I Carry Only The Finest

[Cicadan]

(she really needed to stop eating. This wasn't Lays)

SB05 helped subtract the distance between herself and SB11, though there was a shyness to where she allowed herself to settle. Not close enough that they didn't have enough space left for the holy spirit between themselves, SB05 putting most her weight on the independent hip. Her gaze worked the angles between the two teammates- one taller, and one having put away her gun some time ago in exchange for the junk food she was still mechanically chomping at bits of.

"For sure. You went all out with the layering today, like, good god be still my heart."

She efficiently rolled the opened top of the bag shut, two quick folds. Eyes lingered like the thorny script of a math problem had been written out onto her own bandanna, and that parallel to her. As if trying to double check the colors, as if trying to make sure.

Her eyes went every which way, every now and then. From an outside perspective it was hard to understand what exactly SB05 caught, what she missed. Body language, subtle phrasings, all the finer points of analyzing a typical TV scene.

"Sylvain, apparently." SB05 watched him while talking to SB11, a disaffected glare that split the difference between trying to pulverize bone and watching paint dry. "Who else." She easily lost the lead. Stared at someone else as if they were important, then failed to see the difference. "Who else who else. Akeno. Seo-yun. Fisk. Vasily. Maybe that try-hard Ivan?" The question mark was cursory, zoomer tone without zoomer energy. "If any of them are here, even. We don't necessarily know everyone who ended up on the trip, right?"

She shrugged.

"Anyways, Stokes is being vague."

(she was, thus, thoroughly immersed into that prototypical scene set-up for the opening days of a TV season, which some of the more academic critiques on YouTube would call 'handshakes', whatever that was supposed to mean? The conversation would feel kinda artificial and Epstein didn't kill himself degrees of staged from the outside looking in because the conversations would awkwardly limp on around moments of constant interjections that would keep the person actually saying something important in a given handshake from saying something while the other NPCs- to use another common and kinda sus term the smart ones liked using- who were breathing the same air as the actual main character kept putting in their own redundant input that people doing clips and highlights would have to jump cut around)

(and yeah this did feel like one of those moments, but once again Lucille definitely didn't feel like it was familiar despite having watched this exact thing happen like a hundred-some times)

"So we should probably just leave her to it. Chris, Sylvain, you guys can also come with us if you want? The team thing isn't like, a hard and fast rule, we don't have to... uh. Be enemies yet." She'd paused, visibly thinking of the words, visibly trying to unstick some cog right behind the temple of her skull, the way her crow's feet had briefly poked through the veneer of her youth.

[Namira]

"I said a service. Like, a store. Ima just not getting into it when you're already talkin' bout teams."

[SansaSaver]

So Sylvain had a car battery. Hefty, ultimately as useless as her bugle in a fight unless he was planning to bludgeon someone with it and that didn’t seem his style. But a mechanic’s workshop with Stokely, Sylvain, and Chris as the proprietors? That was bizarre enough that it almost made sense for the three of them.

Lucille complimented her outfit and Sofia found herself struck with a strong sense of appreciation. A compliment from Lucille was a big deal, given how clearly she prided her stylistic senses and how unashamed she was when critiquing other’s outfit choices. Honestly, Sofia did have regrets about what she was wearing -- velvet and heels weren't practical in the slightest, and she found herself longing for jeans or ankle boots instead. But at least she’d been caught on a day that she was camera ready.

“Love what you’re wearing too. Monochrome is hard to pull off without being boring to me, but the textures really work. And the glasses are a nice touch.”

Lucille was also the only one to really answer her ten-kills question with any real depth of thought, clearly taking her time as she selected a few viable options. Sofia believed Lucille knew what she was talking about, biases aside, and could likely gauge people’s future paths with some degree of accuracy given how well she knew the game. The names she rattled off were mostly just that to Sofia, barely conjuring only faint faces in her mind -- bar one. Vasily. She remembered chain link belts and oversized sundaes and golden arches. And in remembering Vasily she remembered James. God, she hoped James wasn’t here. She hoped he was at home, chilling in a Ralph Lauren sweater, hopefully not watching and counting his blessings that he hadn’t been scooped up too. That was a good image, a comforting one. And until something proved to the contrary, that’s what Sofia decided was reality.

Did she really think Vasily had the potential to take down ten people? Shooting for ten was different than actually achieving it. But there was a little niggle in Sofia’s mind that told her Vasily was more likely to fall at the feet of someone aspiring for an early exit, rather than be the person taking others down.

