((Emmett Bunnell - Pregame Start))
Emmett was sitting on one of the bleachers in the basketball courts and he was trying to have some 'Emmett Time' without anyone to disturb or piss him off. He really didn't want to deal with any other person. Although, that seemed to not be a problem as he was all by himself. Alone. For now. How long would it be before someone confronted him to have a conversation or an argument with him? He preferred neither. Unless it was Adonis, he didn't want to be around other people.
"Get your shit together, Emmett." He muttered to himself.
He then stared down at the sketchpad that was in his lap. He had wanted to do a sketch of a person. But he was not coming up with anything. He felt his temper somewhere inside of him, waiting to burst out. But no, this time he had it all under control. He didn't want to start kicking and screaming just because he hadn't been able to think of what to sketch.
He would normally be in the art room right now. But he decided that he would find it easier to concentrate here. Boy, was he freaking wrong?!
He let out a small sigh.
"Fuck it. There is one more option that can help me." He murmured softly. No one could see him talking to himself. So he didn't give a care to the world. "Music."
He got out his phone and his headphones out of his bag. Then he put his headphones on and then he started to search through his playlist. Rock, rock, rock and more rock. He wondered what he should listen to. He was really focused on choosing a song. Maybe something at random?
Just Chill
Open!
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Primrosette
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Andy Silverman: Pregame Start
What bugged Andy about the school's indoor courts was that they were asymmetrical. Why even have two badminton courts in the first place? Who even played badminton? Was badminton even real? Probably. It was probably real. But the badminton courts seemed to be empty whenever Andy came around, at least, and that just left him with this lopsided mess of an arrangement.
They could have benefited from another basketball court too, so the JV and varsity could hold practice at the same time without pushing one to way later in the day. They could have played games at the same time too, or had the guys' and girls' teams play at the same time when they both had home games. Instead, badminton.
The word had a nice way of rolling off the tongue, though. Bad-min-ton.
Maybe Andy was just feeling more fidgety than usual today. Days like this came with little rhyme or reason, and there wasn't much he could do once he caught himself getting distracted by such deep and intricate topics as the layout of the school's athletic courts. He'd headed out in the first place to let off some steam after first noticing the twitchy feeling creeping up on him.
The building was mostly empty at this point in the day, which was fine by him. Andy only liked to be around certain people when he got to feeling like this.
A quick change of clothes and a rummage in the equipment room later, he had a basketball and was ready to go. The basketball court, at least, was nice to look at. Identical sets of bleachers (two), identical hoops and backboards (two), identical scoreboards (two)...
Unexpected audience member in the stands (one).
Andy paused as he noted Emmett's presence, idly tossing the basketball from one hand to the other (left-right-left, bounce in the palm and repeat). It was kind of weird to have just one person sitting in the stands and one person on the court, and Emmett looked like his usual pleasant self, which was to say he looked like a raging asshole. But hey, Andy didn't own the school.
He shrugged and let the ball drop to the floor, catching it and starting up a proper dribble when it bounced back up. He opted to ignore Emmett and focus on the nearer hoop while building up a good rhythm.
Coach Oppenheimer got annoyed when players got caught up in trying to dunk the ball and forgot to actually, y'know, play. But it was just Andy, the ball, and the net (and Emmett) right now. He thought he'd go for it.
Noise gradually filled the once-quiet court, the squeak of Andy's shoes, the impact of the ball, and the hoop and net reverberating with it.
What bugged Andy about the school's indoor courts was that they were asymmetrical. Why even have two badminton courts in the first place? Who even played badminton? Was badminton even real? Probably. It was probably real. But the badminton courts seemed to be empty whenever Andy came around, at least, and that just left him with this lopsided mess of an arrangement.
They could have benefited from another basketball court too, so the JV and varsity could hold practice at the same time without pushing one to way later in the day. They could have played games at the same time too, or had the guys' and girls' teams play at the same time when they both had home games. Instead, badminton.
The word had a nice way of rolling off the tongue, though. Bad-min-ton.
Maybe Andy was just feeling more fidgety than usual today. Days like this came with little rhyme or reason, and there wasn't much he could do once he caught himself getting distracted by such deep and intricate topics as the layout of the school's athletic courts. He'd headed out in the first place to let off some steam after first noticing the twitchy feeling creeping up on him.
The building was mostly empty at this point in the day, which was fine by him. Andy only liked to be around certain people when he got to feeling like this.
