* 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 / 𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙮 !

MIA MONTOYA: AN INTRODUCTION

who: open

what: complaining

where: potluck time babey

Pilar frowned as she scanned the table, manicured nail idly tapping her commemorative plate. She flicked open another box of pizza and rolled her eyes at it as someone came to stand beside her. “Why are literally all the pizzas I’m finding covered in anchovies?” she complained, half to herself and half to the lucky person who was now here to listen. “Like, there’s no way these are popular enough to be put out first.”

“Are you putting down tradition, Pilar?” Mia remarks. Sure, she doesn’t actually know if this is a tradition or a coincidence. In the slightest. But she casually flips her hair over one shoulder, feigned confidence in her words, and reaches for some slaw instead of the topic of their discussion anyway. “Everyone knows they save the best for last.” 

who: jamie and literally anyone who will talk to him​ what: he was in his dorm room and started feeling existential so now he’s looking for a distraction and saying, like, anything to find it  where: out and about in the quad

It’s not like Jamie had very many belongings to move in from his Van, but somehow trudging them up toward his dorm room - paid for fully with students loans that would surely come back to bite him in the ass -  still felt like sort of a big deal. His first place that was all his own! (Even if it technically was split down the middle with Ted Lewis… and CCU property, but whatever!) It was good enough for Jamie as he shoved his backpack full of clothes into a drawer, and set his guitar in the corner - it was good enough for Jamie as he sat on his bed and bounced just a little. Huh. When was the last time he had slept on an actual mattress and not just the mat that was laid out in his van? 

When was it all going to fall apart, like it always did? 

The thought was a whirlwind. It was a trigger, and it’s fire left him spinning out toward the buzz of the quad and the flurry of people. He needed to find a familiar face - he needed to find a moment of peace. He just needed something. 

“You ever think about how lucky we are to live at the same time as CCU cheerleaders?” Jamie said out loud to no one in particular as he waved a group of girls - out of Uniform, but wholly recognizable! Who wouldn’t know a Fighting Cherry by sight in this little town? - past. “I’d never lay down and invite God to let me suffer, but for one of them…?” 

He smirked. “I’d suffer.” 

At least it’d probably get a reaction out of someone - he was craving it. 

🍓

Mia has turned over a new leaf this academic year... and by that, she’s really just been going around the quad for the past hour acting exceptionally nice in want to garner votes. It’s an awfully taxing business when you’re not inherently bright and bubbly. Perhaps why she’d perched herself on a step, letting out a loud exhale at the thought of finally being alone. Except, that is, until Jamie Cromwell had to ruin it. “Then I guess you’re going to be suffer-free for a while as I highly doubt one of them would be seen with you,” she remarks breezily, adjusting her position on the step so that one long leg crosses easily over the other. “Lest we see the day that Cherry actually turns on its head and social order no longer matters.” 

🌱

Yeah, that sounded about right. To be fair, they probably hadn’t been expecting such a wild turn out for the night… Unless someone was really trying to make some kind of gritty point about the divides in Cherry. But how was now the time for that? Rory’s nose crinkled. “I think they have beer? But probably not liquor. I think people usually bring their own stuff in.” If… Mia? She was like, 99.9% sure her name was Mia… wasn’t a beer girl she was probably SOL. It wasn’t Rory’s favorite, but she was nineteen. Beggars (and illegal underage drinkers) can’t be choosers, so she was used to Kitty passing her a lukewarm cup of beer to down at parties. That’s where she recognized Mia- she was in Kitty’s sorority! “Kinda surprised Lambda Rho doesn’t have a cooler or something,” she admitted with a small smile. “You guys always seem super prepared for anything.” 

🍓

“Of course they don’t,” she grumbles. What had she been expecting from the Southside? It feels a little like salt in disorganised wound. Normally she is super prepared for anything. Ask for a pen, paper, canned cocktail and Mia was your girl! More proof that she is the de facto president... without a title that reflects it! You know, if she were to put aside the fact that Pilar has also been dealing with the fallout of the Mock Trial. Which she totally is putting aside. “Someone must have forgotten,” she says with a slightly pinched smile. “I guess I can... try a beer.” Why does the word sound dirty when it falls from her tongue? “If you did want to still buy something.” 