Sofia was glad Lucille hadn’t wholly shut down the notion of an alliance or truce between the five of them, even inviting Sylvain and Chris to join their duo and leave Stokely to her own devices. That would’ve been fine, if not for the pithy comment directed at the slight ambiguity of Stokely’s plan, which the other was quick to correct.

Sofia could sense a chord of tension brewing in the air from Stokely’s terse response and addressing that kind of thing head on had never been her strong suit. Better to keep her head down and wait out the storm, or create a diversion. Waiting out a storm in this kind of landscape could result in a bullet in the brain, so a distraction was a better choice by far.

Sofia looked at the room’s gilded decor as her mind raced over possibilities. The intricate artwork, the sort she’d one day love to facilitate or create. In another lifetime, this restaurant could’ve been the culmination of her life’s work, the blending of her two crafts together.

“I don’t know, I’ve never had much of an affinity for motors. But we are in a restaurant, and I’m much more adept in the kitchen. So you can stick to your new grease monkey business if you like, and I could whip us up a little something.”

She glanced across the four of them, wanting to draw them all in, erase any battle lines that might have been steadily darkening between them.

“That is unless all of you want to stick with eating Subway and sub-par junk food for your potential last meal.”

[Irina Ivanov]

Chris thumbed up to Stokes, (He didn't appreciate being called a junior, because in the outside world, a one year age gap did not mean jack.) and stood by, already eating one of his packets of food. He was hungry, okay, anyone would be after skipping breakfast! And this whole running a store/running from psychos thing wasn't exactly a thing you should do on an empty stomach.

"Good flipping luck driving a car on the docks. It'll probably be rigged to explode or something showy like that.”

Okay, Chris knew that even by his standards (Which by the way, was not as bad as people say it is!), he rambling being a bit much. Plus, he was talking while eating. Look Chris, you've been hired for a shop, something which is at least remotely normal, and no one here is even threatening or if they are then they are friends. That stupid little spying camera isn’t going to hurt you or anything. Drop it.

...Fuck whoever was watching this.

(And some no-lifers online called him weird for following obscure sport teams.)

SOTF wasn't bad, per say. So many people liked it so there's something good about it, but all this talk about 'shooting for ten' and who would do it was weird. Chris wasn't even sure if it was a 'why are you talking about killing people like that' or if he was just plain confused because he never watched a full season. Like, all he knew about his own team was that his mentor was a goth serial killer last season who was memed into a slutty blonde teenager when her season was live.

Speaking of teams.

"I could come along, but you big Ez-Oh-Tee-Effers are probably going to have to explain to me what we're going to be doing. Goes for the shop and all. It's not like we're going to be winning together or stuff like that, right?"

Might as well, as while there was no immediate danger (Mind you, he was aware he was still pushing the envelope a bit!) get some answers from the closest things to 'experts'. Chris kinda saw himself winning with the team. Seemed like the most reasonable way to win really. But then again, it was still wayyy too soon to be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Chances were he was teamed with Matias, or Verity, or Vasily just to make his day even worse.

"Oh, that'll be glorious! Does the restaurant have any food left though? Didn't see anything back there, nary a fish or fish gutter's back there. Which considering we're surrounded by the ocean is pretty sad."

The fact that someone (By the way, literally who?) suddenly offered to make food in SOTF was pretty laughable and Chris was this close to adding in a mean joke about poisoning the food. But he would take anything over seaweed and gatorade right now.

[backslash]

For fuck's sake, Sylvain had just said he was going to try to kill somebody. Ten somebodies. The important thing wasn't whether or not he meant it, it was just that he'd said it. Out loud, on camera.

And nobody reacted. Not the way they were supposed to. Sylvain's smile wavered at the edges before he fixed it.

Was it really that much to ask for somebody to stop standing around having a chat about whatever they were talking about, he'd already stopped paying attention to Stokes two minutes ago so he didn't know. Was it? Didn't anybody besides Sylvain and Lucille pay attention? Stokes was supposed to know this shit. She ought to have come up with something. Really choked when she was put on the spot, huh?

Lucille got it. Lucille was the only person who got it, besides Sylvain. She was talking about moving, about doing something, because only the two of them seemed to understand that this was the part of the show that you moved past as quickly as possible. This was the boring shit, and the longer people jacked around and acted like everything was normal and okay, the worse it got.