A quick change of clothes and a rummage in the equipment room later, he had a basketball and was ready to go. The basketball court, at least, was nice to look at. Identical sets of bleachers (two), identical hoops and backboards (two), identical scoreboards (two)...
Unexpected audience member in the stands (one).
Andy paused as he noted Emmett's presence, idly tossing the basketball from one hand to the other (left-right-left, bounce in the palm and repeat). It was kind of weird to have just one person sitting in the stands and one person on the court, and Emmett looked like his usual pleasant self, which was to say he looked like a raging asshole. But hey, Andy didn't own the school.
He shrugged and let the ball drop to the floor, catching it and starting up a proper dribble when it bounced back up. He opted to ignore Emmett and focus on the nearer hoop while building up a good rhythm.
Coach Oppenheimer got annoyed when players got caught up in trying to dunk the ball and forgot to actually, y'know, play. But it was just Andy, the ball, and the net (and Emmett) right now. He thought he'd go for it.
Noise gradually filled the once-quiet court, the squeak of Andy's shoes, the impact of the ball, and the hoop and net reverberating with it.
"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."
((B013 Abel Zelenovic - Pregame Start))
Abel was never that big of a fan of basketball, but on some days he liked to hang out on the school's indoor court and watch the men's team practice or just chill with anyone who happened to be there if he was bored. Hell, on some of those days he would join in for a casual game of H-O-R-S-E or just to mindlessly dribble and shoot hoops; there was something oddly mesmerizing about shooting the ball into the hole and hearing that satisfying swish, especially since Abel felt like he always missed 4 out of 5 shots. If he was alone, he'd just listen to the dead silence of the arena and work on homework while the clock slowly ticked away.
Maybe basketball was in his dreams last night, or maybe he saw a snail earlier that day, but today was one of those days where he wanted to kill some time at the court.
He quietly pulled open the doors to the court and surveyed his new surroundings. The area was usually empty-ish around this time of day, but there was sometimes the odd person or two around... and wouldn't you know it, that was exactly the case.
Abel chuckled a bit when he saw Andy on the court going to town with the ball and the backboard. Andy was a really cool dude; he was sometimes a little too intense even for Abel but he meant well. Andy was great on the court, but he could also shred the hell out of the guitar... or at least Abel thought so. Yep, Andy was pretty all right. It made sense he would be here.
The other kid though... Emmett... Abel didn't really have a lot of good opinions. That isn't to say that Abel had a personal vendetta against the dude, but Emmett always looked like he was rigged to explode if you said the wrong thing. Definitely not the kind of person Abel really anticipated to be around, but Abel didn't really have that choice at this moment. Abel never thought he'd see this guy at the basketball court in a million years, but everyone's full of surprises; if he was a basketball fan, good for him. Regardless, Abel was as much of a foreigner on this battlefield as Emmett was and had the same rights to be here.
"Hey yo Andy-man," Abel said with a quick raise of his right hand in the air as a casual salute. He dropped his backpack as he sat down on the bleachers near the exit and continued the thought, "is it okay if I watched?"
Abel hoped he wasn't being an invasive species.
Abel was never that big of a fan of basketball, but on some days he liked to hang out on the school's indoor court and watch the men's team practice or just chill with anyone who happened to be there if he was bored. Hell, on some of those days he would join in for a casual game of H-O-R-S-E or just to mindlessly dribble and shoot hoops; there was something oddly mesmerizing about shooting the ball into the hole and hearing that satisfying swish, especially since Abel felt like he always missed 4 out of 5 shots. If he was alone, he'd just listen to the dead silence of the arena and work on homework while the clock slowly ticked away.
Maybe basketball was in his dreams last night, or maybe he saw a snail earlier that day, but today was one of those days where he wanted to kill some time at the court.
He quietly pulled open the doors to the court and surveyed his new surroundings. The area was usually empty-ish around this time of day, but there was sometimes the odd person or two around... and wouldn't you know it, that was exactly the case.
Abel chuckled a bit when he saw Andy on the court going to town with the ball and the backboard. Andy was a really cool dude; he was sometimes a little too intense even for Abel but he meant well. Andy was great on the court, but he could also shred the hell out of the guitar... or at least Abel thought so. Yep, Andy was pretty all right. It made sense he would be here.
