do I dare?

"Yeah, she's living large down at her retirement community," Davis said. "Apparently she's like the queen bee down there already, which doesn't surprise me at all." As he listened to Micah talk about the last few years of his life, Davis asked, "Where were you in between? Like after you left but before you came back. I'm from Boston myself, though I've lived all over. I'm a military guy, so some of those places aren't even in the country, though obviously it wasn't all good. But it was kind of cool getting to see some of then world."

Micah's role on the farm hadn't been made entirely clear after he came back. For most of high school, he'd planned on taking over the farm once his dad retired, so his father had given him plenty of preparation growing up. But it felt almost wrong to claim he ran it all. "I wouldn't say I run the whole farm," he replied, vocalizing this reluctance. "I'd say I'm the go-to for most of the operational pieces, but my mom does the financials, my siblings work with a lot of the vendors." That had been the case when he was growing up too; once he and his siblings were old enough, they'd always had a share of the responsibilities.

He laughed at Davis' reaction to the ice cream, glad it was as much of a hit as he'd hoped. As he started to scoop out a serving, he replied to his observation. "We've got really good relationships with a lot of the neighboring farms – suppliers and vendors and all them. Not a lot of folks who aren't in it know that, but when shipments come in, you get to talkin' and you learn a lot. With smaller farms like ours, it's usually the owner or their family who's driving the truck, so they know a lot about their process and their product. It's nice," he explained with a shrug.

Micah didn't know much about military life, but from the outside, he could imagine it was a lot of travel. It, honestly, sounded exhausting. "I was in Boulder for five years, got my bachelor's and my master's. Then I was out in Cleveland, working for one of NASA's labs. Those are the only places I've ever really been outside of Shrike," he answered. He handed over the cup of ice cream, following it with some napkins. "What's your favorite place you've been?"

It was nice catching up with his friend, and Ocean said, "I'm glad to have you back. I missed hanging out." The truth was that Micah was one of his few friends who didn't live on the commune, and it was nice having that kind of connection to the outside world; it was why he was attending a local university and working in the mall now, or one of the reasons at least. "I'm still doing pottery," Ocean confirmed, and then an idea came to him. "One second, I'll be right back," he told Micah, and then Ocean hurried back to his stand, grabbing his favorite piece for the day, a bowl that was beautiful decorated. Then he brought it to Micah, handing it to the man and saying, "Here, a welcome home gift," his smile bright and easy. It had always felt good doing things for other people. "I've been alright here I guess," Ocean answered his other question. And then he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Well not really," he admitted sheepishly, "but I'm getting by."

Micah could never regret his decision to go to college and follow his dream. After Celia had left, he'd been so lost, and leaving Shrike had been what he needed to get back on his feet and rediscover his identity outside of his relationship. So he didn't regret it, but seeing the friends he'd missed again reminded him how bittersweet the decision had been.

"Cleveland, yeah," he answered with a smile, more than happy to talk about his recent work. "I was finishing up my master's in Boulder when some folks from the NASA lab out there met with the cohort. Thankfully, NASA still likes young and eager aerospace engineers," he joked. The day the recruiters had come to their symposium was one of the most exciting, nerve-wracking days of Micah's life, all his work over the past near-decade leading to one conversation with a man in a pressed suit. "I spent a year out there. But Mom and Dad need some help running the farm right now, so I took leave. Should be back for a bit," he explained while omitting the specifics. "Which is great because we've got catchin' up to do." He grinned.

When Ocean ran off, Micah remembered he – until realizing it was Micah on the other side of the counter – had actually asked about ice cream. So while he had the time, Micah managed to scoop out a serving of strawberry into a sugar cone. When Ocean returned, Micah's smile did too at the sight of what he carried. "No way!" He laughed, touched by the gift. "This is incredible, O. Thank you." He then outstretched his hand. "Here, it's not remotely the same, but this is on the house," he offered, handing him the cone. As he did, his brow furrowed at Ocean's admission. "I'm sorry to hear that. Do you wanna talk about it? I'm not exactly slammed if you've got time."

There was no sort of weather that would keep her from visiting the farmer’s market, however. The freshest ingredients she could possibly hope to find would be here, from fresh produce to farm-to-table meats. Her dad was due to visit soon, and assuming he was actually able to make it this time, she wanted to make him a really nice meal.

