@judegrigsby Doughfellas
Tressa kicks the board, and it flips, and no matter how damn hard she tries, she still can't get the thing to move right. It's been a little less than a year since they were in this same exact spot. The pizza's mid, and it's all nostalgic, like when they were kids - but this time a lot of things have changed. For instance, she's a vampire now. A lot of things haven't though. She still can't land that kickflip.
"It's just not meant to be, I fear." She says, rubbing her tailbone, even though it barely hurts, picking herself up and leaning on the concrete barrier that separates Doughfellas from the lot next door.
Suns out. You can't tell she's a vampire because of the ring on her finger, the one with the red gem behind a second, daintier, simpler band - one that's more of symbol or a promise than any sort of magical trinket. They're waiting for eachother.
Tressa bites at her lip, looks at her friend. How tired he looks. How sad he looks.
"The pizza here is always just gonna kind of not be good." She says, apropos of nothing. "Never liked it."
Quiet hangs there. She wishes, for a second, that he wasn't a werewolf, so she could reach in and pluck the needles out of his mind that seem to be draining him in front of her.
