#heather; interactions

Heather finally tuned back into the conversation, just in time to catch Jason talking about, surprise, attempted murder. How morbid. Flicking Veronica a brief, judgmental glance, she tilted her head as she addressed Veronica’s moody boy-toy. 

“well, i mean, i guess i could go alone, but that’s not–” heather draws in a breath and lets it out with a huff of irritation, her bottom lip pouting outward as she does. she doesn’t like to start fights ( that’s heather chandler’s domain ) or cause drama ( that’s heather duke’s ), but she’s so used to getting her way that the rejection almost makes her get angry. almost. but that’s not her role here, so she has to go at it from another angle. by acting like a petulant child being refused candy.

“i guess i just thought you’d be up for a night out. you’ve been spending so much time with your new man and stuff,” heather breaks the pout to shoot veronica a sly smile. “how about a break from that domestic bliss? just a few hours?”

Heather's twinkling giggle at Ram's seriously lame joke cut off when she saw JD sprawled across their path. Dropping his hand, as if the unconscious JD could know what they were doing, she kicked out at his arm.

Heather was nervous. Like, palm sweating, leg shaking, butterflies swarming in her stomach nervous. She didn’t do blind dates, as a firm believer that personal chemistry was a must before you started dating someone. Most people didn’t believe her, when they’d seen Kurt, but he could be sweet and even genuinely funny when he wanted. Thinking of him still hurt, so she pushed the thought of her mind and looked around as she opened the door to the diner. 

It was small, cozy–something her father would probably scoff at, and her mother would call ‘quaint’. But she liked it. Wiping her hands off and making it look like she was smoothing her skirt, she checked her phone again. They weren’t here yet. She made her way to a table and sat, ordering a sprite when the waitress came by. Checking her reflection in her compact, she smiled faintly. Her yellow flowered hair clip matched the ring of flowers around her neck, and a yellow floral print tank top paired with light wash jean shorts. It was a lot of yellow, sure, but that was her brand, thanks to Heather. She crossed her legs under the table and took a soothing drink from her cup when it arrived, barely having time to swallow before someone slid into the booth across from her. She blinked, surprised, but managed to recover with a smile. 

Heather had barely had time to recover from Heather’s death before Kurt and Ram were found. It was announced by Ms. Fleming that morning, and she could feel every eye in the in the classroom land on her. She felt sick; Heather’s one job was to make sure everyone around her was okay, and here were all her friends and her boyfriend, killing themselves one after another. After excusing herself to the bathroom, she’d barely made it to the sink before she broke down. 

Heavy sobs wracked her body, mascara running down her cheeks as her face turned blotchy and red. She could almost hear Heather’s voice in her mind. You look like a fucking psych patient. Pull it together. dumbass. Shockingly, this didn’t help, and as Heather’s eyes traveled across the graffiti mentioning Kurt, Ram, and Heather, and how they may ‘rest in peace’ or ‘rot in hell’, she muttered to herself,