New World, Old Tricks

And now it had been alarmingly close to a year since Mouse and his brothers made it to the Colony, and he hadn’t been nearly as much of a bother to the people in charge as he’d been at the home. A large part of that had to do with the fact that all his energy had been spent on making sure his brothers were safe her, but it didn’t help matters that the consequences around here could very well be his being sent back outside the walls to fare for himself again. 

Throwing some toilet paper around a few dorm rooms hardly called out for that kind of punishment, though. Not to mention – they’d have to catch them, and Mouse had a very good feeling his partner in crime knew what he was doing.]

Suit yourself, mate. [Mouse accepted Quentin’s challenge easily; it was one he’d taken on more times than he could count, and he’d always risen to the occasion. He didn’t feel the need to assure Quentin that it wouldn’t take long, either, because the other would see that for himself. 

His smirk matched the other boy’s once they’d left the party behind, his own excitement and that rolling off of Quentin enough to keep his energy soaring despite the sudden disconnect from the partygoers and the enthusiasm they sent running through his veins.] 

[He led the way farther from the party without slowing his pace – they were working with limited time, taking a moment to consider Quentin’s question before he offered a suggestion.] How ‘bout soap? I doubt anyone’ll be out for blood over some toilet paper in their rooms, but if that’s what folks are usin’ their lotion for I reckon we could end up with a load of pissed off people. [And that wasn’t something Mouse needed to deal with. He smirked, pausing as they rounded a corner to glance over at his companion.] What house you in? I’m Torren, so we can hit the two neither of us is in, first. 

You may have a point. Stealing wank lotion may get more anger than we'd like. [He chuckled, running a hand briefly through his hair.] Soap and toilet paper it is. All we need to do is empty out a couple of bathrooms stalls and I say we're all set. [The energy in Quentin was building. God, he was bloody lame for getting worked up on a childish prank, but it felt good to just be having fun.] I'm in Delma. Which leaves us with Brink and Calyset. Let's hit Brink first.

[He turned down a hall that would lead them to where they wanted to go, grabbing Mouse's arm midway and briefly tugging him in the direction of the bathroom.] Think we need to stock up, ay? Hope ya’ got some giant pockets on those pants of yours.

It makes for a nice change, to find someone else here outside his clan who has a healthy appreciation for fooling the people who think that way. And for causing some mischief. The party wasn’t exactly proving to be Mouse’s thing, but he was always up for causing a bit of trouble. All in fun, of course; the kind of thing that would maybe get under peoples’ skin, but that would carry no lasting harm, no permanent damage beyond a few minutes’ annoyance. Anyways, the way Mouse sees it, the people who can’t laugh at themselves are the kind who would find some reason to be grumpy with or without Mouse’s help.

See? Always helping, just like his award said.

Quentin bumps his fist against Mouse’s sealing the deal and, in Mouse’s mind, forming a kind of bond, if only for the evening. They’re partners in crime, now.] 

Just like the creature, but don’t go thinkin’ the similarities go any further than appearance. Or - think what ya want, just don’t dont’ say I didn’t warn ya when ya find out yer dead wrong. [He flashes a grin, a reminder of the very thing they were just talking about, and it widens at Quentin’s suggestions. The decision is an easy one, made in no time at all.]

I say we do both. Make the knobs all slippery, and then when they finally get ‘em open - BAM! Room full of toilet paper. C’mon, let’s get outta here before anyone notices us. [Not that he’s worried about that, but two kids slipping out of the party might look just a touch suspicious to anyone who was paying attention. So he heads toward the door slowly, casually, as if they’re up to nothing more than getting a bit of fresh air, and he has no doubts that if Quentin has any problems with the plan he’ll have no problem speaking up about it.]

[They only questioned it when Quentin had begun to deface the property of the school and the community. But even then, he was labeled as acting out, waiting for mumsey and pops to notice him. The truth of the matter was drawing was always Quentin's escape and if he could combine his creativity together with destruction, well, why wouldn't he? It seemed like the only natural course of action for him to take.]

[This same train of thought led Quentin to agreeing to a prank. The party was a knock off and everyone was distracted and Mouse was proving to be excellent company so far. He looked innocent, but the right strings had been plucked to reveal the mischief that lay dormant underneath.]

