Humpty Dumpty had arrived and he immediately started talking shit. Rude. He thought he was so much better because he was a complete person. Damn egg.
There was a lot of talking going on but as far as she could gather none of it was directed at her or for her, she was an observer of the goings on of her own party. So she merely watched and continued to drink and smoke. It was interesting, seeing the web of relations spring out, the connections becoming apparent through the talking. But it was a lot of talking and it was boring. Something needed to be done to fix the mood.
She took a long drink from her cup as she waited for the perfect moment.
When she saw her opening there was no hesitation.
"When I was younger I thought the boogeyman lived in our house. He was all black and shiny but it turned out it was just my dad in his Halloween costume. Which was weird since it was July."
Nailed it.
The Good in Everyone
#Swiftball; open to all - feel free to pass through
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Good ol' Claude, playing the part of the snide cunt. He was ninety percent sure that was Lavender's job - between the two of them he was basically looking at narc central - but she was, for the most part, keeping her mouth shut. To his benefit, Claude was actually the perfect person to take on as the roll of doorman: anal enough to get on your case, enough of a busybody to be thorough about it. In somewhat humorous fashion, that comment about bringing a weapon into the party may have been intended for the both of them but by Wyatt's recollection, the only person who decided to pull steel was Ty, so the remark was more to him than anybody else.
Still, it was fuel for a few comments brewing in Wyatt's mind. He could have made a joke about how the only weapons he was bringing into the party were 'deez guns', cue flexing. He could have called Ty on the bullshit and pointedly redirected the comment his way like he already mentally was. Could have just kept it simple and told Claude flat-out to his smug face that there wasn't a single thing he could possibly do to stop him from bringing in a fucking Howitzer if he wanted to. Could have done any of those things, really.
Instead, Ty beat him to the punch. And wouldn't you know it, Ty had the wherewithal to not act like a dipshit.
Wyatt even clapped a hand on Ty's shoulder, though he didn't bother looking his way, in response. "Somebody's got their head in the fucking game." Truth be told, even surrounded by the most annoying possible people, he was here for a good time. Ain't nobody wanna shit where they're eating. "But I don't particularly care what it is, so long as it's hard. I walked here, so I can get as fucked up as I want. And if there's a party with enough booze to fuck ME up," he cut himself off with a loud, short burst of laughter.
And then Forrest opened her mouth, and honestly for a second, Wyatt had nothing to say to that.
"... I'd say that there proves my point, but uh, I don't think that's just booze."
Still, it was fuel for a few comments brewing in Wyatt's mind. He could have made a joke about how the only weapons he was bringing into the party were 'deez guns', cue flexing. He could have called Ty on the bullshit and pointedly redirected the comment his way like he already mentally was. Could have just kept it simple and told Claude flat-out to his smug face that there wasn't a single thing he could possibly do to stop him from bringing in a fucking Howitzer if he wanted to. Could have done any of those things, really.
Instead, Ty beat him to the punch. And wouldn't you know it, Ty had the wherewithal to not act like a dipshit.
Wyatt even clapped a hand on Ty's shoulder, though he didn't bother looking his way, in response. "Somebody's got their head in the fucking game." Truth be told, even surrounded by the most annoying possible people, he was here for a good time. Ain't nobody wanna shit where they're eating. "But I don't particularly care what it is, so long as it's hard. I walked here, so I can get as fucked up as I want. And if there's a party with enough booze to fuck ME up," he cut himself off with a loud, short burst of laughter.
And then Forrest opened her mouth, and honestly for a second, Wyatt had nothing to say to that.
"... I'd say that there proves my point, but uh, I don't think that's just booze."
[Regina “Gina” Petrov Continued from What Kind of Person Do You Want to Be?]
The sound of heeled boots clacking along the sidewalk hurriedly reverberated off the cement as she approached the giant mansion that was the Quin residence. The blonde girl was struggling to keep the many bags of cakes and treats she was carrying from toppling her over as she hurried along towards the door. She had originally hoped to have been here before the party got into full swing, but the sheer amount of baking she did for the event took longer than she anticipated. Regina sighed as she continued to huff it to the entrance, hoping that she could set everything up nicely inside for everyone. She had taken it upon herself to make all these treats after all, so she couldn’t blame anyone but herself for her tardiness. But it was the last big party of the year sans prom, and if that didn’t call for a little bit of extra effort she didn’t know what did.
Gina did her best to attempt to dress up a bit, but she’d started rushing towards the end so she really looked pretty ruffled at the moment. Her hair was in it’s usual three-strand braid, hanging over her shoulder as it did. She had a tight brown off the shoulder sweater on over a white tank top, and a pair of high-waisted dark wash jeans. Nothing too fancy. She wore her brown suede booties as well, mostly because they were easy to slip on as she was running out the door. Her makeup was minimal, just some quickly thrown on mascara and eyeliner, and a touch of lipstick. She really needed better time management skills. Regardless, she was overall pretty satisfied with the outfit she threw together, and once she got inside she could duck into a bathroom and fix herself up a little. No problem.
As she got nearer to the door she noticed a small gathering of other students outside. Wyatt, Tyrell, Lavender, Claudeson and Forrest were all at the front door chatting amongst themselves. Regina smiled brightly as she approached, the many bags in her hands bumping against her legs as she slowed a bit in her approach. It was an odd group to walk up to for sure, but she got along well enough with everyone in the group, so she was happy to interrupt.
“Hey ya’ll!” She called out as she approached.
“Sorry I’m a bit late, I’ve been baking for the last few hours, and I lost track of time.” She laughed a bit and held up the bags she was carrying and shook them a bit to show the amount of baked goods she’d brought along with her.
“I have goodies for everyone! I just need a second to catch my breath, these bags are pretty heavy.” She laughed as she set the bags down and shook out her hands for a second to try and get the blood flowing again. She turned her attention to the group and felt a small wave of tension that seemed to be lingering in the air. She awkwardly shifted her body weight from foot to foot and smiled at everyone.
The sound of heeled boots clacking along the sidewalk hurriedly reverberated off the cement as she approached the giant mansion that was the Quin residence. The blonde girl was struggling to keep the many bags of cakes and treats she was carrying from toppling her over as she hurried along towards the door. She had originally hoped to have been here before the party got into full swing, but the sheer amount of baking she did for the event took longer than she anticipated. Regina sighed as she continued to huff it to the entrance, hoping that she could set everything up nicely inside for everyone. She had taken it upon herself to make all these treats after all, so she couldn’t blame anyone but herself for her tardiness. But it was the last big party of the year sans prom, and if that didn’t call for a little bit of extra effort she didn’t know what did.
