Man, this stunk.
((Maxwell Lombardi: SCDos Pregame Start))
It wasn’t even that bad of a smell, in all honesty. He could breathe it, he could bear it, but it was still there. On the tip of his nose, making itself known to him every time he had to breathe in. On his skin, every time someone else here got too close and brushed up against his body. On his eyes, every time he had to see the walls of this decrepit place. It was awful. It was terrible, and the worst part of it was that he had to stay here for a bit. In this place. Maybe if he only had to be here for a moment, maybe if there was a way to escape this place, then it would be fine. But there wasn’t. He had to stay here, and every moment passing in this wretched place he could feel the irritation rise through the hairs on his skin.
Of course, he knew that if he breathed through his mouth he wouldn’t have to smell it. He knew that it would be a quite simple solution, but he knew that he couldn’t do that. That was what the others did. That was what all of them did, and Lord knew that he couldn’t stoop down to their level.
He just had to grin and bear it. Walk forward. Try not to notice the hell that seemed to be around him.
And that was what Maxwell Lombardi did as he walked down the main room of the school cafeteria, tray of slop and gruel clenched right between his hands.
And believe him when he said it, he did not want to be here. If he had the choice, he would be outside, somewhere. On one of the picnic tables. Underneath the sun with the people worth sitting around. Not here. Not in this disgusting place. Not in the place everyone seemed to be in. But of course, because his parents had neglected to make him lunch today, he had to spend it here, even if only for today. Instead of being outside in the fresh air surrounded by the people worthy enough to be here, he had to spend it in here, trying desperately to ignore the smell and trying desperately to avoid brushing against the people around him.
He walked hurriedly through the room, trying to get to the furthest away empty table. He sat. The chair wasn’t warm. At least that was a good sign.
He just hoped that nobody he knew would see him here.
Guess Who's Back, Back Again?
Maxwell's back, tell a friend.
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Wham Yubeesling
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((Lyndi Thibodeaux: Pregame Start))
Last week, Lyndi totally thought she was higher in the air than she was during practice. So when she saw the ground coming straight at her, she tried to course correct. But instead of landing right, she landed wrong. Very wrong. Well, not "very" wrong, just the normal kind of wrong, you know, the kind that ends up with you clutching your ankle because you landed on it wrong, and it turns out to have been another grade one ankle strain? That kind of wrong.
And then a week later, she was still missing practice. While everyone else got to tuck and flip and roll and be bouncy, Lyndi was in no such bouncy mood. Rather, she was having lunch, like one of those non-cheerleaders everyone else seemed to be. It was such a pretty day outside, but Lyndi was in the cafeteria, hobbling around on her braced and bandaged ankle, packed lunch in her hands, looking for a place to sit.
She couldn't sit by herself - what would people think? But she couldn't just barge into an already full table, what if she just interrupted someone's story or made the mood weird? She might as well commit social suicide. So Lyndi resolved to walk around the various tables as best she could trying to find the happiest medium table. Not too full, but not empty.
After a while, it seemed like a bummer of an effort. She walked through the rows, almost inconspicuously because of her height and stature, trying to find a place to eat lunch, and soon it started to feel as though she'd run a marathon, the bad kind. She was almost beginning to sweat, despite all the scented deodorant she'd put on after first period, oh god, she couldn't sweat, even if it wasn't something cheerleaders did especially not in front of other people this top she was wearing cost almost $400 and she had to sacrifice a pair of Louboutins for them she'd wanted so badly and they were limited edition which meant she was never getting another and oh god Lyndi find a place to sit-
Oh, there's one, at the back of the room. And better yet, someone she knew was there! Maxwell Lombardi, someone who could have been just as popular as herself, even if she didn't talk to him as much as she did everyone else, like Felicia or Jessie. Still, they definitely had that whole "popular" thing in common, so maybe this could turn out to be an eventful lunch after all.
Lyndi scoot by weakly at the last turn and hobbled herself into the seat opposite Maxwell.
"Hey Maxie!" Lyndi flicked her welcome to the table's host as she started taking her lunch from her bag, "Hope you don't mind me sitting here, I'm the only cheerleader not at practice today, which is such a bummer."
Last week, Lyndi totally thought she was higher in the air than she was during practice. So when she saw the ground coming straight at her, she tried to course correct. But instead of landing right, she landed wrong. Very wrong. Well, not "very" wrong, just the normal kind of wrong, you know, the kind that ends up with you clutching your ankle because you landed on it wrong, and it turns out to have been another grade one ankle strain? That kind of wrong.
And then a week later, she was still missing practice. While everyone else got to tuck and flip and roll and be bouncy, Lyndi was in no such bouncy mood. Rather, she was having lunch, like one of those non-cheerleaders everyone else seemed to be. It was such a pretty day outside, but Lyndi was in the cafeteria, hobbling around on her braced and bandaged ankle, packed lunch in her hands, looking for a place to sit.
She couldn't sit by herself - what would people think? But she couldn't just barge into an already full table, what if she just interrupted someone's story or made the mood weird? She might as well commit social suicide. So Lyndi resolved to walk around the various tables as best she could trying to find the happiest medium table. Not too full, but not empty.
After a while, it seemed like a bummer of an effort. She walked through the rows, almost inconspicuously because of her height and stature, trying to find a place to eat lunch, and soon it started to feel as though she'd run a marathon, the bad kind. She was almost beginning to sweat, despite all the scented deodorant she'd put on after first period, oh god, she couldn't sweat, even if it wasn't something cheerleaders did especially not in front of other people this top she was wearing cost almost $400 and she had to sacrifice a pair of Louboutins for them she'd wanted so badly and they were limited edition which meant she was never getting another and oh god Lyndi find a place to sit-
Oh, there's one, at the back of the room. And better yet, someone she knew was there! Maxwell Lombardi, someone who could have been just as popular as herself, even if she didn't talk to him as much as she did everyone else, like Felicia or Jessie. Still, they definitely had that whole "popular" thing in common, so maybe this could turn out to be an eventful lunch after all.