Life in Shrike was very bearable, pleasant even - despite the terrible happenings that plagued it on occasion. She had her bunnies and tentative friendships with various people who worked in the mall, but it was difficult not to miss the company of her only family. That was why she really hoped against hope that this time, he would be able to make it.

She came to a stop in front of an ice cream stand, her interest piqued. Ice cream was its own food group in Aki’s eyes, and a very important one at that. An easy smile spread onto her face, her eyes lighting up. “Morning!” She replied, heavily accented yet understandable all the same. “Well yes and no. I know I want ice cream, but I haven’t decided what kind yet,” She admitted, cheeks rosy. “What flavours do you have?” 

Micah's vision adjusted and he identified the person in front of him. He didn't recognize them, which meant much less than it did before he'd left for college, but they seemed eager to talk, and he was more than willing. He matched her smile and nodded, approaching the counter across from her.

"That's a good place to start, for sure," he agreed with a laugh, reaching for the list of flavors they had on hand. "We've got a pretty solid list – some of the regulars and some seasonal ones. Depends what you're looking for, y'know, fruity or floral, sweet or salty, classic or experimental. We don't have anything too out there," he assured her, knowing his mom and dad's limit of inventive flavors extended to about espresso and pistachio. "But there's some unique ones we're trying out."

Rather than regurgitate the whole list in front of him, he decided to ask her instead. He thought that was the appeal of places like farmer's markets, after all; you could have a conversation, explore, and get advice on what you were buying rather than limit the interaction to strictly a transactional one.

"D'you have an idea of what you're in the mood for?" He asked, settling into the conversation.

Right now though, Ocean was focusing on the market. There were a lot of people from the commune that day, so Ocean was taking a little break, looking around at the various stalls. When he saw the ice cream machine, he approached the man and asked, "Do you make strawberry by chance?" Suddenly Ocean had such a craving for it, so he was going to be disappointed if the other said no. And that was when Ocean realized that he knew this man. "Oh hey Micah!" Ocean exclaimed. "Man, it's been awhile. How long have you been back?"

Micah recognized the voice and instantly, his smile widened. His eyes adjusted as he came around the counter to Ocean's side, opening his arms up for a hug. "Long time no see, my friend," he grinned. Micah's work on the farm had always been pretty focused on his family, but the commune had always offered another group to relate to. Especially with there being plenty of folks his age on the property, it was a built-in place for him to find friends where he otherwise might have struggled. Being a bookish, enthusiastic kid whose mind went a million miles a minute tended to pose challenges. Thankfully, he had people like Ocean who didn't seem to mind.

Micah stepped back, taking a proper look at the man he hadn't seen in a handful of years. "Yeah, what's it been... three years?" He asked. He'd come home for holidays most years while in college, but with internships and research, the visits had been brief and focused on his family. The success was good, but coming back home, it reminded him of what he'd given up to chase it. "Not too long, just a few days. I'll be back for a while longer this time, though." He offered, though exactly how long that would be still proved an open question. "How've you been? You're still doing pottery, right?" He asked, recalling his friend's interest back when they were kids.

It was easier to focus on ice cream, so that was what Davis did now. “Hmm,” he pondered, looking at the list of flavors. “How about black raspberry?” he decided. “Is that one good? Or do you recommend something else?” At Micah’s question, Davis answered, “Only for a few weeks now. I’ve been here before though - my grandma lived here. She retired and moved to Florida, but she still owns her house here, which is where I’m living for the time being.” He wasn’t sure how long that would last. “What about you?”

Micah shook his head quickly, laughing as Davis seemed equally in disbelief at the prospect. "Family business for sure," he answered. "My dad's the owner. I'm, uh – sort of running thing at the moment, but it's his farm." He explained, avoiding further detail.

Instead, he nodded and perked up at Davis' selection. "Oh, definitely. That's a pretty seasonal one, so it's good you're trying it now." He explained as he grabbed disposable gloves and moved around the temporary stand. "We get the fruit from a farm in on the border with Nebraska; black raspberries are pretty hard to grow this far west, you see. They grow Cumberlands, one of the older varieties out here. They're pretty tart, so we really liked how it tasted with the fresh ice cream," he explained, handing over a sample spoon to Davis. "Give it a try and let me know if you wanna go with that one."

