I don't have any control over what actually happens except for that I have full control over my will for myself, my intention, and why I'm there. That's all that matters.
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@laineycaldwell
I don't have any control over what actually happens except for that I have full control over my will for myself, my intention, and why I'm there. That's all that matters.
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closed starter for @laineycaldwell waterway diner, early morning.
â it was ravi who first got him into running. he had them join a running group when they were both still living in new york, introduced him to new people that to this day micah would consider decent acquaintances at best, the kind he'd probably only have little reservations posting a 'happy birthday!' comment on their facebook profile if it ever comes up on his notifications. studies show that cardio helps with anxiety and depression, ravi texted him some five years ago, followed by a link to some yahoo! news article that micah thought was reminiscent of something an uncle who's just discovering the 'share link' feature on his phone might do. which is perfect, since you already do so much running away anyway LOL :)
and he still runs. most mornings, anyway, when he bothers to get out of bed early enough to play parkour with the morning new york crowd. or when he's not afflicted by crippling bouts of lethargy. it's easier to do alone, though he doesn't mind company. lainey has proven to have been a strange sort of companion, though they've since moved on from competitive silence to small talk to scheduled meetups at the intersection on her street in cardinal hill. today, they've graduated to getting breakfast together.
"so, your middle name is joy." coming from the washroom, he slides into the seat across the table from lainey in the window-side booth overlooking the misty river, grabbing the red vinyl table number to fidget with it. "alaina joy. do you feel like a' joy'?" so he was curious and googled her. big deal. she was a sports agent from los angeles, she's probably used to way worse from rookies trying to get signed.
Lainey had learned to expect Micah's company on her morning runs. He was a good pace-setter, someone else with comparable stamina she could measure herself against. She'd even missed him when he was gone, found herself wondering when-- or if-- he'd rejoin her on the trails. When their silent agreement became spoken, she almost found herself anticipating his presence.
Inviting him to breakfast was less of a decision and more of an impulse. He was easy to talk to, and there had been something... off ever since he came back from the vacation he wouldn't mention. Lainey sensed something familiar in him, but she couldn't put her finger on it, and besides, it was just sad to eat a stack of pancakes alone.
"You looked me up?" she asked, setting her menu down so he could see her raised eyebrows. Lainey would be hard-pressed to admit that she'd done the same, gotten sucked into the search engine, poured over the odd clip on Youtube and old editions of Micah's college magazine. He wasn't half-bad.
She met his eyes, completely deadpan, and asked, "I don't seem joyful to you?"
The gleam in Lainey's eye eventually betrayed her, and she rocked forward, placing her elbows squarely on the linoleum table top between them. "Alright. Out with it. What were you hoping to find?"
It would've been easier to give a dignified response were it not for the predatory gleam she thought she saw in Lainey's eyes. This was part of the problem (and she did consider it a problem because what else did you call repeatedly making the same bad decision despite knowing you shouldn't and having promised yourself it would never happen again?). All it took was one smirk and Jeanie could already feel her willpower wavering.
"You know the rats that live in your apartment don't count as friends, right?" She shot back. But Lainey wasn't wrongâthey both knew the inevitable conclusion to this exchange and it wouldn't be Jeanie suddenly learning to make sensible choices. Ugh. Hot people had too much power.
Sensible choices rarely ended in mind-blowing orgasms, after all.
"Depends on how you define 'good'," she answered, meaning 'no'. However, not being the type to be embarrassed by her own ridiculousness, that had never stopped her. Dancing was about having fun, not being good at it. Her eyebrows rose. "Why, you asking me to dance?"
"How can you say that?" Lainey pouted, pressing her hand to her chest as if she were truly offended. She crossed one leg over the other, leaning forward and smirking, "They're my closest confidants, you know, I even named them. Jean and Jeanie."
She chuckled, reaching out and tucking a loose tuft of hair behind Jeanie's ear. Lainey's hand lingered against the other's warm cheek as she met Jeanie's eyes. She hadn't been able to figure out what it was that kept both of them coming back-- obviously they had sexual chemistry, but they would probably never be friends. Honestly, Jeanie pissed Lainey off most of the time, and she did it on purpose.
She wondered then, while she held Jeanie's face in her hand, if it the thrill of the competition-- whether Lainey could be good enough in bed to make up for their mutual disdain, whether they would finally have enough of the bickering.
Innocently, Lainey shrugged, "I'm asking if you want to dance... or if it's my place or yours."