Lyndi scoot by weakly at the last turn and hobbled herself into the seat opposite Maxwell.
"Hey Maxie!" Lyndi flicked her welcome to the table's host as she started taking her lunch from her bag, "Hope you don't mind me sitting here, I'm the only cheerleader not at practice today, which is such a bummer."
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Wham Yubeesling
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Sometimes, Maxwell read the books his fellow classmates did.
He wasn’t exactly sure as to why he did so. Maybe it was because he was trying to see what else happened to be popular amongst his friends. Maybe he was bored one day, and did not have anything else on hand. Maybe it was because he wanted to impress someone else, and was willing to take any sacrifice he needed to take in order to do so. Regardless, what he found within the pages was… not of particularly high quality. They seemed to resort to the same ideas, every time. The same cliches, no matter which book he had decided to open on that particular day. Some of these cliches were ones that he had to question. Maybe they made for a story that people liked, but did they reflect on what actually tended to occur within this world? If Maxwell, or someone else, approached the world the way these books did, how far would they make it?
Maxwell did not know the answer to either of those questions. He did know, however, that some of those cliches did seem to be rooted in reality, at the very least. Although it was entirely possible that none of the other things he had seen would realistically happen in real life, at least the writers were correct in that cafeteria food really was awful.
He stared down at the pile of brown glop he was supposed to eat. It was some sort of meat, he imagined. He wasn’t entirely sure what kind, but he supposed that could make it partially edible. He had remembered hearing something, in one of his science classes. If he pinched his nose shut, he could avoid having to taste it. It was unsightly, it was unbecoming, but it was a necessary sacrifice. One that it seemed he had to make. So he put his fork in the meat, putting his hands over his nose. He rose the fork, and-
A familiar voice called out, greeting him. He looked up to see who it was.
Oh no.
“Hello, Lyndi.”
Lyndi Thibodeaux was someone he respected. Quite a lot, in fact. Although the two had not had the chance to interact with each other much, that still didn’t mean they were from different circles. Quite the opposite, in fact. They were both popular, they were both in that spot on top of the social stratosphere. That meant, at the very least, that he had to show some respect for her, somewhat by default. There were other aspects he liked, of course. Her clothing. Her sense of style. He wasn’t so fond as to the way she seemed to be the same way with everyone - he wasn’t exactly sure what the point was in doing that, especially to the people cast out - but that was ignorable. The short of it was, he liked her. He respected her.
So the fact that she was the one who found him sitting here was quite an issue. Enough of one to make him consider abandoning the situation altogether, and finding somewhere else.
But a fact that he knew was that he couldn’t do that. Lyndi was someone he liked. Lyndi was someone he respected. Maybe if it was somebody like Clio or Eris he might have considered it, but if he did this to Lyndi, he could risk jettisoning his relationship with her.
So, he supposed he had to say something.
“This table’s free, although if you don’t mind I will ask: why don’t you happen to be at practice today?”
He wasn’t exactly sure as to why he did so. Maybe it was because he was trying to see what else happened to be popular amongst his friends. Maybe he was bored one day, and did not have anything else on hand. Maybe it was because he wanted to impress someone else, and was willing to take any sacrifice he needed to take in order to do so. Regardless, what he found within the pages was… not of particularly high quality. They seemed to resort to the same ideas, every time. The same cliches, no matter which book he had decided to open on that particular day. Some of these cliches were ones that he had to question. Maybe they made for a story that people liked, but did they reflect on what actually tended to occur within this world? If Maxwell, or someone else, approached the world the way these books did, how far would they make it?
Maxwell did not know the answer to either of those questions. He did know, however, that some of those cliches did seem to be rooted in reality, at the very least. Although it was entirely possible that none of the other things he had seen would realistically happen in real life, at least the writers were correct in that cafeteria food really was awful.
He stared down at the pile of brown glop he was supposed to eat. It was some sort of meat, he imagined. He wasn’t entirely sure what kind, but he supposed that could make it partially edible. He had remembered hearing something, in one of his science classes. If he pinched his nose shut, he could avoid having to taste it. It was unsightly, it was unbecoming, but it was a necessary sacrifice. One that it seemed he had to make. So he put his fork in the meat, putting his hands over his nose. He rose the fork, and-
A familiar voice called out, greeting him. He looked up to see who it was.
Oh no.
“Hello, Lyndi.”
Lyndi Thibodeaux was someone he respected. Quite a lot, in fact. Although the two had not had the chance to interact with each other much, that still didn’t mean they were from different circles. Quite the opposite, in fact. They were both popular, they were both in that spot on top of the social stratosphere. That meant, at the very least, that he had to show some respect for her, somewhat by default. There were other aspects he liked, of course. Her clothing. Her sense of style. He wasn’t so fond as to the way she seemed to be the same way with everyone - he wasn’t exactly sure what the point was in doing that, especially to the people cast out - but that was ignorable. The short of it was, he liked her. He respected her.
So the fact that she was the one who found him sitting here was quite an issue. Enough of one to make him consider abandoning the situation altogether, and finding somewhere else.
But a fact that he knew was that he couldn’t do that. Lyndi was someone he liked. Lyndi was someone he respected. Maybe if it was somebody like Clio or Eris he might have considered it, but if he did this to Lyndi, he could risk jettisoning his relationship with her.
So, he supposed he had to say something.
“This table’s free, although if you don’t mind I will ask: why don’t you happen to be at practice today?”
Lyndi absentmindedly wiped away an already clean spot on the table before removing her lunch (a granola bar, bag of almonds and a salad roll - hey, there were carbs in there, but they also contained a salad!). Her major worries about where she was going to locate herself now gone, she started thinking again. Were all the girls out having fun training right now? At least that was something. She couldn't be peppy and bouncy this week, but give it a few more and she'd be back into the spirit of things.
