The Revolution

open starter from emerson location: prism

“isn’t it just beautiful?” emerson asked, all excitedly as they looked around their recently open studio and gallery. all the hard work had paid off. “of course we’re still looking for art to exhibit if you’re feeling inspired.” she said. “or you can have a look around. please make sure to look at the wall of art from local students! all ages. it’s my favorite part.” 

Calum glanced up from texting, midway through Emerson’s explanation. “Yea, well, I’m not gonna put up a two-year-olds hand print on my wall, am I?” he asked snarkily. “Where’s the, uh, the real good stuff? Like what’s the best art thing in here? I’m redecorating.” It was more like decorating for the first time. Calum’s bachelor pad was luxurious but rather devoid of aesthetic.

Sage leaned back slightly, their shoulders pushed back and head tilted slightly as Mitch leaned in. They smirked at the mention of Mitch, not a care in the world that this wasn’t exactly the role they’d been positioned to play. “Sure. We can include Mitch if you’d like.”

“Oh,” he said, unsure what else to say as he cleared his throat. “Uh, yea we should totally do that.” He rested her head on his hand and felt his face was hot to the touch. The tinge of embarrassment was enough to make him lean back again. “How’s, uh, your life going?”

Ren stepped back a little further, noting the hesitation that Eddie seemed to have at just being near her. She couldn’t really blame him after all that had happened but it still hurt. “Honestly…no,” she admitted, frowning as she glanced back at her writing room, the cards that had scattered everywhere when her house of cards fell. “I’ve just been…blocked.” It hurt to admit that out loud, she was usually enthusiastic about her writing. “It’s my novel, not the…the other thing,” she continued, not wanting to say it out loud and remind him of the column she wrote as well. 

Eddie was a little surprised to hear that Ren wasn’t writing, in any capacity. He’d always felt it was just something she was good at so effortlessly. He followed her gaze to the pile of cards and a smirk appeared. “If the cards are out then it must be bad.” The other thing. The smirk now gone, he did a long blink in an attempt to prevent showing any contempt or sorrow. “The gossip column,” he said, naming the elephant in the room. He walked away from her and towards a cushioned chair where he’d sit occasionally. Lifting the cushion, he continued, “It’s just us in here, right? No need to pretend it isn’t what it is.”

John considered that possibility, peering down at the paper that that his friend was skimming. That would explain some of the absolute nonsense he’d been trying to sift through while reading the paper. “Knowing the person that wrote it, that wouldn’t actually surprise me,” he admitted, thinking of the student. “I think it’s about time I consider getting someone else to do the grading for me if the rest are anything like this one.”

"Les enfants racontent souvent des salades. If I had a dollar for every college friend I had who would fluff 8 pages without having read the book, I’d be rich.” He was, in fact, rich, and had no friends from uni since he did not continue schooling after high school, save what he taught himself, which was a great amount. “Your school doesn’t offer you TAs? I’m shocked given your position in the department.”

The last game of the year was a success, and he was thrilled to have the rest of the holidays to spend at home. He hated being away from his family, especially this time of year. Even if the homecoming was always the best. He tried to be quiet as possible, opening the front door, desperately wanting to avoid waking the kids up this late and Trudy. Deep down, though, he knew she was waiting up, she always did and even if he insisted she didn’t have to, it always made his day. Hearing her voice, he rushed over with a wide grin, forgetting to lock the door behind him. “I missed you so much,” he squealed, leaning down to kiss her and offer his arms out for a hug, careful not to knock the book out of her hands. 

Marcellus’ smille made Trudy smile even wider. It was moments like this she was reminded that he was, in fact, the great love of her life. She squeezed him tightly, nearly pulling him in the chair with her. “I missed you, too,” she replied, a hushed whisper in his ear. As she let go, she put aside the book in her hands and instead held his face. “I’ve got something for you.”

{ - }

Dayo gave a quizzical look at that - kismet - but then it clicked into place. They figured that this stranger, of all strangers, would at least be able to point him to a decent spot, but to think they’d stopped a barber of all people? “Damn…” Dayo let out a short huff of an incredulous laugh, and pointed again as they began to follow. “This is my guy, right here.” They jogged a few steps to catch up, with a wider grin. “No problem man, as long as I get there. Must be my lucky day…” Dayo reached back, a palm landing on the back of their own neck with a wince. “Because this? It ain’t right.”

“Not your lucky day,” Kwame corrected. “This was meant to be. You’re gonna get a fresh line-up, I’m gonna talk my auntie into giving me a referral for bringing you in, and the universe just got a little smaller.” Of course, Kwame delivered all this with a tone as though it was most normal thing in the world to say. “So you’re new in town? Who are you and where you in from?”

“You never know what the night might call for, I personally think this shade would look fab on you,” he insisted, holding up a wig to the other’s complexion. “For me, I like a more wine-ish red, but for you, I’m willing to sway away from it.” Salem teased the other, holding up another wig to his own complexion. “Not for a man, but to make it seem like I have my shit together. I plan on making him pay, don’t you fret. I just need him to believe I can.” Salem replied, defensively, having it all mapped out in head, despite missing the singular detail. “Or he can focus on his business, and upping my pay. Does anyone actually know how to budget?” 

Ro glanced into the mirror as Salem held up the wig. it did look rather nice. It was...fitting. At least the cut was, the color was still up for debate. “Salem,” she replied, with her best disapproving mother voice. “why would I give you money so you can make a man believe you have money? If you wanna play pretend, you can find some Monopoly money.” Ro pursed their lips at the comment about Val, but their eyebrow quirked at the mention of budgeting. “Uh, yes, many people know how to budget. You’re young, you don’t know how to use Excel?”

“I do hope you know I’m joking,” Zara told him reassuringly. “I’m too big a fan of the Davis family to ever do that to either you, if I’m being honest.” She flashed a soft smile, making her a bowl of cereal to compliment the coffee. “Not publicly, but when I believe I’m alone and trying to make myself wake up a little more, I do attempt to. I only sing for myself, and my shower head.” 

Pike heaved a sigh of relief, not in any place to even think about paying rent. “Dang, what I wouldn’t give to be your shower head then.” There was a beat and Pike’s face flushed, realizing how that could have sounded. “To hear you sing! I mean to hear you sing, not for anything else. Oh my god, that’s such a creeper thing to say, what the fuck,” he said, half-laughing at his own mortification and hoping Zara would see he meant nothing untoward by it.