Save Tonight

[Cactus]

"Free-range neckbeards? Yuck." Ross grimaced at the thought. "You'd be better off teaching a grooming seminar and making attendance mandatory." He scratched at his own stubble. As far as facial hair went, he knew himself to be one of the more advanced teens in the senior class. While he had the capability to grow a full beard were he so inclined, he generally had to shave once every two days, just to prevent himself from looking like a man in his mid-twenties. Something unnerved him a bit about kids with certain facial hair - one of the football guys had a full moustache, for instance. But an honest-to-goodness neckbeard? That was just... wrong.

Ross remained silent for a moment, shifting his position of leaning against the railing. The hard metal was starting to dig into his back. For a few moments, he didn't say much, only nodding at Forrest's agreement with Charelle's colourful suggestion. What was there to say? These weren't people that he ordinarily spent a whole lot of time with, and he knew that the usual things he'd chit-chat about to break the ice with probably wouldn't bear much fruit. He couldn't imagine Forrest or Charelle being big sports fans, and he wasn't knowledgeable enough about music to keep up with someone of Forrest's renown.

So here he found himself, once more in front of an empty penguin pen, with a conversation that seemed dependant upon the flightless birds making an appearance. So now what... hold on a second. In taking another look at the couple (he assumed, though he'd keep that to himself until something more was said) on the bench, he noticed that Forrest was actually wearing a shirt that bore the same logo he wore on his hat. Huh. Perhaps there was an opening after all.

Indicating at Forrest with a slight tilt up of his head, Ross inquired about the shirt. "So... you a Preds fan? Y'all get to any games this year?" Being as it was March, the season was nearing its conclusion, and the Predators were sitting atop the NHL's Western Conference. Their nearby city had a solid hockey team, and the fanbase was starting to get really excited about the potential for the playoffs. It was as good a conversation starter as any.

Welcome to Smashville.

[Cicada]

"You'd be better off teaching a grooming seminar and making attendance mandatory."

"Yeah 'cause Forrest will teach those dudes how to turn tricks with their new rainbow-ass hair or whatever."

...

Shit, no punchline.

"By the way, Drake is the fave. Forrest's Drake, not the rapper. Though I'm also vibing that Drake too." Wait. Charelle was moving through the conversation in, like, the wrong order. Her fault for fucking up the whole active listening thing or whatever but... like, not her problem to be honest.... Man, she was just chilling. Charelle related with her penguin dudes that way.

Her knee was starting to hurt. Um... fuck. The sum total of her thoughts and plans.

Move.. move... Charelle creaked like a crane and put a little space between herself and Forrest. Just so she could spread her legs a little. (Yung) Lean off to one side, AKA the good side without the bad knee.

"Preds fan, no. Prydz fan, yeah." Forrest knew what was up, happily irrelevant to the conversation as Charelle was.

[Deamon]

Forrest looked down at her tank-top and assessed the upside down logo. Was she a Predators fan? Had she even been to any games? Maybe once? It was hard to say. Without a full plan of action, Forrest nodded in Ross' direction before speaking.

"I think? I'm a fan of this top because...look at this. I've seen them play...a few...times?" She wobbled her hand to emphasize her point. "I think my dads are bigger fans than I am." Her ears pricked up at the mention of Prydz though. "Heck yeah, I'm a Prydz fan."

There was still no sign of any penguins behind Ross so she assumed their conversation was just going to keep going until they either emerged or the day ended. At the very least Forrest could deal with a conversation about sportspuck.

"What about you? Are you a fan of the Prydz...wait Preds."

Yeah, that was the right one.

[Cactus]

This conversation had Ross Miller using every ounce of his conversational acumen to try and pull what he could from it. On a good day - hell, on most days, Ross considered himself to be an excellent conversationalist, a good listener, and someone who contributed to any chat he was involved in. The problem was, when the people you were chatting with were on a whole other wavelength, it was tough. And Charelle and Forrest?

They were on a whole other plane of existence.

Ross smirked a bit at the thought. It had no malicious intent, but where his interests were primarily sports, video games, and more "corporeal" things, these two girls seemed very much invested in music, and how things felt, rather than how they were. He'd have put money on the idea that at least one of them would go to college for fine art - probably Forrest, since she did have the whole DJ reputation.