But Maxwell seemed to appreciate her presence! She'd never really paid much mind about him before, never really let his words towards other people get to her that much even though meanness was not really something she tried to associate with because life was way too great to get brought down by something as silly as the mean words of a boy from across the Atlantic Ocean, but he always seemed to feel mostly the same way about Lyndi that Lyndi felt about him, and she was fine with that.
He did broach the question of why she wasn't at practice though. She quickly swallowed the bite of granola she'd taken at that moment, before clearing her throat once more.
"Oh, that old thing. Well remember how, like, that time during that game last year where I landed wrong and my knee popped out?" Lyndi started, only slightly grimacing at remembering one of the most simultaneously mortifying and terrifying incidents of her life.
"Well, sorta the same thing happened last week, but...well, not really the same thing actually, but my ankle rolled when I landed wrong so now I need to stay off it for a few weeks. Which sucks, but, well, y'know, coulda been worse!"
Lyndi smiled, before exactly remembering who Maxwell was and what he normally did when lunch came around. Nine out of ten times, it wasn't in here, let that be said.
"So what brings you in here? Don't actually think I've seen you eat from the cafeteria before, like, ever."
But Maxwell seemed to appreciate her presence! She'd never really paid much mind about him before, never really let his words towards other people get to her that much even though meanness was not really something she tried to associate with because life was way too great to get brought down by something as silly as the mean words of a boy from across the Atlantic Ocean, but he always seemed to feel mostly the same way about Lyndi that Lyndi felt about him, and she was fine with that.
He did broach the question of why she wasn't at practice though. She quickly swallowed the bite of granola she'd taken at that moment, before clearing her throat once more.
"Oh, that old thing. Well remember how, like, that time during that game last year where I landed wrong and my knee popped out?" Lyndi started, only slightly grimacing at remembering one of the most simultaneously mortifying and terrifying incidents of her life.
"Well, sorta the same thing happened last week, but...well, not really the same thing actually, but my ankle rolled when I landed wrong so now I need to stay off it for a few weeks. Which sucks, but, well, y'know, coulda been worse!"
Lyndi smiled, before exactly remembering who Maxwell was and what he normally did when lunch came around. Nine out of ten times, it wasn't in here, let that be said.
"So what brings you in here? Don't actually think I've seen you eat from the cafeteria before, like, ever."
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Wham Yubeesling
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“Yes, I remember that.”
Thank you, Lyndi Thibodeaux, for reminding Maxwell of one of the most disgusting things he had ever seen in his life. Well, it probably wasn’t too bad, in all honesty, but having been to the game that Lyndi was talking about, it had been the sight that had stayed in his mind long past anything else that he had seen during a school game. Not that there was a lot of competition, regarding that. He hadn’t been to many school games. Of course, he had occasionally gone as part of an effort to keep up appearances, but he couldn’t classify any of the games he had seen as ‘entertainment.’ Entertainment was reading a book, or playing a game of chess, not watching nearly grown men barge into each other or kick a ball around.
But yes, he did know what Lyndi was referring to, regrettably. He had been there because his date for the night had also happened to be on the cheer team. He couldn’t quite remember who it was, off of the top of his head. He’d had a couple dates during that time period, and they all seemed to mesh together, somewhat. It couldn’t really be helped.
…
He felt awful, thinking that. They were people that he’d dated. They were people that he’d spent time with. They were people that he’d held respect for, at the time. Regardless of how it had gone, he should be able to remember her name.
Then why couldn’t he?
…
That was a question he wasn’t sure of the answer to. Regardless, it didn’t matter. He was talking to Lyndi right now, and it was his duty as a fellow student and lunchmate to talk to her.
“That must, um… suck. How long do you think it will be until you’re able to practice again?” The question was out of concern, as slight as it may have been. Lyndi, although again they didn’t interact much, was a person within this school that he respected. That seemed to imply a certain degree of care, so as such Maxwell found himself asking the question. Not as a way to make her like him more, not as a calculated social move in order to keep himself at the top, it was something definate. Something truthful.
He might have been almost happy at the fact that she was the one who found him, until she asked the dreaded question.
He supposed that there wasn’t really anything more to it.
He sighed.
Here goes.
“My parents neglected to pack my lunch today. Hence, I seem to need to be here.”
Surprisingly, it didn’t go as bad as Maxwell imagined it would have.
He supposed that that was just something that came naturally, with the talent he possessed.
“You?”
Thank you, Lyndi Thibodeaux, for reminding Maxwell of one of the most disgusting things he had ever seen in his life. Well, it probably wasn’t too bad, in all honesty, but having been to the game that Lyndi was talking about, it had been the sight that had stayed in his mind long past anything else that he had seen during a school game. Not that there was a lot of competition, regarding that. He hadn’t been to many school games. Of course, he had occasionally gone as part of an effort to keep up appearances, but he couldn’t classify any of the games he had seen as ‘entertainment.’ Entertainment was reading a book, or playing a game of chess, not watching nearly grown men barge into each other or kick a ball around.
But yes, he did know what Lyndi was referring to, regrettably. He had been there because his date for the night had also happened to be on the cheer team. He couldn’t quite remember who it was, off of the top of his head. He’d had a couple dates during that time period, and they all seemed to mesh together, somewhat. It couldn’t really be helped.
…
He felt awful, thinking that. They were people that he’d dated. They were people that he’d spent time with. They were people that he’d held respect for, at the time. Regardless of how it had gone, he should be able to remember her name.
Then why couldn’t he?
…
That was a question he wasn’t sure of the answer to. Regardless, it didn’t matter. He was talking to Lyndi right now, and it was his duty as a fellow student and lunchmate to talk to her.
“That must, um… suck. How long do you think it will be until you’re able to practice again?” The question was out of concern, as slight as it may have been. Lyndi, although again they didn’t interact much, was a person within this school that he respected. That seemed to imply a certain degree of care, so as such Maxwell found himself asking the question. Not as a way to make her like him more, not as a calculated social move in order to keep himself at the top, it was something definate. Something truthful.
He might have been almost happy at the fact that she was the one who found him, until she asked the dreaded question.
He supposed that there wasn’t really anything more to it.
