you don't go all Michael Myers on us or whatever."
That's right, Cams was out there somewhere, hopefully doing better than the girl in front of her. Cams, and Brady and BB-
Hang on. Had the last two been on the bus that day?
"...MOTHERFUCKER!"
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CondorTalon
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Nancy laid her head back down as she listened to Vanessa's joke and subsequent plan.
Finding friends. It seemed like a good plan. She sure would like find everyone from the Anime Club. Well, everyone who was on the island, anyway. Vanessa asked Nancy if she wanted to tag along. With her? Nancy wasn't sure about that.
There was something fucky about the way Vanessa kept referencing her hatchet. Nancy wasn't murderous. She wasn't.
Suddenly, Vanessa yelled, and Nancy felt her heart skip a beat. She tried to sit up, but her head banged against the underside of the table.
Her head spinning, she instinctively swung the hatchet, and the blade of the axe cleanly penetrated about halfway through a leg of the table.
She released her grip on the hatchet, backing up against the corner and curling around herself, staring at Vanessa with wide eyes.
Finding friends. It seemed like a good plan. She sure would like find everyone from the Anime Club. Well, everyone who was on the island, anyway. Vanessa asked Nancy if she wanted to tag along. With her? Nancy wasn't sure about that.
There was something fucky about the way Vanessa kept referencing her hatchet. Nancy wasn't murderous. She wasn't.
Suddenly, Vanessa yelled, and Nancy felt her heart skip a beat. She tried to sit up, but her head banged against the underside of the table.
Her head spinning, she instinctively swung the hatchet, and the blade of the axe cleanly penetrated about halfway through a leg of the table.
She released her grip on the hatchet, backing up against the corner and curling around herself, staring at Vanessa with wide eyes.
Freaking BB and Freaking Brady weren't on that bus that day, so did that mean they hadn't been kidnapped? Were they sitting at home safe and sound whilst she was stuck here about to die, because of the period of her fucking science class?
Her internal rant was interrupted with the loud smack of Nancy's cranium kissing the table's underside. As Vanessa opened her mouth to ask "Y'alright?", she was cut off by Nancy going lumberjack on the woodwork and scrambling off to the side, curling up into a foetal ball and staring at her with doe eyes.
So yeah, she was pretty much back where she started.
"Shit, sorry if I startled you." She didn't go any closer to Nancy this time, since it didn't seem to be accomplishing anything. She was trying really hard to help her calm down here, but she really wasn't sure what say next. How were you supposed to talk to someone when everything you did was met with either horror or hysteria?
Hm. She had an idea.
Vanessa reached into her duffel bag, pulling out her very generous present from the terrorists.
"You wanna smoke 'em peace pipe?"
Her internal rant was interrupted with the loud smack of Nancy's cranium kissing the table's underside. As Vanessa opened her mouth to ask "Y'alright?", she was cut off by Nancy going lumberjack on the woodwork and scrambling off to the side, curling up into a foetal ball and staring at her with doe eyes.
So yeah, she was pretty much back where she started.
"Shit, sorry if I startled you." She didn't go any closer to Nancy this time, since it didn't seem to be accomplishing anything. She was trying really hard to help her calm down here, but she really wasn't sure what say next. How were you supposed to talk to someone when everything you did was met with either horror or hysteria?
Hm. She had an idea.
Vanessa reached into her duffel bag, pulling out her very generous present from the terrorists.
"You wanna smoke 'em peace pipe?"
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CondorTalon
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Nancy continued to stare. She continued to stare as Vanessa reached into her bag. When she pulled something out of it, Nancy flinched.
This is where she was going to die.
Vanessa pulled out...
...that.
'That' being pot. Vanessa pulled out some pot. From her assigned bag.
Vanessa had been given marijuana as a weapon.
It was something so completely ludicrous that it wrapped around to being hilarious.
Nancy's fear was completely gone. It was too absurd. She started to laugh again. She laughed good and hard.
"H-How... How did..." she sputtered out, in between fits of laughter, "How did they... screw you over that hard?"
Now that Nancy knew what Vanessa's weapon was, she allowed herself to relax. Even if she tried to do anything, Nancy's axe was in her grabbing range.
Her laughter died down, and she wiped a tear from her eye.
"Idols don't do drugs," Nancy said.
This is where she was going to die.
Vanessa pulled out...
...that.
'That' being pot. Vanessa pulled out some pot. From her assigned bag.
Vanessa had been given marijuana as a weapon.
It was something so completely ludicrous that it wrapped around to being hilarious.
Nancy's fear was completely gone. It was too absurd. She started to laugh again. She laughed good and hard.
"H-How... How did..." she sputtered out, in between fits of laughter, "How did they... screw you over that hard?"
Now that Nancy knew what Vanessa's weapon was, she allowed herself to relax. Even if she tried to do anything, Nancy's axe was in her grabbing range.