Dylan watched the whirlwind of a woman move to grab something else until she came back and chuckled as she placed the cowboy hat on her head and adjusted it. Lainey was a manic pixie dream girl brought to life and placed in front of her right now it felt like. She gave a nod of confirmation though in agreement to the fact they were both smaller towns. "Well, I had a stop for a decade in New York in between." She offered before shaking her head and laughing at the thought of moving here for someone but herself. "No, I met him when I moved here. I moved for a job here as the art curator for the Chambers Museum." She wasn't too sure why she was sharing all of this, although to be fair she was being asked the questions, which was mostly why she felt comfortable sharing. It wasn't often she just voluntarily shared about herself. "Well...alright, alright. I will take it, mostly 'cause I need to head back to find my partner and kids. But I will owe you for another time now that we're friends." Dylan pointed out as she didn't want Lainey to think that she wasn't appreciative of the offer.
Once again, the woman's comment rendered Lainey temporarily speechless. "A decade?" she laughed, disbelieving. "Jesus, do you do lines of botox or something?" She meant it as a compliment, not a genuine accusation, but Lainey never could be sure how she was coming off when she was tipsy. She only hoped the brightness of her smile effectively communicated that she meant no harm. "Okay, Dylan from the Chambers Museum who has kids, plural," Lainey repeated with a teasing smile, committing the factoids to memory. "I'll look you up and we can get coffee or something. Your treat." Lainey swiped her card, declined the receipt, and placed the hat squarely on Dylan's head. "It was great to meet you," she said, waving as her new friend ducked out of the booth and on towards her family, presumably.
THE END.
for elspeth, it didnât matter where she went so long as she was dealt with that vital hit of caffeine. without it, they navigated life like a ghostâbleary, confused, distant. it was likely a placebo, but that didnât stop the first entry on her to-do list each day being dropped by the coffee shop or making her own disappointing replica with a cafetière. âi should really sell them,â the mortician spoke, with an increasing brightness in their tone at the promise of coffee, âmake a business out of loyalty cards. i'm surprised they don't start making my order the moment i walk through the door. are you here often?â they didn't recognize lainey, yet it was rare for elspeth not to be lost in some sort of stupor.
"Hey, that's not a bad idea," Lainey replied with a smile, studying the punch card for any fine print. "Narrow profit margin to make it worth buying, but if you do it enough, it'll at least pay for your coffees," she shrugged, tapping the card against the display case. She wasn't one to ramble often, but when Lainey was hopped up on pre-workout and a long run, she got chatty. "You order the same thing every time?" she asked, before answering the other's question. "Not often. I kind of go back and forth on the whole coffee versus tea thing," she admitted. Lainey dropped her voice for a moment, confessing, "And I think paying damn near ten dollars for a cup of coffee--craft or not-- is highway robbery."

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â laineyâs brownstone, cardinal hill. ft. lainey caldwell ( @laineycaldwell )
The thing about Laineyâs place was that it was just nice, adult. Like being able to stay overnight in an IKEA showroom. And of course, it had Lainey. The only thing that would make things even better were if Seb was here, instead of back home at the apartment. But still, life was good.
âMorning!â He greeted through a yawn, the syllables warped by the sound, eyes scrunched closed with tiredness as he shuffled from the bedroom to the kitchen, in nothing but his boxers and Laineyâs bathrobe, barely covering his torso. He scratched at his unruly curls before his eyes fluttered open as he approached the sports agent, kissing the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her small frame. âI like your bed, itâs like staying in a five star hotel. I imagine the Queen had the same bed. Wait, is that why theyâre called Queen-Sizes? I thought she was very small.â
For the most part, Lainey hated being alone in her apartment. It wasn't that she was afraid of the dark or that her walk-up wasn't nice-- it was decidedly nice, if she said so herself. It was just... quiet. The open floor plan left entirely too much room for self-reflection, and she'd had just about enough of that for a lifetime. Or at least for the rest of the year.
But this was comfortable, sitting on the cold marble in CJ's shirt from the night before, the quiet punctured by his snores. Jesus, there was no way he didn't have sleep apnea or something. Wrapping an arm around her torso to pick up her still-hot mug, Lainey laughed at her groggy best friend with her eyes. "Morning," she chuckled, resting her head on his shoulder and scratching her nails through his hair.
"It's just a Tempur-Pedic, Ceej," she shook her head, playfully shoving his face away as he kept talking right into her mouth. Fucking morning breath. "I... actually never thought about why they're called queen beds, but that is a king. Got tired of you kicking me in the shin sixteen times a night. Which, by the way, what the fuck were you dreaming about this morning?"