『 … ♘ … 』

Oh, Mia Montoya. Harvey was no stranger to the sorority girls that attended CCU - how could anyone be? They were practically the highlight of any day trip to the beach. Lambda Rho girls in matching bikinis? Come on.

 Mia Montoya, though, had always sort of floated above the hierarchy of sorority girls - at least for Harvey. She was gorgeous. A little mean in the way that was amusing instead of just annoying - sort of his weakness considering his track record with the ladies.  It had been a long time since he let a crush on anyone screw with his head too badly - getting his heart crushed by Elaine Archer in his senior year had basically cemented that - but the little boy part of his brain seemed to crack in Mia’s vicinity, like every single time. 

Did he spend his days thinking about her? Not really. Would he ever ask her out? Probably not. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to go out of his way to make a good impression while she was actually listening to him, though - the same way you’d probably stand up a little straighter for a celebrity, or like… fix your hair when some insanely hot entity walked into the room. Like, it was Mia Montoya. “If some dude broke into your house and started eating all of your snacks, I guess you’d be kind of pissed too, right?” Harvey laughed, and he wanted to cringe at the little twinge in his voice - it made him sound like a kid. Fucking embarrassing if you asked him, but he didn’t think girls ever really seemed to mind it. “I think it’s one of those plots you’re not supposed to think too hard about. More like… Play the game, and don’t worry about it so much, kid!”

He grinned. “Didn’t take you for much of a gamer anyway. Is this something new you’re just trying for the summer, or should we expect the next Lambda party to be decked in nerd shit? Can’t say I’d complain about the Pac Man. I’ve got a feeling the Kappa’s could turn it into a drinking game that ends us all.”

🍓

The power she has over certain boys in college has never been lost on her. She carries herself with the same grace she had for years on the skating rink - who wouldn’t be tripping over themselves to want to bottle a piece of that for just a moment? But male attention has been something she’s admittedly paid less attention to over the past few months since Grace’s death. Since Grace in general. So, she pockets the feeling as Harvey’s effort makes itself apparent. Straightens her spine a little and wears it like a badge of honour. 

“Well, if he broke into my house he wouldn’t get as far as reaching my cupboards,” she points out, reaching for her cocktail which had been placed to one side. “I’d have dealt with it before that was, like, even an issue.” 

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: THE BOWLING ALLEY. 𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑: all god’s cherriots 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: sav is Out Here trying to have fun, whatever the fuck that is

Sav snaps her piece of gum between her teeth, the elasticity still rigid and the flavor of raspberry rapidly dying on her tongue as she lounges in a chair overlooking the lanes. She’s not necessarily a free woman — what’s free anymore? — but she’s not still trapped in the confines of that godawful, neon orange vest out on the beach stabbing litter, so if she squints really hard and stares into a dark corner, maybe she can convince herself she’s here to celebrate. 

Except, there’s nothing to celebrate, really, but she doesn’t have to write that on her forehead in permanent marker for someone else to figure out.

“Fuck,” she groans, feet kicked back into an empty chair as she surveys the scene. “I’d kill for French fries right now. Or a beer.” Her head turns slightly, eyes twinkling as the corners of her lips elevate in a smirk. She may as well have fun, even if her mind has a dull ache to it every time she tries to so much as think about, well, anything that’s happened since she got off the goddamn bus in this town. If fun’s going to be far and few in between, might better take the opportunity while it’s still around to grab. “Wanna grab a lane? Loser buys the good stuff.”

🍓

She can barely remember the last time she went bowling. Her brother had probably roped her into it, though. He had an awful habit of managing to do that. One flash of his grin and Mia would roll her eyes and pretty much give in every time. But tonight, he’s not in attendance and she’s people watching. Until the girl next to her pipes up and she quirks a brow in intrigue. “Sure,” she finds herself agreeing with a small shrug. In the evening’s spirit of ‘fuck it’, what was the worst that could happen? She’d lose? Mia thinks her ego can handle the tiny dent of losing a game of bowling... either that or she’s turned into a bigger perfectionist than she could have ever dared to dream. “Important question before we get into it,” she starts, because she’s still Mia. There should still be some rules to every competition. “Are you a yay or nay to bumpers?” 

