back against the wall.

Rolling his eyes he let his hand drop. The guy had a serious problem with touching, or so Oliver was ready to bet. “Don’t care at all. I’ll take what you’ve got. I’m surprised I haven’t heard about you distributing alcohol before. I know a lot of people who are looking. The only source so far was this kid who can change existing things into something else, but he’s really bad at it so far. Anyway, speaking of heat, I am here to assist if you need a stove to cook shit up on, but I gather you have all fronts covered.” 

“You’d be correct in gathering that,” he nodded, turning himself to the door. “Follow me. And try not to look too conspicuous.”

“Listen, Bitch, I tried patience,” she hadn’t, but that was beside the point currently, “and I’m also doing significant harm to my foot as we stand here. But you didn’t even think about that possibility, did you? Nooo, just mean ol Vals being unreasonable, never mind that she may be in pain herself.” She finally openly favored her foot, in a way she hadn’t done with anyone else, using her vulnerability to drive the point home about his unloyal ass.

“Now, why don’t you do your job and get me the fuck out of here.”

Something in his breath was constricted, something that forced his jaw to clench for a millisecond and something that made him remind himself of his own patience. He was never in charge with Valerie.

He also didn’t ask when it became his job to transport her from place to place, but instead, he crouched down and set his hand against her foot. He made a quick mental map of the various molecular structures from her shoe to her sock to her skin to her bone. And something small and hard and--

“If you had a rock in your shoe, why didn’t you just say so?” He didn’t let her answer before he shook the molecules apart into a liquid, heating them up and allowing it to evaporate before he stood up again, adjusting the strap around his shoulder. “You okay now? That was a pretty serious procedure, you know. You need anything? Morphine? You might be on bed rest for about a week.” Sarcasm was his only defense.

At the mention of chocolate flavored liquor, Hawke instantly brightened—-chocolate was one pure and good thing in the world, so getting a blowjob wouldn’t be that bad. Not that he said that it would, of course. “A’ least if I get my hands on one of those, I can say honest to God that I don’t spit, I swallow.” He giggled madly, and shook his head. What could he say, he was comedy gold.

“Dude, no.” It was the truth, as much as he loved Valerie, and how she was all the things that she was and more, he couldn’t help but fear the woman. Maybe it was because she had a whole contraband syndicate she built from scratch, maybe it was because she was just fearsome. “An’ besides, she’d prob’ly shoot me down first chance. But hey, chocolate froyo’s better than nothing!”

“Oh my--” Coughing ensued, cutting the young man short as he shook his head from side to side. He rolled over, rummaging through his bedside drawer and pulling out a bottle of Gatorade. “Here’s a chaser for that filthy mouth’a yours.” He handed the bottle out toward Hawke, wiping off his chin with the shoulder of his shirt.

He smirked a little at Hawke’s response, fully aware of how terrifying his friend could be. But she was virtually harmless... Kind of... If you didn’t at all care about your reputation or mind verbal abuse. “Mm, yeah, we’re no Willy Wonkas... Though I think we could rock purple top hats.” 

Then she came up behind someone walking way too slow for her needs, the constant biting pain only got worse as she was forced to wait, and so did her mood. “Hi? Hi. Um, excuse me, I promise you can use just half the path, if you’ll just–thanks…” And she tried to get around them.

Back pressed up against a wall in the hallway, he witnessed the scene play out, a bit worried for the person’s safety as Vals stalked up behind them like some sort of wild cat. Jai pushed himself off the wall, deciding to intervene, sliding to place by Vals’ side as if she had some kind of gravitational pull. 

“Her name is Chelsea, and she’s getting over a broken foot, so a bit of patience won’t kill you,” he assured in a hushed tone, giving Vals an almost pained look, one he gave often and in vain, asking her to “play nice”. 

“Maybe ‘m a natural complainer, but it’s that bad, Jai.” He took another swig and merely frowned, growing accustomed to the taste of it. Maybe it’s not that bad, but it still tastes like death. “It tastes like uh, a sweaty jockstrap after trainin’. God this stuff hits you hard, you outdid y’self with this one. Or ‘m just that shitty with holding my alcohol.”

“What’s Kah-lu-a?” Enunciating the word, Hawke rolled it against his tongue, babbling it over and over again, giggling like a madman. “An’ Val can sell tons of chocolate stuff—-ground cocoa and dark chocolate and it’d be like, the best legal thing you could sell ‘sides the uh whole…. contraband thing, you know.”

Jai gave a sloppy salute at Hawke’s compliment, taking another swig for himself, swishing it around in his mouth absentmindedly before gulping it down. “At least this way y’don’t have t’ drink as much of it.” He nodded to himself, as if he was making a particularly excellent point before hanging half of his body upside-down from where it hung from the bed. 

“Kahlua is a chocolate-flavored liquor. Tastes good in a blowjob.” He paused for a second, chuckling softly. “That’s a shot. With Bailey’s ‘n whipped cream.”

“Ohhh, yah? Well, you c’n have that conversation with ‘er then.”

Since they were pretty much the first ones there, Casey could start picking the other’s brain for the hot scoop early (having friends from the lowkey crowd really did pay off, in foresight). He pretended to be interested in the toppings on the veggie pizza, leaning against the railing and rising onto his tiptoes. “So, Indian Bender—aside from getting drunk and studying biomechanics, what’s going on in your life? Any conquests as of late?”

“Conquests?” he echoed, something telling him Casey wasn’t referring to any victories on the soccer field. Furthermore, he became increasingly aware of how much he didn’t want to have this conversation and how hot the tips of his ears were flushing. “I mean, I didn’t think there was anything too conquerable about red bell peppers, but...”

