BANG BANG

Location: Fox Tower Date: January 27 Time: 5:46 p.m. (CLOSED  for @berettalepore)

Akira has never been good at social media, even back when he cared about it he was awful at it. Remembering to update his Twitter or post a funny and insightful picture to his Instagram was a chore. He can’t recall a moment of his fame where his agent wasn’t begging him to hand over the login credentials and let someone else do it. And Akira had considered on and off, but in the end always turned him down. Vowed to be better, more active. And he would be, for about a week. And then he’d forget again, let it slide, and his agent would be all over him about it again. But he’d never give it up. Something about lying to his fans sat wrong with him…and even in the aftermath of Hollywood he couldn’t find it in himself to do that. His fans were there for him…not some green horn publicist who barely knew him. Barely knew them.

It hadn’t been nearly as bad once Beretta stepped into the picture. That girl knew how to run a social media account with the barest amount of effort known to man kind. The only down side to that? Was that she needed Akira to be a celebrity for a few hours each week. He hated it. At least a little. And when Beretta’s name flashed across his screen without the usually emoji filled meme he knew exactly what it said without actually looking at it. He groans loud enough Kent turns to look at him and he sinks lower into the couch, arm over his eyes.

“If anyone comes looking for me. I’m not here.”

Kent scoffs as he enters the kitchen. He’s pulling out a bottle of water when there’s the unmistakable knock on their door. Akira shoots Kent a pleading look…that Kent blatantly ignores. He opens the door and steps to the side. “He’s hiding on the couch.”

Akira groans again, louder this time. “Hey Ber.” He doesn’t bother to sit up from the couch, he half hopes he’ll sink into it until he disappears. “Can’t we do this later?”

The alarm on Beretta's phone cuts through the music from her laptop and she looks over at the time. She pauses the video on her screen and tries to remember why she set the alarm in the first place that morning. Then it hits her. Tonight was the only night this week she had cleared to help Akira and they had to get it done. 

She types off a quick text to Akira to let him know she’s on her way down the hall and fishes her ring light out from her closet. Dragging the light through her dorm was never an issue for her; whatever faces she made while carrying weren’t anything her roommates haven’t seen her pull on the court. The issue came when all of the other athletes on their floor watched as she struggled down the hall with it. The light wasn’t even that heavy, just bulky and had a heavy bottom that made a scraping sound when dragged along the tile.

It came as no surprise that Kent answers the door for her. “Come on, Akira.” She pushes the ring light into the room before continuing. “It’ll take an hour at most and you won’t have to worry about it for a week.”

She can tell how much he hates having to do this and she doesn’t blame him. If she was forced to put on her celebrity personality for fans each week, she would’ve gone mad by now. But, if they didn’t get it done tonight she doubted they would get it done at all. Championships were a busy time for everyone, but this year it meant a hell of a lot more to them. 

“I promise it won’t take that long tonight.” 

WHEN: Friday, May 5th, 2016  WHERE: Good Samaritan Hospital Who: David Wymack and Beretta Lepore WARNINGS: Drug mention tw, addiction mention tw, hospital tw, food mention tw, discorded eating tw

Wymack showing up to her hospital room was as much of a surprise to her as it was to him. Exy was never her future. She never had a future in the first place. But he offered one to her, told her that he was at the game to scout her out. Sure, he had heard about her brother, but he was more interested in her gameplay. And, if she wanted, there would be a spot for her on the team once she got herself cleaned up.

Holding up her hands in defense, Olivia found herself laughing, a pure and genuine sound slipping off her lips, “Okay, I promise. I wouldn’t do it anyways…I sort of just now got an instagram because Sterling Walsh said I needed it. It literally only has one picture of a sunset on it…. “ She admitted sheepishly, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, “But really, you don’t look bad when you wake up.” It was the truth and she shrugged her shoulders easily, she had no reason to lie to her roommate. She looked good pretty much all the time, that natural radiance that Olivia wished she could obtain, even whenever she woke up she still looked effortlessly put together. But she wasn’t going to sit here and compliment her, Olivia could already feel her cheeks heating up. 