The other kid though... Emmett... Abel didn't really have a lot of good opinions. That isn't to say that Abel had a personal vendetta against the dude, but Emmett always looked like he was rigged to explode if you said the wrong thing. Definitely not the kind of person Abel really anticipated to be around, but Abel didn't really have that choice at this moment. Abel never thought he'd see this guy at the basketball court in a million years, but everyone's full of surprises; if he was a basketball fan, good for him. Regardless, Abel was as much of a foreigner on this battlefield as Emmett was and had the same rights to be here.
"Hey yo Andy-man," Abel said with a quick raise of his right hand in the air as a casual salute. He dropped his backpack as he sat down on the bleachers near the exit and continued the thought, "is it okay if I watched?"
Abel hoped he wasn't being an invasive species.
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Primrosette
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Emmett was just about choose one of his favorite songs until he was interrupted by the presence of Andy Silverman. He watched the other guy playing with a basketball for a while. He realised that the distraction wasn't that bad. At least he didn't have to talk to the guy. At least there was still some peace and quiet--
He had thought too soon. He turned his head slightly to look at Abel. Who the hell would ask to watch a guy playing with a ball? Was it creepy to watch without asking? Well, fuck Emmett sideways if that shit was true.
He then looked back at Andy with a somewhat amused expression on his face. How odd.
He glanced back down at his phone and started to play some music. He was going to keep out of this conversation for as long as he could. Then he held a pencil in his hand and he thought about doing a sketch of Andy. He didn't have to ask for permission. He just wanted to see if he could capture the active side of Andy in his sketches. It wasn't like he had to share his art work with him anyway.
He started to get to work, his anger was fading away slowly.
He had thought too soon. He turned his head slightly to look at Abel. Who the hell would ask to watch a guy playing with a ball? Was it creepy to watch without asking? Well, fuck Emmett sideways if that shit was true.
He then looked back at Andy with a somewhat amused expression on his face. How odd.
He glanced back down at his phone and started to play some music. He was going to keep out of this conversation for as long as he could. Then he held a pencil in his hand and he thought about doing a sketch of Andy. He didn't have to ask for permission. He just wanted to see if he could capture the active side of Andy in his sketches. It wasn't like he had to share his art work with him anyway.
He started to get to work, his anger was fading away slowly.
"Hey hey." Andy threw one hand out towards Abel, returning his half-wave, half-salute in kind. "No problem, man. You could join in too, if you want." But hey, he was just fine if all Abel wanted to do was just take a minute and sit right there, to find out how Andy became the fresh prince of...
Nothing around here rhymed with Bel-Air. Fuck.
Ball air, because he was playing basketball. And he was baller, but pronounced ball-air.
That didn't make any sense.
Whatever.
Andy went back to dribbling without waiting any longer for Abel's response. He wanted to see if he could dunk the ball behind his head.
He quickly discovered that he could not dunk the ball behind his head, and just got his knuckles rapped against the rim of the net for his troubles. He lost his grip on the ball, and it went bouncing off, making a break for freedom over towards Emmett's side of the stands. One two three, bounce bounce bounce roll.
"Hey Emmett, man," Andy called over, hissing slightly as he shook out the hand he'd hit on the rim. "You mind?" Or Abel could get it, Andy supposed. Or he could walk the ten steps over and get it himself, but Emmett was closer and maybe not so much of a dick that he'd make Andy do that when he was right there. Maybe.
Nothing around here rhymed with Bel-Air. Fuck.
Ball air, because he was playing basketball. And he was baller, but pronounced ball-air.
That didn't make any sense.
Whatever.
Andy went back to dribbling without waiting any longer for Abel's response. He wanted to see if he could dunk the ball behind his head.
He quickly discovered that he could not dunk the ball behind his head, and just got his knuckles rapped against the rim of the net for his troubles. He lost his grip on the ball, and it went bouncing off, making a break for freedom over towards Emmett's side of the stands. One two three, bounce bounce bounce roll.
"Hey Emmett, man," Andy called over, hissing slightly as he shook out the hand he'd hit on the rim. "You mind?" Or Abel could get it, Andy supposed. Or he could walk the ten steps over and get it himself, but Emmett was closer and maybe not so much of a dick that he'd make Andy do that when he was right there. Maybe.
"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."
"No thanks, man," Abel shook his head, "I'm-"
Andy went back to dribbling before Abel could finish, silencing the thought and causing it to peter out like a malnourished flame. "-fine."
