((Frank Reyes, continued from High Fashion, High Prices))
"Vanilla, huh?" Francisco Reyes Lanza poked his drink, absently minded. Sure, he would like to do like the movies and order a Bourbon shot. But there was no western movie bar here. Just ... Dairy Queen. It would have to do.
Sitting in his stool, he checked his clothes. The stain was gone, with little trouble. The only reminder of the events that transcended there was now resting against his leg. It was a shopping bag from Runway.
It had been an interesting event. Although in the end he had left infuriated by the comments of the resident rattlesnake in fashion clothes, Miranda Millers, he had witnessed some unforeseen things. Eliza Patton had stood up against Millers for him.
For that very reason he looked at the door. He had half hoped Eliza would have followed him here. He didn't want to feel an ungrateful bastard. She did deserve a reward.
If only the Milkshake was Bourbon...
Not the kind of drink I wanted
Open.
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AtomicVandal†
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Not the kind of drink I wanted
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((Logan Cadagon continued from League of Lunchtime))
Logan walked into the food court with a medium sized Sephora bag on his arm. He'd finally decided on a perfume assortment for his mom's birthday. Now all he had to do was walk across the mall to the Hallmark to pick up a card and wrapping paper. Since he had to make his way through the food court anyway, he was thinking of picking up a pretzel from Pretzelmaker. He began to wind his way through the tables when he spotted a member of the football team looking utterly dejected.
"Rough day Frank," he asked walking over to his classmate.
Logan walked into the food court with a medium sized Sephora bag on his arm. He'd finally decided on a perfume assortment for his mom's birthday. Now all he had to do was walk across the mall to the Hallmark to pick up a card and wrapping paper. Since he had to make his way through the food court anyway, he was thinking of picking up a pretzel from Pretzelmaker. He began to wind his way through the tables when he spotted a member of the football team looking utterly dejected.
"Rough day Frank," he asked walking over to his classmate.
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((Eliza continued from High Fashion, High Prices))
Eliza Patton needed to blow off some steam.
Unfortunately, shopping malls weren't exactly the cheapest place to get (alternatively read "mooch") cigs. Hell, if she didn't leave her fake ID at home she could probably get loaded at the nearby Safeway to make her forget about her humiliation, but unfortunately leaving her fake 21+ ID at home was exactly what she did. She wasn't quite in the mood to go home and jam, probably because mom had the day off today.
And thus she was here at your typical American price-bumped fast food hub, hoping that perhaps some ice cream would help her cool off from her humiliation and degradation - as it were - at the hands of Queen Millers and her acolytes.
This being a small world, or rather, a small mall, she quickly found out she wasn't the only one with the same thought.
"Who the fuck's he think he is, Max Payne?" she muttered to herself as she got a load of Cisco Lanza, aka Improv Edward Cullen, sitting by himself with a sundae. The only good thing about that movie was seeing the bullet-time sequence while blitzed. Fuck, they oughta make a video game out of that.
In the meantime, it looked like someone else was approaching him...and to her, it looked like he was going to rub insult into...insult. As if a little glitter could take down a guy like him.
Eliza decided not to swoop in just yet, talons bared to sate her appetite. No, she'd just circle around close. If Cisco noticed her, that was fine.
For once, escalation was not the occasion. She was tired enough from that for now.
Eliza Patton needed to blow off some steam.
Unfortunately, shopping malls weren't exactly the cheapest place to get (alternatively read "mooch") cigs. Hell, if she didn't leave her fake ID at home she could probably get loaded at the nearby Safeway to make her forget about her humiliation, but unfortunately leaving her fake 21+ ID at home was exactly what she did. She wasn't quite in the mood to go home and jam, probably because mom had the day off today.
And thus she was here at your typical American price-bumped fast food hub, hoping that perhaps some ice cream would help her cool off from her humiliation and degradation - as it were - at the hands of Queen Millers and her acolytes.
This being a small world, or rather, a small mall, she quickly found out she wasn't the only one with the same thought.
"Who the fuck's he think he is, Max Payne?" she muttered to herself as she got a load of Cisco Lanza, aka Improv Edward Cullen, sitting by himself with a sundae. The only good thing about that movie was seeing the bullet-time sequence while blitzed. Fuck, they oughta make a video game out of that.
In the meantime, it looked like someone else was approaching him...and to her, it looked like he was going to rub insult into...insult. As if a little glitter could take down a guy like him.