IT WAS CLEAR THAT THE GIRL was having some sort of breakdown, something jia had no idea how to fix. but she could be present. she could be solid as a rock as the girl pulled herself back together. their hands were firmly intertwined and jia returned the frantic squeeze with a soft one of her own. "you breathe," she replied, taking a deep one of her own. "you breathe, and you breathe, and you breathe. one after another. i am here and i am breathing with you." she gave her hand another squeeze. "you're not alone." jia didn't know how long they sat there, just breathing together, and she shook her head with a small smile. "there's nothing to apologise for. you're doing so well, sweetie. don't focus on that right now. we just breathe, right ?"
Funny, Lainey could've sworn that this was exactly what yoga was supposed to be for-- breathing. She inhaled slowly, held it for one-- two-- three-- four beats, and exhaled. Her mind was still swimming, but her breaths came slower. Squeezing her eyes shut, Lainey repeated the exercise a second time, eventually loosening her grip on the woman's hand and letting her shoulders slump forward a little. The woman's soothing words were like a balm, like a cool swath of Vick's vapor rub on her chest when she had a cold.
More breaths, in, and hold, and out.
If there was one thing that could snap Lainey out of a panic attack, it was being called 'sweetie.' Her father was never one for coddling, and the only pet names she ever earned were 'champ' or 'ace' when he was feeling particularly old-fashioned. She wasn't often called sweet. Pushing herself up, Lainey pressed a hand to her chest and looked at the woman, cheeks flush with embarrassment.
"I'm not..." Sweet. "I don't do this." She took another deep breath, as if testing the waters, and leaned forward away from the wall once she was certain he wouldn't collapse into heaving again. "I'm... totally fine. Thank you, I-- I don't know what just happened." She would rather be stark naked next to the stranger. It would be far less embarrassing. "I'm... Lainey," she admitted. It felt strange to say her own name when she felt so disconnected from her body.
LIAM KNEW SHE WAS RIGHT but he finally was starting to feel sort of back to normal. the grief had turned into a dull ache and it was easier to get up in the morning. it was fun to have this back and forth without any worries of someone asking how he's doing. "i dunno, caldwell, seems like it is a pro in your book." he raised his eyebrow in a challenge, seeing her flushed cheeks and giggly smile. he let her pull at his hands, allowing her to take the next step. "i am," he agreed, getting pulled along through the crowds toward where lainey, presumably, lived. "i've been told that before. but i am pleased to hear that you think i'm as charming as a rainsoaked ryan gosling." he sat down on the couch, crop top riding up slightly against the fabric, jeans straining against his thighs. "oh," he replied, eyebrows raising in feigned confusion. "you had a crush on me ? why didn't you tell me."
"See? That's your arrogance talking. Proving my point," Lainey boasted, pausing at the doorway to unlace her boots and kick them off. She took a long look at Liam sprawled out on her couch, a touch of a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "Definitely a con," she decided, once and for all, as she grabbed the controllers and sat next to Liam on the couch.
"Oh, that's definitely not what I said, Nicholas Sparks," she teased, turning completely to look at him-- if only so he could see her roll her eyes. She dropped her arm behind his head, fingers brushing through the ends of his hair lazily. "Not like it would've mattered," Lainey laughed, tracing his jaw with her eyes, then adding, softly, "Not like you didn't already know."

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Pressing his lips together, Leo had to stop himself from saying something so fond it would make Lainey throw up right onto his shoes. It was hard, though - whenever she got like this, free and giggly, Leo felt so endeared he thought his smile would eat his entire face. âFuck off with the fuckinâ accent thing!â He snorted, but as soon as she was grabbing onto his arm, Leo was looping it around her shoulders. Casual, like it was second nature, and loose. Something that didnât hold any implications, even though they both knew there was an implication behind it.
Waiting for her to return a few minutes later with shots, Leo waggled his fingers in her direction when he saw her approaching. âHark! A fair maiden approaches!â Always loud, like someone had lost the remote for his settings and he was stuck at 100, garnering the attention of a few people around them that shot him with less than pleasant looks. Leo didnât notice though, his own gaze was stuck elsewhere. âGimme.â Leo snarled under his breath, playing up a rather feral act, grabbing the shot glass and letting it get halfway to his mouth before he froze under Laineyâs question and subsequently, her demanding stare.