That was kind of a lie, but Andy seemed really dedicated to dunking the ball today. He probably wasn't up for silly schoolyard games like Around the World, and Abel wasn't really dressed up for a real casual game. No, today Andy was the star of the show, and the ball was life... or something. What did that phrase even mean? Abel would probably never understand.
Andy went to dunk the ball behind his head--which was the hypest shit ever if he could pull it off. Abel tensed up all over as Andy went for it.
Aaaaaaaaand he didn't. Air ball. Net ball. Whatever, ouch. Abel sighed under his breath, murdering any hype that had built up in those couple of seconds.
Abel's eyes followed the ball as it made the great escape from Andy's clutches and hopped over to its new buddy Emmett's vicinity. Abel started to rise to go fetch it for the king of the ring as it was the least he could do for allowing Abel here, but paused and sat back down when Andy called for Emmett.
He wanted to see how this plays out.
Andy went back to dribbling before Abel could finish, silencing the thought and causing it to peter out like a malnourished flame. "-fine."
That was kind of a lie, but Andy seemed really dedicated to dunking the ball today. He probably wasn't up for silly schoolyard games like Around the World, and Abel wasn't really dressed up for a real casual game. No, today Andy was the star of the show, and the ball was life... or something. What did that phrase even mean? Abel would probably never understand.
Andy went to dunk the ball behind his head--which was the hypest shit ever if he could pull it off. Abel tensed up all over as Andy went for it.
Aaaaaaaaand he didn't. Air ball. Net ball. Whatever, ouch. Abel sighed under his breath, murdering any hype that had built up in those couple of seconds.
Abel's eyes followed the ball as it made the great escape from Andy's clutches and hopped over to its new buddy Emmett's vicinity. Abel started to rise to go fetch it for the king of the ring as it was the least he could do for allowing Abel here, but paused and sat back down when Andy called for Emmett.
He wanted to see how this plays out.
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Primrosette
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Emmett noticed the ball bouncing near him and it stopped just to the left side of him. He paused the music and listened to Andy's words. Did he really just screw up a shot? Well, Emmett knew that it happens sometimes. He had been there a few times himself when he had messed up his sketches or other pieces of art work.
Emmett wanted to be a dick and just let Andy get it himself. But he didn't want to cause an argument just after he started to get calm. It wasn't worth the hassle.
Emmett rolled his eyes at Andy. Put down everything that he had in his hands. Got up to his feet. Then he moved over to the ball and he picked it up in his hands.
"Do you want me to throw it? Or come over to you, Andy?" He asked with a hint of a smug smile. "Looks like you fucked up your hand a bit."
Emmett wanted to be a dick and just let Andy get it himself. But he didn't want to cause an argument just after he started to get calm. It wasn't worth the hassle.
Emmett rolled his eyes at Andy. Put down everything that he had in his hands. Got up to his feet. Then he moved over to the ball and he picked it up in his hands.
"Do you want me to throw it? Or come over to you, Andy?" He asked with a hint of a smug smile. "Looks like you fucked up your hand a bit."
"How 'bout you try get it in the hoop from there?"
((STEPNEY CRUZ – PREGAME START))
Stepney flashed a grin to the court at large, as he leaned against the bleachers, one hand in his pocket, the other held just in front of his chest. If anyone had been looking closely, they might have seen the gleam of a quarter, nestled between his thumb and his index finger.
He hadn't planned to head into the athletics courts today. Or, y'know, any day. Basketball wasn't his jam, and badminton was even less so. For once, he hadn't even been conjuring up any new ways of making money. He wasn't always thinking about making mad cash, after all. Nah, what was the point in getting all that money if you weren't gonna spend it, right? No wonder pirates in all those fantasy stories and stuff had bad teeth and wooden limbs. Maybe if they actually used their money rather than bury it on desert islands they'd be able to afford some decent healthcare.
Anyway. Digression. Stepney had merely been on his way to grab a snack from the vending machines, just a small treat to make use of his hard earned, definitely-not-dubiously-obtained money, and he'd happened to pass by the courts on his way there. The sound of shoes squeaking against floor had piqued his interest first; as far as he was aware, there weren't any classes meant to be in there right now.
Then, the sound of someone saying the name 'Andy' had grabbed his attention with both hands. Now, fair's fair, there was no guarantee it was Mr. Coriander Silverman in there. But did Stepney know an Andy who played basketball and just so happened to be as easy to push into dares as he was himself? Good lord did he ever.