So she kept her attention entirely on what Beretta was saying about her show, her eyes originally on the screen as she was pointing to the characters and explaining what was happening with them. But she found her gaze drifting back to the girl on the bed, watching the way her eyes seemingly lit up in such an excited gleam over what she was watching. It was the first time she’d seen the girl like this, like she was getting a little glimpse behind the cool girl curtain she had up. Olivia liked it, and she scooted closer to the bed from where she was situated on the ground, peaking up to see the screen better as she nodded slowly, “Alright, got it. I’ll try not to interrupt with too many questions.” She promised with a little smile, tilting her head to the side as she raised a brow at Beretta explanation of her past living situation. Cigarettes were something she was familiar with, but not because she smoked them. Her father did, the smell stained their whole little house, the smoke leaving a film also something she understood. “Well, I’m glad that you figured out the roof. I mean, not that I would mind….but, yeah. It’s nicer I guess. Do you….smoke often?” She asked, more out of her own curiosity and not to be judge mental, she never understood the appeal or what exactly that did for you that was good. And it wasn’t like she could ask her father…

Shaking her head at how quickly Beretta whipped out her phone, Olivia felt embarrassed, “You really don’t have to…..go through all that trouble.” She assured her with a shift of her weight back onto her bottom, burrowing into her comforter. Peaking up over the top, she paused before laughing under her breath, “Don’t make fun of me, but, what’s postmates? I feel like I’m so behind on everything, I’m sorry.”

“Here, hand me your phone.” She stuck a hand in Oliva’s face, opening and closing it a few times for effect. “If you just made an Instagram I need to follow you.” Beretta’s social media obsession was something that worked to her advantage. It allowed her to promote her band and she even got some free stuff out of it; not that she ever posted about it like she was supposed to, but she eventually gave some it away as Christmas presents. “Says the girl who looks good all the time,” she let out a few laughs as she replied. It was true, Beretta really did think Olivia looked good whenever she saw her. At first, she was even a little jealous of her. 

She pulled her own blankets over her body and cuddled underneath. They were going to be there for a while and she needed to get comfortable. “Feel free to ask. I know way too much about this show.” Though she would never admit it, Beretta was a full-on fangirl of the show. At home, she had merch that she bought off of eBay that claimed to be featured on the show. It was something she hid from even Carter. “Too often if I’m being honest.” Her eyes are looking at anything besides Olivia and a hand instinctively goes to the back of her neck. She wasn’t embarrassed by her habit but was embarrassed how dependent she was on them. To Beretta, they were like a security blanket when she needed something to get through the day or press duty or just through the next minute. “It’s a nasty habit I picked up when I would sneak into clubs back home. And now that I’m not popping Adderall every second of the day it’s gotten worse.” 

“Oh, please. This isn’t trouble at all.” She waves it off as she scrolls through the app. “Plus, what’s a binge sesh without some snacks?” Beretta shrugs it off and orders everything they need, adding a few cans of La Croix to the order. She gives Oliva a small smile when she asks what Postmates is. To her, Olivia’s lack of knowledge of social media was adorable. “It’s a food delivery app. That way we can stay in here and chill until they get here.” 

Brayden sneers at the nickname, rolling his eyes as he takes her mug. “Probably shouldn’t annoy the person making your coffee. I might spit in it,” He grumbles as he brews another cup of coffee. Brayden is very much against nicknames, it feels too cutesy and friendly. He can count the amount of friends he has on one hand, and even that’s pushing it. He wouldn’t want them to call him anything other than “Brayden” either. Landon was the only who got away with “Bray.” 

He definitely wouldn’t include Beretta on that short list of friends. He didn’t have anything actively against her, but he generally avoided anyone with a connection to the Ravens or other addicts, though he was getting better at the latter. Beretta just happened to tick off both options, and he wasn’t into the idea of potentially having a conversation about it. 