who: open! what: took one look at rebel without a cause’s wikipedia page & said jesus christ not this where: either u agree to go to the food shack with her or u have to decide where they are i don’t make the rules 

“Who picked Rebel Without a Cause?” Rory’s brow furrowed as she squinted at the screen over a sea of cars. She’d really been hoping for something a little more light-hearted, or at least something that she could get engrossed in enough to forget the everything else going on lately. Town Square. Lux. Town Square. Sleepwalking. Rebel Without a Cause was… not going to do it. She forced a smile to her face, some lightness into her voice. “Okay, if I’m gonna watch a movie about California teenagers fighting each other, knife fights, and doing stupid stuff that ends in multiple deaths, I’m gonna need to go get a drink.” She hadn’t really planned on buying anything aside from her movie snack but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Wanna come with? I’ll share my skittles in exchange for company.”

🍓

“Some old guy probably.” Mia says with her arms crossed as she looks non-plussed at the film playing. Sure, she doesn’t know for sure but a 1950′s movie about some guy? Something that wasn’t even musical in nature where they’d sing about their differences and put them aside in song? Practical guarantee it was an old guy trying to relive his ‘glory days’ or whatever.  Some things never changed no matter which side of town you were on. Except... in this case, it may have been a choice by whoever had picked out some of the flooring choices she’d seen around the place, clearly shabby chique was in on this side of the tracks. “Are they even, like, selling liquor at this thing? Because I need something harder than a milkshake if I’m going to make it through... all that. As riveting as it sounds.” 

𝐖𝐇𝐎: harvey hargrove the third & open

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓:​​ harvey doesn’t know why he’s here so he’s drinking beer and trying to pretend like it’s not weird 

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: the arcade @ the drive in!

Harvey doesn’t know why the fuck he’s here, so he’s been drinking beer and trying to pretend it’s not weird. Nobody said it was working - it’s not - but the saving grace of having the Southsiders play nice for the night? At least it means that every dirty look he’s been at the receiving end of will probably result in no more than a sneer, instead of thrown fists… At least it means that his Dad will probably nod, and say ‘Good job,’ when he got home from the gathering he was forced into on the Southside instead of continuing the fickle game of sighing and cold shouldering his only son.  That’s how it had been since they had all found Lux’s car. Silence, unless he was being lectured; tension, unless Harvard had enough energy to sigh and point at whatever he needed from Harvey. It was understandable. He knew that his son was hiding something, and Harvey knew he knew… at least he thought it was probably something to do with the broken window on the ‘77 Beetle instead of the gun that was hidden beneath Harvey’s - 

The panic probably would have crashed over him if the sound of the movie starting to his left hadn’t done it first. His eyes flickered toward his car that was parked in a row - the Camaro tonight, with Libby Logan as it’s unmovable front-seat accessory - but he knew he’d just get antsy if he went to try and watch the movie with her. There was too much to look out… Too much to think about. Too many Southsiders to silently piss off with nothing more than the presence of him and his family’s history. 

So, instead, Harvey ventured his way into the arcade. He felt like a little kid again as he swept his eyes over game cabinets, and felt the sparkle of their sounds in his ears. When was the last time he had even carried a quarter? He didn’t know, but after shoving a $20 into the change machine, he wasn’t sure his pockets ever felt so full. 

“I got next game –” Harvey kept his words simple as he slipped one of his coins on top of the machine - his eyes focused on the other’s game… Just as they totally ate it, and ‘GAME OVER!’ danced across the screen. 

“Damn, dude. I was kind of expecting you to last longer than that,”  What was he supposed to do but laugh? “Maybe you should just take my quarter. Practice a little before a Hargrove totally kicks your ass at Pac Man.” 

🍓

If Mia had a choice, she would be in bed watching Law and Order rather than at a South Side party. But there wasn’t really a choice when the rest of her sisters who had stayed the summer would be going to scope out the totally forbidden side of town! Besides it wasn’t like there wasn’t a certain appeal to the South Side. They certainly had more going on than the Proper post-fire and dare she say it - a lot less violent crime (that she’s aware of)! So the main thought running through her head at the thought of playing arcade games had been screw it. She deserves a chance to unwind. Perhaps it’s not a surprise that she fails spectacularly when it’s her first time playing Pac Man. She’s just never understood the appeal of being a little yellow blob invading ghosts houses to eat them. That was the premise wasn’t it? “I don’t get this game,” she huffs, a slight stomp in her step as she backs away from the machine. “What’s Pac Man’s agenda? Like why are they chasing him?” 