Eliza decided not to swoop in just yet, talons bared to sate her appetite. No, she'd just circle around close. If Cisco noticed her, that was fine.
For once, escalation was not the occasion. She was tired enough from that for now.
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AtomicVandal†
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Footsteps. Someone approached him. And then Frank heard a voice which he didn't recognize. But said person had recognized him. He turned around slowly, his eyes dead set on the newcomer. He was no one he could be acquainted with. His eyes narrowed significantly as his frown accentuated. He was not the most social person, and he definitely didn't want to talk about his problems to someone he barely knew.
His throat moved once, making some sort of a growling sound, before vocalizing. The newcomer would get one warning before he would go hostile.
"Piss off, fairy. I don't need an effeminate gay love to share my troubles with, and I've got enough of your fashion types to last a lifetime." He said. He had no clue what his orientation was, of course, but those well-groomed types tended to swing towards a certain side of the road.
It was then when the corner out of the eye caught something else. Eliza Patton had followed him, after all. It was a good thing. Good enough to reconsider slamming his milkshake down the pep talk fashion schmuck in the face and put a semblance of civility.
"You on the other hand -are- part of the troubles, Eliza. We need to talk." He paused, as if trying to grasp words that weren't blunt, but he failed miserably. "From man to woman."
He added, as he signalled Eliza to take a seat.
His throat moved once, making some sort of a growling sound, before vocalizing. The newcomer would get one warning before he would go hostile.
"Piss off, fairy. I don't need an effeminate gay love to share my troubles with, and I've got enough of your fashion types to last a lifetime." He said. He had no clue what his orientation was, of course, but those well-groomed types tended to swing towards a certain side of the road.
It was then when the corner out of the eye caught something else. Eliza Patton had followed him, after all. It was a good thing. Good enough to reconsider slamming his milkshake down the pep talk fashion schmuck in the face and put a semblance of civility.
"You on the other hand -are- part of the troubles, Eliza. We need to talk." He paused, as if trying to grasp words that weren't blunt, but he failed miserably. "From man to woman."
He added, as he signalled Eliza to take a seat.
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"Whoa, can we say 'roid rage?" Logan leaned back, startled at the venom in Frank's voice. If he had been being flippant, he could understand why Frank would think it appropriate to lay into him but since he was genuinely inquiring, the other boy's response was completely out of line.
The hateful things Frank said to him galvanized Logan into action. One thing he had learned long ago was that people only abused you if you let them. Frank Lanza wasn't going to sit here, insult him, and then dismiss him like some... some... sad little peon or piece of trash he had scraped off the bottom of his shoe.
Oh hell no. Words would definitely be exchanged. If Frank wanted to wage a battle of wits, Logan Cagadon had come prepared for war.
"Maybe your mom should ask for a refund on those anger management classes. Apparently they didn't take the first time around. Or maybe, maybe you're still struggling with the language."
Shaking his head, he looked at Frank as if he were trying to figure out what his problem was. He pretended to mull it over before answering. "No. That's it isn't it. You've been here in Seattle for a number of years and still haven't figured out that when someone comes over and shows concern, you should at least thank them for their trouble. Although, come to think of it, that's a cultural issue, not a language issue. Speaking of cultural, for someone who wants to act the gallant knight all the time, you really don't have the first idea what Medieval knights were actual like do you?"
Without waiting for Frank to respond, Logan continued. "And just so it is completely and utterly clear, I have no interest in becoming involved with you romantically, now or ever. Slovenly dressed tattooed jocks who can't deal with their pasts are so not my type," Logan finished, taking a deep breath. He really hadn't done anything to this dick except ask why he looked like he was trying to drown his sorrows in a milk shake.
Logan then turned his attention to Eliza. "So, I'll leave you two to have your man on woman problems."
Pretzel now long forgotten, he tightened his grip on the bag, and continued down the mall towards the Hallmark that had been his original destination.
((Logan Cadagon continued elsewhere))
The hateful things Frank said to him galvanized Logan into action. One thing he had learned long ago was that people only abused you if you let them. Frank Lanza wasn't going to sit here, insult him, and then dismiss him like some... some... sad little peon or piece of trash he had scraped off the bottom of his shoe.
Oh hell no. Words would definitely be exchanged. If Frank wanted to wage a battle of wits, Logan Cagadon had come prepared for war.