Gina did her best to attempt to dress up a bit, but she’d started rushing towards the end so she really looked pretty ruffled at the moment. Her hair was in it’s usual three-strand braid, hanging over her shoulder as it did. She had a tight brown off the shoulder sweater on over a white tank top, and a pair of high-waisted dark wash jeans. Nothing too fancy. She wore her brown suede booties as well, mostly because they were easy to slip on as she was running out the door. Her makeup was minimal, just some quickly thrown on mascara and eyeliner, and a touch of lipstick. She really needed better time management skills. Regardless, she was overall pretty satisfied with the outfit she threw together, and once she got inside she could duck into a bathroom and fix herself up a little. No problem.
As she got nearer to the door she noticed a small gathering of other students outside. Wyatt, Tyrell, Lavender, Claudeson and Forrest were all at the front door chatting amongst themselves. Regina smiled brightly as she approached, the many bags in her hands bumping against her legs as she slowed a bit in her approach. It was an odd group to walk up to for sure, but she got along well enough with everyone in the group, so she was happy to interrupt.
“Hey ya’ll!” She called out as she approached.
“Sorry I’m a bit late, I’ve been baking for the last few hours, and I lost track of time.” She laughed a bit and held up the bags she was carrying and shook them a bit to show the amount of baked goods she’d brought along with her.
“I have goodies for everyone! I just need a second to catch my breath, these bags are pretty heavy.” She laughed as she set the bags down and shook out her hands for a second to try and get the blood flowing again. She turned her attention to the group and felt a small wave of tension that seemed to be lingering in the air. She awkwardly shifted her body weight from foot to foot and smiled at everyone.
Excellent. Claudeson nodded as he received his blanket insinuations of peace from both Tyrell and Wyatt, and immediately turned more of his attention to the female populace outside of the large house. While both boys actions had a certain amount of intrigue, Claudeson knew that the air of joviality between them was as artificial as the substances that were undoubtedly coursing through Forrest's veins right now. As Lavender leaned in to offer her potential services as a designated driver, Claudeson gave her a warm smile. That was very in-character for her, and he appreciated the insinuation. While he didn't approve of a lot of what was going on inside of the party, he didn't wish death upon anyone; the last thing the populace would need - the last thing that he would need as the doorman at this event - was someone driving drunk and wrapping their car around a telephone pole.
That would put a damper on things, and complicate his life to no end. He smiled at Lavender, and warmly placed a hand on her upper arm, his smile only getting wider as she quietly affirmed her distaste for the large football player. He hadn't forgotten about the blood drive confrontation between the two; all things considered, this could have been a very combustible situation.
"Thank you, Lavender. That's very considerate of you, and I will be sure to take you up on your offer. I'm certain that we'll have a few people who aren't going to be able to take care of themselves, let alone operate a vehicle." He tilted his head in Forrest's direction, as an example.
Speaking of Forrest, the intoxicated girl chose that moment to enter everyone's conversation with a perplexing non-sequitur of a story. A hush fell over the gathering outside of the front door, the only sound the faint beats of music coming from within the house and the buzz of indiscriminate party chatter. Now turning his attention fully to their host, he swallowed the feeling of bile that rose within his throat. Forrest was obviously drunk, and probably high on one or more illicit substances - even to the point that she wasn't making sense. The acknowledgement sickened Claudeson a little, and gave him a moment of pause as a sinking feeling rose in his gut. He had agreed to help supervise this party, and while he'd admittedly been fairly lax on entrance requirements, he couldn't help but feel disdain at the obviously-high classmate beside him. It brought back every memory of volunteering at the addictions clinic, of every shambling mess, bleary eyes and blown-out pupils, who may as well have been residing on another realm. Being such a drain on society and their resources. Taking time and effort from good people like himself that could have been better spent on people who might actually make a difference in life, instead of filling the gutter. At this point, anything could have happened to the stoned girl, and would she even know? Would she even remember the day when she woke up? What a waste-
Wyatt. For once, he had a reasonable point. Inside of the house was a den of debauchery and filth, but alcohol, Claudeson supposed, was a vice that he could allow. His parents indulged in spirits now and again, but he couldn't imagine himself getting drunk and foregoing control like that. For all of his many, many faults, Wyatt Carter was a proud athlete, and obviously took great care of his physical well-being. Claudeson gathered that there was about as much a chance of Wyatt taking an illicit substance as there would be of he, himself snorting a line of cocaine off the back of a naked man.
Zero.
Allowing Wyatt a modicum of respect, he nodded in agreement.
"I would almost bet on that," something nagged at the back of his mind, so he let it free, "and as a point of caution: please ensure you all keep an eye on your drinks. If there are illicit substances, you wouldn't want to take the wrong glass."
On this point, he nodded at Wyatt, and for once was earnestly looking out for the athlete's safety. While Wyatt wasn't someone he assumed would amount to much, at least he wasn't on the path to becoming a junkie. He was the type to self-destruct on his own, but he didn't need anyone's help to start the process.
His train of thought was again derailed by a newcomer; another friendly face - thank the Lord, in Regina Petrov. Claudeson had crossed paths with her a few times whenever the church had teamed up with the animal shelter. To her credit, Regina was one of the sweetest, purest folks in the whole school, and he couldn't help but break into a big smile at the large number of baked goods she plopped down on the table.
"Regina! It's so good to see you. I'm sure there are a lot of people inside who would relish some sweets right about now," the smell of marijuana was still thick in the air thanks to Forrest.
"The party is still going strong." He directed his next words at the unusual team of Wyatt and Tyrell. "Would one of you gentlemen help her with these? I'm sure the kitchen would be a great place to put them."
He smiled again, this time showing the whites of his teeth. This was where he was in his element - getting things done and bringing people together. Even for an excess of hedonism of which they would all pay for later. Their choices were theirs. He simply stood beside the door; it was their choice to walk through it.
That would put a damper on things, and complicate his life to no end. He smiled at Lavender, and warmly placed a hand on her upper arm, his smile only getting wider as she quietly affirmed her distaste for the large football player. He hadn't forgotten about the blood drive confrontation between the two; all things considered, this could have been a very combustible situation.
"Thank you, Lavender. That's very considerate of you, and I will be sure to take you up on your offer. I'm certain that we'll have a few people who aren't going to be able to take care of themselves, let alone operate a vehicle." He tilted his head in Forrest's direction, as an example.
