CHAOS cometh

Part of Logan enjoyed the feeling of that jealousy, it was the only pulse point she had left, had left of whatever they used to be before they’d become this. She hated that it felt so much like loss, like drifting away, and this time? This time it was the only thing that had felt like she thought home should, that she would be leaving. A sigh seemed to shake the sentiment away. “Beauty is pain, or whatever the girls say.” She managed with a grin, waving a hand as if it was simply no big deal. “Party, some people from work, all I really needed to hear was tequila.” Usually, this was the part where she would extend the invitation but instead? Instead she turned back to the mirror for a quick glance, and then a nod of approval at her appearance.

“Fucking Melissa.” She managed to get out the two words before joining in that fit of laughter, eventually finding somewhere to sit down rather than double over too far. “You say us like we came up with it!” Reina exclaimed, still laughing a little bit as head shook, waves of hair settling around her face and shoulders before a finger pointed. “Listen, I remember Shazam as a movie and every time I remember that wasn’t a thing, it makes my one remaining brain cell hurt.” She admitted, grinning wide before leaning forward to place elbows on her knees, comfortably. “Next question, what’s the weirdest shit youve heard about this town?” Asked, going just a little wide eyed at genuine interest.

“Look, that doll is not even.” A gesture made to a certain height before she grinned, the expression devilish, as she enjoyed giving him shit for any reason, didn’t matter what stood behind it. “Tall enough to ride rides by itself, you’re telling me that’s how I get got?” She looked at him like he’d insulted her even with the question before a small laugh would slip in, yet again. “Good to know you ain’t a real friend, check you right off the list for help with possession.” A fake check mark made in the air. “Now, the question is, what are your thoughts on vampires?” Asked, a serious face made, like this was the utmost importance, while manicured brow arched.

“Whose to say you haven’t already exceeded my expectations?” Asked in a tone that was purposely trying too hard to be coy, if just for the chance to make her laugh. A small smile hinting at the corners of her mouth as a finger tapped the table. “Let me see them, we’ll figure out if I can teach you a thing or two.” Nic insisted, until the mention of her tell had her leaning back, eyeing Willow before eyebrow raised. “Oh? Share with the class, please.”

Nic is sympathetic for a second, only because Lennon has the air around her. She’s learned to see it from a mile away, the one that said something was wrong, even to a stranger. The warmth in those dark eyes is apparent for a moment, before a solid nod was given. “I was wondering if you were going to make it to a second bottle.” Ringed finger taps the neck of it. “Impressive, none the less. What are we drinking about tonight, then?”

It was almost admirable that Camila thought that Fox would be enough to deter a bunch of boys who had unknowingly just made quite the mistake. Men like that didn’t know when enough was enough. Thankfully, she’d never had a problem with offering a lesson for the low, low price of free ninety nine. “Hey Shaun White.” A pause. “Oh shit, no, that must be carrot top.” A finger pointed at the man that seemed to be the ring leader of it all. “Fuck if I know, all cis white and painfully hetero men look the same. You ever feel like maybe you should fuck right off instead of making us all feel uncomfortable? Don’t make me call your mama, now. Does she know you’re out this late?” Just, full on shit talking before she’d even bothered to fully stand up from the stool she’d been lazily perched on when Camila came in. If she was trying to avoid a scene? Well, she’d picked the wrong helping hand.

“Quit being a little shit and just take it.” A huffed breath meant only for siblings was forced from between lips, shoving the black wrapped box toward his brother with both amusement and annoyance in his tone. “You’re the baddest bitch alive and you need no one, I know.” He continued, eyes rolling as deep rooted baritone floated right into a chuckle. “But it’s a gift and even satan enjoys those motherfuckers.” He added, with one final shove of the box toward Roman.