“Here,” He slid the untainted coffee mug towards her before taking a long sip from his own. It was practically silent this early in the morning, which was a little creepy. He was so used to the sounds of his roommate’s breathing or shuffling around in their beds. “Couldn’t sleep either?” He asked Beretta to break the silence. 

This whole situation seems vaguely like some sort of fever dream. Hanging out with Brayden in the middle of the night and having him make her coffee? Something about it made her think this was all some elaborate joke and Ashton Kutcher was going to pop out from around the corner at any minute. But as the minutes went by and that didn’t happen, she settled into the spot next to him at the counter. 

“Oh, thank you. Who needs a barista when we have you to make such wonderful cups of coffee?” Sarcasm seeps through her statement with an eye roll to match. Her fingers wrap around the mug and bring it towards her face. Even with it being so late, the smell of a fresh cup of coffee was one of her favorite things. “Thanks for this though.” 

She thinks his question over for a few minutes, trying to think of some lie as to why she couldn’t sleep. “After that shit I pulled during the game? I couldn’t sleep even if I tried.” It was true, she had been fighting with herself for the last few hours and sleep was nowhere in sight. “What’s keeping you up?” 

It was nice to see Beretta smile, come to think of it, she didn’t know if she’d ever seen the girl grin like she had at the current moment. It was refreshing, and Olivia kept it in her memory just in case she didn’t see it again. Her brows knit together as she tried to scramble for a memory of Beretta in the morning. But she was coming up short of her ever looking like a wreck, in her opinion, the girl carried a confidence in which she could rock just about any look she wanted to. “I haven’t ever seen you like a wreck before?” Olivia explained with a raise of her brow, glancing up at her roommate from her current spot on the floor, huddle up in her large comforter. “One day though, I’ll catch you slipping up and see if it compares to all of this.” She joked with a motion to her head where her ponytail was tied back messily. 

Nodding as Beretta spoke, she offered a tiny smile, “Yeah, sure. I’d love a little break down. I don’t want to be that annoying person who keeps asking questions throughout the whole thing.” Olivia said honestly, because she never really got to watch that much TV or go to the movies when she was younger, she always wanted to make up for lost time. Luckily, she didn’t enjoy going out and tended to be alone, which gave her lots of spare time to catch up on all the media she missed out on. Nibbling on her bottom lip, her brows raised in shock that Beretta never had a roommate until she came here. Olivia had a few here and there when she travelled for the younger league of Exy, hotel rooms, extended stays. But she was quiet, reserved, and honestly was probably an ideal roommate if it wasn’t for her pretty much always being in her room, luckily it was like she wasn’t even there. When Beretta said she could tell her about it, curiosity sparked in her, wanting to know more and more about her seemingly mysterious roommate. Up until now, they hadn’t spoken this long to one another, and she nodded once more, “Yeah, I’d love to hear all about it. There isn’t much for stories on my end, but I’ve had roommates when I had away games in high school over the weekends.” She offered with a tiny shrug of her strong shoulders, head falling ever so slightly to the side.

She was so intrigued with this side of Beretta, because she was always a bit reserved with her roommate, afraid of looking silly or like some weird loner in front of the woman who was just so confident and bad ass. In her mind, Beretta was a lot of what she wished she could be herself. A blush burned on the tops of her ears at the comment of her appearance, swallowed up by her comforter, and she nuzzled into the material as she tried to hide her pink cheeks. “It’s…just kind of chilly in here.” She admitted with a soft laugh, eyes shooting up from her position down on the carpet, “And now I really want toasted marshmallows. So thanks for that.”

Beretta pointed at the girl across from her, eyes squinted. “If you sneak a picture of me in the morning and send it to Foxwatch, I’ll never forgive you.” She laughed at the hypothetical situation, realizing that Olivia was probably the last person who would do that to anyone on the team. There were plenty of times that she waited specifically until her roommates were gone to roll out of bed and into the shower. As much as she loved the bright orange Fox sweats she wore to bed, she would never let anyone see her wear them in public. Not even her roommates.