He sighed.
Here goes.
“My parents neglected to pack my lunch today. Hence, I seem to need to be here.”
Surprisingly, it didn’t go as bad as Maxwell imagined it would have.
He supposed that that was just something that came naturally, with the talent he possessed.
“You?”
((Jeanette Buendia: SCDos pregame start))
(Assassination of Lyndi is okay btw)
Jeanette's little ears spied on people conversation. It wasn't really spying though, their conversation could be heard from everywhere. Well, if you were close enough and chewed carefully to avoid to miss out bits of conversation here and there.
Chomp, chomp. She shallowed her celery, letting the water slide down her throat. She shoved the rest inside of mouth, crushing it under her teeth. With a quick hand, she pulled out a juice box and wrapped her lips around the straw. Apple juice scored pretty high in her favorites if she had to rate them. However, wild berries and exotic fruits were the duo at the top of the ladder.
Like a trickster in the night with a knife in her hand (which happened to be a juice box), she slowly slide behind her targets. Well, one of her targets. She slowly put her weapon in her flower-patterned lunch box. She slung it behind her back, putting it under her armpit. She was glad that she learn on Facebook how mobile someone can be with something secured in between their arms. Prank videos truly are a work of contemporary art.
The nymph was now close to the cheerleader. A grin spread across her mouth as she slowly moved her face toward the base of her head. She thought about how pretty her hair was but went back to her plan. The pixie bend her neck, looking at her girl's right ear. As if she was about to whistle, she made an o-shape with her lips and, without hesitation, sent a bullet made of air directly inside of the girl's head.
(Assassination of Lyndi is okay btw)
Jeanette's little ears spied on people conversation. It wasn't really spying though, their conversation could be heard from everywhere. Well, if you were close enough and chewed carefully to avoid to miss out bits of conversation here and there.
Chomp, chomp. She shallowed her celery, letting the water slide down her throat. She shoved the rest inside of mouth, crushing it under her teeth. With a quick hand, she pulled out a juice box and wrapped her lips around the straw. Apple juice scored pretty high in her favorites if she had to rate them. However, wild berries and exotic fruits were the duo at the top of the ladder.
Like a trickster in the night with a knife in her hand (which happened to be a juice box), she slowly slide behind her targets. Well, one of her targets. She slowly put her weapon in her flower-patterned lunch box. She slung it behind her back, putting it under her armpit. She was glad that she learn on Facebook how mobile someone can be with something secured in between their arms. Prank videos truly are a work of contemporary art.
The nymph was now close to the cheerleader. A grin spread across her mouth as she slowly moved her face toward the base of her head. She thought about how pretty her hair was but went back to her plan. The pixie bend her neck, looking at her girl's right ear. As if she was about to whistle, she made an o-shape with her lips and, without hesitation, sent a bullet made of air directly inside of the girl's head.
"Oh, I'll only be hanging up the uniform for a few weeks, then I'll be good to go! Go cheer, I mean."
The next statement caught Lyndi by surprise. Maxwell's parents packed his lunch? Odd. Must have been a British thing. Ever since Lyndi was 15 she'd been packing her own lunches every morning before school, aside from the few instances she instead borrowed some money from her parents to buy lunch here in the cafeteria. Her parents were busy, how were they supposed to know the nutrients and macros she needed to get through the day? And as much as she'd love to say her family had their own private cook who could whip something up for her, neither of her parents ever even entertained the idea. She wasn't going to have her own personal chef at college now, was she?
Maxwell asked the same question back at her, though, so time to respond rather than contemplating the life of having someone cook for you every day.
"Oh, I always eat here - usually it's with more friends, but yeah it's always here. I mean, it's hard to plan a spot to eat out somewhere else in the school, y'know, 'cause what if someone else gets there first? Then we all gotta move, and find a new place, and what if that place is taken too? Then we'll all start wandering around the school, and it'd look silly, y'know? But since everyone else is at cheer today-"
Lyndi's sentence was interrupted when a loud burst of cold whisked by her ear. Of course it probably wasn't actually loud, but since it was right in her ear, it was, for all intents and purposes. It took Lyndi by such surprise that she instinctively did several things. One of which was retract her legs into her chest, although since there was a table in between the two her knees instead banged loudly onto the table's underside. Another of which was she jolted her hands up to her ears, but since one of them contained a small ziplock bag of almonds half of them flung into the air and scattered across the table.
And she also let out a short, unintentional shriek.
Lyndi Thibodeaux: STARTLED
She knew who this was. Who else was it going to be?
"JEANIE!" Lyndi shrieked again exasperatedly, well aware of all the people at the tables around them looking at her in disbelief, probably including Maxwell right in front of her. She was half laughing from the sudden scare, but she still instinctively aimed her hand in a slapping motion at where she thought Jeanette's arm would be.
The next statement caught Lyndi by surprise. Maxwell's parents packed his lunch? Odd. Must have been a British thing. Ever since Lyndi was 15 she'd been packing her own lunches every morning before school, aside from the few instances she instead borrowed some money from her parents to buy lunch here in the cafeteria. Her parents were busy, how were they supposed to know the nutrients and macros she needed to get through the day? And as much as she'd love to say her family had their own private cook who could whip something up for her, neither of her parents ever even entertained the idea. She wasn't going to have her own personal chef at college now, was she?
Maxwell asked the same question back at her, though, so time to respond rather than contemplating the life of having someone cook for you every day.
"Oh, I always eat here - usually it's with more friends, but yeah it's always here. I mean, it's hard to plan a spot to eat out somewhere else in the school, y'know, 'cause what if someone else gets there first? Then we all gotta move, and find a new place, and what if that place is taken too? Then we'll all start wandering around the school, and it'd look silly, y'know? But since everyone else is at cheer today-"
Lyndi's sentence was interrupted when a loud burst of cold whisked by her ear. Of course it probably wasn't actually loud, but since it was right in her ear, it was, for all intents and purposes. It took Lyndi by such surprise that she instinctively did several things. One of which was retract her legs into her chest, although since there was a table in between the two her knees instead banged loudly onto the table's underside. Another of which was she jolted her hands up to her ears, but since one of them contained a small ziplock bag of almonds half of them flung into the air and scattered across the table.