So now, here Stepney was. Looking at three people who he couldn't for the life of him recognise. His life in a nutshell, really. He wasn't exactly putting his mind to work right now – he'd be able to figure who these three musketeers were as soon as they started speaking, no doubt. Even so, his brain had instinctively started jotting down little clues about everyone in front of him, trying to narrow down the list of potential suspects. Everybody's postures, their weight and heights, their hairstyles, the sketchbook sitting next to the guy holding the basketball. Little clues everywhere, if you knew where to look for them.
Stepney's smile grew wider, and he flicked the coin up in the air, catching it again before it hit the earth. Tails. His side of choice. He made a mental bet with himself that he was definitely standing in front of Andy Silverman.
"I'll give you a dollar if you make it."
((STEPNEY CRUZ – PREGAME START))
Stepney flashed a grin to the court at large, as he leaned against the bleachers, one hand in his pocket, the other held just in front of his chest. If anyone had been looking closely, they might have seen the gleam of a quarter, nestled between his thumb and his index finger.
He hadn't planned to head into the athletics courts today. Or, y'know, any day. Basketball wasn't his jam, and badminton was even less so. For once, he hadn't even been conjuring up any new ways of making money. He wasn't always thinking about making mad cash, after all. Nah, what was the point in getting all that money if you weren't gonna spend it, right? No wonder pirates in all those fantasy stories and stuff had bad teeth and wooden limbs. Maybe if they actually used their money rather than bury it on desert islands they'd be able to afford some decent healthcare.
Anyway. Digression. Stepney had merely been on his way to grab a snack from the vending machines, just a small treat to make use of his hard earned, definitely-not-dubiously-obtained money, and he'd happened to pass by the courts on his way there. The sound of shoes squeaking against floor had piqued his interest first; as far as he was aware, there weren't any classes meant to be in there right now.
Then, the sound of someone saying the name 'Andy' had grabbed his attention with both hands. Now, fair's fair, there was no guarantee it was Mr. Coriander Silverman in there. But did Stepney know an Andy who played basketball and just so happened to be as easy to push into dares as he was himself? Good lord did he ever.
So now, here Stepney was. Looking at three people who he couldn't for the life of him recognise. His life in a nutshell, really. He wasn't exactly putting his mind to work right now – he'd be able to figure who these three musketeers were as soon as they started speaking, no doubt. Even so, his brain had instinctively started jotting down little clues about everyone in front of him, trying to narrow down the list of potential suspects. Everybody's postures, their weight and heights, their hairstyles, the sketchbook sitting next to the guy holding the basketball. Little clues everywhere, if you knew where to look for them.
Stepney's smile grew wider, and he flicked the coin up in the air, catching it again before it hit the earth. Tails. His side of choice. He made a mental bet with himself that he was definitely standing in front of Andy Silverman.
"I'll give you a dollar if you make it."
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Are we really doing this. Are we really, Emmett. Are we really. Really.
Andy waved his stinging hand in Emmett's direction; the pain was already fading, and annoyance crowded in to replace it. "Whatever floats your boat, man. Doesn't make a difference."
Fortunately, distractions from Emmett's Emmett-ness were soon to arrive. Reinforcements, as it were. Three people on the court, one in the stands. Tipped scales. Stepney's whole deal with not being able to recognize people was sort of ironic, since he was pretty recognizable himself. Mostly a good guy, always a good laugh. He still owed Andy ten bucks for when Andy broke his foot jumping out that window back in sophomore year, also.
Andy tilted his head to look back over his shoulder at Stepney; he didn't fully trust Emmett not to chuck the ball at his head if he turned his back completely. "What can you buy for a dollar in this economy?" He asked, grinning.
"If I make it, you should just buy me a drink from the vending machine." Not that he actually minded getting the dollar. It'd chip off Stepney's standing debt, which Stepney had probably completely forgotten about by now.
Andy waved his stinging hand in Emmett's direction; the pain was already fading, and annoyance crowded in to replace it. "Whatever floats your boat, man. Doesn't make a difference."
Fortunately, distractions from Emmett's Emmett-ness were soon to arrive. Reinforcements, as it were. Three people on the court, one in the stands. Tipped scales. Stepney's whole deal with not being able to recognize people was sort of ironic, since he was pretty recognizable himself. Mostly a good guy, always a good laugh. He still owed Andy ten bucks for when Andy broke his foot jumping out that window back in sophomore year, also.