“Okay, so the main character is Selina Meyers.” She points to the shorter person on the screen in front of them. “She used to be the vice president, but now she’s running for the presidential seat and nothing is going right for her. Next to her is Gary.” She points to the other person. “He’s her right-hand guy and would do anything for her.” Beretta wondered what it was like to have someone like that in her life. Someone who would pick up her calls at any hour of the day and convince her things would be okay. It was something she had craved for a long time but never managed to fit into her life. Maybe she was never meant to have someone that kindhearted in her life. “I remember my first year here I would purposefully smoke with the window closed so my roommates would stay out. I even disabled the smoke alarm so it wouldn’t go off.” She shook her head at how ridiculous she was a few years ago. The whole room would reek of cigarettes and there would be a light film from the smoke covering everything in the room. “After a few months, Carter convinced me that was a shitty thing to do and told me about the roof access.” 

She shrugged at the temperature comment. Beretta was one that loved her room to be chilly so she could bundle in the blankets. Their dorm was no exception to that even during the winter months. As much as she wanted to make a comment about the blush that she noticed on Olivia’s face, she thought better of it; storing the comment for use at a later time and place. “Postmates can help with that,” she replies before pulling the app up on her phone. Maybe they couldn’t provide toasted marshmallows without them being gross, but they could provide a bag of marshmallows for them to toast with one of her lighters. 

Location: Fox Tower Common Room Date: Friday, February 1 Time: Post-game (open)

Brayden sighs as his phone illuminates the dark dorm room, the time on the home screen mocking him. It’s three o’clock in the fucking morning, and he can’t fall asleep. Every time he closes his eyes, he just sees a play by play of the game. It’s probably stupid to beat himself up, he managed to score the penalty shot, but he tired out near the end and got sloppy at a time he couldn’t afford to be. 

It’s not the end for them, but it feels close. It is close. If they lose the next game, they’re out, and all that hard work would be for nothing. And then he’ll have to do it all over again for his fifth year, because Landon isn’t going anywhere. At the end of his junior year, he thought it’d be the end of dealing with his brother–that he’d go on to a professional team, but then they announced he was hired as the Ravens’ assistant coach and it fucked up everything. Can he really do this for another year? It was so much easier when he didn’t care. He scored when he needed to, he showed up to practice, but he kept his distance. Now that he’s trying it’s exhausting, and Exy isn’t even what he wants to do with his life.

Shaking his head, he pushes himself out of bed and throws on a sweatshirt and a pair of sneakers before shuffling out of the room. It’s too fucking cold for a rooftop smoke, so he settles for the common area instead, and starts up the coffee machine, which will have the opposite effect on not sleeping, but he’s given up at this point.

As he’s pouring himself a cup of coffee, he hears someone else enter the room, but doesn’t check and see who it is before speaking up. “You want one? Your options are black or black. I’m not a fucking barista,” He mumbles before sipping his own. 

It had been a long time since Beretta was so angry over one of their games. She sat on the bench during the first half, watching as the Jackals collected points as the Foxes struggled to even get on the board. Granted, she had no one to blame but herself for that red card. But, at the moment she decided ‘fuck it’ and shoved the closest opposing player she could find.  In any other situation, it might’ve helped the momentum shift in their direction; this time it only buried them deeper into the hole. 

Beretta’s been staring at the bottom of the bunk above her since she got back to the Tower hours ago. The fight kept replaying in her mind since she crawled into bed, grating on her nerves moment by moment. “Fuck this,” she mumbles before throwing the covers off and grabbing the first pair of shoes she can. She sneaks out of the dorm as quietly as possible, locking the door behind her and heading towards the stairs. Brayden’s voice from the common area grabs her attention; free coffee is the only thing she’ll stop for right now. “What amazing service, Bray Bray,” she replies as she grabs a free mug from the cabinet and places it next to him. “I guess I’ll take one black coffee.” 