And she also let out a short, unintentional shriek.
Lyndi Thibodeaux: STARTLED
She knew who this was. Who else was it going to be?
"JEANIE!" Lyndi shrieked again exasperatedly, well aware of all the people at the tables around them looking at her in disbelief, probably including Maxwell right in front of her. She was half laughing from the sudden scare, but she still instinctively aimed her hand in a slapping motion at where she thought Jeanette's arm would be.
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Wham Yubeesling
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Maxwell smirked.
“That would be good for you.”
The obvious next step for him was to listen to what Lyndi was saying, and respond accordingly. It was a social convention that Maxwell had figured out, over the years. Obviously, he had to respond to her, as then it wouldn’t be a conversation. However, he had to let her speak, because if he didn’t do that he would overpower her and make the conversation be all about what he was saying, which tended to turn the person off of him. Since Lyndi was a person that - again - Maxwell respected, that was not an ideal scenario for him. So he performed via what he deemed as the optimal strategy. Worked, and he could do it without thinking about it.
Even if, admittedly, he was his own favourite topic.
But regardless, the plan was in action. Or at least, it had been until the goddamn shriek came from Lyndi’s throat and Maxwell quite figuratively jumped out of his seat as almonds spread themselves across the table.
Jeanette Buendia was someone that Maxwell definitely happened to know. Like Lyndi, they had yet to share many one-on-one conversations with each other, but they both seemed to be in the same social stratosphere, and he had at the very least heard of her. Well, more of the stories of her than of her as a person, but he imagined that they would still count, since from what he had heard of her, they were likely to be one and the same. Of course, there was always the possibility that he was wrong, and besides, he was pretty sure that calling a girl a slut - regardless of whether it was true or not - was not a good way to endear himself to that person.
The problem was, Maxwell did not know a lot about Jeanette as a person other than that.
That was an issue that he needed to rectify, but he oped to give a silent wave as he watched the two, for now.
Maybe in the meantime he could figure out how to eat this. The almonds would stay there. It was someone else's job to clean those up, anyway.
“That would be good for you.”
The obvious next step for him was to listen to what Lyndi was saying, and respond accordingly. It was a social convention that Maxwell had figured out, over the years. Obviously, he had to respond to her, as then it wouldn’t be a conversation. However, he had to let her speak, because if he didn’t do that he would overpower her and make the conversation be all about what he was saying, which tended to turn the person off of him. Since Lyndi was a person that - again - Maxwell respected, that was not an ideal scenario for him. So he performed via what he deemed as the optimal strategy. Worked, and he could do it without thinking about it.
Even if, admittedly, he was his own favourite topic.
But regardless, the plan was in action. Or at least, it had been until the goddamn shriek came from Lyndi’s throat and Maxwell quite figuratively jumped out of his seat as almonds spread themselves across the table.
Jeanette Buendia was someone that Maxwell definitely happened to know. Like Lyndi, they had yet to share many one-on-one conversations with each other, but they both seemed to be in the same social stratosphere, and he had at the very least heard of her. Well, more of the stories of her than of her as a person, but he imagined that they would still count, since from what he had heard of her, they were likely to be one and the same. Of course, there was always the possibility that he was wrong, and besides, he was pretty sure that calling a girl a slut - regardless of whether it was true or not - was not a good way to endear himself to that person.
The problem was, Maxwell did not know a lot about Jeanette as a person other than that.
That was an issue that he needed to rectify, but he oped to give a silent wave as he watched the two, for now.
Maybe in the meantime he could figure out how to eat this. The almonds would stay there. It was someone else's job to clean those up, anyway.
Ouch.
She slapped her arm. That wasn't very nice but she couldn't complain: she sneaked up on someone and scared them so she had coming.
She'd rather not get hit again, she likes not being in pain but it's the life she chose. Being a prankster had its perks but had responsabilities involving getting whacked sometimes.
She jokingly continued.
''Ugh, I can't believe you hit me with that fat arm of yours... so rude!''
She pulled her tongue and crossed her arm.
''So mean... so unnecessary... so... sorry!''
She let a giggle out. Her laugh bounced around her, coming from her stomach. She made herself laugh and landed a kiss on Lyndi's temple.
''You are forgiven, Lyndi! Anyways, am I interrupting a date 'cause if yes, threesome is better than being lonesome.''
She sat down beside Lyndi, putting her legs under the table and pulling her tongue, again, at Lyndi.
She slapped her arm. That wasn't very nice but she couldn't complain: she sneaked up on someone and scared them so she had coming.
She'd rather not get hit again, she likes not being in pain but it's the life she chose. Being a prankster had its perks but had responsabilities involving getting whacked sometimes.
She jokingly continued.
''Ugh, I can't believe you hit me with that fat arm of yours... so rude!''
She pulled her tongue and crossed her arm.
''So mean... so unnecessary... so... sorry!''
She let a giggle out. Her laugh bounced around her, coming from her stomach. She made herself laugh and landed a kiss on Lyndi's temple.
''You are forgiven, Lyndi! Anyways, am I interrupting a date 'cause if yes, threesome is better than being lonesome.''
She sat down beside Lyndi, putting her legs under the table and pulling her tongue, again, at Lyndi.
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$erpent453*
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:27 pm
His school day hadn't been particularly interesting. At least, until he witnessed the "Shriek Heard Round the World."
He had just gotten out of the lunch line of filthy, sort of fat, and really desperate students and was contemplating whether or not he should chew out one of the lunch ladies for her rude behavior as well as the rather shitty quality of the meat they were serving when the shriek happened. Beforehand, he had fought through a smog of stink and a tidal wave of sweaty teenagers who were too poor to look for a meal (or, in his case, grinned and bared it because his parents actually, you know, taught him the value and importance of food and that, you know, life won't give you everything you want so you better make the most of it while it's around!) It was only a few minutes into the lunch period, and it already resembled a slaughterhouse full of pigs and cows and other animals served to man for a good meal. But that all changed when the lunch room was filled with the loud, absorbing, if brief, scream.