Micah was at least a little relieved Davis hadn't lived there long. It made him feel a little less out-of-sorts in his hometown, and he smiled as the other man finished his explanation. "Congrats to your grandma," he smiled before answering himself. "I'm a lifer. Family's been farming here for something like five, six generations. I've been gone for a couple years – school and work out-of-state – and just got back. Hopefully it's been a warm welcome for you?"

“Free as a bird,” she repeated, sure she couldn’t smile any wider. Alma was prone to having crushes but TJ had always been especially cute to her and the idea of spending time with him felt like something that could provide a real reprieve from spiraling and getting lost in their own mind. “Yes, precisely that. I’d like to do something with you later. Something fun, preferably. I can meet you out front after your shift and we can go somewhere that’s not the mall if that works for you. I didn’t drive today though. Did you?” The idea of driving around in the car with him made her smile and she was hopeful he had. “I should probably go buy these and stash em in my locket at work but two hours? I’ll see you soon?”

TJ's saving grace was that Alma didn't seem to mind how his foot kept ending up in his mouth. She didn't make him feel like an idiot. She never had, but it was good to see that hadn't changed. He smiled as she touched his chest, nodding at her follow-up question. "Of course I do," he confirmed. "I might not have an artistic bone in my body, but I think I can tell when someone else does." He shrugged, offering his explanation. He'd always been a little bit in awe of her, just how her talent and dedication hadn't seemed to come at the expense of her patience or kindness. He'd met plenty of people in his world who didn't have that same balance.

He wanted to protest when she offered to make him something, not wanting to take advantage. But the idea of having something she made for him in his collection, knowing the work she put into it, wasn't something he wanted to pass up. "Yeah, I, uh – I drink coffee. I drink a lot of it actually," he answered, laughing. "You don't have to make me anything, though. That's – I mean, that's really nice of you. I'd love that. But you really don't have to." He fumbled out in an attempt at assurance.

Despite all his awkwardness, though, it seemed to work out, as Alma confirmed that she did, in fact, want to do something later with him. He felt incredibly silly at how his smile widened at her answer, laughing at her suggestion. "Something fun, got it. Was gonna ask if you wanted to help me with my taxes, but I guess I can think of something else." He joked. Plenty of options came to mind then at what they could do, and he knew exactly how he'd be spending the remaining two hours until they met back at the entrance. "I drove in, yeah," he nodded, smiling. "I'll see you in a bit, then." He stepped back to let her go, content on riding the high of seeing her later that day for the rest of his shift.

TJ's saving grace was that Alma didn't seem to mind how his foot kept ending up in his mouth. She didn't make him feel like an idiot. She never had, but it was good to see that hadn't changed. He smiled as she touched his chest, nodding at her follow-up question. "Of course I do," he confirmed. "I might not have an artistic bone in my body, but I think I can tell when someone else does." He shrugged, offering his explanation. He'd always been a little bit in awe of her, just how her talent and dedication hadn't seemed to come at the expense of her patience or kindness. He'd met plenty of people in his world who didn't have that same balance.

He wanted to protest when she offered to make him something, not wanting to take advantage. But the idea of having something she made for him in his collection, knowing the work she put into it, wasn't something he wanted to pass up. "Yeah, I, uh – I drink coffee. I drink a lot of it actually," he answered, laughing. "You don't have to make me anything, though. That's – I mean, that's really nice of you. I'd love that. But you really don't have to." He fumbled out in an attempt at assurance.

Despite all his awkwardness, though, it seemed to work out, as Alma confirmed that she did, in fact, want to do something later with him. He felt incredibly silly at how his smile widened at her answer, laughing at her suggestion. "Something fun, got it. Was gonna ask if you wanted to help me with my taxes, but I guess I can think of something else." He joked. Plenty of options came to mind then at what they could do, and he knew exactly how he'd be spending the remaining two hours until they met back at the entrance. "I drove in, yeah," he nodded, smiling. "I'll see you in a bit, then." He stepped back to let her go, content on riding the high of seeing her later that day for the rest of his shift.

