I'm a Damsel, I'm in Distress.

I’m supposed to be the one making the team not shit, Meg.  I’m the captain.  It’s literally my job description.  And as much as I hate him, it’s not Wilde’s fault.  He’s better than Cherie was.  

He is definitely better and more of a team player, he has raw talent. She had nothing.

They’ll fill the position.  Can’t not have a flying instructor… -sighs- I just don’t fucking know.  I don’t want to have to decide this shit right now.   My dream’s always been flying… The Harpies would be the best fucking thing in the world… But I couldn’t even captain this team to win one fucking game.  Why would I be any better on a professional team?  Oh yeah, I wouldn’t be.

It's not your fault this team is shit, it's everyone else who isn't working their asses off. You have literally done everything you can, but Wilde is off beating around the bush with Cherie. I wouldn't be surprised if that was her way at getting back at you for kicking her off the team. You see how she reacts when we lose. And you hear her talking about how she's a queen. What the actual fuck? She's fuller of herself than Gaston is and that's saying something.

Fucking everything.  I didn’t think I’d get scouted, because -waves a hand- as you know, the team was fucking shit this year, but then George gave me the card for the fucking scout for the fucking Harpies and I owled them and long story short, they offered me a spot at training this summer.

Why not play first, teach later? All your friends, including me, would go see you play, and you could make time to see them. What you have to do here is evaluate what your new dream is. Me? I'm getting the fuck out of here and I'm never looking back. Never seeing my father again, none of that shit. I'm done. Music. I'll do that.

-walks onto the field-  At least someone on this fucking team takes this sport seriously…

All right, panties are in a twist, what's the problem?

Well, you're already doing it.

-walks out onto the field with his broom, sees her, and joins her- Hello! It’s a nice day, isn’t it?

-cold shoulder-

He hated when girls acted like this, like he was some kind of scum just for daring to be in the same room.  ”Well, pardon me for saying so, but I didn’t even notice any bruises, so if you didn’t want to talk about them, why did you bring them up at all?”  It was true, he hadn’t noticed a single one because he had just wanted to sit here in peace and drink his drink.  She must have a lot of issues.

George watched as a myriad of emotions played across the girls face.  She seemed upset with him for just nodding, jesus what would she have done if he had out right conversed with her?  George listened as she spoke to him, and for a moment he had thought about sassing right back at her, but George was nothing if not friendly, so instead he at least gave regular conversation a shot.

One deep breath and an order of tequila shots and salt with lime, Meg heard him speak just barely. She knew she was being rude, but at this moment and frankly many moments, she didn't give a single fuck. Her eyes speculated the shot glass in front of her as she poured some salt on her wrist and looked over at him.

George’s eyes were drawn to the girl next to him, simply because she looked so horribly downtrodden, about as much as he was himself.  As a drink arrived, he had resolved himself to mind his own business.  How would he feel if some stranger came up and started trying to cheer him up?  Well actually that was a bad example, because he would probably love it.

When he acknowledged her there was the tension. And it was awkward, at least it was for her. She tried to ignore it, diffuse it, but it weighed on her as she sipped on the green drink in front of her. Green Appletini. Sour, so not too girlie, but more of a drink than she normally has. She made the mental note to next time start with a margarita. "If you're going to say something, do." Meg's eyes stayed on her drink. "There's this feeling in the air. I don't like it."

She shrugged. “Fine. it was nice meeting you, have a good day!” With a final wave she walked off.

"Dancing? I might be in trouble with that, but I suppose I can give it a shot. Thanks for the advice!"

"Yep. You can go now."

George closed up shop for the night, locking the doors and turning off the lights.  Instead of heading straight up to bed like he normally did, he decided he would take a short walk to Paradise Falls and have a drink.

The bruise was almost perfectly faded, just hinted at yellow-green and it was easier to cover up now. The lower body was always covered, but the face... That's what everyone had been asking about and with all that, Meg needed a drink, so without any help whatsoever or any company, she headed to Paradise Falls. She shouldn't be out of the school, but she really did not care.

That was possibly the most unhelpful answer I’ve ever heard.

Well, didn't want you thinking he was abusive when he isn't.

"Any tips on how to do it without breaking something important?"

"Learn some dancing for one, it will help in control. That's all I'm giving. Can't lose my signature."

"Well, when you pull it off so well it’s no wonder that it tricks people. I’ve heard of that before, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it used. That makes more sense now."

"It's not as hard as everyone thinks really. But good. I don't think anyone can pull it off like I can. Almost as good as Wronski. Almost."

Like hell it doesn’t. Who Meg?

Not Kuzco.