(Alexander Bonham Pregame Start)
Alexander turned his head towards the commotion, forgetting about his attempt to find an empty table and to avoid the dirty looks most of the students gave him when he walked past. He pushed his glasses into place, green eyes gazing through the crowd towards the one table occupied by a trio of, apparently, neanderthals. From where he was -he was standing in the middle of a crowd of onlookers directly behind the threesome that had stood up to get a closer look. He was just barely tall enough to peer over the crowd- he couldn't see much, but he did not immediately recognize anyone at the table. One of them he thought he recognized, but their name escaped him for the moment.
A closer look -a squint, to him, since he wasn't exactly close- however, revealed one individual he did recognize. Who could forget that spiky hair with red dots at the tips of each spike? THAT was hair you certainly didn't see everyday, and he meant that literally. Maxwell Lombardi NEVER showed up to the main lunch room.
Soon, the crowd had dispersed, sitting back down in their respective seats to continue their meals and act like what had just happened never happened in the first place. That left him more or less the only one standing in the room. Normally, he would have just shrugged and go over to a nearby trash can and plop himself down next to it and enjoy his meal there.
But there he was, mister Maxwell Lombardi. He couldn't resist.
He strode quickly over towards their table, posture straight. He didn't even bother to cover his approach; they could see him coming from a mile away.
"Well, if it isn't Queen Lombardi and her humble servants," he said, walking behind Maxwell before stopping a few inches or so to his side. Bonham smirked. "Come to finally dine with us common serfs, me lord?"
He had just gotten out of the lunch line of filthy, sort of fat, and really desperate students and was contemplating whether or not he should chew out one of the lunch ladies for her rude behavior as well as the rather shitty quality of the meat they were serving when the shriek happened. Beforehand, he had fought through a smog of stink and a tidal wave of sweaty teenagers who were too poor to look for a meal (or, in his case, grinned and bared it because his parents actually, you know, taught him the value and importance of food and that, you know, life won't give you everything you want so you better make the most of it while it's around!) It was only a few minutes into the lunch period, and it already resembled a slaughterhouse full of pigs and cows and other animals served to man for a good meal. But that all changed when the lunch room was filled with the loud, absorbing, if brief, scream.
(Alexander Bonham Pregame Start)
Alexander turned his head towards the commotion, forgetting about his attempt to find an empty table and to avoid the dirty looks most of the students gave him when he walked past. He pushed his glasses into place, green eyes gazing through the crowd towards the one table occupied by a trio of, apparently, neanderthals. From where he was -he was standing in the middle of a crowd of onlookers directly behind the threesome that had stood up to get a closer look. He was just barely tall enough to peer over the crowd- he couldn't see much, but he did not immediately recognize anyone at the table. One of them he thought he recognized, but their name escaped him for the moment.
A closer look -a squint, to him, since he wasn't exactly close- however, revealed one individual he did recognize. Who could forget that spiky hair with red dots at the tips of each spike? THAT was hair you certainly didn't see everyday, and he meant that literally. Maxwell Lombardi NEVER showed up to the main lunch room.
Soon, the crowd had dispersed, sitting back down in their respective seats to continue their meals and act like what had just happened never happened in the first place. That left him more or less the only one standing in the room. Normally, he would have just shrugged and go over to a nearby trash can and plop himself down next to it and enjoy his meal there.
But there he was, mister Maxwell Lombardi. He couldn't resist.
He strode quickly over towards their table, posture straight. He didn't even bother to cover his approach; they could see him coming from a mile away.
"Well, if it isn't Queen Lombardi and her humble servants," he said, walking behind Maxwell before stopping a few inches or so to his side. Bonham smirked. "Come to finally dine with us common serfs, me lord?"
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In a few minutes, Lyndi might see the humour in it all. However, that would have to be long after her heart stopped going 240bpm. She'd lost one of her favourite snacks all over the table, and considering this was a public school she was in no way intending to retrieve them to finish them off. There's no telling who was eating what or what was being spread across the surface here, and she was in no way willing to take the risk.
She did, however, like Jeanie enough that she was willing to let it slide, if only just for lunch.
Right before she sat down, however, she posed the question. Lyndi's eyes shot open. A date? With Maxwell Lombardi?
"What? Oh, no, no no no no no, it's not a date, we're just having lunch together!" Lyndi exclaimed, before realizing she'd objected rather quickly to the prospect of a date with Maxwell and he wasn't even the one who brought it up. Oof, she really didn't think it through that much before she spoke, did she? She honestly had nothing against Maxwell, and she would definitely go on a date with him if he asked her. Lyndi was always a bit nervous about the prospect of dating, though, even if she shouldn't be. It always felt like she had to put up a front, act like she think boys expected her to act in a date situation, and she could never really be herself. She did it for so long with Adonis it put her off the whole boyfriend endeavour altogether, especially considering how he turned out later down the line - that was a massive bullet dodged right there.
"So sure, you can join us!" Lyndi said anyway, even though she had already sat down and had already joined them. It was the formality of the thing.
Just then, they were joined by another boy. 'Joined' in this case meaning that he'd decided to come up behind Maxwell and make a mean comment about Maxwell dining with the "surfs", whatever that meant. Was that a California joke? She hated those, just because she was blonde and pretty it didn't meant she was worth less than anyone else in New Jersey, so stop it!
Either way, this boy was so rude right now, so Lyndi just pursed her lips as she narrowed her eyes at the new boy. He wasn't popular, so she didn't know who he was, but he wasn't exactly being the world's biggest people pleaser.
She did, however, like Jeanie enough that she was willing to let it slide, if only just for lunch.
Right before she sat down, however, she posed the question. Lyndi's eyes shot open. A date? With Maxwell Lombardi?
