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[hider=Thursday | September 17 | 12PM]
[center]
[h1]Raiding Washington's Clothing Stores[/h1]
[img]http://i68.tinypic.com/mhf02b.jpg[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/Fb1UXSA.png[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/jw3F1O9.png[/img][img]http://i67.tinypic.com/2njvpci.png[/img]
[h2][color=a187be]Allison[/color] | [color=9e0039]Angélique[/color] | [color=B0C4DE]Brent[/color] | [color=ff57ff]Siena[/color] [/h2]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][hr][color=silver]𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟙𝟟𝕥𝕙 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /    𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ.   / /   ℝ𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝 ℙ𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖   / /   𝟙𝟚𝟘𝟘[/color][hr]
[sub]Collab with [@VarionusNW] [@Riffus Maximus] [@ERode] [@PapiTan][/sub][/center]

Allison Revel waited by the elevator, idly humming the tune that had resulted from the music room jam session.  She didn't know if the others were being too slow, or if she had just rushed to waiting too fast. Either way, Allison Revel was standing there waiting for Siena, Brent, and Angel so that the 4 of them could go shopping, though it would likely end up being a guided tour led by Siena's wallet. All hail her seemingly endless flow of money.

Coming out from the elevator, Angel came out of it with yet another hairstyle. Instead of it being tied in a ponytail and sporting that scarf around her neck, Angel had it tied into a bun, draping the scarf around her shoulders as to cover the more clothing as possible. Even though she was constantly shifting style, her tattered clothing and general appearance would fool no one. She was still the very same Angélique Lachance that had appearad on the news. 

"Oh, hey there Alice. Guess we're a bit early, huh?" Angel said, with a hint of surprie in her voice. She expected to be the last one to arrive, since she took time to tie her hair, apply with great effort makeup that she had rarely used in her life, and even asked the guard about leaving the tower and to confirm about buying new clothes despite her lack of student ID.

One COULD say that the holes in his clothes, which exposed the muscular body underneath, could be seen as a fashion statement, but really, he still looked like a warzone kiddo. Having taken the opportunity bathe and wash off the residue from that morning's training, Brent strode down the stairwell, spotting Allison and Angelic already there. There was a high chance that he would be the pack mule that carried the metric ton of clothing the rest would purchase, but eh...

Well, he did mind, just not enough to fuss about it when reality confirmed his suspicions.

[color=B0C4DE]"Yo Allison,"[/color] he waved, [color=B0C4DE]"Rocking a new look to take Washington up by storm, Angelic?"[/color]

[color=9e0039]"Yeah. What can I say? New city, new look."[/color] Angel joked, trying to hide her anxiety from meeting the outside world, [i]especially[/i] Washington DC.

[color=a187be]"Hey!"[/color] Allison said to Brent and Angel as they approached, laughing slightly at the exchange. [color=a187be]"Guess I was just a bit too anxious in wanting to get out of here, huh?"[/color] The suite was massive, much too big for Allison. It felt unnatural for her to stay in such a nice place for more than a few minutes.

[color=B0C4DE]"Feel more at home with being flocked by news reporters? Didn't realize I was going to be playing pack mule for a trio of celebrities,"[/color] Brent jested. [color=B0C4DE]"Just waiting for the heir of the Santana household now, right? No last minute additions?"[/color]

After a quick stop in her room to ensure that she had her all-important items of a handbag and her card carrier, Siena had quickly made her way to meet with the others. Of course, her slight delay had caused her to [i]just[/i] miss an elevator going down. The antsy feeling of making the others wait for her had settled in, making her twist her hair more violently in her fingers than usual. The stares of disgust from those that [i]wanted[/i] to use the elevator, but didn't feel comfortable being in an enclosed space with a subnatural didn't help her mood, nor did the fact that people stood as far away from her as possible when they [i]did[/i] get into the elevator. By the time she reached the others, the brunette found herself all too eager to get [i]out[/i].

...and yet she was acutely aware that the stares would not get better. 