Speaking of Forrest, the intoxicated girl chose that moment to enter everyone's conversation with a perplexing non-sequitur of a story. A hush fell over the gathering outside of the front door, the only sound the faint beats of music coming from within the house and the buzz of indiscriminate party chatter. Now turning his attention fully to their host, he swallowed the feeling of bile that rose within his throat. Forrest was obviously drunk, and probably high on one or more illicit substances - even to the point that she wasn't making sense. The acknowledgement sickened Claudeson a little, and gave him a moment of pause as a sinking feeling rose in his gut. He had agreed to help supervise this party, and while he'd admittedly been fairly lax on entrance requirements, he couldn't help but feel disdain at the obviously-high classmate beside him. It brought back every memory of volunteering at the addictions clinic, of every shambling mess, bleary eyes and blown-out pupils, who may as well have been residing on another realm. Being such a drain on society and their resources. Taking time and effort from good people like himself that could have been better spent on people who might actually make a difference in life, instead of filling the gutter. At this point, anything could have happened to the stoned girl, and would she even know? Would she even remember the day when she woke up? What a waste-
Wyatt. For once, he had a reasonable point. Inside of the house was a den of debauchery and filth, but alcohol, Claudeson supposed, was a vice that he could allow. His parents indulged in spirits now and again, but he couldn't imagine himself getting drunk and foregoing control like that. For all of his many, many faults, Wyatt Carter was a proud athlete, and obviously took great care of his physical well-being. Claudeson gathered that there was about as much a chance of Wyatt taking an illicit substance as there would be of he, himself snorting a line of cocaine off the back of a naked man.
Zero.
Allowing Wyatt a modicum of respect, he nodded in agreement.
"I would almost bet on that," something nagged at the back of his mind, so he let it free, "and as a point of caution: please ensure you all keep an eye on your drinks. If there are illicit substances, you wouldn't want to take the wrong glass."
On this point, he nodded at Wyatt, and for once was earnestly looking out for the athlete's safety. While Wyatt wasn't someone he assumed would amount to much, at least he wasn't on the path to becoming a junkie. He was the type to self-destruct on his own, but he didn't need anyone's help to start the process.
His train of thought was again derailed by a newcomer; another friendly face - thank the Lord, in Regina Petrov. Claudeson had crossed paths with her a few times whenever the church had teamed up with the animal shelter. To her credit, Regina was one of the sweetest, purest folks in the whole school, and he couldn't help but break into a big smile at the large number of baked goods she plopped down on the table.
"Regina! It's so good to see you. I'm sure there are a lot of people inside who would relish some sweets right about now," the smell of marijuana was still thick in the air thanks to Forrest.
"The party is still going strong." He directed his next words at the unusual team of Wyatt and Tyrell. "Would one of you gentlemen help her with these? I'm sure the kitchen would be a great place to put them."
He smiled again, this time showing the whites of his teeth. This was where he was in his element - getting things done and bringing people together. Even for an excess of hedonism of which they would all pay for later. Their choices were theirs. He simply stood beside the door; it was their choice to walk through it.
Of course Wyatt didn't hold a grudge. He was by and large a pretty simple, straightforward person; just not a very good one. At least he knew who the hell he was, unlike most of the kids here. He'd have a scrap with someone and think little of it later. It didn't matter anymore; once the fight was over for Wyatt, it was over.
I suppose I can't say I'm much different.
That realization, coupled with the fact that Wyatt was precisely the kind of man he didn't want to be, made Tyrell cringe. It wouldn't do to be hostile to Wyatt - short of beating his face in again, it was hard to imagine what kind of damage he could do to someone who appeared to think in monosyllables. For now, he would bear putting on a friendly face. On the outside, he was just as much cheer and bluster as Wyatt was. Forrest's outburst was a good excuse to chuckle, which was the kind of thing that helped make the appearance of a good mood genuine. Sarcasm helped him feel what he needed to feel. It helped that the host of the party already being completely plastered was a legitimately amusing turn of events.
"Whatever she's having, seems like it's good stuff."
Ty noticed Lavender was helping keep some modicum of order; while he doubted Claudeson actually gave a shit about anyone here and wasn't just doing his own creepy Jesus-fueled virtue signalling, she seemed to actually care. At least enough to offer rides.
How nice of her.
"...and thanks Lavender. I'm more of a late night stumble type myself, though-"
Ty was about to continue when he was cut off by the arrival of Regina, and Claudeson's... words.
You creepy Jesus-freak automaton, can't you speak like a normal human being?
That fucking smile. Whatever was wrong with Claude was no small thing. Continuing to suppress his discomfort, he turned to Regina and held out a hand to take one of the bags. Tyrell couldn't resist taking a shot at how hopelessly uptight the doorman happened to be.
"Oh gee, I sure am glad to hear the party is still going strong. 'Cause if anyone is a good judge of a rip-roarin' good time, it's this guy."
Heading inside, he turned quickly to Regina and Wyatt. "I'm just gonna leave this in the kitchen, then I'm gonna go ahead and find something to take the edge off." He then nodded towards Lavender and Claude, having a difficult time stifling a chuckle. "Keep outta trouble out here! If you can find any, heh."
((Tyrell Lahti continued in The Good Times are Killing Me))
I suppose I can't say I'm much different.
That realization, coupled with the fact that Wyatt was precisely the kind of man he didn't want to be, made Tyrell cringe. It wouldn't do to be hostile to Wyatt - short of beating his face in again, it was hard to imagine what kind of damage he could do to someone who appeared to think in monosyllables. For now, he would bear putting on a friendly face. On the outside, he was just as much cheer and bluster as Wyatt was. Forrest's outburst was a good excuse to chuckle, which was the kind of thing that helped make the appearance of a good mood genuine. Sarcasm helped him feel what he needed to feel. It helped that the host of the party already being completely plastered was a legitimately amusing turn of events.
"Whatever she's having, seems like it's good stuff."
Ty noticed Lavender was helping keep some modicum of order; while he doubted Claudeson actually gave a shit about anyone here and wasn't just doing his own creepy Jesus-fueled virtue signalling, she seemed to actually care. At least enough to offer rides.
How nice of her.
"...and thanks Lavender. I'm more of a late night stumble type myself, though-"
Ty was about to continue when he was cut off by the arrival of Regina, and Claudeson's... words.
You creepy Jesus-freak automaton, can't you speak like a normal human being?
That fucking smile. Whatever was wrong with Claude was no small thing. Continuing to suppress his discomfort, he turned to Regina and held out a hand to take one of the bags. Tyrell couldn't resist taking a shot at how hopelessly uptight the doorman happened to be.
"Oh gee, I sure am glad to hear the party is still going strong. 'Cause if anyone is a good judge of a rip-roarin' good time, it's this guy."
Heading inside, he turned quickly to Regina and Wyatt. "I'm just gonna leave this in the kitchen, then I'm gonna go ahead and find something to take the edge off." He then nodded towards Lavender and Claude, having a difficult time stifling a chuckle. "Keep outta trouble out here! If you can find any, heh."
((Tyrell Lahti continued in The Good Times are Killing Me))
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"That's very interesting," Lavender said to Forrest, without a clue what the girl was talking about. It could've been an actual memory, filtered through the extremely foggy lens inebriation and triggered by something unknowable to anyone else, or it could've been an incomprehensible joke, or it could've been gibberish based on nothing but the chemicals coursing through Forrest's veins. It didn't matter. It was a good distraction, took the edge off some, got Wyatt and Tyrell further into the mood for the evening's festivities.