I'll just wait for ya' to prove me wrong. [It was a statement that warranted a challenge. He believed Mouse would take it or lead Quentin down a path that would prove what it was he was searching for. Time would tell and Quentin was genuinely excited to be causing a little trouble. He had been so wrapped up in his own shite, he had forgotten what fun felt like.] [So when Mouse slipped out of the room, Quentin did the same. Once the doors shut behind him, Quentin couldn't remove the smirk from his lips. They had a lot of work to do and not an infinite amount of minutes to spare.] What do ya' reckon can make things a bit slippery? Lotion would be perfect, but I dunno if we got a lot of that round here unless mates are using it to wank. The toilet paper part is easy, we just swipe it from the bathrooms.

She could go somewhere else. There’s the library, but she spends a fair amount of time there already. The sticky summer heat make going outdoors a less pleasant option. And then there’s her common room, or the lounge, or any other number of places where there are others milling about. She could go talk to someone. Try to make a friend, so that she wouldn’t be left to sit in a hallway alone with her notebook and a pencil.

Except – she can’t do that. For as much as she wishes she could, she can’t get her voice to function. And the idea of walking into a room full of people and trying to say something – verbally or non-verbally – is too much for her to think about. So here she sits.

Alone.

But she’s not alone, because she has her battered, nearly filled-up notebook, a pencil, and her imagination. And those are all she needs to block out everything around her, the people coming and going from the infirmary, as she puts pencil to paper.]

[Once he was free to go, Quentin bolted for the showers and stood under the water for a solid ten minutes before picking up a bar of soap. The water washed away the grime from his body and gave him the first feeling of cool since he woke up this morning. If this was June, he didn't want to know what July or August would bring.] [He dressed quickly in a pair of shorts and a white shirt -- probably the brightest outfit he owned -- and began roaming around, no particular destination in mind. He merely wanted to stay out of the beating sun and some of the windowless halls of the Colony provided him that relief.] [After a few turns, Quentin wound up at the infirmary. He had no desire to go towards the door until he caught sight of a figure hanging from the windowsill. A book rested on her lap, a pencil scribbling against the pages. He recognized her instantaneously and had a feeling he could guess why she was waiting outside.] Big brother on duty?

Riley wonders if they’ll hold hands, call each other pet names – all the cliche things couples do. She wonders if it will change them in any way. Riley knows she’s worrying too much, rather than just letting it happen as it will and should but she refuses to allow anything to mess up their friendship. Quentin was really all Riley had and to lose him now would ruin everything. The Colony was nice and all but it wasn’t necessarily what was keeping her here. She had heard of transferring, had heard of other Colonies in other areas of England but she had never looked into it because of the relationships she built here. 

Even with her endlessly worried mental state, she couldn’t deny she was happy. Of course she had been interested in Quentin – she would have been an idiot to try and deny that. She knows, or maybe hopes, they’ll be the same, knows that Riley will never be a girl that follows around a bloke in desperation. She hopes they’ll be what they are now just with the titles attached and that everything will be normal. Riley needed normal, to be honest.

She couldn’t help but grin at his confirmation, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at him.] What have you gotten yourself into? Have you ever dated a poor person before? [She teased, chuckling at the thought of Riley running off with his money. Back then, it wouldn’t have been much of a stretch, although she wasn’t into the killing bit.] It’s good though, ‘cuz you’ll treat me real nice, won’t ya? Just be happy you met me when ya did. [She smirked, gently rocking her shoulders against his.] Hey, I’m sorry ‘bout earlier, by the way. I should have let you explain and not get all mad about it. I’m glad you told me. I know everyone says it but loyalty and trust means a lot to me and you were bein’ honest. So, thanks.

[The main component was them. Quentin and Riley shared similar worries. If they worked together to actually overcome them, or mesh them into something they could comprehend, then they would be okay. Quentin didn't know what he was doing exactly. He wasn't one to pour out his feelings or show sympathy. With Riley however, he was more inclined too and he felt safe in her presence to where he might not worry about cracking as much as he would with others. It was still a risk, something he'd have to grapple with. If him and Riley couldn't work, he hoped that returning to friends plausible -- not a terms agreement in the fine print that no one abide by, but was there out of necessity.]

[He pushed the thoughts away. He was happy. The light and airy sensation in his stomach -- he couldn't deny it was there. He had to focus on that -- let it permeate through his being, taking hold of the fear and crushing it. Riley and him would have to be alright. He didn't want to deal with another blow, contemplating what the fuck had gone wrong.]

