chris kringle.

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..."

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."

Giggling, she nods. It's nice when conversations can be easy like this. Stacy, generally, gets along with everyone -- despite the peer pressure she receives from Max Jagerman to be mean to those he deems are lesser than, Stacy is a generally positive person. Without the prying eyes of the big man on campus, it's easy to fall into casual and comfortable conversation.

Sneaker clad toes knock together, and Stacy claps against her wrist to show her enthusiasm. "Hell yeah!" She cheers. "We deserve a break, I think, after football season. Like, yeah, Max is good, but I can't see Clivesdale take another victory from us." The name has her lips curled into a snarl, and Stacy shakes her head. "Fuck Clivesdale."

He chuckles as she goes on her small tangent, grinning wider and letting out a hardier laugh when she murmurs the exact phrase many in Hatchetfield do. He shakes his head gently and shrugs a shoulder, "Yeah, they pretty much suck when it comes to basketball." He finishes with the peels of the small tangerine in his hand, tossing them into an extra gallon bag he has with him by the one holding the tangerines he's been sharing. "I think," Chris adds as he pulls one of the slices from the fruit, "if we're lucky, we'll see our way right to the top this year. We may not be the best team, but we've gotten better over the last couple months and the varsity team is filled with talent."

He's, of course, not speaking about himself. Is he good at the game? Yes, but he likes to let others shine too. They deserve it and some of them will still be on the team after he graduates. He wants to see them get carried. Wants too see them rise and play their hearts out. He loves his team. He cares about each person on it and that's more than he can say about Max Jagerman.

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 . . . "

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."

other than school plays and audition, the only thing that caitlyn truly cares about at hatchetfield high is the drama club. grades are super important and all that, especially since she has been busting her ass trying to do everything she can do to get a scholarship, but drama club is when caitlyn really feels like she is a teenager, carefree, being with her friends. even if more often that not she’s using the club to try and suss out who is auditioning for what and what they are using for the material. she has fun still. days drag until final bell rings, and be it a meeting with the leaders of drama club or an actual meeting of the club, caitlyn is always rushing to the theater.

Chris being co-president of the drama club was an experience he enjoyed endlessly, but not something he generally spoke about outside of those meetings. He knew Caitlyn glowed in the position, but Chris was far more humble about it. Perhaps that wasn't fair to say about her, but... Chris was just a quieter person when it came to his successes and presidency or captain-y duties. Drama Co-President, Basketball Captain... they took up a lot of time and he was always actively doing his best not to let them consume him. He was a person beyond all of that, but sometimes he forgot with how busy he was. Especially with basketball season in full swing and a musical coming up. A musical they were still trying to finish auditions for and ensure it was being viewed/looked at/appreciated by the student body.

He's already in the theater when Caitlyn bursts through the doors, tossing them open like the queen of theatre that she is. She speaks quickly as she comes down the row of seats. Chris is sat on the edge of the stage, just him. No one else is around yet and no one else may come, but at least they could discuss things for Grease. Which is exactly what Caitlyn seemed to want to do. He listens with a soft grin, nodding along only to chuckle a bit at her correction of which Grease version to watch. It makes him lift a hand to adjust his glasses as he gives a little more thorough nod, "No, yeah, I agree with all of that. I think it's a brilliant idea. We just have to run it by Miss Mulberry and the principal to get after hour permissions to be on school property." Short pause, "On the off chance he says no, maybe we can talk to the Cineplex about a special viewing."

Indoor practice was so much better than being on the field. The weather was too cold right now, for starters, but being able to watch the game she's cheering for adds a little excitement. She's no expert, of course, but the more Stacy pays attention, the better she feels about her performance. It brings a layer of passion to what she does -- something that isn't always present when she's not sure what's going on.

Around a mouthful of tangerine, she smiles, nodding eagerly towards Chris. "They have to be a little different, just 'cause of the floor," she gestures to the wood, "but, the vibes are totally the same. Plus, I like cheering for basketball way more than I do for football." Leaning in, her voice lowers. "Just don't tell Brenda that." Giggling, she sits back up, spine straight. "It's just easier, I think. And nicer. And the people are nicer, too. Like you." Head tilts, and Stacy's feet shift beneath her. "Do you guys think you've got a good chance at winning?"

Chris nods, eyes flicking to the wood floor then back to her. It makes sense, footing and all that. Movement. But as she mentions she likes basketball way more he grins a bit wider, chuckling then nodding his head, "I agree, but I'm bias. Secret is safe with me." He pauses as she does, watching as she shifts then asks about them winning. His eyebrows draw together momentarily in thought before he's relaxing, nodding again and smiling a bit wider, "Yeah, I do. I think we have a really good team this year," he assures.

Their football team was pretty good too. Max? As much as Chris disagreed with how he went about things... the guy had an arm on him. He was a good quarterback and it often shone in major ways during games. However, the basketball team was more than just one guy throwing a ball. They were a real team and there was barely an a jerk in sight. Sure, some guys were popular and let it go to their egos... but generally? Everyone got along equally on the team.

no. it's definitely too late.

Chris would never pressure someone or push them to do something they don't want to and by the look in her wide eyed stare, he knows pushing isn't the answer here. He chuckles a little and settles into the cushioned seat, hands folded against his stomach as he slumps slightly in the chair, "Okay, okay. It's too late, roger that." He smiles as he looks back to the stage, eyes on the rendition of you can't stop the beat and the voice cracking making him wince slightly. He doesn't comment on it though. Speak poorly about someone trying their best? That wasn't in his nature. Maybe that made people think he was a fake and a fraud to some degree, but the truth was... Chris really just had good in his heart.

"So you're here for..." Chris starts despite backing off on the push to get Hannah to try out. He lets it trail off to hear what she's going to fill in the blank with. He assumes it's for crew, but he doesn't want to ask and be wrong. Especially, too, if she had specific crew pieces in mind. Set. Costuming. Lights. Stage Manager. Hey, she could be pretty good at that, he thought.

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 . . . "

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.