Still, Davis was trying. He was out early today, having gone on a long run to clear his mind. He hadn’t meant to end up at the farmer’s market, but he found himself there, deciding to look around (and also hoping to catch something to cool off on this hot summer day). And then saw the ice cream. Immediately Davis was pulled toward, almost like it was a magnet. He loved ice cream on a normal day, but especially when it was so hot out. He was so mesmerized that he didn’t even notice the man stand up at first, a little startled when he spoke. “Oh, I didn’t see you there,” he replied, hopefully playing it cool. Realizing the other had asked him something, Davis answered, “Well I was hoping for some ice cream. Do you think you could help me with that?” And then he flashed the other a bright smile, introducing himself. “I’m Davis,” he told the other.

Micah didn't recognize the man in front of him when his eyes adjusted. That wasn't really a surprise – Micah hadn't been back long, and a lot could change in five years – but it was still a new feeling for him, new faces in his hometown. Still, he seemed friendly, and Micah wasn't against meeting new people, so he matched the other's smile, reaching out to shake the hand of his new acquaintance. "Davis, great to meet you," he replied before remembering he needed to introduce himself as well. "I'm Micah Miller – from Miller Dairy." He explained, gesturing to the sign on the tent above the stall.

"I can definitely help you with ice cream. Flavors list is on that sign there," he explained, pointing to the sign on the table. "And if you wanna try anything, just let me know." It'd been a while since he'd worked the market, and while it took some adjusting, it reminded him of how much he missed home. The place was full of familiar sights and sounds, an easy rhythm for him to fall back into. It put him a good mood. He spoke up again as he waited for Davis to order. "So how long've you been in Shrike?" He asked curiously, his familiar twang that matched his father's slipping through.

As they ate, Copper tried not to stare, but he couldn't help it. TJ was like a human vacuum, just shoveling that food in like he had just eaten for the first time and discovered how good it could be. Yeah, Copper remembered that his friend loved eating and did it a lot, but he hadn't quite remembered how much. It was amusing and one of those endearing TJ quirks, and for a moment, Copper felt a pang of...something. He wasn't sure what it was, some kind of longing. He still didn't think he had a crush on his friend, but there apparently was a part of Copper - the part that had kissed TJ - who could see the appeal of their friendship being something deeper. However, that wasn't something Copper would let himself think about; TJ had made himself pretty clear, after all. "If you choke, I know the Heimlich Maneuver," Copper teased. "I'll save you, but then you're going to owe me a life debt forever, just so you know." He laughed, adding, "I'm glad you like it though, Teej."

As TJ asked him more about what he'd said, Copper blushed slightly. He wasn't embarrassed about the fact that he'd been sleeping around a bit - guys tended to do that a lot, he'd learned - but he was slightly worried how TJ would react because he thought his friend might think it wasn't a healthy coping mechanism. "I don't think so," Copper replied. "It's usually guys I meet at Julio's or somewhere, or The Blue Sparrow, which has turned out to be surprisingly easy; I guess coffee house guys are drawn to me. Also once I went home with one of the librarians in town, which was an interesting experience. Let's just say they weren't worried about how loud we were then." He smirked at TJ before laughing, still slightly nervous. "It's just nice, I guess," Copper continued more seriously. "It's nice to feel that connection, even for just a little bit, you know?" That was something Copper really missed. Not wanting to dwell on sad memories, Copper asked, "Are you done? Or should I make more?"

TJ agreed, letting Copper have the last word. He wasn't the type to get angry or grumpy when was hungry – Copper's assessment was correct, and TJ really was always a little bit starving – so it didn't true to him and his own experience, but he remembered how some people could be back in high school if they hadn't had coffee before practice. They were dark and dangerous times then. "Alright, I will," TJ replied, smiling at the idea of impromptu dips in the lake with his best friend, a slice of normalcy bleeding back into their lives after so much change and turmoil. "I'll just make sure to bring breakfast first. Just in case," he teased between bites.

He didn't notice Copper staring, far too engrossed in his appetite to pay attention, until he came up for air. At Copper's comment, he barked out a laugh, barely managing to swallow before he did. "Duh, dude, we all do," he shot back, eyebrows raised. "We'd be some crap lifeguards if we didn't know first aid." He'd thankfully – knock on wood – never had to use that training, but it'd always been a comfort to him, knowing that he wouldn't be totally fucked if something happened. And as the ever-present danger in Shrike Heights persisted, the usefulness of that knowledge became even more relevant. Unfortunately.