Her laughter died down, and she wiped a tear from her eye.
"Idols don't do drugs," Nancy said.
((Min-jae Parker continued from This Isn't My Home, It's Where I'm Locked Away))
In theory, Jae was going to get as far away from the room he'd woken up in as possible and find somewhere safe to patch and clean himself up. Preferably somewhere with a mirror because he must look like shit by now.
In theory. In reality, Jae got about halfway to the other side of the building before his knee decided that it was just done with this whole "walking" thing and gave out, sending him to the floor once again.
He managed to not quite face-plant in the hallway, but he was very much down for the count and had only a pained groan to give in response as his landing jarred his broken hand once again. He thought he'd heard yelling in this general direction too, and had intended to just pass that by on the way to wherever he was going, so this was fucking great. He made a cursory attempt to get up, but his kneecap definitely felt like it wasn't where it was supposed to be and he didn't want to let go of the baton, and he couldn't push himself up with his other hand.
...You know what. The floor was fine for now. At least nobody could see his face smeared with tears and makeup and blood if he was face-down on the floor. He was still bleeding, he could feel it dripping down his cheek and over the collar of his jacket.
Jesus fuck, he'd never been in a fight before, never like that. Jae had never considered himself a violent person; short-tempered, yes, he knew that. Caustic, sure. Hurtful, he had the capacity. But not violent, not a fighter in that sense. When he really stopped to think about what had happened with Alvaro, what he'd done... what might have happened if Alvaro hadn't bolted...
Jae's stomach churned and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the thoughts. Had he gone crazy that quickly? He didn't feel crazy.
He did feel fucking pathetic, laying in the floor in the middle of the hall, bleeding and sniffling and miserable.
In theory, Jae was going to get as far away from the room he'd woken up in as possible and find somewhere safe to patch and clean himself up. Preferably somewhere with a mirror because he must look like shit by now.
In theory. In reality, Jae got about halfway to the other side of the building before his knee decided that it was just done with this whole "walking" thing and gave out, sending him to the floor once again.
He managed to not quite face-plant in the hallway, but he was very much down for the count and had only a pained groan to give in response as his landing jarred his broken hand once again. He thought he'd heard yelling in this general direction too, and had intended to just pass that by on the way to wherever he was going, so this was fucking great. He made a cursory attempt to get up, but his kneecap definitely felt like it wasn't where it was supposed to be and he didn't want to let go of the baton, and he couldn't push himself up with his other hand.
...You know what. The floor was fine for now. At least nobody could see his face smeared with tears and makeup and blood if he was face-down on the floor. He was still bleeding, he could feel it dripping down his cheek and over the collar of his jacket.
Jesus fuck, he'd never been in a fight before, never like that. Jae had never considered himself a violent person; short-tempered, yes, he knew that. Caustic, sure. Hurtful, he had the capacity. But not violent, not a fighter in that sense. When he really stopped to think about what had happened with Alvaro, what he'd done... what might have happened if Alvaro hadn't bolted...
Jae's stomach churned and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the thoughts. Had he gone crazy that quickly? He didn't feel crazy.
He did feel fucking pathetic, laying in the floor in the middle of the hall, bleeding and sniffling and miserable.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
As Nancy laughed, Vanessa followed suit. Just like when she'd first found the pot, it was a good cathartic laugh, but compared to that seeing Nancy finally start to stop talking in that creepy third person context and actually smile was far more relieving. Drugs: the answer to all of life's problems.
Eventually they both recovered from their laughing fit, Vanessa feeling that much better for it. "Tch, fucking square." She grinned back at Nancy as she rejected the offer, but there was no malice in the words. She tucked the pot back in her bag, still smiling, as she let out a long sigh. She'd been saving the weed for when she met back up with Cams again, anyway.
Vanessa really didn't get Nancy, but the clues were starting to fall into place. Idols, assignments, and singing her heart out: she obviously wanted to take the country by storm as the next American Idol. Not the coolest life ambition, but fuck it Vanessa could at least relate to the whole singing interest and the love of the music lifestyle.
She was about to open her mouth and start asking her about it, keep the conversation going on a casual we're-not-about-to-die level, when the thump of someone collapsing came from the open door. She spun her head around towards the hall, but couldn't see anything from where she was standing.
"Shit, you hear that?" she almost whispered at Nancy, still staring at the door. "Wait here." She ordered, raising her hand in a similar gesture, as she headed towards the room's entrance to take a peek.
"Oh, fuck!" she had not expected to see someone actually collapsed outside. She immediately started to head over, still blissfully oblivious to the risk of traps or ambushes at this point, whilst calling out to the guy on the floor. "Dude, you alright?!"
Eventually they both recovered from their laughing fit, Vanessa feeling that much better for it. "Tch, fucking square." She grinned back at Nancy as she rejected the offer, but there was no malice in the words. She tucked the pot back in her bag, still smiling, as she let out a long sigh. She'd been saving the weed for when she met back up with Cams again, anyway.