"I mean, I know 'Call on Me', but that's about all I've got for Prydz. I'm afraid I'm like, the world's worst person when it comes to song names or bands." Ross shook his head sheepishly. "I could hear a song on the radio and search for it for years."

He grimaced.

"It's happened before. Anyway, I'm definitely a Preds fan, and they have solid merch, so I can't blame you for digging the shirt." He tapped his hat a few times, and smiled at the two. So sports were probably a 'barely-there' option, but he figured he'd try again anyhow.

"It's a great way to spend a Saturday. Last year my dad took me and my sister down to Music Row to watch one of the games on the big screen. What a great scene! Crowds everywhere, getting into it... it's hard not to get caught up in the excitement, right?"

He looked more at Charelle as he spoke the last few words, hoping his enthusiasm wouldn't necessarily be lost on either of them. He had the sneaking suspicion in his gut that he'd be met with little more than a blank stare, and there were few more embarrassing feelings than failing at a conversation that heavily.

[Cicada]

Big ups for 'Call On Me'. At least he hadn't attributed that one to, like, Daft Punk or something.

"That's why we invented SoundHound. Well, not we 'any of us' invented." Like, if Charelle thought about it- rare- she wondered if they were somehow giving the Ross-a-tron a hard time.

Big if true. Eh, as if she could be assed to puzzle it out? Wasn't like her to think things through so whatever, forget it.

...

Ross was staring at her as if he was asking her a question. He was actually asking her a question. Better to be specific about that in particular. His eyes searched at her, and she was like. Staring back. She definitely didn't know what Ross was looking for with this little eye-to-eye, also definitely didn't know what she was supposed to be doing. So fuck it, whatever. Charelle fluttered her lashes a little, winked.

Thumbs up, pout of a smile. She was definitely trying to suggest something, hint, it was exactly what you'd expect it was.

"Nothing wrong with sports. Just that no one in my house watches them, dunno too much... I'd play, but the knee is killing me." Like right now, the knee was killing her. Putting a crimp in her cool flirty femme style, if she had to awkwardly let her bad leg flop to one side. Whatever.

[Deamon]

She nodded at Ross' statement about the big scene at Music Row. That did sound like exactly the kind of thing she would enjoy, just embracing the moment as everyone's consciousness is all focused on and participating in the same event. Imagining just being there made her slightly buzzing at the idea. It was part of the fun of a party. Just play some music, have some alcohol or whatever you want and lose yourself in the experience. It all appealed to her.

"That sounds great honestly."

Thinking for a moment—and she made sure that everyone knew she was thinking by looking thoughtful and putting a finger on her chin in the universally acknowledged symbol for 'I am currently thinking about a thing of some kind'—she spoke again.

"Have you ever been to a party where we were playing?"

[Cactus]

Ross was thrilled - primarily with himself more than anything that he'd elicited as a reply from the two girls. He'd managed not to fail miserably at conversation. Nice work, kid. There might just be hope for you yet. Charelle's comment about her knee caused him to suddenly realize the slight pressure in his own, and he absently stretched them both, one at a time. The pop and crack respectively was barely audible, but there nonetheless.

"I hear that. I've bashed my knees around enough over the years playing hockey. Sometimes I wake up and wonder if I'm eighteen or forty-five." He shrugged. Soreness was a nature of the beast when active - or clumsy. Ross somehow managed to be both, at times. As Forrest spoke up, Ross noticed that she seemed almost wistful at the thought of a large crowd. He could immediately see why she was so taken with the DJ booth.

And why she was so good within in.

"I... think so?" Ross racked his brain at her query about seeing her play. As it was, Ross found himself the type to make an appearance at a party, hang with his designated crew, and wander off, not really making a huge impact upon the party as a whole. Since his mind for music wasn't nearly as on-point as the two ladies in front of him, he had a hard time even recalling who the bands were at many of the gatherings he'd attended that had even had bands at all. He couldn't be sure, except perhaps...

"You guys played Connor's party last August, didn't you?"