Really, Lavender was glad that Forrest was the one person she definitely absolutely wouldn't have to ferry home. The weather forecast when it came to the girl was heavily sloshed with a small chance of projectile vomit.
Of course, just because Forrest wouldn't need a ride home didn't mean that she was in the clear. This was a crazy party, so there was all sorts of trouble to get into. Lavender's eyes flicked to Wyatt for just a moment. She'd heard rumors, rumors about a fight with him and Sierra, about what had been said. It left Lavender really, really torn.
She wanted to believe victims. That's what you did. You believed victims. On the other hand, she hadn't heard it straight from the source, as it were, and so far as she knew the accusation had not been repeated. Could it have been a misunderstanding? Poor phrasing in the heat of the moment? More than that, odd as it sounded given how little care she had for Wyatt, Lavender didn't want to think of him as the sort to take advantage of a girl. It wasn't due to anything about him personally, but rather to a point of shared connection between them. Lavender knew as little as she could get away with about him and Faith, but Faith had been there during the fight too, Faith had a thing for Wyatt of some sort, and Lavender liked Faith quite a lot and didn't want to think of her falling into the clutches of someone that terrible.
And yet, Lavender had read the statistics. In a study on some college, they'd found that something like five percent of men committed sexual assaults. Wyatt fit the demographic pretty well. Confident, macho, violent, little care about the feelings of others. Clear, sharp divide in how he viewed men and women. Based on the math, with the size of this party, there'd almost certainly be at least one or two tonight who'd think nothing of sliding a drunk girl's underwear off in some abandoned room. The worst of it was, you of course couldn't say who it'd be. Wyatt stood out as aggressively awful, but the real menace could be a perfect gentleman in the light of day. The terrifying part was, ask most of those sorts, and they'd swear up and down that they'd never hurt anyone. They weren't rapists. Just a bit of drunk fun, and an embarrassed girl who regretted it the next day.
"Have a good time in there," Lavender said, giving a cheerful smile and a wave as Tyrell helped Regina with her massive collection of baked goods. The girl must've worked hard. Lavender hoped that at least some of the party-goers were still sober enough to appreciate it.
She'd have to talk to Claudeson about keeping an eye on Wyatt, and on boys hanging around drunk girls in general.
Really, Lavender was glad that Forrest was the one person she definitely absolutely wouldn't have to ferry home. The weather forecast when it came to the girl was heavily sloshed with a small chance of projectile vomit.
Of course, just because Forrest wouldn't need a ride home didn't mean that she was in the clear. This was a crazy party, so there was all sorts of trouble to get into. Lavender's eyes flicked to Wyatt for just a moment. She'd heard rumors, rumors about a fight with him and Sierra, about what had been said. It left Lavender really, really torn.
She wanted to believe victims. That's what you did. You believed victims. On the other hand, she hadn't heard it straight from the source, as it were, and so far as she knew the accusation had not been repeated. Could it have been a misunderstanding? Poor phrasing in the heat of the moment? More than that, odd as it sounded given how little care she had for Wyatt, Lavender didn't want to think of him as the sort to take advantage of a girl. It wasn't due to anything about him personally, but rather to a point of shared connection between them. Lavender knew as little as she could get away with about him and Faith, but Faith had been there during the fight too, Faith had a thing for Wyatt of some sort, and Lavender liked Faith quite a lot and didn't want to think of her falling into the clutches of someone that terrible.
And yet, Lavender had read the statistics. In a study on some college, they'd found that something like five percent of men committed sexual assaults. Wyatt fit the demographic pretty well. Confident, macho, violent, little care about the feelings of others. Clear, sharp divide in how he viewed men and women. Based on the math, with the size of this party, there'd almost certainly be at least one or two tonight who'd think nothing of sliding a drunk girl's underwear off in some abandoned room. The worst of it was, you of course couldn't say who it'd be. Wyatt stood out as aggressively awful, but the real menace could be a perfect gentleman in the light of day. The terrifying part was, ask most of those sorts, and they'd swear up and down that they'd never hurt anyone. They weren't rapists. Just a bit of drunk fun, and an embarrassed girl who regretted it the next day.
"Have a good time in there," Lavender said, giving a cheerful smile and a wave as Tyrell helped Regina with her massive collection of baked goods. The girl must've worked hard. Lavender hoped that at least some of the party-goers were still sober enough to appreciate it.
She'd have to talk to Claudeson about keeping an eye on Wyatt, and on boys hanging around drunk girls in general.
Yep, that got everyone's attention, for about five seconds. She got a small laugh though and one comment from Humpty Dumpty.
Close enough she supposed.
"This is all natural...apart from the hair, that's not my natural hair color."
Then everyone went back talking amongst themselves. As they did so Forrest heard and saw someone approach from the distance. As they got closer she realized it was one of her classmates. When they reached the group they spoke about being late and something else.
"Wait...did you bring brownies?" There was confusion in Forrest's voice as she took Regina in. Her head cocked as she looked over her, trying to figure out the exact meaning of what she had said. She had been baking? That was what she had said right? That had to mean she had been making brownies. Why else would you come to a house party late due to baking? It made sense she supposed. Some people preferred edibles after all.
Forrest started to stand but upon seeing Robbie had taken one of the bags and was taking it inside she reached out with grabby hands and gave a small whine before deciding it was too much effort. Instead, she settled for adjusting her position on the driveway. The cup was once again raised to her lips and this time was finished. She pulled a face and looked inside the cup, finding to her surprise that it was empty. That was good, whatever that mix was had been disgusting.
Her hand reached out and found itself picking up the water she had been given previously.
She eyed it suspiciously, taking in how clear it was before her eyes caught the corner of the flyer again and she slowly set it back down.
Instead, she continued to smoke and watch.
Close enough she supposed.
"This is all natural...apart from the hair, that's not my natural hair color."
Then everyone went back talking amongst themselves. As they did so Forrest heard and saw someone approach from the distance. As they got closer she realized it was one of her classmates. When they reached the group they spoke about being late and something else.
"Wait...did you bring brownies?" There was confusion in Forrest's voice as she took Regina in. Her head cocked as she looked over her, trying to figure out the exact meaning of what she had said. She had been baking? That was what she had said right? That had to mean she had been making brownies. Why else would you come to a house party late due to baking? It made sense she supposed. Some people preferred edibles after all.
Forrest started to stand but upon seeing Robbie had taken one of the bags and was taking it inside she reached out with grabby hands and gave a small whine before deciding it was too much effort. Instead, she settled for adjusting her position on the driveway. The cup was once again raised to her lips and this time was finished. She pulled a face and looked inside the cup, finding to her surprise that it was empty. That was good, whatever that mix was had been disgusting.
Her hand reached out and found itself picking up the water she had been given previously.
She eyed it suspiciously, taking in how clear it was before her eyes caught the corner of the flyer again and she slowly set it back down.
