The quaint diner isn’t as lovely as Bo’s, perhaps he really has been charmed by Deborah to have such a mindset. Though with a voice as melodic and utterly gorgeous as hers, it’s hard not to be- it’s almost understandable. Perhaps he needed a break, a breather, FUEL in the form of a steaming cup of joe, is why he made a brief pit-stop here of all places.

          It’s safe to say that Quinton’s not entirely fond of his new foster family, they’re strict, always wanting to be around each other, and just plain odd in Quinton’s eyes. Being that he’s thirteen now, he does, however, have a bit of leeway, as they seemingly “trust him” as they put it, and as long as he doesn’t do anything to break said trust, he’s allowed to stay out for a bit after school, and not return home immediately. Though being as he has few friends, there’s really no need for him to stay out.

          But they don’t need to know that.

          He’d rather do quite literally anything else than sit around at their home and have them quietly stare at him as he works on his homework. Which is why he’s found a little diner placed directly on his walk home to hide out in for a little while. Cool air, and generally friendly people, is a-okay with him as long as they’re not his new, annoyingly forced, family. He didn’t really take into consideration that it would rude of him not to order something until the waitress comes by asking, though. ❝ O-oh, um.. J-just a sh-shake, pl-please. Sur-surprise me w-with wh-whatever fl-flavor y-you w-want. ❞ He supposes the allowance they’ve started rewarding him with could spare a couple dollars.

       god, micah loves the library. he and his dad move often enough, but he can always make time for a good, slightly-mold-scented, unvisited corner with a BIG ARMCHAIR. except, today, there’s some asshole in his armchair, and a very quiet frustrated sigh huffs past his lips before he can stop himself. pulling out a chair at a nearby table, and not one to be completely rude, he attempts polite conversation nonetheless.

     the sun was starting to set over the small town, people moving into their respected homes in order to turn down for the night. all but a small girl with her hood up over her head, backpack held tight to her back. there was no plan to go anywhere but only to wander about, attempting to find a path or somewhere to lay low for the night.

          He was, in fact, only kidding. Bright eyes widen almost comically large, head beginning to shake tossing auburn curls all about his features. It was a horrendous mistake to suggest such a thing to a person he knows fully well would follow through with said plan. He has no intentions of going to jail all on account of a pillow fort. If anyone asks, it was all Isabel’s idea. ❝ --Pl-please t-tell me y-you’re jok-joking? ❞