𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈

He chuckles a little where he stands, hands in the pockets of his letterman jacket and amusement dancing across his features. He's glad she sees that and knows it. What Max says and does doesn't define anyone-- he was loud and pushy, but he wasn't the end all be all of who you were. He didn't really get pooled into Max's endless bullying, but he saw it, heard it, and was aware of it. Who wasn't? Max was a very explosive presence at the high school and it was just a matter of time before they all got away from it. But he didn't think being in your last year should be dictated by some bully.

He hums thoughtfully as she mentions wearing a jacket for the Pink Ladies. He relaxes his shoulders and gives a nod from where he stands in the closeness, "I think you'd make a wonderful Frenchy." He shrugs and continues, "You got the look for it." Slow growing smirk, "And if it means anything, I'm not trying to be Danny. Looking at a smaller part because I got practice and all that, but uh... Teen Angel? I could do that."

I think you'd make a wonderful Frenchy.

And just as the girl marveled at the very character he was vying for, she looked at him with wide, doe eyes. It was one thing to tell her to go for it, but to actually place her with a role? It set a thumping in her heart that she wasn't prepared to deal with.

"Y-You know... we'd be scene partners," she mused with a little grin that crept behind the horizontal wire of her headgear. "Beauty School Drop Out? Y-You think I could pull off the pink hair?"

He listens with a tilt of his head, leaning into the shelf and bringing a hand up to rub at his jaw. Part of him wants to interrupt and correct her, assure her that there's more for her than being the person controlling the spotlight. He wants to tell her, too, that he's always been happy to have her controlling his, but he wants to focus on the stage part. Especially as she starts mentioning someone booing from the back row. His lips worm a little into a frown, but he barely lets it touch his eyes. He wants to stay optimistic and doesn't want this to turn into a pity session. She deserves better than that. Her mention of Max being a creative idiot makes him snot a soft sound of amusement, ducking his head only to lift it a moment after so he can look at her again.

"Max is very much creative when he wants to be," he agrees, "but that doesn't mean he should be the reason you don't enjoy yourself." He steps away from the shelving his leaning on, stepping closer to Ruth as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket. A shrug and he speaks, "And for what it is worth, I don't think anything Max says holds weight." He pauses, small grin twitching against his lips, "In fact, I have a hard time believing anything he says to be true."

Her cheeks flared wildly as Chris doubled down on his own beliefs, seeming to skirt by Max Jagerman with the confidence of cool kid privilege in his back pocket. It was easy for Chris, right? He never had to worry about having any cash stolen from him or being told he's worthless or being shoved in a locker. He could get up on that stage, the court, wherever he wanted without judgment. Ruth knew it wouldn't be that easy for her, and if she did get up there? What if she froze?

She swallowed hard when Chris took a step closer to her, sweaty palms clenching in tandem with her stomach. "Well, no, he's dumb as shit," she passed out with a laugh that came out as an awkward half-chuckle and a snort. She cleared her throat and tried to feign coolness, leaning into the shelf at first before ditching that to pass it off as wiping some dust away. "I-I mean, I don't think I'm a Sandy. But it'd feel kind of cool to have one of those Pink Ladies jackets on..."

Stacy tries to follow with Ruth's explanations. There's a lot she's missing, she fears, because the puns are completely lost on her. Eyes wide, she looks towards the tin displays, head bouncing between the various options. The second one brings a smile to her face -- if she knows anything, she knows matcha -- but she's not sure if that's what Miss Ivy wants. The first one, though... maybe.

"You said the peach one is fruity?" She asks for clarification. Her hands are already moving to swing her purse onto the cash wrap, fingers tugging at the zipper to open the top. She fishes around inside, clearly in search of her wallet, as her eyes look back up. "And what if someone likes coffee? Or, like, things that taste like coffee, but maybe they aren't coffee?" Leaning in, her smile is a little wide, a little joyful. "I like coffee."

i like coffee.

the joyful little note caused ruth to release a laugh that cut itself off with a snort. a grin tugged from behind headgear, one that showed she was warming up to the idea of the popular cheerleader being in her presence. okay, maybe this wasn't some sort of joke.

" war and peach is one of our best sellers. it's a good go to, " she hummed with a confident nod. " but if you're looking more for something coffee-ish, chai might be your next best bet. you can mix it with some espresso and make a really good chai latte or just drink it on its own! " she explained as she pulled a tin off of the shelf labelled live and let chai. " you can open it and smell it if you want! it's very cozy. "

He arched an eyebrow as she admitted she wasn't sure, how she'd been thinking about it on break and how she didn't think it was for her. He smiled softly at her uncertainty, hand lifting to gently rest his forearm on a shelf he was stood by. He gave a small shrug and asked nicely, but also bluntly, "Why not?" He lets that hang between them momentarily before continuing, "I just mean, why wouldn't it be for you? You love theatre and music. I've seen you mouthing along with nearly every song that gets played on that stage--" granted he was sure she did that when she thought no one was looking, but he found it endearing, "Everyone deserves a chance on the stage if they want it."