Andy tilted his head to look back over his shoulder at Stepney; he didn't fully trust Emmett not to chuck the ball at his head if he turned his back completely. "What can you buy for a dollar in this economy?" He asked, grinning.
"If I make it, you should just buy me a drink from the vending machine." Not that he actually minded getting the dollar. It'd chip off Stepney's standing debt, which Stepney had probably completely forgotten about by now.
"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."
Ooooo, now things were getting interesting. Emmett being kind of a dick was expected, but the sudden invasion by Stepney was not to be trifled with. Dude knew how to liven up a party with bets, and Abel always liked his company even if he could be kind of a dick sometimes... but, like, a fun kind of a dick. Not the kind of a dick who sucks out fun like a vampire.
But making a bet with His Royal Highness, in his domain, during this religious holiday, at this hour, and for such a pittance? Heresy!
And for Stepney to rile King Andy into continuing the bet? Also heresy! Heresy of the third highest order!
If anyone dare made a bet it had to be Abel. And so it was decided that Abel had to by Abel himself; besides, Abel still owed Stepney fifteen bucks for the sour cream and marshmallows incident from junior year, so if this mother of all bets was fulfilled all would be forgiven hopefully. Most importantly of all, Abel knew the exact kind of bet that would entice everyone in that basketball court to heed his decree.
"I can do one even better," Abel smirked as he made eye contact with Stepney before continuing on. "I will buy everyone here a drink from the vending machine, if Emmett can shoot into the basket there!" Abel drew a line between Emmett and the goal near Andy with a finger in the air as he spoke. Abel folded his hands together and waited, heart thumping in a rapid rhythm. He should've known better considering last time, but Abel counted this trial as a sort of test rather than falling for Stepney's devilish tricks once again.
The ball's in your court now, Emmett.
But making a bet with His Royal Highness, in his domain, during this religious holiday, at this hour, and for such a pittance? Heresy!
And for Stepney to rile King Andy into continuing the bet? Also heresy! Heresy of the third highest order!
If anyone dare made a bet it had to be Abel. And so it was decided that Abel had to by Abel himself; besides, Abel still owed Stepney fifteen bucks for the sour cream and marshmallows incident from junior year, so if this mother of all bets was fulfilled all would be forgiven hopefully. Most importantly of all, Abel knew the exact kind of bet that would entice everyone in that basketball court to heed his decree.
"I can do one even better," Abel smirked as he made eye contact with Stepney before continuing on. "I will buy everyone here a drink from the vending machine, if Emmett can shoot into the basket there!" Abel drew a line between Emmett and the goal near Andy with a finger in the air as he spoke. Abel folded his hands together and waited, heart thumping in a rapid rhythm. He should've known better considering last time, but Abel counted this trial as a sort of test rather than falling for Stepney's devilish tricks once again.
The ball's in your court now, Emmett.
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Primrosette
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Emmett blinked. Stared at all three guys. Kept a grip on the ball. Raised an eyebrow. Wanted to rolled his eyes. Refused to do so. Being more of a dick was not going to help him now.
"Huh." That was all that he could say, could even muster to let it slip from his lips. Stepney was someone that he avoided like the plague. No offence to the guy but Emmett never wanted to owe the guy any money. Adonis did owe the guy ten bucks or so for being a fool to even make a bet with Stepney. Emmett wasn't going to get involved-
Abel opened his mouth and it made Emmett want to strangle him, no, throw the ball at his face. Instead he gave Abel one of his famous death glare when he didn't want to deal with anyone's stupid bullshit.
"Are you fucking serious right now?" He asked in disbelief, shaking his head freely from side to side. "There is no way in hell that I can even make that shot. You have too much faith in me, Abel."
"Huh." That was all that he could say, could even muster to let it slip from his lips. Stepney was someone that he avoided like the plague. No offence to the guy but Emmett never wanted to owe the guy any money. Adonis did owe the guy ten bucks or so for being a fool to even make a bet with Stepney. Emmett wasn't going to get involved-
Abel opened his mouth and it made Emmett want to strangle him, no, throw the ball at his face. Instead he gave Abel one of his famous death glare when he didn't want to deal with anyone's stupid bullshit.
"Are you fucking serious right now?" He asked in disbelief, shaking his head freely from side to side. "There is no way in hell that I can even make that shot. You have too much faith in me, Abel."
Stepney felt his smile grow broader, as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. He slipped the coin back into his pocket, jangling against the others nestling in there (at least one of which had two tails), before walking onto the court proper to get closer to the other three. Man, this had been a good idea. Things were starting to get real interesting.
