#c casey

text @ pink lady

“CASEY!” She’s calling out his name before she’s even reached his room. Prayer is the last thing she needs. No, what Cricket needs is the crass, probably bitchy, straight talk of her beloved man whore. “Casey,” she whines again, knuckles rapping hard against his door. Doesn’t matter if he’s sleeping, if he’s studying, if he’s -- whatever. “I need you to...” Teach me about sex? Explain how I’m supposed to let go of this guilt? Be my friend? “I need you to be my Rizzo.”

“Just who do you think you are, Casey Wright?” She doesn’t give him a chance to speak, to even say hello. Cricket’s pounced and, like the lioness she is, she ain’t letting go until she’s drawn blood. “Mockin’ my faith when you know nothin’ about it? And don’t give me that poor little Catholic boy crap. I’ve heard it all before. You make your choices, I make mine. We usually leave it at that. Except this time you crossed a line with me.” She’s past caring about his opinion on the matter. Had to keep poking and prodding, didn’t he? Well, congratulations, Casey! You did it! You hit her where it hurt. “In the future, how about you shut that pretty mouth of yours before somethin’ real stupid comes out of it. Alright?”