"Maybe your mom should ask for a refund on those anger management classes. Apparently they didn't take the first time around. Or maybe, maybe you're still struggling with the language."
Shaking his head, he looked at Frank as if he were trying to figure out what his problem was. He pretended to mull it over before answering. "No. That's it isn't it. You've been here in Seattle for a number of years and still haven't figured out that when someone comes over and shows concern, you should at least thank them for their trouble. Although, come to think of it, that's a cultural issue, not a language issue. Speaking of cultural, for someone who wants to act the gallant knight all the time, you really don't have the first idea what Medieval knights were actual like do you?"
Without waiting for Frank to respond, Logan continued. "And just so it is completely and utterly clear, I have no interest in becoming involved with you romantically, now or ever. Slovenly dressed tattooed jocks who can't deal with their pasts are so not my type," Logan finished, taking a deep breath. He really hadn't done anything to this dick except ask why he looked like he was trying to drown his sorrows in a milk shake.
Logan then turned his attention to Eliza. "So, I'll leave you two to have your man on woman problems."
Pretzel now long forgotten, he tightened his grip on the bag, and continued down the mall towards the Hallmark that had been his original destination.
((Logan Cadagon continued elsewhere))
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Whoever had just tried to rub insult into insult against Cisco Lanza had the tables turned on them like, well, a bar fight. And the sight of that put a smile on Eliza's face at least until the table-turner got the receiving end of a nerdly rage that could be heard clear across the food court with a dishonorable mention saved just for her. Whatever Cisco had done to stoke him harder than the Hive of Harlots back at Runway, she very briefly regretted not getting close enough to hear.
Seriously, was this guy actually trying to act drunk on a DQ sundae? The nearby mall rent-a-cops would probably laugh at him, let alone a girl who to her recollection (or rather, basing such information on her lack of recollection) had probably already gotten more pasted than Paris Hilton on more than one occasion.
"Yeah, I 'take it the fight's still not over, is it, Cisco." she began with a mutter as she took a seat beside Cisco. She sat backward, that was, facing outward and leaning back to rest her elbows on the table with her legs split between the backrest.
"And by the way, your drink ain't spiked."
So it still wasn't anywhere near the 'thank you' that she was probably half-considering saying at best. But at least he hadn't turned her away like that poor dork.
Yet.
Seriously, was this guy actually trying to act drunk on a DQ sundae? The nearby mall rent-a-cops would probably laugh at him, let alone a girl who to her recollection (or rather, basing such information on her lack of recollection) had probably already gotten more pasted than Paris Hilton on more than one occasion.
"Yeah, I 'take it the fight's still not over, is it, Cisco." she began with a mutter as she took a seat beside Cisco. She sat backward, that was, facing outward and leaning back to rest her elbows on the table with her legs split between the backrest.
"And by the way, your drink ain't spiked."
So it still wasn't anywhere near the 'thank you' that she was probably half-considering saying at best. But at least he hadn't turned her away like that poor dork.
Yet.
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AtomicVandal†
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Frank Reyes wasn't a happy man. He had to go one place he didn't particularly like, argue with some people he could care less if they were ran over by an oil tanker and set on fire. All because people did not mind their fucking business. And this didn't seem the exception. Apparently the little curious cat that had flocked towards him had taken as personal goal to become a surrogate morality teacher, admonishing and dispensing comments about Frank's past life.
What part of "Piss off" didn't he understand, exactly? And there was the detailed rundown of his life that the fashionista was giving to him. It was somewhat creepy in itself. His hands clenched his drink tightly. Suddenly the idea of old, brutal and swift violence sprung on his mind.
Just, go on you bastard, just go on. I'll make you a new windpipe with a jagged glass so you can't choke while I shove this fucking drink down your fucking throat to make you shut your mouth. And why people are so adamant on questioning my chivalry? Chivalry isn't about shitty words, it's about acts.
Fortunately violence never came, as the self-indignated chump left in the same way he entered. And then Eliza came, and sat. Her jabs did not relax Frank in the slightest, but at least she was someone he had to talk with. Someone he couldn't just smash a milkshake glass on the top of her head and be done with it.
"Fucking Christsake, I swear today is the We are so Fucking Cool Let's Tick Off Frank Reyes or something like that." He paused, as his eyes displayed a frown. "Of course the drink's not spiked, you fucking genius. But where did you see a decent way to just ... chill out and mind my own fucking business without appearing like some poor schlub drunk on Bourbon at such an early hour? I have more things to do." He finally said, realizing that his swearing ration had significantly risen.