Instead, she continued to smoke and watch.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Ty had gone on in. Wyatt figured he'd give him a head start on socializing before heading on in himself. Given that meant spending more time in the general vicinity of both Lavender and Claude, the head start would have to be a short one. At the very least, he had Forrest there to keep him entertained. Holy shit, she was doing a good job at that. Her little grabby-hands at Gina's baked goods actually had him laughing.
Actually, he could go for some brownies himself, it was his cheat day, after all... Oh. He'd have to consider asking Gina about that, just to make sure. He didn't want to eat special brownies and screw himself over for the next couple of days as far as his health schedule went. "I'M not gonna get baked if I eat those, right?" he asked off-the-cuff, looking back down to Forrest to illustrate his point.
"Actually, speaking of, maybe you oughta be heading inside at this point." Wyatt stood over Forrest but off to one side, trying to keep his face clear of the smoke. He could still smell the shit and hell did it smell nasty, but he figured he'd be okay so long as it didn't directly get in his face. "Don'tcha think you've had enough?"
Actually, he could go for some brownies himself, it was his cheat day, after all... Oh. He'd have to consider asking Gina about that, just to make sure. He didn't want to eat special brownies and screw himself over for the next couple of days as far as his health schedule went. "I'M not gonna get baked if I eat those, right?" he asked off-the-cuff, looking back down to Forrest to illustrate his point.
"Actually, speaking of, maybe you oughta be heading inside at this point." Wyatt stood over Forrest but off to one side, trying to keep his face clear of the smoke. He could still smell the shit and hell did it smell nasty, but he figured he'd be okay so long as it didn't directly get in his face. "Don'tcha think you've had enough?"
Claudeson was the first to be aware of her presence, and he greeted her warmly. Gina smiled at him in response. The two were on pleasant terms, having worked together on numerous occasions in the past. Gina knew that he was a good guy, one of the people at school who was always looking out for other people in his own way. Regina appreciated people like Claudeson. Yes he was a bit overly religious for her tastes, being from a family that was only religious on holidays herself, but someone who was devoted to their faith was something to be admired, she supposed. Claudeson asked Tyrell and Wyatt to help bring her bags inside, which she very much appreciated. Tyrell held out his hand to take one of the bags from her, and she gratefully handed it over.
“Thanks so much, Ty! You’re the best!” She grinned at the tall boy and nodded enthusiastically when he said he was going to drop it off in the kitchen.
Tyrell was a good guy deep down. A lot of rumors tended to swirl around the school about him, but Regina knew better than to believe all of what she heard. People were always going to talk, so she liked to make her own decisions about people. She never put too much stock into other people’s opinions of a person. Ty had always been kind to her, so she had no reason to not be just as kind back. It was as simple as that.
As Tyrell went inside and back to the party, Forrest seemed to come to life and asked if she’d made brownies. Regina took stock of the party’s host and concluded that she was probably pretty blasted already. Gina smiled at the rainbow-haired girl and held out her pointer finger in a ‘wait a moment’ gesture.
“Yeah, there are two trays of brownies. I also made an assortment of cupcakes, chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies, mini lemon and raspberry tarts, and a batch of cake pops.” She counted out the items with her fingers as she listed all the baked goods she brought with her.
Forrest tried to reach out and grab for the bag Ty brought in with him with a whine, and Gina chuckled a bit. Forrest was probably hoping for a bit more green in the pastries, if she knew the girl. Surprisingly, Regina’s never dabbled in the making of edibles. It couldn't be too difficult, she was sure, but since she didn’t really smoke or anything, the thought had never really crossed her mind to give it a go. Wyatt asked the lingering question, and Regina shrugged her shoulders apologetically.
“Um no, they’re just regular brownies.” She chuckled. “All the stuff I made is just regular. Sorry to disappoint.”
Wyatt turned to Forrest in an attempt to help her inside. Regina reached into the leftover bag and pulled out a brownie, walking it over to Forrest. She crouched down beside the other girl and offered the treat. Regina could smell the distinct aroma of pot coming from Forrest's smoke, and if there was one thing she knew about smokers, it's that they really appreciated snacks.
“It’s just a regular brownie, but I guarantee that it’s super tasty. “ She grinned. “Here, taste!”
“Thanks so much, Ty! You’re the best!” She grinned at the tall boy and nodded enthusiastically when he said he was going to drop it off in the kitchen.
Tyrell was a good guy deep down. A lot of rumors tended to swirl around the school about him, but Regina knew better than to believe all of what she heard. People were always going to talk, so she liked to make her own decisions about people. She never put too much stock into other people’s opinions of a person. Ty had always been kind to her, so she had no reason to not be just as kind back. It was as simple as that.
As Tyrell went inside and back to the party, Forrest seemed to come to life and asked if she’d made brownies. Regina took stock of the party’s host and concluded that she was probably pretty blasted already. Gina smiled at the rainbow-haired girl and held out her pointer finger in a ‘wait a moment’ gesture.
“Yeah, there are two trays of brownies. I also made an assortment of cupcakes, chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies, mini lemon and raspberry tarts, and a batch of cake pops.” She counted out the items with her fingers as she listed all the baked goods she brought with her.
Forrest tried to reach out and grab for the bag Ty brought in with him with a whine, and Gina chuckled a bit. Forrest was probably hoping for a bit more green in the pastries, if she knew the girl. Surprisingly, Regina’s never dabbled in the making of edibles. It couldn't be too difficult, she was sure, but since she didn’t really smoke or anything, the thought had never really crossed her mind to give it a go. Wyatt asked the lingering question, and Regina shrugged her shoulders apologetically.
“Um no, they’re just regular brownies.” She chuckled. “All the stuff I made is just regular. Sorry to disappoint.”
Wyatt turned to Forrest in an attempt to help her inside. Regina reached into the leftover bag and pulled out a brownie, walking it over to Forrest. She crouched down beside the other girl and offered the treat. Regina could smell the distinct aroma of pot coming from Forrest's smoke, and if there was one thing she knew about smokers, it's that they really appreciated snacks.
“It’s just a regular brownie, but I guarantee that it’s super tasty. “ She grinned. “Here, taste!”
As the group of them talked, a dark red minivan came to a stop at the front walk. The rear door slid open and a whisper-thin young man stepped out, ducking his head as usual so that he wouldn't bump it on the way. For those who knew him, the laptop bag slung over his shoulder and his long, floppy hair gave away his identity almost immediately.
Reuben Walters had arrived.
(Reuben continued from The Curse of Miss Celie)
"Have fun, sweetheart!" shouted Karen Walters from the front seat and Reuben gave a weak sigh in response. He hadn't recognized who was standing at the front door, but everyone there had to be within earshot. Turning and waving to his mother, he adjusted his shoulder strap and strode forward, when-
"You've got your cell phone, right?" Karen continued. Reuben pulled his Samsung phone out, holding it up for her to see. "Good. Call us when you get bored." Her phrasing wasn't lost on him. The two of them knew each other well.
