brow furrows and mouth drops, the very picture of drama. “no, i’m not,” manny argues, each word coming out slow and hard, a period stapled after each syllable. “all i said was that your sister wants me to die a slow and painful death, probably at her own badly manicured hands.” it’s a different kinda beef than the one she has with paige, not as much competition as it is just general distaste for the other’s entire being. she cracks open her notebook, determined to use this library time to study, not be distracted by a nash. “and i’m saying it to save you. you’re fraternizing with the enemy here. unless...,” she narrows her gaze playfully, wouldn’t be manny santos if she didn’t tack on a little flirting, “undercover spy?”

“ very funny. ” her snark is immediate, almost too quick to let slip any lingering thoughts or feelings she had regarding his statement. almost. if he knows her as well as she believes he does, he’d have caught the little tinge of curiosity that swept over her body. only for an instant she showed a sign of genuine interest, having to have a lightning fast battle with herself so not to give into the part of her that wanted to comply. however he’s an ass, & she wasn’t letting him get what he wanted that easy. where would be the fun in that ?

taking a couple of steps closer, to then be right in front of him with lips purposefully pursed & lashes angled just right to glance at him through, tori took off her sunglasses that she sported both for fashion & the way bright white snow blinded her eyes. that way not only was she looking at him, he could really look at her. “ you feeling cold, sid ? or was that you’re not so subtle way of telling me you’re fantasizing about kissing me ? ”

“-- stell!” pacey calls from down the hall, on the tips of his toes, his head stuck up above the peers that wind around him. “hold up.” he maneuvers easily through the crowd ‘til he catches up, backpack slung loose and empty over his shoulder and a smile on his lips that reeks of exhortation. “dear, sweet, charitable stella,” he greets once he’s at her side. there’s been several instances in which she’s been charged with the task of tutoring pacey, sometimes even executing it successfully, so she’s his first stop on his tour of solicitation. also, he expects she probably has nothing better to do. there’s a pitch coming certainly, a favor to be asked, but he’s setting up the stage. “you hear the big news about yours truly?” and then it occurs to him that maybe she has heard from finley that pacey has been cast as a last minute stand-in as the lead’s sidekick for the play that’s supposed to open this weekend. what she might not know is that his success in the endeavor will grant him a boost in his english grade, a deal worked out with ms. kwan. “and can you guess why you’re my most treasured tutor - and i’ve had many - in the whole world of academia?”

“all right, give it up,” jen insists in lieu of hello. she slides into a stool at the counter of the dot, still clad in her constricting white button up uniform she wears for her gig hosting at the italian place down the street. “degrassi’s royalty, paige and hazel, got a booth tonight and i got all the second-hand sizzling hot goss about one jacquelyn navarro.” she lets the preamble drum roll for a bit, smiling like she’s got a mouthful of canary. “apparently, you and our very own local tongue-pierced cafe manager spend all your post-closing nights cuddled upstairs sharing... -- dun, dun -- a marijuana cigarette.” jen’s amusement with the non-scandal is clear, though it quickly gives way to vaguely serious chiding. “which, frankly, i’m offended i haven’t received an illustrious invite since you know i get off at basically the same time... well, i mean, they also said you guys were playing doctor, but obviously that’s not...” it’s not, right? jen’s green eyes widen a bit, tries not to laugh as she looks over her shoulder, reassuring spinner isn’t looming behind her. “oh my god, should i leave?”

“if you think third-wave feminism’s got me in so much of a rip tide that i won’t deign myself to ask a man for help...,” jen sucks her teeth thoughtfully, dips her head, “well, hell, you’d be right, so maybe you could just offer?” she’s putting on her best angelic smile, the one that’s probably to blame for why she’s going to hell, but eventually her head hangs with a scoff, surrendering. “maybe better off leaving it here.” she ticks the edge of her boot against the cardboard box, growing wet at the bottom with last weeks snowfall that’s still melting on the pavement outside the post office. she’d meant to pick the thing up and haul it into the trunk of her sister’s old volvo, but it proved too heavy. it’s a package of old belongings her grams had shipped, almost a year late now. jen clicks her teeth and glances toward zac, a wry smile on her lips. “old memories. actually more like pandora’s box. we should really probably bury it.”