âThis feels like a set up. Iâm taking my shot before you take it away - or, like, throw it in my face.â Downing back his shot, Leoâs face morphed with confusion. Though he had no idea where it was coming from, it felt like a silly inquiry. Pushing Laineyâs own shot towards her, he gave her a half hearted shrug. âWhat kinda question is that? You donât seem like a girl who fishes for compliments.â It hadnât meant to be an insult - even though it came across as very insulting. Itâs just - it was so clear that Lainey was smart, respectable. Truthfully, she could probably do much better than Leo, but he wasnât about to bring that to her attention. âDonât give me that look. You know what I mean. Lainey - look around us.â Though it didnât feel all that fair, considering the audience The Pour House usually garnered, it was still the same regular crowd Leo was used to. It made the comparison all the easier. âYouâre the coolest person here. By miles. Smartest, too.â And though she didnât ask, he couldnât help but add, âAnd prettiest. You donât exactly have stiff fuckinâ competition, but. Itâs true. Youâre one of the coolest people Iâve ever met.â
Leaning back in his chair, Leoâs eyes narrowed slightly. He was still considering her latter question - if he respected her. Clearly they did, though respect was something a bit foreign to them, when they really mulled it over they landed on the obvious. Surely, this was what it was to feel an adoration for someone - that had to be the closest thing to respect they could muster. âWho gives a fuck what I think about you?â They finally came up with, shrugging again. âDo you respect yourself? Thatâs way more important - you shouldnât give a fuck what anyone thinks about you. Itâs beneath you.â
Whatever tipsy and giggly version of Lainey that had pranced off to the bar was long gone, replaced with an urgency, almost teeming with desperation. It was so completely unlike her that it made Lainey's stomach churn-- like she was watching herself from above, completely powerless to stop herself from whatever this was. Something she would certainly retreat in the clear hours of the morning.
Leo's normal playfulness, his accent morphing with something more.. medieval upon her arrival, and him snatching the shot glass away, was completely lost on her. Unfortunately for both of them, she was dead fucking serious. With an eyeroll, she snipped, "I'm not testing you." Her words were harsh, but the annoyance on her face hid something much softer. Wounded, almost.
She took the shot, throwing it back and not blinking as the burn tore down her throat. Leo's answer, though well-meaning, wasn't what Lainey wanted to hear. "I'm not fishing, asshole," she frowned, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair, watching him while he floundered. She ignored his directive, keeping her eyes trained on his face, "You're right. There's no competition. And that's still not what I asked." Though it never hurt to be called pretty or smart, Lainey's insecurity was burrowed deeper than Leo's middle-school Rolodex of compliments could scratch.
Then, they caught Lainey off guard. She couldn't help but laugh, genuinely, at his question. Leo had a point-- why the fuck did she care what he thought? Her laughter was short-lived, though, quickly replaced by what could only be described as... surprise. She didn't think Leo could navigate the emotional minefield of her insecurity so expertly, and... she didn't like it. "Easy for you to say. Society's built for you-- everyone respects you until you prove you don't deserve it, like, a minimum of six times," she shot back, aware somewhere deep inside her mind that she was taking out her shit on him. Being this messy in public was certainly below her, and yet...
who: Scarlett and @laineycaldwell location: The Weissberg Law Firm's Charity Luncheon
The event had been quite....eventful for lack of better terms, running into a ton of new faces, some old while also avoiding some she'd rather not have contact with in the moment. Scarlett could feel her social battery starting to dwindle as she made her way over to the bar. "Crown apple and cranberry please." she spoke sweetly to one of the bartenders before turning to survey the crowd of people still piling in.
She smiled at the sight of the place, totally in love with the fact that so many Blue Harbor inhabitants had come out to support the cause and there hadn't been a single hiccup or disturbance. Brown hues continue to scan the area as he drink was slid towards her, eyes falling on a blonde who had an oddly familiar face. Taking a sip of her drink now in hand, Scarlett curiously watched the other woman as she drew nearer.
When she got close enough to hear a word or two come out of her mouth before it clicked for the redhead who she was, and the scandal that was attached to her. "Lainey? Lainey Caldweel, right?"
Lainey's preferred method of philanthropy was buying a table and not showing up to the function. She loved the work, supported it financially, and thought that should be enough. She had a lot easier time of bowing out of luncheons back in LA, when she was actually busy... but here, when she was averaging 15 miles a week out of sheer boredom, Lainey worried her excuses were paper-thin.