"You'd be surprised how far a dollar can take you," Stepney said, grinning at Andy, hands in his pockets. "Well, when you convert it to bitcoin, that is."
Was that how bitcoin worked? Stepney didn't have a goddamn clue, and quite frankly, he didn't want to. What was the point of money if you couldn't physically hold it, and bet with it, and use to make other people do stupid, stupid things for your own amusement?
And on that note, this merry band of vagabonds in front of him! All of whom Stepney now recognised, thanks to them handily mentioning each other's names. Andy was, indeed, CoriAndy, just as he'd suspected, so the chance of managing to convince him to try and throw the ball into the hoop behind him whilst upside down for nothing more than a nickel was, ooh, around 95%. Abel was also pretty cool, a good guy to hang out with, even though Stepney was almost certain he owed the guy money for a certain incident involving a fire extinguisher. And that just left Emmett. The odd one out of the trio, not least by virtue of his name starting with something other than 'A'. Emmett was, to put it bluntly, a dick. Normally, not the sort of person Stepney would have wanted anything to do with.
However, he was in a mischievous mood, to put things generously. And when Stepney found himself in a mood like that, he found no greater joy than in riling up dicks like Emmett, because whilst their barks were relatively loud, their bites were, shall we say, toothless.
"Anyway, c'mon, man!" Stepney said, turning to face Everett, absorbing his hairstyle into his mind so he could easily differentiate him from the other two. "Are you gonna deny everyone a free drink? That's a little rude, if you ask me."
Smile on his face, Stepney moved to stand next to Emmett, placing his hand on the guy's shoulder like a proud parent.
"You just gotta believe in yourself more, man! I believe in you! These two believe in you! Now the only person left is you!"
Stepney patted Emmett's shoulder, and gave him a thumbs up.
"You've got nothing to lose but your pride, dignity, and social standing."
"You'd be surprised how far a dollar can take you," Stepney said, grinning at Andy, hands in his pockets. "Well, when you convert it to bitcoin, that is."
Was that how bitcoin worked? Stepney didn't have a goddamn clue, and quite frankly, he didn't want to. What was the point of money if you couldn't physically hold it, and bet with it, and use to make other people do stupid, stupid things for your own amusement?
And on that note, this merry band of vagabonds in front of him! All of whom Stepney now recognised, thanks to them handily mentioning each other's names. Andy was, indeed, CoriAndy, just as he'd suspected, so the chance of managing to convince him to try and throw the ball into the hoop behind him whilst upside down for nothing more than a nickel was, ooh, around 95%. Abel was also pretty cool, a good guy to hang out with, even though Stepney was almost certain he owed the guy money for a certain incident involving a fire extinguisher. And that just left Emmett. The odd one out of the trio, not least by virtue of his name starting with something other than 'A'. Emmett was, to put it bluntly, a dick. Normally, not the sort of person Stepney would have wanted anything to do with.
However, he was in a mischievous mood, to put things generously. And when Stepney found himself in a mood like that, he found no greater joy than in riling up dicks like Emmett, because whilst their barks were relatively loud, their bites were, shall we say, toothless.
"Anyway, c'mon, man!" Stepney said, turning to face Everett, absorbing his hairstyle into his mind so he could easily differentiate him from the other two. "Are you gonna deny everyone a free drink? That's a little rude, if you ask me."
Smile on his face, Stepney moved to stand next to Emmett, placing his hand on the guy's shoulder like a proud parent.
"You just gotta believe in yourself more, man! I believe in you! These two believe in you! Now the only person left is you!"
Stepney patted Emmett's shoulder, and gave him a thumbs up.
"You've got nothing to lose but your pride, dignity, and social standing."
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
"I don't know the first fucking thing about bitcoin," Andy cheerfully announced to nobody in particular, as Stepney had already moved on from that point and joined Abel in hassling Emmett.
Guys on the court (three) versus guy in the stands (one). Though they all lost out if Emmett couldn't make the shot. Andy could actually go for a Powerade pretty soon, but he wasn't sure that Emmett's ball-handling skills (bow chicka wow wow) were the metaphorical mouth that he wanted to put his money in. Or Abel's money. Or. Hang on.
Andy had already lost the thread on that particular train of thought.
Anyway.
"Yeah," he chimed in on the conversation that he was now only half-paying attention to. "You gotta... believe in the us that believes in you, man."
