#pond.start

Get him a drink, and maybe some more illicit substances. He was going to be fine.

presley: and if i've theoretically already started could you help me

    mandy  looks  exhausted  and  honestly ?  she  felt  just  about  as  bad  as  she  looked.  there’s  a  hint  of  a  smile  on  her  lips  as  she  sees  the  other  big  fish. “ hey, ”  the  femme  plops  down  into  the  chair  in  front  of  them. “ thanks for coming - i , uh. didn’t want to be alone. ”  she  taps  her  fingertips  on  the  top  of  the  table;  unable  to  find  words  to  say  for  the  first  time.  the  glisten  in  her  eyes  told  a  tale  of  hurt  --  of  not  being  100%  there  in  the  moment.  “ so , um .. how was your day ? ”

“make  some  fuckin’  room  ,  will  you  ?”  lennon  slides  onto  the  hay  bale  turned  makeshift  chair  in  front  of  the  fire  ,  nudging  the  other  with  their  elbow.  in  the  other  hand  they  grip  a  fresh  beer  .  the  bottle  sweats  &  so  does  lennon  ,  but  if  they  get  bit  by  one  more  mosquito  they’re  going  to  lose  it.  so  it’s  worth  heating  up  a  little  more  to  avoid  that.  anyone  else  may  believe  they’re  in  a  pissy  mood  because  of  it  ,  but  this  is  just  how  lennon  talks  ,  even  during  their  greatest  of  moods.  "having  fun  ?“  they  ask  the  big  fish  they’re  basically  hip-to-hip  with  ,  stubby  nails  nudging  under  the  bottle  cap  &  yanking  it  off.

    sabrina gingerly tapped the front of her toe onto the grown,   knocking hay off the white sneakers she’d misguidedly worn.   there are things you never forget about a dio party:   the smell of the chicken coop,   the energy in the air between the members of her graduating class,  and the way no matter what you put it in it,   the mixed drink you cobbled together would always burn a little going down.  but the more minute details,  like wardrobe requirements and all the sitting and waiting for something good to happen had escaped her.  she sighed,  looking over the party before voicing discontent.   “  is this what it feels like ?   to be old ?  i’m sitting here at a barn party waiting for someone to do something.  like,  i’m just praying that maybe jake dressman will show up,  so i can finally confront him about last years jungle juice fiasco,   and shake things up a little bit.  what about you,  you got any hometown beef to squash ?  ”  she asked,  almost a little too eager to get the scoop.  “  because i will happily back you up.  it’s my job,  you know,  as your friend,  to defend your honor at a time like this.  ”

presley had remembered everything they needed; some booze, a cooler, a few light snacks (no brownies, this time), but, evidently, she had forgotten the ice. she was positive, however, that the bransons had ice in their home, because... well, who didn’t? so, she grabbed onto the cooler and a random person’s hand, declaring, “you, me, the branson residence, ice.” she turned to them, grinning, “don’t worry, ollie’s aunt doesn’t bite.” 

if this was a movie and presley was the director, she’d frame this moment as the lone survivor staggering out into the bright light of the world. y’know, for comedy’s sake... kinda. but no, it was just her, flexing her wrists, stumbling out of soft serve by the lake at the end of her grueling saturday shift. she barely noticed where she was walking until she nearly walked face-first into a familiar face. “shit,” she said, snapping awake. “sorry. uh... i’m just a little exhausted, y’know?” her eyes drifted over to the fish and chips shop, with their festival display still out. “and starving. come have dinner with me, i’m buying.”