"What? Oh, no, no no no no no, it's not a date, we're just having lunch together!" Lyndi exclaimed, before realizing she'd objected rather quickly to the prospect of a date with Maxwell and he wasn't even the one who brought it up. Oof, she really didn't think it through that much before she spoke, did she? She honestly had nothing against Maxwell, and she would definitely go on a date with him if he asked her. Lyndi was always a bit nervous about the prospect of dating, though, even if she shouldn't be. It always felt like she had to put up a front, act like she think boys expected her to act in a date situation, and she could never really be herself. She did it for so long with Adonis it put her off the whole boyfriend endeavour altogether, especially considering how he turned out later down the line - that was a massive bullet dodged right there.
"So sure, you can join us!" Lyndi said anyway, even though she had already sat down and had already joined them. It was the formality of the thing.
Just then, they were joined by another boy. 'Joined' in this case meaning that he'd decided to come up behind Maxwell and make a mean comment about Maxwell dining with the "surfs", whatever that meant. Was that a California joke? She hated those, just because she was blonde and pretty it didn't meant she was worth less than anyone else in New Jersey, so stop it!
Either way, this boy was so rude right now, so Lyndi just pursed her lips as she narrowed her eyes at the new boy. He wasn't popular, so she didn't know who he was, but he wasn't exactly being the world's biggest people pleaser.
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
“Oh, no. We’re not a couple.”
That was fairly important information. A fact that had to be stated as soon as possible, or the sake of preventing any awkwardness trying to present itself within the conversation. Well, maybe preventing awkwardness was impossible, but he imagined that the circumstance that him and Lyndi both spoke at the same time produced significantly less awkwardness than whatever would have happened had neither of the two said anything. It was a safety measure, for the most part. Something that would protect himself from the honestly quite odd question Jeanette had asked the two. Well, it probably wasn’t that odd, but it blended itself in with the other things Jeanette had said so far.
He supposed that she was still someone to watch. Someone that he just needed to get a sort of idea on before he would learn how to interact with them. He imagined that that would be fairly easy.
...Well, it would be, if more people didn’t suddenly turn up to the table. Particularly people that made interaction with others all that much harder.
Alexander Bonham was not exactly somebody that Maxwell was fond of. He imagined, however, that this was a sentiment that was shared across many of the people he elected to be friends with. Alex was one of those counterculture types that Maxwell had learned to hate ever since he had stepped foot inside this school. Even to this day, types such as Alexander still managed to confuse him. What put him on such a high horse that he thought that it was within his rights to insult Maxwell just because he had put in the effort to become popular? What made him genuinely believe that he was in the right for doing this?
Regardless to what the answer was, though, Alexander was standing right behind him. He supposed he had to say something in response to his oh-so-witty jab.
...And he was almost enjoying himself here, as well. Oh well. He supposed that this was going to be the nature of his day.
“Think less ‘common serfs’ and think more ‘good company,’ Alexander.”
He didn’t turn his head back to look at him. It would be uncomfortable, doing so. Maybe if the person was someone he looked more fondly upon, he would consider it worth it, but Alex was not one of those people. He imagined it didn't really need to be said.
“I’d imagine that someone as distinguished as you say you are would know the difference between those two concepts. Try again.”
That was fairly important information. A fact that had to be stated as soon as possible, or the sake of preventing any awkwardness trying to present itself within the conversation. Well, maybe preventing awkwardness was impossible, but he imagined that the circumstance that him and Lyndi both spoke at the same time produced significantly less awkwardness than whatever would have happened had neither of the two said anything. It was a safety measure, for the most part. Something that would protect himself from the honestly quite odd question Jeanette had asked the two. Well, it probably wasn’t that odd, but it blended itself in with the other things Jeanette had said so far.
He supposed that she was still someone to watch. Someone that he just needed to get a sort of idea on before he would learn how to interact with them. He imagined that that would be fairly easy.
...Well, it would be, if more people didn’t suddenly turn up to the table. Particularly people that made interaction with others all that much harder.
Alexander Bonham was not exactly somebody that Maxwell was fond of. He imagined, however, that this was a sentiment that was shared across many of the people he elected to be friends with. Alex was one of those counterculture types that Maxwell had learned to hate ever since he had stepped foot inside this school. Even to this day, types such as Alexander still managed to confuse him. What put him on such a high horse that he thought that it was within his rights to insult Maxwell just because he had put in the effort to become popular? What made him genuinely believe that he was in the right for doing this?
Regardless to what the answer was, though, Alexander was standing right behind him. He supposed he had to say something in response to his oh-so-witty jab.
...And he was almost enjoying himself here, as well. Oh well. He supposed that this was going to be the nature of his day.
“Think less ‘common serfs’ and think more ‘good company,’ Alexander.”
He didn’t turn his head back to look at him. It would be uncomfortable, doing so. Maybe if the person was someone he looked more fondly upon, he would consider it worth it, but Alex was not one of those people. He imagined it didn't really need to be said.
“I’d imagine that someone as distinguished as you say you are would know the difference between those two concepts. Try again.”
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$erpent453*
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:27 pm
Admittedly, he could've gone with a subtler insult to toss in Max's general direction that didn't directly reference the feudalism-based society that so profoundly encapsulated the lives of those that lived during the Middle Ages, but he couldn't help but feel particularly proud of it nonetheless. It wasn't like anyone ELSE was going to understand what he was talking about. He sort of wanted to explain just what his insult meant to the ladies at the table, but he had learned a long time ago that trying to intelligently give knowledge to those without a care in the world for it was like a nerd arm-wrestling the school's best jock: it's only going to end in failure. He wasn't one to judge based off appearances (or at least he didn't think he was,) but something about the two ladies just made him not want to even bother with giving them a proper explanation of the structure of how his insult worked. Hell, who even were they? They had to be popular, considering Maxwell was even tolerating them.
Whatever. If they were popular, chances are he'd piss them off enough for them to blow up at him just by standing there longer than needed. Or maybe just by sitting down.