"I'll stick with you, if you feel up for a little grand theft auto," he said breezily to Lucille, turning back to look at her and handily ignoring the shop planning or whatever the fuck that was happening around him. He shifted the car battery to one arm - goddamn that was still heavy - and shifted his sunglasses up to perch on his forehead, right in front of the still-tilted cat ears. He paused to fix those too. He was sure that the whole thing looked incredibly stupid, but that was also kind of the point.

"Whataya think? Want to go have a little adventure and then come back and see how the shop is doing?" He was smiling still, but someone could have found a jab in that, if they wanted to. The eyes of the world on you, and you decide you want to play shopkeeper. Come on.

[Namira]

"It's utility. Value add. Being too much trouble and too useful to take out."

Stokes shrugged.

"Teams ain't all that. Been here two seasons, not enough history to back 'em up.

"Groups ain't enough either. So, make the group something worthwhile. Increase your chances with everyone.

"Try jack up those little percentages you have. That's all anyone can do."

She was addressing Chris and Chris's question mostly, though keeping half an eye on the others. It was more cards than she wanted to play right away, especially to Lucille, but everyone was here and actively talking, still, and being an antisocial weirdo wasn't gonna do much to change that. Stokes just started setting up, ignoring everyone? Great way to get shot or run out of her own place.

Sofia wanted to cook-was she gonna do that or was she gonna go with Lucille? Ugh. Stokes wanted to explore the place but letting her guard down? Hell to the nah.

"If you're making something, I can join. Wanted to check out the kitchen anyway.

"Or you can go find an underwater car or something, I dunno."

[Cicadan]

She subconsciously thumbed the pleating on her blouse. 100% organic cotton, sustainably sourced, maybe $40 value out of 300 some total.

(understatement was an underrated trope, and Lucille certainly appreciated Sofia's buy in. Black and white and gray emphasized that concept of texture to a pure degree- the clothes themselves had no visual weight except for the shape underneath them. Lucille's drape thus implied the presence of muscle: heavy, without being demanding, without being overwhelming)

(she'd actually, no joke, thought when they'd first taken her that it'd been pretty convenient timing wise? She'd been wearing almost exactly what she might have picked out as a 'signature look'. Brand name. Stylish. But in a way that emphasized herself, rather than what she was wearing. Less Gucci, more Mendoza. There'd probably be some sort of limited release in her name if she got... two, three kills. Posthumous, not posthumous. Either way)

"Well. What we're going to be doing."

(sofia brought interesting things to the table, separate from the maybe-negligible potential of team release. hunkering down long enough to engage in the culinary arts wasn't out of the question? Lucille didn't remember seeing something like that happen all that often, but maybe there was potential to upcycle some of the down-at-the-PortM ingredients into something worth the caloric inefficiency)

SB05 contemplated JL09. Casually, as if it weren't the last time they might see each other alive.

(still couldn't be sure about Stokes' train of thought here. Buying loyalty, cooking it up, pulling it out from your skirt and calling it pussy minus the cat, it never really lasted. Something about... information asymmetry. Whatever term they liked to bring up, maybe Lucille was mixing it up? But transactions could never truly be even in a setting where motive could be easily obscured. Like. Whatever that meant)

"... Only thing we can do, y'know? Only thing that matters now."

( ... its almost like his cat ears legit perked up a bit at that)

Whether they'd come back or not, SB05 and ES09 seemed eager to get on with it. Places to be, wherever those places might've been, if those places were known.

Clanky ass battery following them all the way. He seemed more thrilled about that than she did, even if it was his shoulder that was slowly being dislocated in the process.

((SB05, ES09 continued elsewhere))

[SansaSaver]

Sofia’s offer of preparing a meal landed on deaf ears with Lucille and Sylvain, who gave scarce acknowledgement, while Stokely and Chris replied with some enthusiasm. And just like that, Sofia found herself torn.

Both options had upsides and negatives -- Lucille and Sylvain possessed a teammate and an ex, who’d displayed naught but theatrically and vaguely violent ideals. But there wasn’t a sense of gelling with either Stokely or Chris, and she had no history with either to speak of, despite the perfectly pleasant impressions they’d both given her so far. With either duo, she felt like she’d stick out like an obvious third wheel.

There was a third option, of course. To abandon them all and forge her own path, but Sofia shut that notion down the moment it entered her head. Striking out on her own would be foolish, not when she had a ready-made, fully armed, and knowledgeable ally right in front of her, and she herself had no weapon or real, tangible know-how of how this game was played.

