BURNOUT !

And she deserves it.

"You're like, the biggest drug hustler in town. That's work," Merritt argues, then leans down to make her little white treat disappear. It might be a placebo, but something inside her feels calm with the line - and then a deep sense of euphoria she knows is from the drug follows. Vee appears beside her and she barely has the time to register his presence before he's gone again, leaving nothing more than a fresh supply in his wake.

Merritt swipes a finger under her nose and turns, leans against her wardrobe to watch Vee explore her room like it was his for the taking. That warm flush is back, as is the feeling that she needs to deny deny deny. And yet... Here he is, assuring her that he didn't tell anyone like he could see right into her head.

"I'm not embarrassed," she says, quickly, and then immediatey backtracks. "Well, like, I mean, it's not like, about you. Like, I mean, whatever, we made out. I just, like..." Merritt's eyes drag away, down to the floor, and she shrugs. The hand-delivered bag of coke stares at her from the dresser; it feels wrong to reach for it, so she lets it sit there. "You know. I don't need people saying I'm fucking the coke guy for coke, you know? Because I'm not. We made out because we're hot and young and all of our friends were at a party without us."

Perhaps not the complete truth, but it's true enough. There's a manufactured energy building inside of her, spreading into her muscles and making her antsier than usual. She tucks a lock of her straightened hair behind her ear, knowing by the end of the night it would be kinky again.

"Which, you know, speaking of hot. You haven't even told me how good I look tonight."

"hm." vee hums in consideration, struggling to find the perfume he had liked the most off of just feel alone "i mean, it's not like you actually fucked the coke guy." he comments under his breath with a shrug, but he knows what she means "i get it. like i said, i didn't say anything. and i won't if it's a big deal to you. " he finally lifts the correct scent to his nose, smiling in satisfaction "but alsooo, you could tell everyone the truth. that i'm really hot and irresistable and it just kinda happened. and i'll upcharge the hell out of you so you're not fucking the coke guy for coke." given the suburban home they were in, and her taste in drugs, he figures she can afford it anyway.

he lets her sit with her request for a compliment for a second. maybe it's that vee is really fucking high, but it's sort of a good feeling. the kind that he'll surely feel guilty about a second later, but no one had ever gone to him for validation before. or asked his opinion at all. he cranes his neck to each side, spritzing patchouli and lavender on his pulse points, before dimly remembering the whole self esteem thing people have.

there's the guilt.

"you look really good. i like the hair." a pause "am i still hot without the whole stockholm syndrome factor?"

"So what, I'm supposed to buy that you're an angel?" Easy slides up to Vee with a grin, already reaching for a fresh solo cup. The drink options are always the same: shitty beer, shitty liquor, and a stack of weed brownies that are already well picked-over. A quarter of one remains, but Easy lets it be, remembering that his last foray into cross-fading left him between a divorced woman's legs.

A divorced woman who seemed to be a little more reserved about sleeping around now.

"You're putting a bad rep on the real angels out here. Some of us work hard for this halo." Bold of Easy to say even as a joke, considering his reputation isn't exactly holy either. "Speaking of, you seen Mila yet? Almost passed out trying not to stare at her garters."

Easy elbows Vee, still grinning like an idiot. He's yet to admit the night he had with her during the snow-in; Harvey's crush isn't exactly quiet, and Easy has a feeling that it might not sit very nicely that he'd crossed a bro boundary and went down on her with that knowledge. So instead he encourages, distracts from the nagging voice of guilt in the back of his head.

he had seen mila. and he'd avoided looking too long for his own peace of mind. and avoided her in general. that was par for the course, it was a game he'd been playing for years now. he knew it was obvious to anyone who had the displeasure of being near harvey when mila came around that he had a hopeless crush, but it didn't mean he wanted to talk about it. for all of his pointed avoidance, for how sure he was that nothing would ever happen with mila, it still felt like some sort of jinx to talk about her like that. and, he guesses, disrespectful. duh.

so, he's careful with his words. thinks about them, if you can believe it. even through the thick haze clouding his mind as he takes a long pull, he doesn't want to get too lost in the energy of the night. wants to remember who he is— who mila is.

"oh, right." he lifts his head, exhales dramatically "because that went so well last time." calling it last time was generous. he wasn't even sure it was an attempt at anything other than humiliating himself. harvey didn't know what he was thinking when he'd offered mila a ride home, but he'd spent the entire drive making meaningless small talk, gave her a mars bar, and sped off. so. he wasn't confident even if he did want to subject mila to him that he'd have much of a chance.

"Alright."

Devon says as she walks down the strip with a coffee in her hand and sunglasses hiding her tired eyes. She throws Harvey a small, polite smile when she glances at him.

"Tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how bad were your decisions last night?"

She pauses, then adds, "I think I remember someone dancing on a table, not you. But someone."