🌪

Two minutes. Ozzy had left the sixteen year olds in charge for two fucking minutes and they’d lost a kid. He was losing his goddamn mind trying to find her, he’d sent one of the more competent workers to search the hotel and he was midway through pulling supplies out of a closet when he heard Mia’s voice. A sigh of relief leaves him as he turns around and he hides his annoyance under a smile, leaning down to scoop up the young girl and covering himself in glitter in the process. “Phoebe! You can’t just sneak off like that you little munchkin,” he hands her over to another counselor, “Go get cleaned up with Miss Ashley so you can swim in the pool later.” Once she’s gone he turns back to Mia, his wide grin replaced with a sheepish one, “Thanks for bringing her back. Sneaky little thing, isn’t she?” 

🍓

Mia shakes her head fondly as Ozzy covers himself in glitter while holding the little girl, mainly just happy that she’s no longer near to facing a complete disaster at the front desk. “Oh, I’m used to it. My cousin, Mateo, is the exact same. I took my eyes off him for, like, twenty seconds before when we were at Disneyland and he was fully into some other kid’s cotton candy.” Mia says while rolling eyes, and with her arms folded across her chest it would be stern if it weren’t for the sense of affection that underpins it.  “I honestly don’t know how you manage to do it every single day. We were there for, like, five or six hours and it was enough for me.” 

It’s no secret that Mia has been planning an evening like this for months. She’d walked into the CCU library the day of the Block Party with two purposes. 1) To print out her mutinous Pilar signs and 2) to print out Kitty’s spa night invite on a really nice piece of pink card! The WordArt was also so much prettier - easily her best work  in Microsoft Word 1998 to date. And tonight, the fruits of her labour are evident. The lavender aromatherapy oil is wafting through the room through her diffuser, the foot spa is bubbling away, and the sweet sound of a Mariah Carey falsetto can be heard playing in the background. The icing on the spa night cake is the collection of Hard Candy nail polishes all laid out on her dresser.  It’s perfect... it’d be perfect. Except for the fact Mia has been unable to get ‘Candy’s’ blog post out of her mind for the past three days. 

If she’s going to even touch the subject of everything Candy she’s going to talk to Kitty. Girls don’t save their psychological torturer from a crumbling buildings and then turn out to be weirdo anonymous bloggers! It just wasn’t the way things were done on Law and Order! “So, like,” she starts as she paints a coat of green varnish onto her nails. There’s a delicate way of handling this, she’s sure. “I don’t do this for all the girls but I thought I should probably check in on you after all the, like... trauma and resurfaced ‘Candy Girl’ feelings that you must have experienced over the past few days. Are you doing okay, sweetie?” 

‘I wanted to be a fairy’. The sound of a very young voice carries through the hall as Mia appears into the daycare alongside a three year old covered head to toe in whatever sparkly office supplies she could get her hands on in the time Mia had been away from the front desk. Mia’s expression is soft as she talks to the wannabe fairy, even as a shock of pink hair comes into her line of sight and reminds her of just who she’d been looking for when she stepped into the room. What can she say? Children often tended to be her Achilles’ heel. “Here, I have someone who belongs to you,” she presents the little girl who merely gives a gap-toothed grin beneath layers of Pritt Sticked glitter and whatever she’d used to get the colourful streaks into her hair. “Phoebe here has been telling me that she managed to sneak out when you were dealing with one of the other kids - is that right?” 

🏈

Parker couldn’t help but grin. I mean…it was a pretty ridiculous scenario. Mia’s position didn’t help with things. The visor. The book. It was all just too good. He began to chuckle as she reacted. When she called out his teammate, it really sent him over the edge. “You have never been more right in your life. That guy is riding the bench all season for sure.” He emphasized. He bent down and scooped up the football. “But seriously…how can I make this up to you? I know for a fact that idiot won’t but I have a few more brain cells than him.” Parker explained. “I can spot you for the next volume in that…series?” He pondered, eyeing the title once more. “You know…if Bridget Jones gets another diary or whatever.” 