I've never dated any person before. I just so happen to fancy a poor person. These are two new worlds for me. I might need to lay down. [Quentin knew if the world were still in existence, he probably wouldn't be dating Riley. He wouldn't have known her. He didn't know if he'd ever be interested. Those weren't the circumstances currently. They had been forced together by the world shitting on itself.] Don't apologize. I could see how what I said could come across wrong. Know I didn't meant it negatively, yeah? I think I have a way you could make it up to me. [He winked, the comment entirely suggestive and he was only half kidding.]

He doesn’t feel the need to do that with this guy, though, despite the snarky remarks they’ve exchanged – because of them, maybe. He enjoys the back-and-forth, feels like they’re on equal footing, and the other’s suggestion only has a wicked grin spreading across Mouse’s face.] Now?

[If there was any doubt about it up to this point, now he’s decided. He likes this guy. Nevertheless he pauses a moment, looking him over as if to gauge just how serious the offer is. But he already knows, already feels it, and so a second later he sticks out a fist for the other to bump.] You’re on, mate. 

It’s Mouse, by the way, [He adds after a second’s pause; if they’re going to be causing mischief together, he figures they at least ought to know what to call each other. And then it’s down to business, though there’s the vague thought that perhaps it’s just a little ironic, his eagerness to cause some trouble so soon after receiving an award for being helpful.

He’s just boosting morale. Quentin’s morale. And it’s not like he’s going to do anything mean; Mouse is always up for mischief, always up for a bit of fun, but he draws the line where people might get hurt. He doesn’t know if the same can be said for the other, though, but there’s only one way to find out.]

So, what were ya thinkin’? We could poke holes in some ‘a the cups. Or throw shit into the ones what people are already drinkin’ out of. Dorms’ll be empty, I reckon. We could toilet paper one of ‘em. You got any ideas?

[He swallowed those thoughts however. There were bigger things to concern himself with. Mischief and in the middle of a party, the best kind. Everyone would be too distracted with their drinks and their chatter to acknowledge two boys sneaking off to cause havoc. It was easy to become self absorbed, the world temporarily rotating around one's happiness and ignoring the rest.] What better time is there other than now? [A smile curled onto his lips and he bumped Mouse's fist -- a sign of their shenanigans to come.]

Mouse, huh? Like the creature? I'm Quentin. If we do it here, we gotta be real smart about the. The dorms would be more entertaining I think though cause mostly everyone has their arses here. We could teepee the rooms with toilet paper like ya' said or cover all the knobs with something slippery so no one can get it. What do ya' fancy?

The other guy’s humor is sharp, quick, but like Mouse’s it lacks the kind of edge that might make the exact same comment offensive. Though sometimes Mouse wonders if he doesn’t just choose not to hear things like that, but it’s not something he considers right now. Instead he laughs openly and looks down at his feet, as if inspecting the worn boots he’s got on.] The shoes, is it? Good t’know - I was gonna put my money on the hair, but I guess you know better than I do. 

[It comes as a small, strange sort of relief to hear the other guy say he doesn’t have a ton of practice in these things. So maybe Mouse isn’t that far behind, then, though again there’s the thought that he’ll never actually get a chance to make up the knowledge he’s missed out on. But he’s still alive, and that counts for a lot more these days.] 

The clean teen? [Mouse pulls a face and lets out a laugh as he shakes his head.] Dunno that I’d go that far, mate. It was just that there was some things that were a lot easier t’get away with than others. Had to prioritize, y’know? Plus, somethin’ like hiding spiders in someone’s bed is free, yeah? And - well, I guess I can’t really compare the two, but I’d reckon it’s a hell of a lot more fun, too. 

[The consideration tipped out of his mind as he talked to the boy before him. They had a similar sense of humor, at least where they could handle potential digs thrown their way. It was hard to insult Quentin with a joke because most of the time, he had one under his belt ready to go. ] I'm an expert in these things. It's definitely the shoes, though now that I think about it, your hair is pretty questionable too. It screams the whole, out of bed at noon, a lazy pussy deal. Ya', you got a lot to fix up.

[Quentin released a chuckle. He hadn't exactly believed that Mouse was a clean teen. He looked innocent, younger, but those were always the people to second guess.] Fair enough. And I have to give you the point that sometimes pulling pranks are much better than getting fucked cause if you're fucked, chances are you'll be getting pranked. Ya' up for doing a little something now? I'm bored as shite and I didn't even win an award, so what am I celebrating other than my failure?