"[color=ff57ff]S-Sorry for making you wait,[/color]" the Arbiter claimed while quickly taking a few strides toward the handful of familiar faces before finishing the thought with a faint grimace."[color=ff57ff]I...missed the elevator.[/color]

[color=9e0039]"Can't let these muscles go to waste."[/color] Angel grinned as she playfully pinched Brent's biceps. [color=9e0039]"True home is far away from the prying eyes of the cameras. But still, it does bring a familiar feeling."[/color]

Upon seeing Siena's arrival, Angelique offered the girl a greeting nod and a wave of her hand. [color=9e0039]"It's okay. Elevators sure are a pain in the ass, especially here." 

"Guess we're all here? Shall we go then?"[/color]

Well, well, Siena was stylish as always, eh? Twitching at Angelic's pinch, Brent nodded, before saying, [color=B0C4DE]"Got any particular places in mind? I definitely want to check out the Nike Factory Store, but it's like, a 50 minute walk there."[/color]

Adjusting the strap of her bag to let it linger in front of her instead of hanging at the side, the brunette gave a weak smile. She had plenty of places she [i]wanted[/i] to go, but that was all a moot point. "[color=ff57ff]I don't have anything in mind myself, but...you and Angel could certainly use new clothes.[/color]" Siena paused while glancing down at her own clothing briefly. "[color=ff57ff]Well, I certainly wouldn't mind having clothes to better match the hotel as long as we're here either.[/color]"

[color=a187be]"Let's have the Siena-guided shopping experience then, if none of us have anywhere we really want to go immediately. Stop wherever, have a look around, Siena can show us her mastery of style, and then we continue onward, or something."[/color] Allison said with a lighthearted smile before beginning to lead the group out of the building.

Following Allison's lead, the raven-haired Aberration's grin faded away as they left the building and went outside. [color=9e0039]"I'm cool with that. Like Siena said, I just want to wear anything but these rags. Been about three days. I'll follow you guys wherever you go. I'm not really picky about what I usually wear."[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Pretty sure Siena meant something other than that,"[/color] Brent replied light-heartedly, [color=B0C4DE]"But yeah, guess we need to start looking into $1000 suits and dresses now, eh?"[/color]

"[color=ff57ff]Well...let's start with somewhere nearby, or we'll just be kicked out of anything more fitting,[/color]" Siena claimed with a faint smile on her face. "[color=ff57ff]Soooo um...that way? I guess?[/color]" 

[i]She had no idea where she was going.[/i]

Following her gesture, Brent arced an eyebrow at just where the wealthy arbiter was heading. Was Siena's fashion sense that broad? Had to be, right? Someone like her would know the streets of Washington like the back of her hand. So he tagged along behind, the group moving towards a store that seemed to specialize in 'dope-ass' baseball hats. [color=B0C4DE]"Didn't think you were a connoisseur of that sort of fashion,"[/color] Brent commented lightly, [color=B0C4DE]"But I guess everyone can do with a hat or two."[/color]

[color=9e0039]"This wasn't what I had in mind when I thought of 'new clothes'"[/color] Angélique voiced her opinion as they stopped infront of a baseball hats store. [color=9e0039]"I wouldn't say they're good substitute to cover your bits."[/color] she added as she chuckled, glancing over her ruined pair of jeans, a torn pants leg barely covering the necessity of the parts disintegrated by Hazel a few days ago.

Although Angélique wasn't a connoiseur of fancy and expensive clothing as Siena was, it wasn't the first time the fallen idol had set foot in Washington D.C. Her early days spent at the capital, before she made her stance about Subnaturals known to the public, had made her quite knowledgeable about the city. Of course, it had changed over the years, but the popular singer had a general grasp of where the shops were. 

[color=9e0039]"Follow me. I think I may know of a mall nearby that has everything we are looking for. If it is still standing, that is."[/color] Angel beckoned the others to follow her, ushering the group to a tall and huge building.

The obsidian-haired Aberration wasn't kidding. The building they just entered was a huge mall, with every kind of stores one could imagine. From urban and street-styles to high-class and rich-looking suits and dresses, no wonder the place was huge. Not only there were clothing stores on the second floor, but all manners of food stalls and restaurants were lined up on the first floor, along with librairies, music and video games stores.

[color=9e0039]"Well, here we are. What kind of clothes you guys were thinking of getting?"[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Man, what a mess,"[/color] the brown-haired arbiter murmured as he walked into the bustling shopping mall. There were so many stores that most of them were redundant. In one corner, McDonalds waged war with their next-door neighbor KFC, while Brent counted three different Starbucks within a ten minute walk of each other. For some absurd reason, there was one section of the mall that featured different brands of what looked to be the same sort of clothing, each of them homogeneous at a distance. Meanwhile, a large kiosk consumed the center the corridor, fidget spinners of all sorts spinning away, hypnotizing those that walked by into purchasing these scams.