"Yeah...sure, mom," he muttered. "See you later." As the minivan drifted away, charting a slow path towards the front gate of the estate, Reuben heard a buzz and peered down at his cellphone, still in his hand. Sure enough, someone had just sent him a text, someone who should have been driving.
Don't drink the punch, it said. Reuben shrugged and pocketed the phone. Of all the folks at this party, he was probably close to the bottom of people who were likely to be drugged. In fact, chances were high that none of these people even knew who he was.
After all, what were the odds that he'd...had an argument with one of them...when he was watching a video...in study hall.
Oh no.
Oh yes, the hulking figure of Wyatt Carter was difficult to miss, even framed against the thick cloud of pot smoke. Why a popular guy like him was hanging out with the smokers was beyond Reuben's comprehension, but maybe they were good company. Or maybe he was a late arrival too and he was being held up by some bizarre ritual designed to root out anyone who didn't belong. The world was full of possibilities.
"H-Hi, umm..." he addressed at the group in general. There were brownies being passed around. Not a punch bowl, but perhaps just as deadly. "Do I just go in or...do you need my ID or something?"
Reuben Walters had arrived.
(Reuben continued from The Curse of Miss Celie)
"Have fun, sweetheart!" shouted Karen Walters from the front seat and Reuben gave a weak sigh in response. He hadn't recognized who was standing at the front door, but everyone there had to be within earshot. Turning and waving to his mother, he adjusted his shoulder strap and strode forward, when-
"You've got your cell phone, right?" Karen continued. Reuben pulled his Samsung phone out, holding it up for her to see. "Good. Call us when you get bored." Her phrasing wasn't lost on him. The two of them knew each other well.
"Yeah...sure, mom," he muttered. "See you later." As the minivan drifted away, charting a slow path towards the front gate of the estate, Reuben heard a buzz and peered down at his cellphone, still in his hand. Sure enough, someone had just sent him a text, someone who should have been driving.
Don't drink the punch, it said. Reuben shrugged and pocketed the phone. Of all the folks at this party, he was probably close to the bottom of people who were likely to be drugged. In fact, chances were high that none of these people even knew who he was.
After all, what were the odds that he'd...had an argument with one of them...when he was watching a video...in study hall.
Oh no.
Oh yes, the hulking figure of Wyatt Carter was difficult to miss, even framed against the thick cloud of pot smoke. Why a popular guy like him was hanging out with the smokers was beyond Reuben's comprehension, but maybe they were good company. Or maybe he was a late arrival too and he was being held up by some bizarre ritual designed to root out anyone who didn't belong. The world was full of possibilities.
"H-Hi, umm..." he addressed at the group in general. There were brownies being passed around. Not a punch bowl, but perhaps just as deadly. "Do I just go in or...do you need my ID or something?"
Pasting a polite smile on his face, Claudeson watched Tyrell actually step forward and help out with some of the baked goods. Choosing to ignore the pointed barb that he threw back towards the group - no, towards him, he instead turned to Lavender, who was intently studying Forrest with a concerned look upon her face. Likely thanks to the mix of intoxication and drugs, their host was barely making sense, but continued to smoke a very large amount of marijuana basically in all of their faces. His brow crinkled as it continued to waft over the area.
"You know, I-"
Absently shifting the pizza box away from the source of the marijuana smell, Claudeson was unable to get a word out before Forrest broke in, having understood that baked goods had made their arrival. Wyatt wasted no time in (tactlessly) asking the question that all of them were thinking, but Claude was unsurprised when Regina confirmed that no, the brownies and cakes and cookies were of a standard consumption, no edible marijuana oils to be found within at all. That was definitely for the best, though some of the comers were likely a little disappointed at the inability to remove their head further from their bodies.
Still yet to say anything, Claudeson shut his mouth. He wondered if one could die from an overdose of marijuana. Likely not, though stupidity wasn't an official cause of death on any medical examiner's reports either, and it was blamed for countless acts worldwide every day. The act did him the secondary favour of inhaling any more of the smoke, which was getting more and more intrusive the more that Forrest lit up. He wished she would stop - and as if his mind were an open book, Wyatt Carter spoke up once more to echo Claudeson's thoughts. Good lord, perish the day that he found himself sharing a brainwave with Wyatt Carter; though the lout had a point.
"Wyatt is correct, Forrest. Perhaps you should take a moment and allow yourself a drink." His voice was serious, and likely not altogether convincing to someone stoned out of their mind, so he paused, amending his statement with a smile. "You wouldn't want to smoke everything you've got. Best save some for later, isn't that right?"
As if Forrest was running on a small supply. She likely had enough marijuana in the house to warrant a possession with intent to distribute charge. Hm. That would be an interesting twist to the end of the school year. Regina chimed in with a secondary bag of goodies, and Claudeson subtly nodded in approval. Dismissing the surefire way to end his momentary annoyance, he glanced up at another newcomer sauntering down the driveway; the unmistakable lanky presence of the school's cheerleading mascot - Reuben Walters had arrived.
"Hi, Reuben! Welcome to the party. There is no need for identification or anything of the sort. The party is in full swing, and you are free to come and go as you'd like. All we ask is that you leave any weapons out here, and try not to damage the property. Our host," he glanced over at the blitzed-out girl, still clamouring for a brownie, "only wishes for everyone to have as good a time as she is."
Claudeson glanced back up at Reuben, and leaned conspiratorially forward, his smile exposing his pearly-white teeth.
"Perhaps not that good of a time."
"You know, I-"
Absently shifting the pizza box away from the source of the marijuana smell, Claudeson was unable to get a word out before Forrest broke in, having understood that baked goods had made their arrival. Wyatt wasted no time in (tactlessly) asking the question that all of them were thinking, but Claude was unsurprised when Regina confirmed that no, the brownies and cakes and cookies were of a standard consumption, no edible marijuana oils to be found within at all. That was definitely for the best, though some of the comers were likely a little disappointed at the inability to remove their head further from their bodies.
Still yet to say anything, Claudeson shut his mouth. He wondered if one could die from an overdose of marijuana. Likely not, though stupidity wasn't an official cause of death on any medical examiner's reports either, and it was blamed for countless acts worldwide every day. The act did him the secondary favour of inhaling any more of the smoke, which was getting more and more intrusive the more that Forrest lit up. He wished she would stop - and as if his mind were an open book, Wyatt Carter spoke up once more to echo Claudeson's thoughts. Good lord, perish the day that he found himself sharing a brainwave with Wyatt Carter; though the lout had a point.
"Wyatt is correct, Forrest. Perhaps you should take a moment and allow yourself a drink." His voice was serious, and likely not altogether convincing to someone stoned out of their mind, so he paused, amending his statement with a smile. "You wouldn't want to smoke everything you've got. Best save some for later, isn't that right?"