Did Andy think that Emmett would make the shot? Nah.
Did he think that Emmett's attempt would be hilarious? Absolutely.
Guys on the court (three) versus guy in the stands (one). Though they all lost out if Emmett couldn't make the shot. Andy could actually go for a Powerade pretty soon, but he wasn't sure that Emmett's ball-handling skills (bow chicka wow wow) were the metaphorical mouth that he wanted to put his money in. Or Abel's money. Or. Hang on.
Andy had already lost the thread on that particular train of thought.
Anyway.
"Yeah," he chimed in on the conversation that he was now only half-paying attention to. "You gotta... believe in the us that believes in you, man."
Did Andy think that Emmett would make the shot? Nah.
Did he think that Emmett's attempt would be hilarious? Absolutely.
"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."
Not surprisingly, Emmett was flunking this test. "Just throw the ball, you goddamn pussy!" were the words that almost escaped Abel's mouth, but instead he managed to hold back the outburst after receiving the chilling glare and just grumbled a little bit instead. Abel didn't want a death sentence, not today at least.
But it wasn't like Abel was trying to bully the dude, right? Maybe Emmett needed a little more push, a little more incentive to at least try. In any case Emmett wasn't escaping so easily; Abel didn't get caught up in the betting to let it fizzle out, especially when Stepney and Andy were involved.
"Emmett-man," Abel collected his thoughts for a second before continuing, "just chill for a sec and you can make it if you focus. Look, I'll even give you a participation award."
Abel dug around his backpack for a second. It had to be here somewhere.... not here.... not this pocket either... let's try the front- oh, here we go! Abel pulled out an unopened king-size Nestlé Crunch bar and displayed it in the palm of his right hand to the other boys.
"Would you throw the ball for a Crunch bar?" Maybe Emmett would give it a shot with the additional goading from Stepney and Andy. And what's the worst that would happen, Emmett launching the ball at Abel's beautiful face in a fit of rage?
...In hindsight, maybe Abel should've let Andy take the initial bet. Oh well, too late now.
But it wasn't like Abel was trying to bully the dude, right? Maybe Emmett needed a little more push, a little more incentive to at least try. In any case Emmett wasn't escaping so easily; Abel didn't get caught up in the betting to let it fizzle out, especially when Stepney and Andy were involved.
"Emmett-man," Abel collected his thoughts for a second before continuing, "just chill for a sec and you can make it if you focus. Look, I'll even give you a participation award."
Abel dug around his backpack for a second. It had to be here somewhere.... not here.... not this pocket either... let's try the front- oh, here we go! Abel pulled out an unopened king-size Nestlé Crunch bar and displayed it in the palm of his right hand to the other boys.
"Would you throw the ball for a Crunch bar?" Maybe Emmett would give it a shot with the additional goading from Stepney and Andy. And what's the worst that would happen, Emmett launching the ball at Abel's beautiful face in a fit of rage?
...In hindsight, maybe Abel should've let Andy take the initial bet. Oh well, too late now.
-
Primrosette
- Posts: 1033
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:58 am
- Location: In the Dark Abyss
Great. Emmett had really wanted a bunch of guys that he didn't even really like to egg him on to make a shot with the ball. How freaking fantastic. He had just wanted to do a sketch without any problems, but of course, he couldn't even have that. Even if he had been the first one there.
He should just get it over with, right? Otherwise they would not leave him alone. He was not betting on his skills to make it as he sucked at sports anyway. Still he guessed he could try it to make them shut the hell up with bugging him about it.
"Fine, fine. Whatever." He grumbled bitterly.
He then moved his hand back and threw the ball towards the basket. Shit, he threw it at an awkward angle. He would only watch as the ball slammed against the side of the hoop and then he held his breath as the ball bounced up and down against the ground.
.....
He swore under his breath and backed away from the others, trying not to show how embarrassed and pissed off he was.
He should just get it over with, right? Otherwise they would not leave him alone. He was not betting on his skills to make it as he sucked at sports anyway. Still he guessed he could try it to make them shut the hell up with bugging him about it.
"Fine, fine. Whatever." He grumbled bitterly.
He then moved his hand back and threw the ball towards the basket. Shit, he threw it at an awkward angle. He would only watch as the ball slammed against the side of the hoop and then he held his breath as the ball bounced up and down against the ground.
.....
He swore under his breath and backed away from the others, trying not to show how embarrassed and pissed off he was.