TJ didn't dwell on it, though, instead preferring to listen to Copper answer his question. For it being the first time they'd caught up since Copper came back, it sounded like he'd been plenty busy. TJ didn't judge him for it or take it personally, of course – he was dealing with his own shit in his own way, and he had no place having an opinion on how that went – but it did catch him a little by surprise how commonplace it sounded coming from Copper. He just wasn't expecting it was all. Still, he was happy for the man. He laughed at Copper's anecdote, shaking his head as he finished off his plate. "Yeah, I bet they weren't," he replied, setting his fork down. "Though, I don't think I'll be able to look at the folks in the library the same way again." Not that he ever really went there, of course.

At Copper's question, TJ shook his head, not quite full – he never was – but plenty satiated. "I'm set, man. Thanks, though. Definitely glad you took over when you did." He joked.

"I can confirm you still snore," Viola teased as Danny stirred next to her. One of her birthday requests had been him staying over and having a good ol fashioned sleepover with her best friend. She was trying to not have too many existential crises about turning 34 but she had still been sitting up this morning thinking about the past year and beyond. The past year had felt especially tough but she cuddled closer to Danny and patted his chest. "I'm making coffee and starting the day with some champagne. You in? My co workers already gave me a gift card to use on breakfast so I'm not cooking until the dinner."

He felt like his was sixteen again, curling further into bed sheets that smelled like Vi, waking to the feeling of her moving around him in the bed with infinitely more energy than he could hope to muster. He grumbled – there was no bite to it – as he rolled onto his back and blinked his eyes open. "Yeah, well, you kick," he retorted, his voice gravelly from the dryness that, yes, came with his snoring. Once his eyes adjusted, he looked over at her, and he felt a wide smile spread across his face. He was quick to wrap his arms around her and pull her close, smothering her with affection to welcome in the day's celebrations. "Happy birthday, oldie," he teased, squeezing gently and pressing a firm kiss to the top of her head.

Eli's persistence in the face of his clear disinterest had Danny's scowl deepening. He focused on his drink, taking a long pull while Eli spoke. He really hadn't changed at all. "Interesting definition of the word 'friend' there, Coates." He shot back, a deep-seated anger rising in his chest that had lain dormant for too long. He still didn't turn to face Eli, knowing that turning towards his decidedly punchable face wouldn't end well for anybody. Shockingly, Danny wasn't the type to forgive or forget, especially when he struggled so much with trust. Eli was one of a long string of people Danny regretted trusting. As far as his memory was concerned, nothing good came of it. "Did you need something, or were you just trying to test my patience?"

"What do you have against malls? They're a one stop shop for anything you could possibly need," Keanu pointed out. Keanu had always been a mall rat. They'd spent most of their days back in Miami visiting the various malls the city had to offer. That was why Keanu had the shopping addiction that they had today and one of the only reasons Keanu could stand living in Shrike Heights. Even though they didn't have to work very much at their job they found themself often hanging around the mall because it was the only place they found something to do in the small town.

"There's a difference between fruit that's been intentionally dried and a stale piece of fruit," Keanu pointed out. Keanu had nothing against dried fruit when it was intentional. "It doesn't take much to offer quality service. Nor does it take that long to cut up fruit fresh for a drink. I've never seen this place so busy that they couldn't offer proper service," Keanu explained before taking another sip of their drink.

Danny quirked an eyebrow as he took another sip of his drink. "Where to start?" He sighed, half-teasing, before holding up his fingers to count each item. "Let's see, they're loud and obnoxious – by definition, neon or otherwise. They're soulless, corporate entities run by faceless people looking only to make a profit. They kill local businesses in favor of big box stores and chains. The food's not that great. Oh, and I have to work here if I want to make any money in this town." He finished with a pointed look, raising his open hand to display his final count to his companion for the moment.

He knew most people didn't share his opinions, and he understood that his views were biased and deliberately unforgiving, but he didn't care to give the mall or its ownership the benefit of the doubt. He figured Keanu didn't share the same mindset. He smirked at Keanu's comment about the fruit, choosing not to respond and instead bring his glass back to his lips. He also refrained from commenting on how Keanu hadn't ever seen the place busy enough to not offer what they deemed proper service; he thought that just illustrated his point.