As if Forrest was running on a small supply. She likely had enough marijuana in the house to warrant a possession with intent to distribute charge. Hm. That would be an interesting twist to the end of the school year. Regina chimed in with a secondary bag of goodies, and Claudeson subtly nodded in approval. Dismissing the surefire way to end his momentary annoyance, he glanced up at another newcomer sauntering down the driveway; the unmistakable lanky presence of the school's cheerleading mascot - Reuben Walters had arrived.
"Hi, Reuben! Welcome to the party. There is no need for identification or anything of the sort. The party is in full swing, and you are free to come and go as you'd like. All we ask is that you leave any weapons out here, and try not to damage the property. Our host," he glanced over at the blitzed-out girl, still clamouring for a brownie, "only wishes for everyone to have as good a time as she is."
Claudeson glanced back up at Reuben, and leaned conspiratorially forward, his smile exposing his pearly-white teeth.
"Perhaps not that good of a time."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
It was quite strange for Lavender to be agreeing with Wyatt. Oh, not on everything—she didn’t much think it mattered whether Forrest was inside or out, and in all likelihood the girl was in better hands here than she'd be amidst the chaos—but it was very hard to deny that she'd probably had more than enough.
Lavender tried not to judge others for their habits or vices. She had her share of both, for one, and she knew that people were drawn to what they were for a wide number of valid reasons. She wasn't a total stick in the mud, didn't find drugs morally offensive or anything. She just felt no need to partake. She could find enjoyment and beauty in the world without chemical assistance, and found the idea of shoving her actual self to the side, or twisting or distorting it artificially, a little bit unsettling. But if Forrest wanted to spend all night smoking weed, that was really nobody's business but hers. It didn't make her weak or stupid or bad or anything like that.
Still, the display she put on when Gina mentioned the brownies was ever-so-slightly pathetic.
Before Lavender could see whether the girl would actually eat the (totally non-spiked) brownie she was offered, though, a new distraction arrived. Reuben Walters, dropped off by his mom in a display Lavender wondered if was as awkward for him as it was to watch, trotting up to them and looking rather out of place. He said hi to everyone, and Lavender gave him a little wave.
"Hey, Reuben," she said, smiling as Claudeson laid out the ground rules.
She knew of Reuben, of course. She was a cheerleader and he was the mascot, so their paths crossed fairly often. That didn't really cultivate much in the way of actual interaction or awareness, though. He seemed like a nice, somewhat awkward guy. That was refreshing compared to the constant drama and tension prevalent in so many of the other interactions of the cheer squad, but also set him apart a little, kept him from feeling quite like he was part of the circle in the same way. Plus, of course, he was a guy, and he was usually in that giant owl suit.
Really, Lavender was almost as worried about Reuben as she was surprised he was here. This didn't seem like something he was likely to enjoy, but then again, she could be wrong. Maybe he was secretly a huge party animal.
Lavender tried not to judge others for their habits or vices. She had her share of both, for one, and she knew that people were drawn to what they were for a wide number of valid reasons. She wasn't a total stick in the mud, didn't find drugs morally offensive or anything. She just felt no need to partake. She could find enjoyment and beauty in the world without chemical assistance, and found the idea of shoving her actual self to the side, or twisting or distorting it artificially, a little bit unsettling. But if Forrest wanted to spend all night smoking weed, that was really nobody's business but hers. It didn't make her weak or stupid or bad or anything like that.
Still, the display she put on when Gina mentioned the brownies was ever-so-slightly pathetic.
Before Lavender could see whether the girl would actually eat the (totally non-spiked) brownie she was offered, though, a new distraction arrived. Reuben Walters, dropped off by his mom in a display Lavender wondered if was as awkward for him as it was to watch, trotting up to them and looking rather out of place. He said hi to everyone, and Lavender gave him a little wave.
"Hey, Reuben," she said, smiling as Claudeson laid out the ground rules.
She knew of Reuben, of course. She was a cheerleader and he was the mascot, so their paths crossed fairly often. That didn't really cultivate much in the way of actual interaction or awareness, though. He seemed like a nice, somewhat awkward guy. That was refreshing compared to the constant drama and tension prevalent in so many of the other interactions of the cheer squad, but also set him apart a little, kept him from feeling quite like he was part of the circle in the same way. Plus, of course, he was a guy, and he was usually in that giant owl suit.
Really, Lavender was almost as worried about Reuben as she was surprised he was here. This didn't seem like something he was likely to enjoy, but then again, she could be wrong. Maybe he was secretly a huge party animal.
Forrest took the offered snack in both hands and started to munch. There was a rhythm and a beat to the conversation. They all spoke in her driveway and the dulled sound of the music could be heard through the walls of her house. A reminder of what they were all here for. What everyone had come for.
Unelegant, that was how she'd describe her movements. Still, she nibbled. That was until she was interrupted by him. She didn't appreciate it. She knew where she was in the evening. She wasn't stupid. She knew. It was condescending. This was her. This was what she did. Then another one joined in. She could see his words. She didn't feel them. She looked between both of them as they looked down on her.
Claude smiled at her, and she admitted that maybe they were right. There was only so much she should have had. She needed to make sure her house didn't get too wrecked and that her anibros were fine.
Killing time outside was better than being inside though. Inside was mayhem. Not that she normally cared about mayhem at a party but she had to admit that it was different when it was her place.
You had more at stake after all. Her anibros being a big concern. She knew they were locked in and safe. At least they had been the last time she checked but she supposed that could have changed. Drunk people had a way of getting to places they shouldn't have been. She knew that first hand. They also did weird stuff everywhere.
Obviously, it would have taken someone serious effort to get into her room. Deliberate effort one might say.
Unlikely as it was that something was going to happen to her guys, it was still a concern. She made a note in her mind somewhere to go check on them once she got the chance.
Anyway, mental detour completed, there were still people she needed to interact with. They were waiting for her answer. She looked at their faces again. Then she gave a melodramatic sigh. "Fine, I guess I can stop for now." She stubbed the joint out on the floor. "I'll just have to get some more death punch." She said with a grin.
Like it was a game.
Like she was playing.
Unelegant, that was how she'd describe her movements. Still, she nibbled. That was until she was interrupted by him. She didn't appreciate it. She knew where she was in the evening. She wasn't stupid. She knew. It was condescending. This was her. This was what she did. Then another one joined in. She could see his words. She didn't feel them. She looked between both of them as they looked down on her.
Claude smiled at her, and she admitted that maybe they were right. There was only so much she should have had. She needed to make sure her house didn't get too wrecked and that her anibros were fine.
Killing time outside was better than being inside though. Inside was mayhem. Not that she normally cared about mayhem at a party but she had to admit that it was different when it was her place.
You had more at stake after all. Her anibros being a big concern. She knew they were locked in and safe. At least they had been the last time she checked but she supposed that could have changed. Drunk people had a way of getting to places they shouldn't have been. She knew that first hand. They also did weird stuff everywhere.
