When the other approached, Tatiana cocked her head to the side, her tongue slowly moving over her bottom lip as she thought about the stranger’s question.  Humming slowly, she looked over the boy thoughtfully, “Well, typically no, but I think I can make an exception for you.” She stated, smirking as she pushed her glasses up to the top of her head, “I think it’s bathing suit only house and well….if you don’t have a bathing suit I suppose you’ll have to stip to your underwear.” Tatiana smiled, batting her eyes innocently up at the other.

             Biting her lip in thought, she held out her hand, “I also think the view isn’t free soooo I’ll take a cig and a light as payment.” She beamed as she looked up at the other, searching his gaze, wondering if he’d play along.

           He likes her already, well — as much as you can like someone in the first five minutes of meeting them. She seems a little shallow — but so was he wasn’t he? It wasn’t as if Timmy let anyone get close enough to form actual feelings. His grin stays in place, growing slightly at the edges as he continues to drink in her form. “Sounds fair.” He says easily, finding it no effort to remove his t-shirt. Luckily there’s a few empty lawn chairs near by — just a few steps out of reach which allows Timmy to quickly find a place next to her by accessing one.

Hearing his words, Rachel dipped her head and chuckled under her breath as she arched her back against the chair in order to get comfortable and a small sound escaped as she stretched. “This bottle? I mean, I could share if you wanted?” She grasped the neck of the bottle and brought it to her lips and took a healthy swig, not taking her violet eyes off of him. 

She didn’t know why but she had an urge to play with him – she usually did when it came to guys who thought they were God’s gift.

         He doesn’t miss the casual way she stretches but Timmy also isn’t obnoxious enough to glare. He drinks her in wth his peripheral, subtly able to admire the stranger in all her glory before giving her another slow nod. “I do.” He says sweetly, taking another generous draw from his cigarette.

Staying positive was utterly exhausting. Evie tried her best to make the best out of a bad situation, but the longer she spent in whatever town they had been dropped in, the more forlorn she became. She wandered around with her bag, trying to get her bearings and ultimately found herself walking into what looked like a school.

Did people actually live here before? If so, why was it abandoned? These were questions that she mulled over when she was alone, but didn’t want to bring it up whenever she ran into someone else. Her wanderings finally landed her in the library where it appeared that she was not alone. “Oh, hi. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

             “Free country.” Timmy says casually, pouting gently as he shakes his head, insinuating that she hasn’t disturbed him in the slightest. “You lost?” He follows, nodding in her direction as his attention is pulled away from his novel. Company would be far more interesting than the story; for the moment anyway — there was always a chance she could be a vapid moron, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still have some fun.

Lily stared at her flask for a good long while. On one hand, she needed a stiff drink. On the other, she didn’t know how long she would be holed up in hell, and it would probably come in handy later. Fuck it, she thought to herself as she took a swig out of it. 

Halfway through her flask and who knows how many minutes later, she found herself wandering into random buildings and eventually into a library. At the very least, there was someone else present. “You look relatively comfortable,” she mentioned casually as she finds a seat nearby to take a load off.

                “Relatively.” The Turner boy repeats, side smirking as he finds he’s got company. It was only a matter of time really — how long could he have possibly gone without running into some other soul here — this was all set up for a reason clearly, what that reason was remained a mystery though.

          Sapphire hues drink in the beauty who now sits just a few feet from him and it isn’t long before Timmy feels a dryness in his throat — perhaps it’s got to do with the flask she’s holding in her grasp. “Feel like sharing?” He asks casually, nodding his head toward the alcohol filled object.

         He’s made his way around, more or less — enough to finally start to get a grip of the streets and buildings, it’s by no means memorized, but it’ll do for now. But the Turner boy is getting anxious — not a natural occurrence for him considering his laid back attitude; there’s something building in the air and the occasional spark of static from the televisions around the place paired with his newly acquired radio tell Timmy they’re meant to be there a while — but what he can’t figure out yet is what for.