His recollection was vague - a lot of booze would do that to you, but their school's star quarterback had held a bash at his lavish house in the hills, and he'd somehow scored an invite (which happened more than he probably cared to admit, but it was easier to think that he maintained a degree of anonymity). That had been one hell of a night, and along with the alcohol-fueled shenanigans, he'd ended up getting tossed in a pool after someone had suggested that everyone ganging up to dunk Wyatt Carter would be a good idea. The linebacker had ended up in the pool, but it had taken five of them plus the party's host to do it, and most of them had ended up going in first. It was an uncharacteristically bold move from Ross, but it hadn't seemed to earn him much, if any enmity from the school's ruling elite.

He blinked to himself. In hindsight, that could have been a really stupid decision. Alcohol didn't exactly enhance the decision-making process. Shaking himself out of his own head, he focused once more on the two in front of him. "I'm pretty sure. Like I said, I'm really bad at remembering what bands sound like, though unless there's another popular, talented DJ in our high school, I'm fairly certain I've heard you." He punctuated the last phrase with a smile.

Unbeknownst to Ross, a single penguin waddled out of the enclosure and started examining the surrounding pen area.

[Cicada]

Oof, she'd been rejected.

Anyways, cool. Conversation was still doing it's thing where it was being a conversation. Charelle herself was doing her part by stare-watching Forrest do the finger-to-chin 'I am thinking about a thing of some kind' that everyone in the universe obviously knew because it was basic, like bitches.

"Think we did, yeah."

She didn't remember too much of the details because shrug. A bunch of people had ended up in the pool or something? Wet shirt competition? First off, nobody had invited Charelle to judge so fuck them, but second off un-fuck them because it was cool that some GHHS dudes had decided to cross the gender barrier on that particular thing. Hot dudes in wet shirts was a fine ass prepositional phrase if Charelle knew what a prepositional phrase actually was.

"I like, told Mikki we needed to be spinning the Jaws theme or at least the Spongebob theme or something. During that whole big pool fight. But she was like 'no' because serious business and professional conduct and stuff like that I guess."

Charelle instantaneously checked out of the conversation once more. From her lazy position, head half drooping and splattering over Forrest's shoulder, she could see past Ross 'The Divorce Force' [wait what the fuck was his last name even] and she could see a penguin dude was out and about.

Man, look at that majestic chin patterning. Fashion goons in GHHS had nothing on one arctic boi. Charelle loved her tux buddy so much, she wanted to like... run over and look stupid at him and hope he noticed. 'He'. In so much as gender existed in nature (chromosome memes) chinstraps could be told apart because the dudes had bigger beaks.

The penguin glanced Charelle's way and they shared eye contact. Oh man, her heart all of a sudden? Rejoicing like church goer stereotypes.

Charelle when exchanging longing looks with her animal friends = yeaaaah,
BOOOOOOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYY

[Deamon]

She had no immediate recollection of that party. To Forrest, it was just one loud, fun blur among many others. One that she had probably woken up from only to go right back to sleep. It was only when Charelle mentioned the pool fight that everything came flooding back into her memory like the crash of waves. She nodded in recollection and grinned at the memory of watching everyone trying to throw someone who in her memory looked suspiciously like Shrek into a swimming pool.

As the memory faded away she returned to the real world to see that a penguin had finally appeared and was busying itself with lurking behind Ross in a very conspicuous manner. From the position, she was in, and with Charelle's hair currently melting its way down her shoulder and back, Forrest could see the penguin clearly. A large nearly monochrome creature that stood straight up, observing them observing it observing them.

It's slightly curved beak was a deep black with orange highlights along the bottom. It gave Forrest an idea for a potential hair look, black along the top with shaved sides dyed orange. It sounded stupid enough to be something she'd do. That or the next time Zootopia took to the stage they all needed to down penguin costumes just because they could.

Raising a hand Forrest pointed past Ross and to the penguin behind.

"I think one of your buddies has arrived." She said her voice as flat as ever.

[Cactus]

Ross couldn't help but smirk at the memory of the pool fight. He'd certainly been one of the chief instigators of the whole thing, but it had been a fun night, and Wyatt Carter nor anyone else had seemingly singled him out for retribution, so that was a plus. Having an appropriate soundtrack would have made the whole event legendary, and had the DJ spun a proper 'pool-fight' track, it might have gotten a whole lot more traction in school.