"honestly? at a four. i behaved...ish." a brief pause, bottom lip poking out with thought before he sips his hot cocoa "well. okay, i did eat a burger after. but i'm vegetarian again. scout's honor." he holds three fingers up in salute before adding, with a smirk "you sure it wasn't you? or are you also on your best behavior?"

shane's been watching the ostrosky's for a while now. ever since the little girl took a spill on the ice and her parents rushed over in their matching sweaters to help her. the whole time, he found himself holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable moment where the foundational cracks in something otherwise so picture perfect made themselves known. surely, any moment now, the little girl would start crying and the father would demand she stop to not embarrass them. or the mother would start lecturing her on her form, revealing high expectations and her own failed life goals. a sideways glare would reveal a failing marriage, one parent leaving would show a lack of interest, something somewhere would prove that not everything was as it seemed.

but no moment comes. for all he's able to see, the family really is as solid and content as they appear on the surface. boringly so, in fact. still, he can't seem to pull his focus away. even as harvey expertly slides up to him, he's too busy trying and failing to rationalize how people so stagnant could be so genuinely happy to give that the double take it deserves. he doesn't even flinch at vee's near-yelling.

it was a level of cheesiness that was incomprehensible to vee, overshooting past the idyllic and straight to the absurd. maybe it was the way he was raised— not in absence of love, harvey felt he was loved every day of his childhood, but without adequate ways to express it. sydney didn't have the resources, he didn't have the time, he didn't have the thought. and besides, the big displays were never for their family, really. they were for others to ooh at, to say how nice.

he's about to say as much when shane poses the question "me?" what would that even look like? it's not just that he can't fathom the atomic dream before them, but also that he simply didn't think it possible logistically. too many financial, social, political barriers- and that wasn't even counting the fact that harvey was simply. fucking unmarriable. woe is him, right? not to mention, hilarious question to ask your local drug dealer.

"Well you're obviously not the truth-teller in any situation."

Not an answer, not really. Merritt reaches around Vee to open her door, then takes him by the speaking-hand to lead him inside.

"Come here, puppet boy, I need a line and your bridge troll routine is like, so overrated." Merritt closes the door behind them for privacy of both her room and the drugs she was about to do in it. She lets go of Vee's hand and heads straight for her vanity, grabs a hand mirror and sets it flat in front of her. Everything else is habitual - like making herself a cup of coffee before a shift.

"I wasn't like, dodging you, by the way," Merritt lies. She glances behind herself, suddenly anxious about Vee seeing the state of her room. She doesn't usually care - it isn't disgusting in here like some people she knows, just cluttered and organized in only a way she understands. "I've been busy. Really busy. And you're busy too, with your like, business and stuff. It's just like, workworkwork, you know?"

he cracks a smile at the excuse, but doesn't look her way quite yet, picking up small items and observing them closely before moving onto the next, picking up perfumes and spraying them into the air "mmm, yeah you were." he didn't blame her if that was the case. it was a... weird night. and he was used to being something people were embarrassed of. regret came with the territory "and i have never in my life been workworkwork." not true, necessarily. but he wouldn't consider what he did ambition by any means. so it didn't count. not really.

dragging his eyes away from a lauryn hill poster, he turns to look at her, eyeing the scarce supply she was finishing off "ugh." harvey slips off the straps of his backpack (it was practically glued to him most nights. today, there are large paper wings stapled to each side), retrieving a similarly sized baggie and crossing the distance to the vanity "i was gonna give this to you if you solved my riddles three, but..." he drops it near the mirror and flits away, eyes drawn to a collection of ticket stubs on the wall.

No matter what Merritt does, she keeps ending up on the opposite side of the room as Noa Sweet. She's done her makeup so nicely, gotten her hair to sit so perfectly, picked out an incredibly on-theme and well-fitting dress, and he still hasn't so much as looked her way. Ugh. She isn't pouting about it, not really, though she has decided to at least temporarily give up on scoring with the ( technically spoken for rockstar ) and focus on getting herself to a quiet place for a line.

Upstairs - two flights, to the quieter part of the house where no one is supposed to be but people are wandering anyway. Annoying. To this day, only one couple has ever risked going into the rooms marked OFF-LIMITS, and neither of those two were invited back; she's not worried people are in there, but it's still frustrating to have to squeeze through to get to her own room, muttering excuse me's like anyone cared at all. Her door is closed, of course, but another barrier poses itself before that: Vee, mid-conversation, his halo crooked and bouncing as he talks.

There's nothing to feel embarrassed about but Merritt feels it anyway, seeping under her cosmetic blush in splotches and warming the skin. It's not like she's been avoiding him, not really, but she should've re-upped on her supply last Wednesday and has instead been nursing the same order for as long as possible. Life just gets in the way, and all. Merritt forges forth and stands, arms crossed and hip cocked in front of Vee.

"Do I have to, like, answer a riddle to get into my own room?"

harvey's ready to step out of the way before merritt speaks, but he can't help but to pause when he's actually acknowledged. he's an expert at avoiding people himself, and well, already familiar with her usual routine. it was obvious what was going on here. still, he can't help but fuck with her a little, try to break some of the ice that had frozen over since they were snowed in.

he nods an acknowledgement as the person he was speaking to retreats before his eyes drag back to merritt "i mean, if you want?" right hand forming a generic hand-puppet shape by his face "one of us always lies, and one of us always tells the truth."

the hand speaks first "you've been dodging me."

Jordan Gonzalez at the Actors Rising event last night