Around the corner the blonde has to blink twice, because what he spies can only be described as a woman wandering around on all fours, blindly ambling for something; it’s not until he gets closer that Timmy can understand what she’s been saying. ‘My glasses, I can’t see a thing without my glasses.’

          He doesn’t hesitate, instead Timmy Turner spies the bifocals with laser precision, baby blue hues zeroing in on their mark in seconds and soon he’s stooping, taking a knee in order to delver them to the woman who seems so crippled without them. “Think these belong to you.” He offers and places a ginger hand against her arm while the other delicately parks the readers into the palm of her slender hand.

“. . . you’re joking right? this is a joke -- first of all, I don’t do girlfriends; second of all -- how can I make this clear. I would rather dip my dick in acid than be considered Vicky Woodrum’s boyfriend. Now fuck buddy, that’s a different story, crazies are always the best screw.”

@dimmsdaledork

Rachel didn’t say anything at first as she stretched out on the lounge chair beside the pool. She had found a two-piece swimsuit in one of the shops that seemed to fit her well enough and the bottle of Fireball rested between her thighs as she looked at the boy over the rims of the large glasses. “You know it’s not nice to STARE. If you wanna say something, just do it. Goes farther than leering at me.”

       Timmy wasn’t about to complain about all these women seemingly needing a sudden tan; it was easy on the eyes anyway — provided some entertainment while they waited for — whatever it was that was going to happen here. He himself is clad in swim trunks and a white tee — nothing fancy, no need for it.

       He grins when she addresses him and leans a little farther back into the lounge chair he’s chosen, parked right beside the mysterious brunette. “Never said I was nice.” He shrugs and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Maybe don’t flatter yourself too much, I was eyeing that bottle more than anything.” Timmy chuckles and takes a deep inhale from the stick perched between two fingers.

Stretched out on an old green plastic lawn chair she found in one of the shops Tati layout in the motel parking lot in a string bikini with her sunglasses on, trying to work on her tan.  She understood there was danger lurking, but she didn’t really care, she knew how to defend herself and wasn’t scared to kill anyone.  So, there she lay, trying to relax before the fun would start…whatever fun that may be.  

Feeling someone in her sunlight she lowered her sunglasses, quirking a brow as she looked them over, “Caaan I help you?” She questioned, cocking her head to the side.

         He’s curious; obviously he is — who wouldn’t be in a place like this, what with the mysterious way they’d arrived and handed what could only be described as a joke back — bar a weapon; if you could call fishing line a weapon. Still they’d left him his cigarettes and it wasn’t like there was anyone guarding the stores, no clerks for that matter either; it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out the rule of thumb here was five finger discount — but was it really stealing if no one was around to catch you?

           Contently sparking up a stick it’s the image of what other might call a mirage laying just a few feet away that grasps his new found attention. Shit; and Timmy thought he was laid back. A subtle crooked grin plays over his features and without hesitation the boy Turner makes his way toward the woman, casually striding of course — he’s almost certain they’re not the only two people here. “Just admiring the view.” The blonde answers back, raising both brows for a second following up the action with a quick exhale of thick smoke. “There a dress code I don’t know about.” He asks, head nodding toward her bikini — she couldn’t possibly have arrived like that.

“what kinda’ stupid fuckin -- fine. i guess. . . fuck I dunno -- wanda and caesar are happy for the rest of their lives. . . fifty million bucks and . . . shit, uh -- end world hunger or some shit like that.”

“this is a joke right? who WASN’T bullied as a kid. there was this one asshole FRANCIS - fuckin’ dumb as a bag of bricks but scary as hell -- at least he was when I was ten. don’t even get me started on my baby sitter -- how fucked up is that? my own BABYSITTER -- this one time . . . no, no fuck this im not gonna complain to a fuckin DOOR. “

“I missed her actually -- and don’t misinterpret, i didn’t MISS her; I didn’t SEE her, though i wouldn’t mind giving her a close up view of my fishing wire...”