Keanu explained the type of people they preferred to spend time with, and Danny offered a short laugh. "What a perfectly vague description," he replied, teasing. "The nightlife's fine, I guess, if you don't want loud music and sweaty dance floors." He shrugged. He certainly didn't, but he wagered Keanu was more likely the type. As he neared the end of his glass, Danny waved over to the bartender, moving on from the fruit-forward drink to something more refreshing. "Tom Collins," he ordered, looking over at Keanu. "You stickin' around for another one?" He asked, eyebrow raised. He wouldn't blame them if they weren't.

It takes Danny a second to realize what he's doing. If this were some schmuck who came in acting like they owned the place, like they mattered more than they did, Danny wouldn't let up and would keep pushing them until they left, embarrassed and ridiculed. They deserved it, in his mind. But that's not Ted, at least not as far as Danny can see. He sees how nervous – even afraid – Ted seems, and Danny tries not to flinch when he realizes it's his fault.

Danny doesn't know the first thing about Ted, but from what he can read, he's feeling exactly the sort of thing Danny feels in most other parts of town. Unwelcome, called out, and ready to bolt. And all because of Danny. By all accounts, Ted's just trying to do something nice for his sister, and Danny's being his usual impudent self by throwing his lack of knowledge back in his face. He tries not to let the shame color his face as he chews on the inside of his cheek, sighing to himself. He's being too hard on the guy.

"If she's artistic, that's a good gift, yeah. You can kinda just go crazy with it, and it'll usually look good. You should probably get an Exacto knife too to carve it out if you don't have one." He explains, backtracking and trying to turn things around. He steps away from the counter and moves towards the section of the store reserved for extras and supplementary equipment. "She might already have this, but these are also great. I have, like, four," he tells the other man, pulling one of the T-tools off the rack. "It's kind of an all-around tool. If a bolt's ever loose or she's gotta replace something on the road, this is a godsend." He clarifies. "I'll grab the tape and stuff from the back. Just wait there," he instructs Ted, moving swiftly towards the backroom of the store, trying to swallow the frustration rising in his throat over his own behavior.

akito's relationship with art started like most people's - akito having been a small child with a box of crayons and no responsibilities to fill his time with otherwise . it had been encouraged by trauma he had had to endure , and then later it had been elevated and further developed by loneliness . without a life filled with people , and whilst only having few close to him , it had been much easier to be vulnerable , and to create artwork that were extensions of himself , more than silly little sketches or time filling doodles . " it is , " they confirmed . " but luckily for me , i find new inspiration pretty frequently . i mean , i totally experience your typical artist's slump sometimes , too , but it's usually always going for me in some way . even if i can't create sometimes , i usually store away little pieces of inspiration to come back to , " though akito was almost always creating regardless , due to it being his job to do so . " totally , " he nodded , chuckling . " and i don't think nature will be going anywhere anytime soon , so the inspiration is always there . "

Danny didn't say it, but he appreciated the mindset Akito expressed. There was a certain openness and patience in it; they didn't need inspiration immediately or try to force their muse to move in a certain direction. While he acted aloof and unbothered, Danny panicked when faced with something he couldn't control. It made for an anxious existence, and he found himself (passively) envious of people like Akito who allowed life to take its course.

"That's good," Danny commented lamely, keeping his opinions to himself. He didn't like thinking about how he self-sabotaged or how different his life could be if he was just... not himself. So he brushed it aside and pushed forward, ignoring any sentiment he felt in favor of the more impersonal, unaffected side of things. "So any of these fit your... vision or whatever?" He asked, coming off more dismissive than intended as he gestured to the pile. "Are you tryna give her the full board, or are you keeping it to the deck?"

junior laughed louder than he would have expected himself to when tj told him about his mom flunking most of the class ; it made junior feel good , good in an extremely petty way - a feeling junior didn't often experience . " knowing that , i think i would have liked to be in your mom's class , too , " he chuckled , though it was of course still more complicated than junior being able to enjoy the class because he liked the teacher . for starters , good teacher or not , junior likely would have still been pestered by some of the buffoons in their year , and things could have easily grown awkward when junior had taken a step back from his friendship with tj once he was confronted by his feelings a little too painfully . " i didn't get along with most of those guys , " he admitted . " which is also part of the reason why i didn't take the class . "