He had business though. "But anyway. I am not the kind of person who turns a blind eye to some kinds of stuff. You didn't need to come up and help me fend that squad of parrots. Yet you did."
He paused, and coughed. He was not really good with words. "But thanks anyway. You ...do deserve a reward." He paused. "So uh, I'll do something for you in return. I swear. Just name it." He paused, and drank more of his milkshake.
What part of "Piss off" didn't he understand, exactly? And there was the detailed rundown of his life that the fashionista was giving to him. It was somewhat creepy in itself. His hands clenched his drink tightly. Suddenly the idea of old, brutal and swift violence sprung on his mind.
Just, go on you bastard, just go on. I'll make you a new windpipe with a jagged glass so you can't choke while I shove this fucking drink down your fucking throat to make you shut your mouth. And why people are so adamant on questioning my chivalry? Chivalry isn't about shitty words, it's about acts.
Fortunately violence never came, as the self-indignated chump left in the same way he entered. And then Eliza came, and sat. Her jabs did not relax Frank in the slightest, but at least she was someone he had to talk with. Someone he couldn't just smash a milkshake glass on the top of her head and be done with it.
"Fucking Christsake, I swear today is the We are so Fucking Cool Let's Tick Off Frank Reyes or something like that." He paused, as his eyes displayed a frown. "Of course the drink's not spiked, you fucking genius. But where did you see a decent way to just ... chill out and mind my own fucking business without appearing like some poor schlub drunk on Bourbon at such an early hour? I have more things to do." He finally said, realizing that his swearing ration had significantly risen.
He had business though. "But anyway. I am not the kind of person who turns a blind eye to some kinds of stuff. You didn't need to come up and help me fend that squad of parrots. Yet you did."
He paused, and coughed. He was not really good with words. "But thanks anyway. You ...do deserve a reward." He paused. "So uh, I'll do something for you in return. I swear. Just name it." He paused, and drank more of his milkshake.
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Eliza probably would not have expected Frank to calm down even after she took her seat. If anything, she just let his little rant pass right through her. It wasn't anything she already wasn't used to from her mom venting about life to Cody venting about trouble dealing with her.
"But anyway. I am not the kind of person who turns a blind eye to some kinds of stuff. You didn't need to come up and help me fend that squad of parrots. Yet you did."
She turned her head to face him briefly, smiled with as much gratification as her piercings would allow, then turned back to see which food stall would fire up her appetite enough to warrant spending what change she had. It was the kind of smile that told him it was no problem, bothering those fuckers was just another day's work for her and getting a new friend out of it was compensation enough.
But now Frank wanted to take it to another different level.
"But thanks anyway. You...do deserve a reward. So uh, I'll do something for you in return. I swear. Just name it.
The easy thing she could have done at the moment was invite this conquistador to be her latest conquest. A favor for a favor, a night for a day evens shit out and everyone leaves happy. And even she would probably have conceded that she didn't have nearly as many as the high-strung Hive when it all came down to it. But it was called the easy way out for two reasons - the first because the gratification was usually only instant, and even she knew that sometimes the best thrills are the ones that last.
The second was because it wasn't correspondingly easy to think of a way that wasn't the easy way out.
"Hell," she chuckled, trying to catch a glimpse of the prices on the nearest menu. "I don't know. I guess if you wanna come hang out with me and the girls sometime, I can treat you to a free ride on the go-kart track."
So maybe that didn't come out as obvious as she hoped. Perhaps Don Lanza wouldn't be that well-versed on the All-American art of the double entendre...
"But anyway. I am not the kind of person who turns a blind eye to some kinds of stuff. You didn't need to come up and help me fend that squad of parrots. Yet you did."
She turned her head to face him briefly, smiled with as much gratification as her piercings would allow, then turned back to see which food stall would fire up her appetite enough to warrant spending what change she had. It was the kind of smile that told him it was no problem, bothering those fuckers was just another day's work for her and getting a new friend out of it was compensation enough.
But now Frank wanted to take it to another different level.
"But thanks anyway. You...do deserve a reward. So uh, I'll do something for you in return. I swear. Just name it.