Obviously, it would have taken someone serious effort to get into her room. Deliberate effort one might say.
Unlikely as it was that something was going to happen to her guys, it was still a concern. She made a note in her mind somewhere to go check on them once she got the chance.
Anyway, mental detour completed, there were still people she needed to interact with. They were waiting for her answer. She looked at their faces again. Then she gave a melodramatic sigh. "Fine, I guess I can stop for now." She stubbed the joint out on the floor. "I'll just have to get some more death punch." She said with a grin.
Like it was a game.
Like she was playing.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
"Y'know," Wyatt remarked, still looking down at Forrest when Regina stooped to offer her a Scooby Snack, "I'm actually NOT disappointed to hear that. If they're just regular brownies, that means I can eat 'em." Fuck, he just wanted to be inside and pig out on the one day he was allowed to. "Not that I give a shit about anybody else doing that, just a 'me' thing."
Everything out here seemed to have ran its course. Owlboy had showed up, but he wasn't really worth interacting with or even saying hi to, so Wyatt didn't. There were more pressing concerns right now, like hauling Forrest inside and finding somewhere safe to powerbomb her so he could do what he came here to do and actually party. First the snacks, then the booze. So, so much booze.
"Alright. Up we go," Wyatt said, knowing full well he was probably about to get brownie crumbs all over the back of his shirt as he reached to grab Forrest around her sides just above the hips. She was kind of small (then what girl wasn't to him?) so it made grabbing the right places a bit of a focus-intensive task. The target area was even smaller on Ivy, but then again, he didn't feel a need to stay coloring within the lines for her.
Forrest weighed basically nothing as expected and Wyatt brought her halfway over his shoulder, holding her around the back with one arm. "Let's go!" he said with casual cheer, heading for the door with a hand left free to open it.
((Wyatt Carter, Donkey Kong cargo carrying elsewhere))
Everything out here seemed to have ran its course. Owlboy had showed up, but he wasn't really worth interacting with or even saying hi to, so Wyatt didn't. There were more pressing concerns right now, like hauling Forrest inside and finding somewhere safe to powerbomb her so he could do what he came here to do and actually party. First the snacks, then the booze. So, so much booze.
"Alright. Up we go," Wyatt said, knowing full well he was probably about to get brownie crumbs all over the back of his shirt as he reached to grab Forrest around her sides just above the hips. She was kind of small (then what girl wasn't to him?) so it made grabbing the right places a bit of a focus-intensive task. The target area was even smaller on Ivy, but then again, he didn't feel a need to stay coloring within the lines for her.
Forrest weighed basically nothing as expected and Wyatt brought her halfway over his shoulder, holding her around the back with one arm. "Let's go!" he said with casual cheer, heading for the door with a hand left free to open it.
((Wyatt Carter, Donkey Kong cargo carrying elsewhere))
((Camila Cañizares continued from Dissonance))
The thump of muffled music was easier to triangulate than the directions on her phone.
"Ain't it loud." She wasn't speaking to anybody. She had company though, slightly behind her and company some distance ahead of her. A milling together of several folks and a few of them were familiar faces. "Surprised nobody's called the cops yet." A brief list of curt observations in truncated Spanish followed, 'ruido ruido ruido', and then Camila slid the opposite way past the red minivan pulling away from the home. Finally, she was willing to actually speak to any of the people involved.
"You, Claude?" She smirked her toothy amusement. She wasn't dressed to impress, opting for her most comfortable plain hue jeans and button-up. "You're having fun then." Camila phrased her observations as fundamental postulates. It was her simple business to have her friend's life memorized in the form of Spark Notes. This posting was his damage control, she presupposed. She'd heard the rumors. She had precisely no interest in grilling him on any of those supposed close encounters of the third kind directly.
Nor interest in speaking much. Cecil, the boy she'd loosely slung around her arm before coming, would make for better conversation.
She gently tossed a small plastic baggie wound shut by a slightly frayed hairband. Claude would either catch it or not. She'd packed it with small clusters of dry apple-crumble yellows and greens, her new experimental strain of marijuana she'd let others sample if interested. One of three reasons for her having stopped by. Cecil and Claude were also reasons in the peripheral if one squinted hard enough.
"Before you ask. Confiscate it, don't, either way."
She drifted to one side with a ballerina graceful backwards tread, put herself at a comfortable distance. Her appraisal of the others was measured and brief: she stared at them for recognition and didn't linger, if they tried to catch her eye she evenly held it, ignored it. Claude prototypically played the crowd. Forrest was being dragged off by Wyatt. She didn't know who the girl with brownies was. Nor the others. Maybe one of them was the school's mascot if she thought about it hard enough.
She stared at Cecil last, waited for him to close the distance and left the needed space. She kept her lips closed and assumed Cecil would understand that she had no personal intent to introduce him. His problem, his job, her entertainment.
The thump of muffled music was easier to triangulate than the directions on her phone.
"Ain't it loud." She wasn't speaking to anybody. She had company though, slightly behind her and company some distance ahead of her. A milling together of several folks and a few of them were familiar faces. "Surprised nobody's called the cops yet." A brief list of curt observations in truncated Spanish followed, 'ruido ruido ruido', and then Camila slid the opposite way past the red minivan pulling away from the home. Finally, she was willing to actually speak to any of the people involved.
"You, Claude?" She smirked her toothy amusement. She wasn't dressed to impress, opting for her most comfortable plain hue jeans and button-up. "You're having fun then." Camila phrased her observations as fundamental postulates. It was her simple business to have her friend's life memorized in the form of Spark Notes. This posting was his damage control, she presupposed. She'd heard the rumors. She had precisely no interest in grilling him on any of those supposed close encounters of the third kind directly.
Nor interest in speaking much. Cecil, the boy she'd loosely slung around her arm before coming, would make for better conversation.
She gently tossed a small plastic baggie wound shut by a slightly frayed hairband. Claude would either catch it or not. She'd packed it with small clusters of dry apple-crumble yellows and greens, her new experimental strain of marijuana she'd let others sample if interested. One of three reasons for her having stopped by. Cecil and Claude were also reasons in the peripheral if one squinted hard enough.
"Before you ask. Confiscate it, don't, either way."
She drifted to one side with a ballerina graceful backwards tread, put herself at a comfortable distance. Her appraisal of the others was measured and brief: she stared at them for recognition and didn't linger, if they tried to catch her eye she evenly held it, ignored it. Claude prototypically played the crowd. Forrest was being dragged off by Wyatt. She didn't know who the girl with brownies was. Nor the others. Maybe one of them was the school's mascot if she thought about it hard enough.
She stared at Cecil last, waited for him to close the distance and left the needed space. She kept her lips closed and assumed Cecil would understand that she had no personal intent to introduce him. His problem, his job, her entertainment.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