🍓

Parker was right about one thing. Bridget did have a new diary. Mia had used the computer at the Orchard Shore Motel to look up the blurb on her lunch breaks and lamented about how she didn’t have any planted drug stories or Madonna songs in her life. Shocking really. But it’s enough to pique her interest, and if she’d still been wearing her visor she would have tilted the brim down for the dramatic edge she’s going for. “She has another diary... it’s out now,” she coos, adjusting her posture. She’s after something. “Its called the Edge of Reason and I suppose that could help as I have been wondering whether she’ll ultimately pick between Mr. Darcy and the new silver-haired fox, Wentworth. But I could always ask Mrs. Logan to reserve a copy come fall.” Her brow furrows and she lets out an exaggerated huff. “... Say, how many sorority girls would you say you know? Like, I don’t know, in my house for example.” 

who: violet and open what: keeping up appearances where: the beach

Violet never really was much of a reader, but there was little else to do when you were forced to lounge on the beach and “keep an eye out”, whatever that was supposed to mean! This entire undercover thing had it’s moments of excitement, but it was mostly full of moments like this one… trying to pass the time and do the job she was assigned all at once. Lux’s little friends had proven themselves harder to track down than she’d expected, so she was kind of hoping for some sort of miracle by sitting in plain sight reading what she’d written down as Lux’s favorite book. And if none of her friends came by… well she was still hoping someone would, anyone really, even if it was one of her father’s little henchman. At least then she’d be able to get a freakin’ slushie or something!

🍓

Mia’s been lying low since the Pilar Hamilton incident, lest she be mistaken for someone who could actually brawl at the next Cherry funeral. She’s practically disguised behind a large sunhat and glasses, with a brooding expression on her face by the time she gets off shift at the motel. The hand print on her face hadn’t lasted beyond a few hours and yet it may as well be scorched onto her cheek with the bubbling anger Mia’s had since. If only her Gracie were around to complain to. She just had to commit a bunch of atrocities, didn’t she? Ugh - the selfishness of it all - who else was supposed to hear her tirades now?! Her brother? But as Mia’s in the midst of her internal agony, Violet appears in sight further down the beach. As if gifted by the blonde overlord herself... one Dolly Parton. The first thing to note is that Violet’s a blonde she definitely hasn’t seen before and she should know! Like 75.5% of the blondes in Cherry are in her sorority - she once did a headcount. “Sorry to bother you.” She’s not but she does replace the sour expression for her best smile. “But I was wondering if you got that recommendation from Oprah’s book club...? Loved the bit where the couple reunite after twenty years.” She didn’t. “It was so touching.” 

Pilar won’t lie to herself - there’s a sick satisfaction at watching Mia snap. It’s almost visceral, almost reassuring. Since even before everything came out, since the moment Ethan revealed he’d been keeping something from her, since Sabrina was stabbed, since Blaire died, so much as felt out of her control. The Candy Girl - Grace, fucking Grace - dragging her along like a puppet on a string, with good old Bertie and Ethan giving a few tugs for good measure. And then when it had all come out, she hadn’t even been there. No control, no influence. Just left with too many questions that could never be answered. So knowing that she can still do something, she can affect someone like Mia is fucking satisfying. 

Unfortunately, because it’s Mia, she has to ruin it by mentioning Blaire and Sabrina and getting a little too close to the things Pilar can’t stop thinking about. Because she does think that Lambda Rho is her responsibility, just like the LDB is - or was. “Don’t,” Pilar spits, an edge of ice to the word, flexing the fingers on the hand Mia knocks away. “Where’s your culpability, Vice President?” and because she wants to do something tangible, because Mia’s broken the seal and made the first move by swiping at that hand on her cheek, Pilar accompanies the words with a light shove. “I have dedicated years of my life to doing everything I possibly can for my sisters, and you’re out here taking the first opportunity to use a tragedy - Blaire’s death - for, what? Sorority politics? An election that hasn’t even started?” The words are more genuine, and she makes sure the indignation and disapproval coats them. It’s ironic, really - Mia accuses her of only looking out for herself, and she’s been doing everything she can to focus on anything but herself. She’s sure not fucking campaigning. “I was trying. You were busy braiding the Candy Girl’s hair.” She knows something must crack through on trying. Something only Mia is really close enough to glimpse. Something a little anguished. But it’s gone just as quick, hidden behind a single bark of disbelieving laughter and one last, sad, statement. “You know, the saying isn’t supposed to be ‘like aunt, like niece’ but you always do make do with what you have.”

