* 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆 !

      " i'll take anything, seriously. group hug, dance battle ... you name it ! i guess i understand all the chaos 'n stuff that's generated, sometimes people gotta' make an impression to get noticed, especially in a city like this one ! but —— .. sorry for gettin' all philosophical. block party isn't the best place to do that. " his laugh fell flat, though mirlande's intent on still listening offered him each ounce of comfort he required at this moment. " how are you doing, though ? having a good time ? 's pretty out, 'n you look really good, too .. "

she laughs, " dance battle, hm ? you got moves, molina ? " she beams, taking a sip of her drink. she touches his arm lightly, " but hey, you can get all philosophical with me whenever you want. don't sweat it. " it probably shouldn't be the case, considering the rivalry the two were expected to uphold, but mirlande couldn't find it in herself to care, particularly at this moment. " yeah. maybe a little too good, " she glances down at the drink with a mischievous smile, " so do you. " she takes a moment to really drink him in, hoping the action isn't too obvious. " i bet people have got their eye on you tonight. i can practically feel the glares. " she half-jokes.

      " you think you'll ever change it up ? the pink, i mean. maybe i'll snag ya' some extra enamel since your guys must be using it up with all those fuckin' designs they're spraying on 'em. racing stripes would do you good. maybe some flames ? " clearly the drink's got her more chatty. the multiple forms of stimuli had them engaged, too, as their maneuvers seemed to wrap around the other in a circle — vulture-esque, but without the depth of yves' usual bite. " what ? suddenly can't handle four wheels when they're tied to your foot ? you never got yourself some heelys ? "

" uh, maybe ? i mean, i've done the bleached look, lime green .. racing stripes could be ... interesting. i saw somebody with some cool lookin' leopard spots one time. " he has the overwhelming feeling like he's speaking too much, rambling, and tries to push it down with a sip of beer. " no. i think i used to rollerskate as a kid, in that generic kids party sorta way. it just seems like a way to make walking ... harder. -- no offence. "

      they swayed along with the wind, small maneuvers that kept them skating forwards and backwards in attempts to remain pliant, and, well, so she wasn't full-on staring at the other as she sipped her drink. " so ... you're opting to stand here lookin' like a pink headed lurch from the addams family ? " yves doesn't mean offense, even when it very much comes out that way, but a sliver of an upturned lip hopefully dampened the blow. " dunno. hasn't been a problem in the past. wouldn't you know the answer to that, too ? you don't have your trusty steed with you today. " not that they've been paying that much attention.

the insult evokes an unexpected chuckle from marcus - the knocks to his choice of hair color he was used to, but being compared to a creepy fictional butler was something else -- and pretty fitting, he felt. " yup, pretty much. " he shrugs, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. " i mean, i don't really drink and skate. i'd probably end up concussed at best, hospitalised at worst .. 'm not really that stable on my own two feet as it is. but those ? those look like a death trap. "

      there was a levity that came easy around the other's presence, something that made him completely disregard the trivialities of daily life. even today, beautiful and bright, festivities and all, it seemed that the toxicity managed to seep. mirlande was a solace to that, admittedly, which accounted for why he easily sought her presence. " 'm just scared it's gonna turn into something again, ughhhhh ... " his groan drew out, a hand raking through his hair in the form of a nervous tick. " not that i expect everyone to be all kumbaya or whatever ! just one party would be cool. 'n not everyone here is involved with this shit and ——— whatever. just know i'm hiding behind you, 'kay ? i'll watch you go all kill bill. "

his tone breaks through her drunken state, her expression softening slightly to one of concern. admittedly, her role in the rodani prowlers required a lot less ... bravado than his, and she was all too aware of the reputation surrounding their rival crew. dallas didn't fit the perception that she had of his fellow crew - a quality she liked about the other. " mm. it would be nice. maybe one day, hey ? group hug it all out or whatever ? " a joking attempt at optimism, despite the knowledge that it was highly improbable anything would ever change. " anyway, i've got 'ya. i can be scary when i want to be -- claws and all. " she raises her brows dramatically for emphasis.

      " you look like you're having fun. " the flat, bone-dryness of their tone hinted at sarcasm as yves scanned the stranger's face. it was neutral, no indication of discomfort, but they liked to prod - throwing around comments until they land on something correct. it was an assumption, considering the other's placement on the outskirts of things, instead of the conglomeration that stayed put in the center. they would've been, too, if not for their smart choice of donning quad skates for the festivities, allowing them an easy escape and even more, an excuse to not talk and just cruise. " burritos bigger than your head and frozen margs don't appeal to you, eh ? "

marcus blinks blankly as he's spoken too, just about managing to stop himself from swirling around to see if it is actually himself that the other is talking to. he hasn't really spoken to anybody yet, at least not consistently enough for it to be considered an actual conversation, and had pretty much accepted his stance of melting into the sidelines. " uh .. yes and no ? burritos i can do, margaritas i'm neutral. " the reply sounds more like a question than a statement. he looks pointedly down at their feet, " is that the best footwear for alcohol consumption ? "

      dallas' quick diminuendo from tipsy to pissed-drunk was an easy feat with frozen margaritas and a tower of tacos that was plucked straight from his highest fantasies. he wasn't sloppy, per se, only a blabbering mess that had him rambling within any willing ear. he found himself yelling, at times, combatting the bass of not only car stereos but the parade of retro boomboxes that seemed to line the block. " hiiiiii. " dimpled smile and all. " can i hang out with you here ? a couple of my buddies 'n these people started um ... like, swearing at each other, or whatever ? i don't wanna get punched today, 'n it's nasty to get hit with a wanton elbow. "

it's not often that mirlande touches alcohol -- her almost constant state of giddiness sufficient to carry her through pretty much any social situation -- but tonight the frozen margaritas are all too tempting. she's already several down when she bumps into dallas, a warm buzz spreading through her body. " of course. you don't need that kinda energy bringing down your night. " she shakes her head fervently, the action making her head whirr slightly, " why do people always have to fight when they drink ? it's so boring and pointless when you could be having fun. but don't worry, i'm like at least an orange belt in karate, so any shots and it's over for them. " she rambles brightly.