Something about Brayden reminded Beretta of herself and because of that, she opted to avoid him as often as she could. They both had their own vices before coming to Palmetto, both had brothers with connections to the Ravens, and from what she could tell, he was just as angry as she was in regards to their sibling. It was almost too much for her to handle at times. Maybe in another life, she would’ve friended him. 

Mere’s starting to feel like she’s playing her own part in a play, a more intense version of herself than the reality, but however much of her confidence is bravado– it’s working. It’s like she’s switched a flip inside her brain from nervousness to anticipation, with maybe a side of reckless. Yes, the anxiety is still thrumming under her fingertips, but so is the adrenaline shot to her system that is this entire conversation. 

Meredith shrugs at Beretta’s question about her boringness. Again– bait, not taken. Anyway, she’ll let Beretta be the judge of that herself. She’s always been big on people’s actions saying so much more than their words. Still, it’s fun to see how Beretta choses to describe herself, how she’s playing the part of herself today. “How odd. What would a kid have to be angry about?” It’s a stupid, invasive question, but she figures she deserves to dangle some bait of her own. She wonders if the Fox will actually take it.

“That was two questions,” she says, smiling sweetly. “But I’ll give them to you. I grew up in Boston. The Vixens… I like their attitude. I’ve always loved to dance, but it’s more satisfying to move as a team, with a purpose. And if you do it well you’ve got the whole crowd on your side.” She shrugs. “It’s a way to pass the time. Speaking of– what do you do for fun, when you’re off the court?”

Beretta shifts in the seat, tucking a foot under her leg and pulling on the sleeves of the too orange hoodie she was wearing. As much as she’s enjoying this game she’s playing, she hates that other people can hear what they’re saying⁠—and the last thing she wants is for some random to overhear anything she might say on accident. 

She can tell Meredith is playing the same game as her, dangling a sentence to antagonize right in front of the other. Now the fun can really start. “Loads of things. Didn’t anyone smash your toys as a kid?” It’s a lie and she wouldn’t put it past Meredith if she could tell. But, there was no fun in it for Beretta if she didn’t lie a little bit. She always loved to see if people could tell when she was lying and when she was telling the truth. It was a little game she had played with herself since she was a kid. 

“A way to pass the time. That’s not very sportsmanlike.” She raises her brows in an attempt to show some emotion. As much as she wants to believe the answer isn’t anything more than bait, it makes her think about her own reasons why joining the Foxes. The thought gets pushed to the back of her mind when Meredith asks her next question. “I’m in a band,” she replies with a smile. The band is the one thing she hasn’t fucked up. She’s proud of the little group she plays with. “And yourself?” 

It was hard as hell, and it seemed that as of late, her emotions had sort of been all over the place. She was happy after standing up for herself at the banquet against her old team and finally giving them a piece of her mind, and now she was a nervous wreck from this media training shit going on. It was like no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t be happy to her fullest and it ate away at her until she felt like skin and bones. But she didn’t want to put her issues on anyone else, instead she let it weigh down on her shoulders by the pound until she knew she was eventually going to shatter to pieces. When Beretta spoke, Olivia raised her brow as she watched what she was doing, seeing something fly through the air, she reached out and easily caught it from her pretty well trained hand-eye coordination. Eyeing the scrunchie, she couldn’t help but smile a little to herself before directly the soft expression to her roommate when she spoke, “Thanks, I know my hair probably looks like a grade A wreck.” She admitted with a small laugh under her breath, tying her now slightly grown out locks up into a messy ponytail on top of her head. 

She noticed the expression on Beretta’s face when she asked about the show, and to be honest, she was pretty sure it was the first time she saw her so excited about something. “It must be good if you’re that amped about it.” Olivia admitted with another small smile, this time it reached her eyes though and she cleared her throat, “Um, if you wanna keep watching it and don’t mind me sort of watching it too….that’s fine. I just finished binge watching a series the other day and don’t really have anything to watch anymore.”