The easy thing she could have done at the moment was invite this conquistador to be her latest conquest. A favor for a favor, a night for a day evens shit out and everyone leaves happy. And even she would probably have conceded that she didn't have nearly as many as the high-strung Hive when it all came down to it. But it was called the easy way out for two reasons - the first because the gratification was usually only instant, and even she knew that sometimes the best thrills are the ones that last.
The second was because it wasn't correspondingly easy to think of a way that wasn't the easy way out.
"Hell," she chuckled, trying to catch a glimpse of the prices on the nearest menu. "I don't know. I guess if you wanna come hang out with me and the girls sometime, I can treat you to a free ride on the go-kart track."
So maybe that didn't come out as obvious as she hoped. Perhaps Don Lanza wouldn't be that well-versed on the All-American art of the double entendre...
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AtomicVandal†
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Frank Reyes sighed. Hang out with Cody Patton's sister? It wasn't a bad idea, but too close to a sitcom. The brother would certainly have something to say about the idea. However, he had said it. There was no turning back now. He said she deserved a reward, and she had asked to hang out.
The idea of karting with a lot of punk girl groupies could be odd to say the least. He wasn't sure they could drive properly, not because they were girls, but because hell knows what shit they took to pass idle hours.
Besides... go-karts? He would've understood going to a rave. Or a metal concert, but vehicles...
Somewhere in Frank's brain, a light was lit. Deeply buried in his mind full of ancient lore, medicine and teamwork, the concept of innuendo came forth. He just remembered that some girls were like school bikes... according to Jake Brook. Everyone got to ride them.
Surely the go-kart doesn't mean...oh hell no. I mean... what the ...
For a while, Frank Reyes tried to hide a creeping blush and a staggering lack of reaction with his milkshake. The stupor passed quickly as he pieced together.
"Sounds like a plan. I would make a rear-end joke, but I don't feel like it...yeah." He added hastily, trying to clumsily cover that he had caught some innuendo in Eliza's words.
"Just great, Frank, you might gotten yourself in more that you can chew on. I just hope I'll manage."
He then added. "By the way, your drink is on me. Least I can do."
The idea of karting with a lot of punk girl groupies could be odd to say the least. He wasn't sure they could drive properly, not because they were girls, but because hell knows what shit they took to pass idle hours.
Besides... go-karts? He would've understood going to a rave. Or a metal concert, but vehicles...
Somewhere in Frank's brain, a light was lit. Deeply buried in his mind full of ancient lore, medicine and teamwork, the concept of innuendo came forth. He just remembered that some girls were like school bikes... according to Jake Brook. Everyone got to ride them.
Surely the go-kart doesn't mean...oh hell no. I mean... what the ...
For a while, Frank Reyes tried to hide a creeping blush and a staggering lack of reaction with his milkshake. The stupor passed quickly as he pieced together.
"Sounds like a plan. I would make a rear-end joke, but I don't feel like it...yeah." He added hastily, trying to clumsily cover that he had caught some innuendo in Eliza's words.
"Just great, Frank, you might gotten yourself in more that you can chew on. I just hope I'll manage."
He then added. "By the way, your drink is on me. Least I can do."
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The notion of someone on the football team stooping so low as to end up on Eliza's wall of shame had crossed her mind repeatedly. If it would spite Cody to sleep with one of his teammates, so much the better That it had to be the one jock that she actually felt more than a passing connection (literally and metaphorically) with would probably have caused her some regret.
"Sounds like a plan. I would make a rear-end joke, but I don't feel like it...yeah."
Eliza chuckled darkly at the insinuation. Of course her reputation preceded her, that's why she was able to strut into Runway and wreak havoc like she did.
"By the way, your drink is on me. Least I can do."
It wasn't an alcoholic drink - not in this slice of Americana - nor was it cheap cigs. But how could she say no?
"Nah, but thanks for offering."
Yeah, that was how. Not quite in the abrasive tone she was known for, but perhaps overly dismissive for the person she directed it to.
"Sounds like a plan. I would make a rear-end joke, but I don't feel like it...yeah."
Eliza chuckled darkly at the insinuation. Of course her reputation preceded her, that's why she was able to strut into Runway and wreak havoc like she did.
"By the way, your drink is on me. Least I can do."
It wasn't an alcoholic drink - not in this slice of Americana - nor was it cheap cigs. But how could she say no?
"Nah, but thanks for offering."
Yeah, that was how. Not quite in the abrasive tone she was known for, but perhaps overly dismissive for the person she directed it to.
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