To be fair, Hawke did have his fair share of vices. Some of those vices included occasionally gorging himself on everything sweet, forced romance movie marathons with his friends, and horribly writing his now seventeen chapter story. All in all, they weren’t that bad, with the constant exception of getting drunk with contraband vodka in Slater’s dorm room, which was both illegal with regards to Elswood’s mandates, and an actual vice, though he couldn’t care less.

That was how he found himself making spitting noises at nothing in particular, a scrunched up look on his face. Vodka tasted horrible, but it was enjoyable and it made him less self-conscious about everything happening—all the drama and hormones and Feelings™ that currently wasn’t making his life any bit easier.

“God, Slater” he muttered, still trying to get the taste of death off his tongue, “I still can’t understand why do people drink vodka of all things? Why not something chocolate flavored? Something that smelled not like hellfire?”

“S’not that bad,” he sighed, waving his hand airily before letting it flop back to his side. And maybe the alcohol was a bit more potent than he remembered it being. And maybe he had lost track of how much he had really had to drink. And maybe he had been drinking it a little more quickly than he would like to admit. 

“If you wanted Kahlua, y’coulda just said so.” He paused, snorting and shrugging his shoulders. “But I ‘unno how keen Vals woulda been on making coco beans.” Words were flowing off of his tongue easily, his usual edge significantly diminished. Pre-gaming before Hawke came in the room was definitely a good idea. “Now c’mon an’ drink it. You’re way too sober if you’re still complainin’ about the taste.”

But! The most important thing was that Jai looked and sounded like he was willing to participate, instead of struggle and look for a way out of it. That alone was more than promising. 

“Brew?” Oliver had visibly relaxed, a happy smile brightening up his face. “How long does it take?” He wasn’t picky about his poison, he just wanted to get his hands on real alcohol and fast. “Brewing sounds so magical. I was sure it’s more of a ‘clap your hands’ kinda thing. I’m Oliver by the way. Guess we’ve never officially met.” He held out his hand for the greeting.

And so Jai struggled not to give Oliver another “you’re an idiot” look when Oliver very clearly misunderstood exactly how his abilities worked.

“It’s just a matter of fermenting plants in water. Given the fact I can heat up water fairly quickly, it only takes a few minutes, varying on how potent you want it. I’ve got some bottles back in my dorm room, though, if you don’t care about it being customized.”

He looked down at the hand, settling for, “Slater. And no need to shake hands.”

No point in dwelling on a topic he seemed more than happy to move on from, though. No need to be reminded of the grim and the morose when there were already far too many unspoken reminders. So when he asked about Hawke, she just regarded him with pensive curiosity, lips pursed as she mulled over his question.

She didn’t trust Jai ( and she doubted he trusted her ). He was easy to talk to, of course, and decent company, but that did not have to mean she’d put her faith in him.

But Hawke did.

Then again, Hawke trusted about everyone while she trusted nearly no one. Still, aside from picking something new to talk about, Jai seemed genuinely concerned about their friend, and that was nothing to scoff at. 

“No, he’s not. It’s just…boy problems.” She offered a wane smile, sighing. That wasn’t even half of it, but other than what happened with Young, she didn’t really know what else was truly bothering him. For someone who was the living embodiment of an exclamation mark that never stopped talking, he had a talent for shutting down when he wanted to. “Did he say anything to you about what happened?”

He knew Hanuel had to know Hawke better than anyone. She was a good source to pull from, or at least she would be if she ever spoke more than a few short sentences at a time. Something in the back of his mind chastised him for being so hypocritical.

‘Boy trouble’ seems to be the only information he will be getting, so he nods thoughtfully and decides to be grateful for even that much.

“Not really,” he admitted with a solemn shake of his head. Then he stopped and looked at her. Hanuel knew Hawke better than anyone, he admitted. And it seemed like she was missing pieces of the puzzle as well. Maybe, just the once, they could say a little bit more to each other. Maybe even for the better.

“There was something about… Being happy for everyone else. And forgetting to do it for yourself… Something about not being that happy at all.”

It was fairly open-ended, a “take it or leave it” kind of response. It was an offer. A “help me help you, or we can drop the subject now.”

Rory searched her mind for any recollection of a blue tin bottle from her journey to the vending machine, it wasn’t really something she would look out for - at least not usually. Students seemed to leave stuff lying around everywhere half the time, misplaced probably. But anything could just be re-bought with enough points in Elswood. There was something however, that did catch her eye earlier, although she really wasn’t sure if it was a water bottle or not. ( Chances are - no, it probably wasn’t ).

“Uh, I’m not sure - sorry. Do you remember where you last saw it?” As soon as she spoke, she realized this could be an opportunity, to possibly get to know him a bit better and to help the guy out, it was the nice thing to do.

”Hey you know, if you want I can help you look for it? I don’t mind.”

She was looking at him. Actually looking at him, not through, and he wasn’t sure if it was refreshing or disturbing. And she seemed to be smiling wider than before, and for some reason that made him feel like he was caught in between her teeth. With a short breath and a tense raise of his shoulders, he dismissed the thought and remembered what was important.

“Yeah, that’d be… Helpful.” He chose his words carefully, nothing new. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted someone hanging around, especially someone that wanted to pick apart his mind. But, the clock was ticking, and he didn’t need to be chewed out about showing up to practice late.

“I think it might be in the cafeteria… Or the library… Or the common area.” He really had to get more organized.