"That's a shame, that could have been legen-"

Ross was cut off by Forrest's dry pointed phrase and gesture, and spun around. Charelle had already beaten him to the punch in noticing the new arrival, and Ross unconsciously did a miniature fist-pump to himself as the little bird waddled out and peered at them. There was just something about the dopey animals that made him smile. Perhaps it was the fact that they were all flightless, but even though lacking the one hallmark that made a bird, well, a bird? They were excellent swimmers and still managed to survive - and thrive, in certain parts of the world.

Talk about adapting to your circumstances. The thought meshed a little bit for Ross. Things were so up in the air for him right now. He was eighteen now, and the world ahead of him seemed like a big deal that he was wholly unprepared for. Yet, like the penguin he was currently looking at right now, he'd have to find a way to adapt and make the best use of his strengths. You didn't see any of those birds lamenting the fact that they couldn't fly. Of course, you didn't see them lamenting much of anything, since they were birds, not people. Plus, these particular penguins were not necessarily thriving. They were in captivity, and human beings never thrived in captivity, either. That was a concept that he hoped never to draw parallels to.

"Imagine, a person-sized penguin..." Ross muttered out loud as he watched the bird back, not intending the words to be audible to his two companions but having momentarily forgotten about them as the small bird waddled in place, eyes transfixed up at the small, tuxedo-clad observer.

[Cicada]

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY wait shit now Charelle had forgotten what was happening.

Charelle's hair stopped being on Forrest's skin and started moving, and specifically in terms of the rest of her moving with it and walking, her hair wasn't flying off her head or anything.

Because, she was formally saving wig loss for the new Said The Sky that was supposedly being released sometime soon(TM) this year.

Charelle was walking forward, playfully batting at Forrest's hand because Charelle was def. gangster enough for a quick drive-by. She was walking forward and yo Ross get out of the way and then she was leaning against the railing, right beside Ross and metal pole (p o l e d a n c e) pressing into the upper padding of her stomach.

Penguin dude put, like, feels into her heart. Look at him, just standing there... MENACINGLY. But seriously, like. She was in public and stuff, she knew that, but the important mood was- first off, screw the haters that didn't like the word mood because they didn't understand socially-contextual implication and vagueness was the mood of an entire generation of meme and edgelords, at least Charelle's buzz word spam sounded smart- second off, important mood was penguins?? Waddling? Chinstrap??? Orange highlights??

TL; DR: The penguin made Charelle feel warm and happy inside and stuff.

She waved, wildly, loudly over her head. A large and bold gesture, because she gave no fucks as to who saw and she wasn't even thinking about that in the first place except for that one random part of her maybe or maybe not meta-cognitively narrating her own actions or whatever that whole thing about 'higher-level thought' was all about. Psh, as if Charelle had any level of brain above the weird Freudian one.

She wore the dumbest smile on her face. Bounced a bit on her heel.

"Penguin size person, y'know, would be like the benefit of being a human size without having to pay taxes..? Hey!" And suddenly Charelle was dreamily barking, while she continued to make an ass of herself loving on her penguin boi. "Forrest, get over here and <3 this penguin with us!" She literally said < and 3 out loud, only she called the < the wrong symbol, pronouncing it as & instead.

[Deamon]

"Big ups to The Penguin," Forrest said in response to Ross. "Or was he a penguin-sized person?"

Charelle left her side at that moment to go and admire the flightless bird and his suit up close, leaving the bench feeling very empty quite suddenly.

Forrest watched the penguin as it continued to silently observe the three of them. Probably wondering just why it had bothered to venture out of its humble abode to be greeted by a whole lot of nothing important. She was sympathetic to its plight.

Still, though, she peeled herself off the bench and wandered over to where Ross and Charelle were standing, observing the newcomer like had just stepped off the boat from Antarctica. She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the railing as she joined in with 'and 3'ing' the bird as Charelle had said.

"He is certainly very dapper. Probably going to go and rock the casiones as soon as he's done here."