🍓

It’s not the shove that causes Mia’s jaw to tighten. It’s the idea that she’s somehow equally responsible for not looking out for Lambda Rho because she was spending time with Grace instead. She may have never voiced it... but the ideas that Mia had of sisterhood when she’d first wanted to join a sorority at the tender age of eight still held true. But today isn’t the day where Mia gushes her feelings about camaraderie. Instead, Mia’s fingers dig further into her palms until they’re at the point of drawing blood. If she’d wanted to use Blaire’s death to get the upper-hand she would have done it when she’d died. If she’d wanted to overthrow Pilar Hamilton once and for all she would have used the leverage Grace had inadvertently given her in The Cherry Bomb. She’s never been an advocate of physical violence. Mia fights with her words. That is, until Pilar mentions Mia’s aunt and her nails finally leave her palm as she throws up her opened palm to Pilar’s cheek. “I am not my aunt.” she seethes as the lack of a true conversation with Mariana Montoya following the trial finally takes its toll. “I knew nothing. Not about her, not about the LDB, not about Cherry when I came here, not about Grace, not about any of it! And I’m sick of feeling like I’m I’m completely hopeless because my president doesn’t keep me in the loop. It should’ve been me as president to start with and it should be me now.” 

“Of course you didn’t. I’m just saying, love. Who knows what people might think if you keep fixating on what she did,” Pilar says, the pet name and sympathy dripping off her tongue like honey. Pilar has something like a shark in her, she knows, and she’s half convinced it comes from her mother. She knew, reading Lourdes’ words during that mock trial, the same way she knows the blood running through her veins, that she was as carefully constructed as Pilar. And who knows how they’d compare, really, but now that she’s forced to feel things about Lourdes, Pilar can’t help weaving what little she knows of her into her masks and carefully chosen words. Pet names have never really been Pilar’s thing, but they seemed to be her mother’s, so why not see how they feel? She places a hand gently on Mia’s shoulder in an apparently comforting gesture, mostly just to make her squirm. She knows, as she’s sure her mother knew, that things like this are all about power and control. And power is so often about appearances. So when Pilar ducks her head like she’s trying to get a better look at Mia’s face, she makes sure to soften her expression like there’s something she can see there that just breaks her heart. It’s all a performance, a masquerade, and Pilar has been dancing like this for years. “Oh, Mia… Look at you.” Voice oh so gentle. And because it’s Mia fucking Montoya, Pilar moves her hand to Mia’s cheek. Just to see what she’ll do about it. Just to see if it’ll push that look in her eye a little further. Pilar kind of hopes it does. If only so she has an excuse to do something back. “I was part of a private club, sure,” she continues, all sympathy, sympathy, sympathy. Sickly sweet, maybe just this side of condescending. Like Mia’s a beloved little sister about to cry over something stupid. “But accusing me of drugging people? Of, what, being involved with the kind of people that took my mother from me? Look, I’m sorry if you felt excluded or left out, darling, but I really was looking out for you and all my sisters. For me, it really just meant extra resources for Lambda Rho to be the best it could, and a little more connections.”

🍓

The hand on her cheek is tender but Mia knows it doesn’t come from a place of care. She’s being treated like a child. The heat rises to her cheeks with her humiliation. Many months from now, Mia will blame her reaction on the tension that had been building in her shoulders for months. But as her face sours to match the look in her eyes, as her manicured nails dig tightly into her palms in an attempt to hold back her anger, it’s clear that this hadn’t been part of Mia’s idea when she’d spent all that time in the library that morning printing out her signs. Because as she stands on Main Street, with Pilar cooing sickly words to her for their small audience, something inside Mia snaps. 