So despite the relative docility of Stokely and Chris once the latter had calmed from his initial outburst and neither appreciating Sylvain’s theatrics nor agreeing with his presence alongside herself and Lucille, Sofia swallowed and spoke up.

“I think I’ll join my teammate and… Sylvain, for now.”

She might come to regret making this choice, but it was a choice all the same.

“But who knows? If your business starts thriving I might pop back and reward you with a dessert of your choosing.”

She turned to face Lucille and Sylvain, offering them a close-lipped smile.

“You guys go on ahead. Think I’ll just scope out the kitchen first, then catch up in a bit. Never was one for Subway. So if there’s even some semi-stale packet of biscuits, I’ll be happy. I’ll share, I promise.”

Sofia pivoted on her heel and quickly strode through the large, swinging doors into the kitchen beyond.

All alone again, and suddenly all that panic, fear, and uncertainty rose within her like the bile foaming in her throat. No time to think about that or let it in yet. Just action.

She arbitrarily grabbed the first packet of biscuits she could find, didn’t even look at the label, or really take time to examine or appreciate her surroundings.

She flung open the doors of the nearest pantry, sifted through the jars of spices and herbs. Then she ducked under the kitchen sink, rummaged through the small collection of cleaning products stowed away.

She found what she needed.

((Sofia Kowalski continued in But my favorites are the ones who find the way to be themselves in their art))

[Irina Ivanov]

He wasn’t exactly sold, but whatever, he was selling anyways. Wait, was he? Chris found himself a smart guy, and he was still a bit confused on the plan. Maybe it was because he didn’t fixate on some big show to the point he needed to make an actual plan to set up a shop, in the 0.5% they were in it. He didn’t want to judge, but that was basically like what? Some fan’s childish fantasy that got an opportunity to be implemented?

Besides, anyone who actually had a 120IQ level college paper that let them actually make a strategy in SOTF had issues, like Vasily. Stokes didn’t strike Chris as a gal who had issues.

Also, Lucille’s response didn’t exactly fill him with the fuzzy-wuzzies. She was a big SOTF girl, and she was armed and all. He wasn’t sure how much teams actually didn’t work, either.

Chris didn’t know why he was staying with Stokes, why he was packing up his stuff and taking a seat at the restaurant for good. Shouldn’t you stay with your friends? They won’t betray you right? And besides, who’s to say Stokes won’t do the same once she has a lot of weapons ‘in store?’ Why did he just let himself work under someone?

That was fine, that was okay. It was a death game, it was okay to not have trust in your friends you spent three years with, Chris, you’re totally not a paranoid scumbag or anything!

“Well, from a guy who was going to be in the play, break a leg out there. Go pop a cap in Junji’s ass or something, whole audience will put you on a pedestal for it! Uh, looking forward to the dessert!”

Did anyone actually like Junji? Well, Chris wouldn’t be surprised if he read a newspaper and found out he was the most hated guy in the season. Chris didn’t feel anything return as he finished cheerfully calling out to his friend (And Slyvain), none of that….

He needed to shut the hell up. Everyone else was (metaphorically) on the same boat, he didn’t get to feel all ‘wahhh I’m sad and paranoid’ shit.

“So, what do you want me to get started on? Terra-forming the restaurant to look like a Chinese convenience store? Cooking?”

Chris turned his head to look at Stokes, a very real joking smile glued onto his face. No one was looking forward to their first day as a shopkeeper, but hey, Chris’ll take being a shopkeeper over like, forming packs like in the wild.

He’ll take some semblance of normalcy, something logical here. It was all anyone wanted right now. What Chris wanted.

((Chris Tyrell - JL09 continued in Bro, I'm stoked you're here, man!))

[Namira]

They were all ditching? Stokes' stomach cried in lost nachos but ya know, she'd take it.

"Later."

And hey, cookies. Wasn't all bad. Cookies for Sofia? Even trade.

Junior called out after the others and Stokes shot a sour look at his back. Talkin' shit about Junji. Aright. Not even in his year, but aright. You talk your shit. Whatever. Kinda late for Stokes to do anything about it. Junji'd... he'd come up with something. She had, she would. Hell, already had, probably. Guy knew his business. It'd work out.

By the time Junior turned back to her, Stokes had scrubbed her expression clear.

"Aight. First thing's first, hope you're ready to flip some tables."

((Stokes continued Bro, I'm stoked you're here, man!))