[Cactus]

The small little penguin waddled around its enclosure, seemingly putting on a show for the three onlookers, though totally engrossed in its own existence and unaware of the trio enraptured in his dance. At the far end of the enclosure, a second penguin made its way out, a little smaller, though a lot more regal in colouring. This one made a beeline for the water, and jumped in, starting to swim around.

The action had begun.

Ross chuckled at the mental picture that had popped into his head. There was a large, person-sized penguin, clad in the same clothes any old teenager would do, frustratedly slamming a textbook shut because his flippers couldn't grasp a pencil to do a math test with. It was a purely absurd image, but this whole situation had a degree of absurdity to it, so Ross just figured he'd go with the flow.

As Charelle joined him at the railing and enthusiastically played along with his utterance, he laughed again, this time at the girl who stood next to him. He couldn't imagine that people-penguins would have to follow societal norms at all. They could just do their own thing, avoiding the IRS and living free. New Hampshire would approve.

"I wonder if they'd have to go to the DMV to get a driver's license or if they could just eschew all of that. Would they even need a boating license? Or boats at all for that matter?"

Forrest appeared on the other side of Charelle, moving with her standard casual gait. Ross thought that Forrest seemed the type who wasn't bothered by a whole lot in life; very disaffected by a lot of things. Since she didn't express very much in her cadence, she often gave off the impression that she was tired. Ross wondered if that was true. As she walked over to the railing, she'd posed her own question rooted in pop-culture: finally something he could contribute with.

"I suppose that depends on how much credit you give Danny DeVito. Is he closer to a person or a penguin? Some would debate that issue all day long." Ross furrowed his brow. "Though that weird guy in the new Batman show isn't as good, though he looks a bit more like the comic Penguin, I guess. He's too tall."

Ross watched the second penguin swim around the enclosure. There was something about the way that the flightless bird moved through the water that made it seem free, without a care in the world. Freedom was, of course, in the eye of the beholder. This penguin was having a great time, but in the end, he was still in a cage. Ross felt some sympathy for the dynamic duo before them. Nobody deserved to be cooped up - no one but the dregs, at least.

[Cicada]

There were licences for boating?

Damn, Charelle's ignant-ass head couldn't even like, begin to ? the oddities of post-colonial capitalism.

"Oh yeah, that series." Charelle shrugged to herself as her <3 continued to grow three sizes that day. "I mean yeah, dude's tall, but he's hot in a sleazy way. Should check the dramatized Tumblr gifs, Ross-the-boss."

Charelle continued to dance the cha-cha in place at their now two penguins, wildly Naruto-ing up her hand gestures as she tried to summoning jutsu some demon from parallel dimensions. Man, she was happy. Totally worth the whole 'looking like an idiot' part.

"Man, look at dude swim. Phelps ain't got shit, yo."

Charelle's hips rocked to some invisible beat as her hype(beast) worked it's way out of her physically.

"But yeah, that reminds me." Charelle's mind segued, as if it hadn't already been doing that repeatedly the past few minutes of conversation. "Rock the casinos. That reminds me, what's the ups on hitting up a casino post-grad summer? Good idea, bad? What's the age of gambling in Carolina for that one good one, uh... Harrah's?" Charelle hadn't really put any thought into this whim of her's beyond just having it, which was usually the extent of thought she put into anything ever.

[Deamon]

The idea of actually hitting up a casino appealed to her. Not because she had any particular love for gambling or being in a really big room with no windows or clocks for twenty-four hours of her life but because it would be an experience and she was all about experiences. That and they would have to get there which was sure to be another experience among many that would prove to be enjoyable. That Vegas nightlife as well, hit up a party and go wild. Put the money down, and man no one gave a shit. Simple truth.

Oh, what? Charelle had said Carolina, not California. Wait, Vegas was in Nevada. Welp, that was an exercise in terrible hearing and geography for you. Those lessons came free.

Still, it would probably be an experience, just a very different one to the one she had just been playing over in her head with a music video filter.

"I mean, what's the worst that can happen? We end up in some weird backroom sex party?" She shrugged. "As long as they aren't dressed like Count Chocula and Frankenberry it still won't be the weirdest thing ever."

All the while she kept watching the second penguin dance through the water, like a leaf flying in a breeze.