 “Don’t pretend like you’ve ever looked out for me for one second, Hamilton! The only person you’re interested in looking out for is yourself,” Mia shouts. Kids in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, Mia. “... Just like your darling mother was trying to do when she got thrown under the bus by her slimeball boyfriend! If you were really looking out for the girls of Lambda Rho you would have taken better care of Blaire when she joined your ‘private club’ because all I’ve seen for your involvement is two Lambda Rho sisters either dead or fatally injured, two newer Lambdas allowed to be thrown into the midst of a murder investigation and potentially ruin the house name for good, and you want to say all that was for extra resources and connections?! I’m not buying it! Unless the extra resources you meant included the knife used to fucking stab Sabrina!” She reaches up in an attempt to knock Pilar’s hand off her face with a quick swipe. “And take your hands off me!” 

If Pilar were, perhaps, a little less emotionally controlled, she would find a nice quiet spot with a pillow to scream into. Or maybe she would rant loudly and extensively at Sabrina (assuming the sorority politics didn’t feel a tad too trivial in the wake of everything her friend had been through). However, for better or worse, her expression was perfectly controlled into a neutral-yet-disapproving look. There was a familiarity to the masks she wore. It was almost a comfort, in the wake of everything that had happened, to parcel everything away. “Mia,” she greeted, a pleasant smile spreading that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She let out a chuckle, the sign’s words imprinted on her eyelids when her eyes briefly shut. “Politics is personal, you should really know that by now,” she replied, smile and words taking an ever so subtle turn into condescending. She made sure to meet the eyes of whoever Mia had just been talking to, just briefly enough to ensure attention was still on them. Always best to have an audience when undermining someone’s work. Her eyes locked back on Mia’s and when she spoke she made no effort to lower her voice, though her tone certainly remained conversational. “But at least I do you, my Lambda Rho sister, the courtesy of not speculating about your character and involvement in last year’s events, even though I know you were quite close to Grace and considering… well.” She sighed, as if an older sibling or parent disappointed in a child’s actions, and gestured to the sign. The fucking sign. “Someone’s eager to take advantage, hmm?”

🍓

Sure, she’d had a crush on a murderer and thought Grace was the only person in Cherry who truly understood her... but who hadn’t made mistakes in their love life? “Grace was...” Her back stiffens a little, jaw tightening. “I didn’t know about Grace.” She settles on. “I’m, like, just trying to get to the truth here for the benefit of the legacy of the Lambda Rho name! No speculating or taking advantage!” Except they both knew she was. Ultimately, there’s an air of jealousy in Mia’s voice that’s been lying dormant for months just waiting to rear its head. Why hadn’t she been invited to the LDB? Sure, it seemed more hassle than what it was worth - but a society for CCU’s best? The ones who were going places? The fact she’d found out her aunt had an invite and she hadn’t received a thing? She’d never admit it but it’d definitely put a chip in her Ivy League reject confidence. Mia was going places and if she had to prove it by fighting tooth and nail she would! “Unless you... like... didn’t run a secret society that drugged people against their will as a hazing ritual and, like, have at least three murderers as members at one point or another,” she cocks her head innocuously but the look in her eye is practically feral. “Because if I’m mistaken and you didn’t do that, I’ll happily take my sign down... and the copies I made.” 

🌱

“Not like, real trouble.” For once. Thank god. “I’m just supposed to be grounded. And it looks like my fried dough addiction was a hereditary one because my uncle who grounded me is right behind you,” she over-explained with a grateful, if slightly embarrassed, smile. Mia is easy to recognize, particularly after the mock trial they’d all been forced to play their parts in. She was the sort of person that even Rory’s pitiful excuse for survival instincts recognized as a little scary. The way that Zahra was probably a little scary to- well- to everyone who wasn’t Rory. “Sorry, did I interrupt you on your way to something?”

🍓

“... No. You didn’t.” Mia sounds a little irritated by her own response. There wasn’t a party to get ready for or a mixer to plan. In fact, since summer started, Mia’s been completely void of a real purpose. Oddly relaxed if not for the shroud of grief... and she hates it. She’d toyed with going home for a while but then she hadn’t gone through with it. Evidently. At least she’d had the DA’s office last year - the gossip there had been scandalous - a world away from whatever Jennifer from Colorado wanted out of her stay at the Orchard Shore Motel. “I was just going to head down to the beach to top up my tan,” she mumbles, looking at the large tote bag hanging off her arm before getting an idea as she catches a glimpse of pink fabric dangling out of the top. “I could probably manage to unfold my beach blanket to use as a cover if you wanted to try to get past your uncle.”