Chris was a star on the stage. He was aware of it, but humble in the place which was far different from his usual co-star of Caitlyn. She loved and shone bright in the light, but in a way that let people know she was very much made for it... whereas Chris? Theatre was good and fun, and he could sing, dance, act... but it wasn't the only thing he did. He poured pieces of himself into every activity he took place in within school and ensured he floated evenly between those circles. He was neither popular, theatre geek-y, or a studied nerd. He was just a good, jolly guy and he was going to ensure Ruth saw him as being honest about this. Earnest and promising even if they hadn't spoke often prior to this moment.

chris' optimism was comforting. ruth couldn't recall a time where chris was anything less than cheery and kind. it was a rare sight to see from someone so popular. but that was the problem, wasn't it? she was scared of him seeing her onstage, sure . . . but she was more scared of what max jagerman and his posse of idiots would do if she was onstage. she could practically smell the tomato juice now.

a small smile tugged her lips as she shrugged a shoulder in a sheepish manner. " i don't know, " she mumbled. " people like me tend to much rather fade into the dark abyss of my lighting cave. no one knows that i'm the one directing the spotlight, you know! i just hit my buttons and swing the big light and there's no one booing from the back row about it or calling me flemwad . . . or the latest iteration -- flatwad. " she grumbled under her breath, a little feral growl of frustration as her gaze fell to her chest for emphasis. " max may be an idiot, but he's stupidly creative . . . "

who: stacy and ruth ( @headgeartm ) where: noveltea, downtown hatchetfield

Stacy doesn’t often go to NovelTea – not because she doesn’t like it, but it’s not usually her go-to stop. She’s not much of a reader, so to speak. Or a tea drinker. She prefers her drinks a little pinker, a little sweeter. Still, her boss asked her to make a stop – and Stacy was nothing if not a great employee. Miss Ivy was incredibly kind, the least Stacy could do was get her a cup of tea.

So she enters, shivering slightly from the cold air. Her eyes are quick to look up, scan the menu for the item her boss asked her for. However, when she gets to the counter, she forgets. Head shaking, she looks down at the cashier – someone she recognizes from school. (Stacy is mean to her, despite her better judgment. Max tells her that Ruth is a nerd, and that’s enough reason to make her life a living hell.) Swallowing, she offers Ruth a smile despite it all. “Hi,” she says, voice cheery. “Um – question, my boss sent me on a mission, but I’m totally blanking on what she likes to drink. If you were the owner of a flower shop, what kind of tea would you drink?”

when the popular cheerleader had come into the shop, ruth had debated switching with her dad and moving to the back to pack tea blends. the shop provided a little barrier for onslaught. after all, why would max jagerman ever be interested in a tea and book shop? but it didn't stop the anxiety from squeezing tight within ruth's chest, especially when the girl seemed to address her.

she gave a nervous swallow at the seemingly genuine question, rubbing her palms anxiously against her sweater. " u - um . . . hmm . . . " she mumbled thoughtfully as she glanced in the direction of the tea tin displays. " there's war and peach? it's sweet and fruity, so she might like that? " she suggested, licking her lips before rubbing them together. " or if she's a matcha person, she might like matcha do about nothing . . . "

pete's happy to have some downtime out of ted's apartment. living kind of on his own is nice, he thinks, and more than most teenagers can handle. however, he could do without the color commentary every other second. so, his home away from home is noveltea. they don't mind his somewhat high demand for hot chocolate -- it doesn't help that he knows the staff, too.

currently, his hands are wrapped around his third cup, listening to ruth's woes and sorrows. she's always like this, it seems, when it comes to their peers. especially chris. his head shakes, and pete leans back, shrugging a shoulder. "and the conversation starters we ran through together didn't help at all?" he asks, pausing to take a sip. (the chocolate soothes him instantly.) "i'm telling you, ruth -- practice, practice, practice. that's the only way to get good at something." he pauses, brow raised. "or, at least, start something."

a frustrated little growl sounded from ruth's chest as pete walked through his advice. she practiced all the time! she rehearsed little scenarios over and over and over again, but it was like the second chris kringle came into view? she was knocked stupidly senseless.

" i'm trying! " she whined before exhaling a frustrated sigh. " but it's like the second those big baby cow eyes look at me? i'm a fucking goner! i can't think of any words to say, and i start sweating and worrying about if my prescription deodorant is working, which makes me sweat even more! "

she huffed and let her shoulders fall, giving a shake of her head. " he keeps asking me about auditioning for grease though. for some reason, he has it through his head that it's a good idea for me to go for it? " she grumbled. " i can't tell if he's got a vat of pig's blood with my name on it or what, but he's been talking about it since before winter break . . . "

closed: @headgeartm where: noveltea when: new year's day

Chris looks up as the bell above the door dings, brown hues watching it come to a stop and a small grin touching his lips. It's the beginning of the new year and not many folks are out this early in the day... granted it was almost ten, but people were hungover and others just enjoying a day off. But this shop? He'd checked the hours via their website before coming by. He had plans to check out a few new books that had come in and maybe a tea blend for the season before it vanished for the February flavors. But really and truly? He was at the shop to see Ruth in order to ask her if she was still planning on auditioning next week for Grease. He'd overheard her mention it to some of her friends in passing on the day the dates went up for auditions and was curious if she was going through with it or not.

He moves deeper into the store and towards the counter where Ruth stands, unaware of the wide eyed gaze she has on him. Instead he's looking around the store, taking in this decoration or that decoration and giving a smile that shines almost as bright as the sun on this cold snowy day in Hatchetfield. "So," he starts, finally looking at her with his calm and confident gaze, "are the rumors true?" Small pause for dramatics, "You're looking to audition for the musical?"

it had been a stumbled, off-handed conversation before winter break. one that ruth was sure that chris wouldn't remember. she had been staring dreamily at the grease audition flyers in the hallway from her locker and talking about it out loud with pete and richie, nonethewiser that anyone was actually listening. who paid attention to the nerds?

it was a pipe dream, anyways. who the hell would she audition for? she dreamed of being onstage, but it was one thing to break the line between the lighting booth and onstage. no one ever seemed to do that. you were either a techie or an actor but never both.

when chris came into noveltea, her eyes widened and mouth went dry where she stood awkwardly at the end cap of the aisle he was perusing. " i - i don't know," she confessed with an awkward little laugh, one that developed a small snort. " i've been thinking about it while on break, and i don't think it's for me . . . "