Nodding slowly, Olivia scooted off her bed, keeping her comforter over her shoulders to the point to where it sort of swallowed her whole. She padded across the floor to sit near Beretta’s bed, not too close to push any boundaries, but enough to see her screen as she raised her brows, “I guess that’s a good point, I’ve never really had a roommate before. My old one from my last school was never in there so…..this is nice.” She admitted sheepishly, burrowing herself back into her comforter as she glanced up at her from the floor.

She smiled in response to Olivia’s thanks, feeling like that was as good of a response as any. It was just any old scrunchie to Beretta and for all it mattered, she could keep it if she wanted. “It looks fine. Have you seen mine when I wake up in the morning? Total wreck.” The thought of someone seeing how much of a mess she was in the morning made her cheeks flush red before cooling down. How often did Olivia see her like that? Has she secretly made fun of her all year? Beretta needed to know one of these days. 

“Yeah, of course. I can explain who everyone is who you’re not too confused.” She knew she replied too quickly, her excitement getting the best of her. In her mind, she docked herself a decent amount of cool points for being so enthusiastic. Would Olivia think she was less cool now? Why did she even care what the girl thought it in the first place? It was only another Fox, since when did the Foxes opinions matter to her, Beretta Lepore? She shook the thoughts from her head and turned her attention back to the conversation. “I never had one until I came here,” she lets out a few laughs as the few memories she remembers from her freshman year come back to her. There weren’t any of her proudest moments as a roommate, but at least they were funny when she looked back on them. A particular one with her burning cigarette holes into the mattress just to annoy the rest of her roommates came to mind, making her think about the other things she did that year. “Definitely took me a while to get used to it. I could tell you about it if you want?”

Beretta watched as she waddled over to her side of the room, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “You look like a marshmallow.” She had to admit, Olivia looked adorable all wrapped up. It was like the blanket consumed everything but her head, giving her the shape of a talking marshmallow. It had to have been the cutest thing she had seen all day, and she spent half the morning on the chubby cat subreddit. 

Beretta hated waking up early more than anything. Sure, she had gotten used to it from being a Fox all these years but that didn’t make her hate it any less. If she had it her way, she wouldn’t get out of bed until half-past noon. She blamed it on being her father's child and being stuck with rockstar DNA.” 

Everyone just thought she was lazy - and she was. There was no denying that. 

But, she had a mission that morning and as much as she wanted to throw her phone out the window when the alarm rang in her ear, she needed to wake up. After 15 minutes of contemplating whether or not it was actually worth it, she swung her legs off of the bed and onto the tile. She found the most sensible outfit she could, black jeans with a black turtleneck, threw her hair into a bun, and headed out of her dorm. 

Beretta knocked at Caleb’s door and waited a few seconds for someone to let her in, muttering a quick hello as she made a bee-line for the bedroom. “Quoi de neuf?” She eyed him for the doorway, arms crossed in front of her. "I’m pretty sure you promised to hang out with me today so I’m not letting you bail on that. I’ll even buy you a latte.” It didn’t matter what she had to offer to Caleb, there was no way she was leaving without him. 

Casey: i mean i didn't say no...

Casey: just don't know if i'll actually use it

Casey: the option tho ig that might be nice to have

Casey: just in case

Beretta: when are you free?

Meredith watches Beretta slide the paper from her hands and feels her pulse jump in surprise (and maybe from the sudden proximity) but doesn’t comment. It’s rude, undeniably, but after months with the Foxes she’s familiar with the power of a withheld reaction, and doesn’t want to play into the part of the fussy cheerleader anymore than she has to. Instead, she leans back in her chair and surveys Beretta with raised eyebrows, pretending not to notice the loss of her protective shield.