Plus, Mom always said there was nothing a killer outfit couldn't fix... which was less true than an open bar, but Lainey wasn't in the mood to split hairs. She leaned against the glossy wood, inspecting her fresh manicure, when an unfamiliar voice chirped her name.
Lainey looked up, smoothed out her pantsuit, and offered a smile to the woman. "Sorry, have we met?" With a grateful smile, she took her gin and tonic from the bartender and stepped closer to the redhead. "Remind me your name?" She wasn't exactly surprised someone knew her-- it was the perk of returning home, and all, but it was unusual for Lainey to draw a complete blank. Especially someone as striking as this woman, Lainey would certainly remember her face.
In Madisyn's experience, you had to be loud to be heard. You had to go beyond the realms of what was considered normal civilized behaviour, going to the extremes to get noticed. It was what drew her to Dominik in the first place, and the attention he received â the accolades bestowed upon him even in their niche career â it was a drug to Madisyn. The highest highs she could imagine, until it all came crashing down, and she was forced to quit cold turkey. And like abstaining from any drug, withdrawal hurt like a bitch.
Suffice to say, Madisyn Huang did not deal well with not receiving attention. Even sneers and jabs aimed at her were better than being flat out ignored, especially by some hick bartender who didn't even have a memorable name. And she'd scream it from the rooftops until someone acknowledged her misfortune.
"Jeanie." She scoffed, her predictions right, rolling her eyes and continuing to blot at her makeup in the mirror. "That's the one. Weird just tonight? Clearly you've never interacted with her before. Bitch is a walking, talking freak-show." The alcohol in her system had made a grand old job of smearing her makeup across her lips, and she reached for a paper towel to wipe it off and start again, eyeing the woman beside her. Beautiful was the first word that came to mind. But there was something in her gaze that screamed trouble.
Caldwell. Now, that was a memorable name. But Madi couldn't pin-point where from, exactly. "EnchantĂŠ," She greeted with her signature smile, holding out her hand for Lainey to shake. "Madisyn Huang, I believe we both would have remembered meeting before."
Laughing, Lainey leaned over the sink to touch up her lip gloss. There'd always been something safe about the women's bathroom at a bar. Drunk girls milling in and out, sharing eyeliner and slurring the most genuine compliments Lainey ever received-- and a shit-talking session was no different. She may have been late to the female friendships game, but Lainey had learned how to move through these spaces, how to join in instead of watching from the sidelines.
She wouldn't guess that Madisyn was the dictionary definition of a girls' girl, but... neither was Lainey, "Oh, trust. I'm familiar with her freaky act." She rolled her eyes, rubbing her freshly-glossed lips together and said, with a teasing smile, "But if you see me go home with her tonight, it's just because my ex is busy with his husband."
Lainey shook her hand. It was weirdly formal for a bathroom, but she didn't mind. "Right?" she confirmed with a laugh. "But I swear, you look so familiar... not in a Blue Harbor way." Lainey clarified, lest Madisyn be offended by the insinuation that she was a local. While Blue Harbor produced a higher-than-normal amount of hot people, it wasn't exactly known for people like this, people who spoke French in the bar bathroom. She was most definitely a transplant. "You ever lived in LA?"
@laineycaldwell
Juno knew well the effect they had on people. It wasnât every day that a pale girl wearing all types of black clothing and holding nothing but journals appeared out of nowhere. They liked the atmosphere they created - kept people away from them, which was exactly as they liked it, but then again they never truly minded being confronted. Their glance said more than their words ever could, so while the Lainey grew frustrated in their silence, Juno didnât move an inch. They watched, and waited, as they did so often throughout their days. It hadnât been their intention to be so obvious in their approach today, but playing keep up had been unusually satisfying. âThen why are you?â Juno asked, breaking silence at the irony in Laineyâs stance. They werenât trying to play twenty one questions, and yet she remained⌠and asked more questions. It made no sense, but it amused Juno immensely - not that the other could even tell as they kept their features stoic as ever. They truly found her amazing. Anger and all, she felt strong and independent and like the great candidate for the heroine in their next book. Juno made a mental note to add some extra time to Laineyâs study, and perhaps try to be a little less on the nose when they went on their next missions together. They were really impressed though, although Juno wasnât sure just how valiant Lainey would be in the face of real danger. They could see as she sized Juno up, that while she felt she could take them, there was a sliver of doubt somewhere beneath. Which was preposterous as Juno showed in no way an ability to tame or physically dominate an opponent.