" i also think that most films are kind of good , though , " he shrugged . " i don't know if i've ever really disliked seeing a film . they might not be perfect , they might be flawed , or silly , or predictable - or whatever - but i'm usually still glad to have watched it , " maybe junior was alone in thinking that way , though . at the comment about third-wheeling , tj caught junior confused for a moment ; only after a beat did junior realise that tj had taken his joke about his car in a way other than intended . as junior had never gone to the drive in with someone to do anything other than stay in his seat and watch the film , he hadn't thought of the connotations behind attending . he smiled ; clearly alma hadn't made fun of junior's love for his car enough in the presence of tj , a conclusion junior was probably too glad to have come to . " well technically you'd be a fifth wheel - or sixth , including myself - as my other half is only my beloved car , " he laughed .

TJ nodded, understanding Junior's comments about their former classmates. TJ hadn't ever really been invested in the social groups at school; he'd been too focused on his training to do much else. But because of his athletic pursuits, and especially because he was good at them, he often found himself in the more popular group of students. There were some genuine friends of his in the group, of course, but it was also occupied by some serious meatheads and douchebags. They weren't the type of people TJ sought out in his free time. Junior was.

"Yeah, most of them sucked," he agreed, speaking quietly as if revealing a secret. "If you ever wanna get the asshole-free version, though, I'm sure Mom would love an extra set of hands. I can help enough, but I get too antsy for her and she kicks me out." He laughed in self-deprecation.

At Junior's explanation, TJ's smile widened as he nodded vigorously. "That's exactly it. I'm totally with you. It doesn't have to be perfect for it to be worth it." He reasoned, his words sounding far wiser and contemplative than they really were. As evidenced by his cluelessness regarding Junior's joke, TJ wasn't known for his wisdom. Junior clarified that the only one that'd be joining them was his own car, and he laughed, shaking his head. "I can definitely sixth wheel it," he grinned, agreeing to follow Junior to his car. "Lead the way. I don't wanna keep her waiting."

iggy laughed , taking galen's words as nothing short of a complete joke - in the nicest way possible . while he'd appreciate such a kind offer , kindness wasn't something that iggy came to immediately expect , something that he was okay with , as much as it definitely had been unfortunate at times throughout his life . " i'm honestly a both kind of person , does that count ? " he asked . " for some reason i like to follow up something salty with something sweet , like , as if the snack isn't complete without the other half of the salty sweet duo , " he laughed . iggy didn't always have a bit of both to eat - throughout his life he actually mostly hadn't had both at one time - but regardless , it was a preference that had stuck no matter what he had access to .

" his name's arne , he works at dirtbusters , " iggy told him . " he's always smiling like a dork and he's always talking to much , " he went on to describe further , in case the name and the work place wasn't enough - if his customer even knew his brother at all . " he's a nice guy , " iggy concluded ; he loved his brother , deeply , even if he did go around calling him a dork to people he'd just met . " it's good to meet you too , " he told him honestly as he moved on to continue ringing up his other items . " yeah , i thought it was kinda weird , " he nodded , speaking about the name tag he wore . " i don't really mind it , though , i suppose . i do like the name igor , even if i don't use it that often , " they shrugged their shoulders .

Galen laughed at their answer, respecting the refusal to choose sides. "No, I get you," he nodded. "Sometimes they're overwhelming. That's why I go with the chili ones there," he explained, nodding at the snacks Iggy held in their hand. He didn't eat candy much at all – precisely because they were too sweet for him – but he was a sucker for salted caramel ice cream, so Iggy's words rang true to him.

Iggy described Arne, and Galen laughed at the familiar sibling dynamic. Arne didn't sound like either of his siblings, but Iggy definitely sounded like Galen. There was a distinctly fond teasing that came with the territory of being a younger sibling, and while Galen was usually a laidback, even quiet, person, he took on a distinctly more animated role with them. "I don't think I know him," he replied. "He sounds fun, though." He added, laughing at Iggy's description.

"At least it's not longer. My brother's name's Copernicus, and he just goes by Copper. Way easier," he explained. Percy was the same. He thought about it for a second then followed up his observation with a question. "You ever get people mishearing you, calling you Ziggy?"