“How the hell does anyone get the high score on this shit?” 

            He’s been playing Galaga for the last twenty minutes and while he’s not bad, he’s not getting anywhere either. 

Rare as it was for him to be in the passenger seat, Steve found that it wasn’t half-bad, at least, not with Baby as the driver. He had thought he drove the backroads and main stretch fast--before getting into Baby’s car. Fingers finally releasing their death grip on the seat after a few minutes, he could start appreciating the night drive. With the headlights cutting through the dark, the yellow lines streaking beside them, and a harvest moon glowing overhead, there was excitement and peace mingled. The drive was all that mattered for the time being, and hey, which one of them couldn’t appreciate that in this town that far too often went off the deep end?

A constant since they got in, the radio plays, volume pumped up to be heard above the wind from the open windows. As soon as the next song starts, he’s grinning, his foot tapping against the floorboard before singing along with the radio.

“We’re talking away, I don’t what, I’m to say, I’ll say it anyway, today’s another day to find you, shying away--I’ll be coming for your love, okay?” 

He glanced over at the other, holding out a hand as a conceding gesture; Baby has the honors of singing the chorus if he wants it.

                Chai stared at the last missing person’s poster a little lost. The picture they had copied was one of Leon’s rare relaxed smiles. Blonde bangs swept to the side so his hazel eyes were actually visible. Not the way he usually looked. Face downcast, shoulders hunched, holding his notebooks to his chest. He’d just made second in the tennis championship he’d entered and he couldn’t have been happier. Chai couldn’t help thinking of the... melted, fleshy, mass he’d seen in the kitchen. 

                So, of course he jumped almost immediately at hearing someone’s voice. Chai turned, catching sight of the vaguely familiar boy. They’d gone to school together, right? What was his name? The quiet guy... 

daniel  ( or rather, mr. king )  twiddles his thumbs as he approaches the student. he can’t  HELP  but notice how detached he seems in class, and he wants nothing more than to help. teenage years can be rough, and he knows that, and he wants to do everything he can to make his students feel comfortable and welcome.