Vanessa really didn't get Nancy, but the clues were starting to fall into place. Idols, assignments, and singing her heart out: she obviously wanted to take the country by storm as the next American Idol. Not the coolest life ambition, but fuck it Vanessa could at least relate to the whole singing interest and the love of the music lifestyle.
She was about to open her mouth and start asking her about it, keep the conversation going on a casual we're-not-about-to-die level, when the thump of someone collapsing came from the open door. She spun her head around towards the hall, but couldn't see anything from where she was standing.
"Shit, you hear that?" she almost whispered at Nancy, still staring at the door. "Wait here." She ordered, raising her hand in a similar gesture, as she headed towards the room's entrance to take a peek.
"Oh, fuck!" she had not expected to see someone actually collapsed outside. She immediately started to head over, still blissfully oblivious to the risk of traps or ambushes at this point, whilst calling out to the guy on the floor. "Dude, you alright?!"
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CondorTalon
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There was a thump from outside. Nancy jumped a bit.
Vanessa told her to wait in the room. Nancy nodded.
The tension had returned, not as much as before, but still, Nancy stared at the door as Vanessa opened it.
There was someone else outside. Just as one unknown was solved, another one popped up. Nancy crawled forward, grabbing the hatchet. She crawled out from under the table, and grabbed her assigned bag as well.
"What's going on?" Nancy called.
Vanessa told her to wait in the room. Nancy nodded.
The tension had returned, not as much as before, but still, Nancy stared at the door as Vanessa opened it.
There was someone else outside. Just as one unknown was solved, another one popped up. Nancy crawled forward, grabbing the hatchet. She crawled out from under the table, and grabbed her assigned bag as well.
"What's going on?" Nancy called.
All things considered, it was kind of comforting that Jae still had the capacity to roll his eyes at ridiculous questions. It wasn't visible, given that he was still face-down on the floor and all, and even if it was visible it probably wouldn't have helped anything, but there was something achingly familiar and normal at reacting dismissively to a question whose answer should have been glaringly obvious.
That wasn't to say that Jae disliked Vanessa, or even thought of her as generally not worth his time. He didn't know her well, but they'd attended the same parties from time to time and he'd seen her perform with her band. He always appreciated good music, even if Peyote Coyote's usual fare wasn't quite his style. He'd actually been meaning to ask where she'd gotten her kickass new tattoo done the next time they talked at some get-together; he didn't have any concrete plans to get a tattoo himself in the near future, but it was good to know where to go if he ever did have a design in mind.
She also seemed genuinely concerned, dumb question or not, so he rolled over onto his back with a groan to look at her properly rather than just flinging the baton at her and hoping she'd go away. He was a fucking mess right now, black-streaked tear trails mingling with blood from the gash on his face; he hated the thought of anyone seeing him like this, but he didn't think she'd judge too much, considering what he'd just been through. Besides, throwing the baton would essentially just be giving it to her, and Vanessa played softball. She definitely had a meaner throwing arm than he did.
Trumping all of that, though, was the simple fact that Jae didn't have the energy for another confrontation. Both his blind rage at being attacked for no reason and his "fight or flight" instincts had burned themselves out, and now all he felt was exhausted. Better to take his chances with someone who looked concerned and unarmed than to provoke another fight.
"No, Vans," he said. (Did he have permission to call her Vans? He probably didn't. Oh well.) "I'm kind of fucked up at the moment, actually."
That wasn't to say that Jae disliked Vanessa, or even thought of her as generally not worth his time. He didn't know her well, but they'd attended the same parties from time to time and he'd seen her perform with her band. He always appreciated good music, even if Peyote Coyote's usual fare wasn't quite his style. He'd actually been meaning to ask where she'd gotten her kickass new tattoo done the next time they talked at some get-together; he didn't have any concrete plans to get a tattoo himself in the near future, but it was good to know where to go if he ever did have a design in mind.
She also seemed genuinely concerned, dumb question or not, so he rolled over onto his back with a groan to look at her properly rather than just flinging the baton at her and hoping she'd go away. He was a fucking mess right now, black-streaked tear trails mingling with blood from the gash on his face; he hated the thought of anyone seeing him like this, but he didn't think she'd judge too much, considering what he'd just been through. Besides, throwing the baton would essentially just be giving it to her, and Vanessa played softball. She definitely had a meaner throwing arm than he did.
Trumping all of that, though, was the simple fact that Jae didn't have the energy for another confrontation. Both his blind rage at being attacked for no reason and his "fight or flight" instincts had burned themselves out, and now all he felt was exhausted. Better to take his chances with someone who looked concerned and unarmed than to provoke another fight.
"No, Vans," he said. (Did he have permission to call her Vans? He probably didn't. Oh well.) "I'm kind of fucked up at the moment, actually."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."