#daicey?

If Nightingale Crescent was a person, it'd literally be everything Jace thought was wrong with the world. After the night he'd spent there, he could picture it more vividly now than ever before, too. Nightingale Crescent would be a guy, for sure; a guy of about 5'11, incredibly skinny, in a 'SWAG' snapback wearing Aztec somewhere on just about everything. He'd also be the kind of guy to pop the lenses out of 3D glasses and take pictures in the mirror, purposely messing up his hair with every shot before uploading it to instagram in black and white with the caption: "I'm a Unicorn, rawr. Can u not. #NoFilter". It'd probably be one of those guys who play their music obnoxiously loud so you feel inclined to ask "What're you listening too...", only for him to respond with, "Triangle Cats wearing Flower Halos...You haven't heard of them." Yeah, that was definitely the kind of person Nightingale Crescent would be.

What the fuck was he even thinking about? Those weirdly creative thoughts alone alongside the acknowledgement that they made him feel uncomfortable were enough to tell him that he'd spent too long in the place. The only reason he was still there was because he was Daisy's ride...Well, at least he thought he was. He wasn't 100% sure what was happening, to be honest. One minute he'd been sitting outside with her, Miles and a few others - who he didn't usually speak to - playing some fucked up game of 'Never Have I Ever' and the next, Brandon had turned up out fucking nowhere, gone a bit mad and then left again. Initially, Jace had seen that as his opportunity to sneak away from the crowd and take off before anybody questioned him but then the conscience he didn't even know he had spoke up. Brandon had been pretty shitto Daisy, the least he could do was make sure she was okay...Or, okay as somebody could be after being called a slut. 

Scanning the carpark using his rear-view mirror, Jace searched for the curly-haired blonde, adjusting it every now and then to see round the neatly trimmed trees and shrubs that surrounded the place. Still no luck. From the experience of chauffeuring around his mother and her friends, seeing as he rarely had anything better to do, he figured Daisy was probably talking. Why was it girls had so much to say when they had people waiting on them? And then ironically, when you wanted to get something out of them they wouldn't say a fucking word? He didn't really care anymore, he just wanted to get home. With the traumatic Nightingale Crescent experience and Marcs slightly peace-disturbing forfeit that'd been thrown at him recently, his mind had  been all over the place. So much so, that he apparently almost missed Daisy finally walk out of the huge house and towards the front gates that led onto one of the many secluded roads that made up the exclusive parts of Beverly Hills.