#wda.start

“fuck. off.” every word is carefully enunciated for maximum effect, and niko doesn’t even bother to look up. there is blood beading from a fresh wound over his eye, and it would be obvious to even those that didn’t know him : his humor had SOURED, somehow or another. hands ( knuckles red raw ) shaking something FIERCE as he opens the tobacco pouch that rests on his knees, he finds the one thing inside that can give pause to this MONUMENTAL drop in mood : a sudden realization that his lighter is not where it is usually nestled. “unless-” there is a flash in the depths of those green eyes that rise to look upon the other figure from the place in which he crouches, his tone, suddenly, cautious, “you have a light.”

“have you ever felt like you’re stuck in a time loop?” diarmad asked, his eyes wide as he lifted his head to look at the person standing in front of them. “just repeating the same bad day over and over?” he continued, pausing briefly to furrow his eyebrows, gently biting down on his lip as he looked at his companion. “well?” he quickly added, his entire body starting to shake as he found himself unable to wait for a response. 

“would you like to support us?” andrea was looking her VERY best for fundraising day ; a conscious decision born from many an event where she had learned that the less conservative she dressed, the more money she pulled in for zeta eta pi. of course, this was the sum of her heavy lifting. she didn’t brew the hot drinks, she didn’t bake the cakes on offer. maybe she could have justified more involvement in the likes of a bikini car wash, but she was president of the sorority - and HER job, at least in her mind, was moral support and selling the wares. nothing more. “three dollars gets you a hot chocolate. four, we’ll throw in a cookie,” she leaned in a little closer ( all the better to seem a conspirator ) and dropped her voice a couple octaves, “and if you’re more of an irish coffee kind of person, we can put it in a to go cup for five.”