Meredith hmm’s at Beretta’s answer, and doesn’t take long to think over her question. “What makes me a Vixen…A heart of gold and the patience of a saint?” She pauses to look over Beretta’s shoulder, as if searching for something more interesting. Hopefully, the act is convincing– in reality, she can feel the sweat of her palms through where they’re resting on her leggings. “Or maybe I just wasn’t good enough to get on the football cheer team. One or the other, probably.” 

It’s not true, but if Beretta’s not going to play along with the exercise, she doesn’t see why she has to play along with Beretta. Being a Vixen means supporting her team, but she’s moved past the stage where that meant rolling with whatever BS is thrown at her. Even when she can barely meet the eyes of the Fox in question.

She flicks her eyes back to Beretta. “Why Exy?” It’s not a question on the sheet, but she doesn’t have that anymore thanks to the Fox across from her, so it seems fair enough game.

Beretta glances at the clock on the wall behind Meredith, forcing herself not to sigh from how little time had passed. She didn’t know how long they were supposed to sit there and bullshit their way through this, but she hoped it was sooner rather than later. Her eyes settle back on Meredith across from her and taps her nails on the leg of her chair. 

“Are you really that boring?” She tilts her head to the side, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. Sure, there were plenty of Vixens that Beretta thought were boring. But she could usually tell that right off the bat and she wasn’t seeing it with Meredith for whatever reason. She can tell the girl is playing it cool, but why? 

The question makes her think for a moment. Why did she pick exy? It’s not a sport parents would typically stick their kid into; violent expensive, and worst of all, only kids that were good could play in anything higher up than a kids league. “Don’t they always tell parents to put angry kids into sports?” She waves it off with a hand and looks back at the sheet. The real answer is that she wanted to play with Spencer and they found out she was somewhat of a natural at it, she wanted to be better than him. It’s a classic trope that any person born in the shadow of another fits into and she hated that about herself. 

“My turn to ask. ‘Where are you from and why exy?’ Or I guess why did you pick the Vixens?” Truth be told, Beretta had little to no knowledge about how the cheerleading teams worked themselves out. She just assumed any with some tragic story in their history got thrown to the exy squad. 

Sterling glances over, a crease appearing between his brows at Beretta’s disdain. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he starts slowly, sounding somber, “but I don’t have to try to get one anyone’s nerves. I promise you, most of the time, it comes naturally.” He holds his hands up to his pecs, cupping just underneath them, and pushes them up a few times in a lewd way. “I’m all-natural.” He gives her an exaggerated wink, his whole face wincing with the expression, and holds the mangled paper out halfway between them, clearly inviting her to join him in his pastime.

“You know you want to,” he singsongs, waggling the paper a bit so that it makes a sound. After a moment, a better thought seems to catch up with him, and he snatches the paper back, only to replace it with a fist while he crumples the paper into a ball with his other hand. “Ro-sham-bo,” he announces, “loser chucks this up there.” Beretta’s always seemed fairly aloof to him, but he doubts that someone who dresses the way she does off the court isn’t interested in getting into some form of trouble from time to time.

Never one to turn down fun, Beretta weighs her options. Either sit there and listen to their coach drone on about not replying to people on Twitter with a sarcastic tone or entertain herself with Sterling’s dumb game. The voice in her head says to pay attention, hear Wymack out and actually listen to his advice. She’s been banned from Twitter too many times for her to remember and now is not the time to say some shit and have it happen it again. But, the other voice tells her to have a little fun with it. What’s the worst that could happen? Wymack catches them and yells at them for goofing off. It seems like an obvious choice for her to make. 

“Don’t expect to win.” She scoots further up in her seat and straightens her back. If she’s going to kick his ass at ro-sham-bo, she has to be in the right position. Beretta places her first in the palm of her left hand, eyes searching his face for any tell of what his first move will be. “Best three out of four?” She glances at Wymack one last time before looking back at Sterling, waiting for his move. 

Casey: how could i forget?

Casey: i mean, i'm all healed up now tho, you know

Beretta: if you don't want it that's fine

Beretta: yo

Beretta: it's beretta