"Ah, yes, good company. Understandable and smart. I'd certainly like to socialize with... um... whoever these people happen to be." He waved his hand in the two ladies general directions, chuckling a bit when he noticed the look of disapproval on Lyndi's face.
He paused for a short moment, seeing Maxwell wasn't even looking at him. He then turned his head back towards the ladies. "You think if I got down on my hands and knees, spat on my hand, and proceeded to spit-shine his dress shoes that he'd give me the time of day to acknowledge me, or do I need to do something else to prove his superiority to me? Perhaps I need to remove his underpants and suck his dick instead? What do you two think?"
He placed his tray on the table, though made no move to actually try to sit down. If he was going to give them a chance, then he might as well do everything in his power to ensure THEY give HIM one as well. Unless they did actually want him to start giving blowjobs, in which case, fuck that shit, trash can he would go.
Whatever. If they were popular, chances are he'd piss them off enough for them to blow up at him just by standing there longer than needed. Or maybe just by sitting down.
"Ah, yes, good company. Understandable and smart. I'd certainly like to socialize with... um... whoever these people happen to be." He waved his hand in the two ladies general directions, chuckling a bit when he noticed the look of disapproval on Lyndi's face.
He paused for a short moment, seeing Maxwell wasn't even looking at him. He then turned his head back towards the ladies. "You think if I got down on my hands and knees, spat on my hand, and proceeded to spit-shine his dress shoes that he'd give me the time of day to acknowledge me, or do I need to do something else to prove his superiority to me? Perhaps I need to remove his underpants and suck his dick instead? What do you two think?"
He placed his tray on the table, though made no move to actually try to sit down. If he was going to give them a chance, then he might as well do everything in his power to ensure THEY give HIM one as well. Unless they did actually want him to start giving blowjobs, in which case, fuck that shit, trash can he would go.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler $erpent453. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Bzzzt.
Bzzzzzzt.
Jeanette pulled out her cellphone and glared at it.
♥london♥: hey where are you?
She smiled softly.
♥london♥: im bored plz
She was about to put it back in her pocket until she received a new notification.
♥london♥: p l e a s e
She rolled her eyes and sighed a little then swung her legs behind the bench, one hand on her lunchbox and the other on her cellphone. She looked at the victim she left for dead, waved at her and whispered ominously, ''See you later.''
She struck a pose and waved at the small group that gathered at the table.
''Gotta' go, bye!''
Jeanette left as she came: on a whim.
(Jeanette left for girl bonding time).
Bzzzzzzt.
Jeanette pulled out her cellphone and glared at it.
♥london♥: hey where are you?
She smiled softly.
♥london♥: im bored plz
She was about to put it back in her pocket until she received a new notification.
♥london♥: p l e a s e
She rolled her eyes and sighed a little then swung her legs behind the bench, one hand on her lunchbox and the other on her cellphone. She looked at the victim she left for dead, waved at her and whispered ominously, ''See you later.''
She struck a pose and waved at the small group that gathered at the table.
''Gotta' go, bye!''
Jeanette left as she came: on a whim.
(Jeanette left for girl bonding time).
If there was one thing Lyndi didn't like in this world, it was jerks.
Even worse than jerks were assholes.
And Alex right now was one of the worst assholes she'd ever met.
It couldn't have just been a really bad first impression, could it? She was willing to think that when he first showed up, but he just more vulgar and more hateful with each passing word. He went way beyond just being an asshole, he just seemed to be doing it for the fun of it, which was another thing Lyndi just couldn't understand.
She managed to work out a smile, a quick change in expression as Jeanie left the table. There was honestly a part of Lyndi that wanted to do the same thing, but with her ankle in her current condition she couldn't really make a quick exit like Jeanie could, what with the clunkiness of the bindings and all, and then there was the matter that someone she liked was being attacked by someone she didn't particularly like. What kind of person would Lyndi be if she just left Maxwell there? Not the kind she knew herself to be, obviously. And then he just put his tray down on the table, like he was welcome there. Which he wasn't.
It was time to show this creep some manners! Or that was what Lyndi would have said in her head were she the more confrontational type when it came to this sort of thing. Maxwell was good at it, but Lyndi? Not so much. She didn't spend enough time thinking about how to insult people at a moment's notice so she never really got enough training in it.
But maybe she could just ask him what was up. After Maxwell briefly responded, she opened her lips.
"Well, I dunno, like, but...maybe if you weren't so obsessed with Maxwell, you'd be less angry?"
Lyndi paused.
"Like...you don't look like you smile a lot. Maybe you could try that. Always gets me through the day!"
Even worse than jerks were assholes.
And Alex right now was one of the worst assholes she'd ever met.
It couldn't have just been a really bad first impression, could it? She was willing to think that when he first showed up, but he just more vulgar and more hateful with each passing word. He went way beyond just being an asshole, he just seemed to be doing it for the fun of it, which was another thing Lyndi just couldn't understand.
She managed to work out a smile, a quick change in expression as Jeanie left the table. There was honestly a part of Lyndi that wanted to do the same thing, but with her ankle in her current condition she couldn't really make a quick exit like Jeanie could, what with the clunkiness of the bindings and all, and then there was the matter that someone she liked was being attacked by someone she didn't particularly like. What kind of person would Lyndi be if she just left Maxwell there? Not the kind she knew herself to be, obviously. And then he just put his tray down on the table, like he was welcome there. Which he wasn't.
It was time to show this creep some manners! Or that was what Lyndi would have said in her head were she the more confrontational type when it came to this sort of thing. Maxwell was good at it, but Lyndi? Not so much. She didn't spend enough time thinking about how to insult people at a moment's notice so she never really got enough training in it.
But maybe she could just ask him what was up. After Maxwell briefly responded, she opened her lips.
"Well, I dunno, like, but...maybe if you weren't so obsessed with Maxwell, you'd be less angry?"
Lyndi paused.
"Like...you don't look like you smile a lot. Maybe you could try that. Always gets me through the day!"