“You may want to move two down.” It was a rarity that she decided to join the masses at the bar, but sometimes even her soul seemed to ache for the familiar pangs of companionship: even if those companions seemed more scared than comforted by her presence. “Or else they’ll think you want to talk to me or you’ll be in distress in ten minutes.” A grin that landed somewhere between amused and cruel. “Curse of the town urban legend, I’m afraid.”

Outings like these didn’t exactly help the reputation she’d built, the one that whispered about whether or not she was a killer, or simply turned into one that night. But, the only one that was still breathing and knew the truth, was thankfully: her. In order to keep it that way, she turned around when she heard someone else approaching that clearing she’d been standing in, hands held up like she was surrendering before even starting. “It’s not what it looks like.” Claimed, but, truth be told? It was probably exactly, what it looked like.

Perhaps she had made herself a pariah after the incident, or simply leaned into the fact that the town had seemed intent to do it for her. Whatever the actual turn of events, this was one of the brighter ones. There were color swatches spread all over the kitchen counter, and she pointed at one, without even looking up at Jovi. “That one feels too sterile but I can’t figure out why. Aside from it, what would you pick?” Asked, as hand came to curl around the curve of her hip, a sigh whispering past lips, as if indecision was the worst of her problems.

Theo pointed but didn’t quite touch, always one to wait for even the unwritten prompt for permission, beforehand. “It’s in the hips.” A more enthusiastic gesture as he spoke louder, over the music that played in the background. “You really never learned to dance?” Asked with a sympathetic glance, and just a small hint of a grin curling at the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t understand it because even with his absentee parents, his abuela had made sure they all didn’t end up without rhythm.

An unfortunate combination of a classic dreamers syndrome and maybe a touch of absent mindedness was at fault for his lack of attention. Well, maybe it was that, and his excitement in finally getting the book that he’d wanted for no less than six months. Whatever it was, he collided almost directly into someone he didn’t recognize, at least at first, and promptly dropped everything in his hands as a result. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he also found himself right on his ass, too. “Shit, I’m sorry.” A slough of apologies, profuse and sincere, we’re following the initial one, before gesturing to the pile of books strewn across the sidewalk and himself, and promptly laughing at the pure ridiculousness of it all.

“It’s not real.” He was lying through his teeth but mostly because he hated the small signs of wealth that were still dripping from his wardrobe, heartbreaking reminders of parents that never loved him. The watch though, that was real Versace, and the heartbreak had come from a boy who engraved the poignant words on the back of it, the ones he’d hesitate to share. A finger tapped the glass of the time piece. “One thing I miss about New York, you really did get top tier knock offs from the trunk of some very nice man’s Honda Civic.” A more mischievous grin.

“Don’t touch that.” She felt like she had repeated this same mantra; three words turned into a makeshift gospel, no less than ten times since they had set foot into the damn room. Eyes narrowed, and for a moment it was almost hard to tell if she were actually being serious or not. “The next thing you put your hands on I’m going to toss that paper weight at your forehead.” Threat made as tattooed hand moved to pick it up, but it was reeled in by the grin that found her features afterward.

Nic is usually overconfident in her ability to pull back on commitments, but there is always an exception to every rule. She wouldn’t tell Reina that perhaps she was right about Guin, but instead, felt that pull like the moth to a flame. An almost invited kind of helplessness, which explained why shoulder found the doorframe of her classroom, clearing her throat loud enough to announce her presence. “Heard you needed some help setting up for some project, Ms. Fisher.” Rocking on her feet as if she were merely a helping hand. “At your service.”

“I think it’s important to make a point and yet, here you still are.” A hand waved, right in front of her. The part she didn’t say, is it was where she was supposed to be. A humble, and controversial little opinion, before a grin that spoke those exact words for her, found features. It only seemed to spread at the mention of seduction, a easy shake of her head, fingers slipping up to toy with the next button. “Sorry?” Asked as if suddenly she’d been washed in the water, innocent as the day they were born. “What ever do you mean, ma’am? I’m simply here, doing my job.”