Because I'm not a pussy were the words on Lainey's lips, but she knew you weren't supposed to say that anymore. Historically, she wasn't the best at counting to ten, or whatever, but the other was so quiet it was unsettling. Lainey knew how to have an argument, but when the person almost refused to engage, she was thrown off for a beat.
"Because what the fuck does that do for me?" she retorted, finally. Lainey straightened her spine, hoping that their height difference would intimidate the stranger into explaining themself, or something. "I want answers, and I'm not gonna get them by running away from you."
With a brow raised in challenge, Lainey waited for a beat, fully taking in the other for the first time. This time, she clocked the notebook in the other's hand. "What are you, taking notes? For what?" She had half a mind to step forward and grab the notebook out of the stranger's hand, but Lainey narrowly resisted. For now.

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âIt's brandy and citrus juice!â She huffed defensively. Jeanie would've liked to quip back with some ingenious and witty retort, but the two pornstar martinis she'd glugged down earlier in the night didn't seem to share the vision. It didn't help that her gaze caught on the movement of Lainey's finger around the glass. Memories of what those fingers could do were practically imprinted on her brain.
God, she was so irritating.
It took a moment for her brain to reboot and she forced herself to look back over at the bartender. Unfortunately, in her moment of distraction, he'd already moved off to serve somebody else. Damn it.
âUnlike some,â she confirmed pointedly, gesturing vaguely back at the dance floor. âThey're around here... somewhere.â Or at least they had been. Okay so maybe there was a teeny tiny part of her that had broken away from the group in the hopes that a certain someone might be at the bar. But she wasn't about to admit it that easily. âI needed a break from dancing.â
tagging @laineycaldwell
"And does it come with a little cartoon mascot? Like a personified orange on the bottle? Do you do a voice?" she belabored the point, only giving it up when she noted Jeanine's eyes lingering on her hands. Lainey smirked, taking a long sip of her hotty toddy and inching closer to Jeanie to place the now-empty glass on the bar.
Predictable didn't always equal boring.
"Somewhere, she says," Lainey chuckled, glancing at the dance floor as if checking Jeanie on her facts. "Drinking alone is nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. At least I'm not abandoning my friends to get laid," Lainey said, her face the picture of innocence despite her statement's implication.
"You a good dancer?" Lainey asked, taking a gratuitous look at Jeanie. "Wouldn't have figured you for the type." She couldn't help but say it like a challenge-- like Lainey wouldn't believe it unless she saw it.
Dylan's brows furrowed in confusion at the theory, feeling like that it didn't quite make sense to her. However, it isn't like she had much in the way of experience in the philosophy field, so she just wrote it off as something may have been a bit over her head. She was intelligent in some aspects, but also the art curator knew what her lane was and that wasn't one of her strong suits. "Huh, well that sounds...like a contradiction conundrum." She shared with a soft laugh before the subject changed back to the outfit that Lainey was creating for her. "I am from Valdosta, it's a town in Georgia." Dylan told her as she felt the blush creeping back up on her cheeks as she let out a small nervous laugh. "Well he usually doesn't have a problem tellin' me that." It wasn't something that she would say she always necessarily believed in herself that she was hot, but her confidence certainly had grown bit by bit with Theo as her partner in life. She was quickly taken out of her thoughts though at Lainey's offer. "Wait, no you really don't have to do that." She protested, not entirely comfortable in people generally buying things for her even if they were close friends. So she definitely didn't feel comfortable with a practical stranger offering to pay for things for her.
Lainey's eyes lit up and she pointed at her new friend, "That's exactly what it is!" She twirled on her heel, looking at the second hat she'd picked up and placing it on her own head, adjusting it over her curls and smiling, self-satisfied. "Georgia, huh?" she asked, turning to face the woman once again. "I didn't catch your accent before. It's cute," Lainey complimented, gesturing around her. "You traded one small town for another? What's the draw-- your fella?" Lainey teased, adding a little extra twang to the last word. She was glad the woman's partner was complimentary-- if there was anything Lainey was passionate about, it was loudly telling her girlfriends when the guys they dated were absolute fucking bums. By the time she was protesting, Lainey had her card out and ready. "I know," she shrugged, "I'm offering. If anything, it's only fair, after I made you play dress up and all," Lainey pointed out, eyebrow raised. "Plus, friends buy each other shit." It was a little bit of a stretch to claim friendship after this... frenetic meeting, but Lainey was feeling hopeful. God knows she needed all the friends she could get, particularly ones who seemed to have their heads on straight.