For a moment, Brent almost got sucked in as well, but the dirty glare shot at the group by the kiosk owner dispelled the enchantment easily enough.

[color=B0C4DE]"Well, eh...anything would do for me. Something simple, I guess?"[/color] His eyes flickered about. [color=B0C4DE]"Yeah, anything that's simple and cheap would be fine with me. Don't want to take too much advantage of your hospitality, Siena."[/color]

"[color=ff57ff]As long as you're comfortable in it, I don't mind...[/color]" Comfortable being far, far from what Siena was at that moment. While it wasn't exactly her first time in a mall, it was hard for the brunette to settle into it. Maya and Gerwulf never hid their distaste for the places--probably because it wasn't so easy to ensure that nobody would be [i]in[/i] them if their charge was present. The tension that she'd grown familiar with settled faintly over her shoulders, but it was easy enough to pass it off as being distracted from the sheer volume of stores. "[color=ff57ff]I'm...also not familiar with most of the stores here...[/color]"

Which was an understatement, if there ever was one. 

[color=9e0039]"Well then. This calls for a shopping tour! C'mon, let's see what we can find that might suit your tastes."[/color] Angel ushered the group to the second floor, where all the clothing stores of all genres were located.
 
She could recall a rather expensive-looking store by the end of the mall, surrounded by a makeshift resting area. Maybe Siena's finer taste would find the place appealing? Clothing herself with relatively simple brands, Angel did not know much about expensive brands of clothing that Siena would be interested in. The only name that came to mind from a past reference was ‘Nordstrom’.
 
The store was located at the far end of the shopping mall, and there was a reason to it. The Nordstrom store was huge, taking as many as twelve smaller shop spaces by itself. Expensive brands for men and women, accessories, shoes; from modest looks to extravaganza, everything was here, as long as one had the budget to accommodate the hefty pricings.
 
Satisfied with her choice, Angel nodded as to give herself a pat on the back. Surely everyone could find what they were looking for in this store.

And, as it turned out, they'd be able to find a couple things they weren't looking for. As the group passed by one of the designer pants racks, something shot out from between the denim and corduroy fabrics, snagging a hold of Siena's arm as she happened to pass by the closest. A rustling quickly alterted to the presence of something else within the circular rack, as the definitive glint of two eyes suddenly burst through the clothings.

"[color 33ec06]Oh thank god, am I glad to see you![/color]

[i]Oh sweet motherlode of [b]what the fuck[/b]?![/i]

The thought sounded off like a shotgun. Multiple times. Loudly and repeatedly as Siena felt someone taking hold of her arm. It repeated again as something [i]came out of the rack[/i], and though there was a small, timid voice that tried to remind the girl that they weren't exactly in a place of extraordinary danger, the more vocal one continued screaming that [i]something was grabbing her and coming out of the rack.[/i] If she had enough time to draw breath for a surprised shout, the Arbiter might have, but between the surprise, the mild fear, and the sudden onslaught of memories of Gerwulf teaching her exactly how to deal with situations at least somewhat resembling that one, instinct was the clear winner. 

She twisted her arm while jerking it towards herself, her other fi--

[i]'[color=ff57ff]Oh my god, that's his face?!![/color]'[/i]

What a terrifying sense of deja vu. 

You'd think Marcus would have learned some sort of lesson by now, but he hadn't. He even had the audacity to be surprised as Siena whirled around, knuckles aimed directly for his face. And of course, with no lessons learned, he didn't even move to block, or dodge, or anything. He was caught square in the face, tumbling backwards into the rack. The only solace was that the sound of static could be heard from inside the small hidden area, followed shortly by a timid voice.

"[color 33ec06]Alright. Okay. Got it. Need to stop doing that. Hey Siena! It's Marcus! I'm in here, don't punch me as I come out! Should have started with that part; I realize that now![/color]"

Angel jumped in surprise as a sudden hand went to reach out for Siena's arm out of nowhere. Before she even had time to react and yank out whoever was in there, she witnessed Siena decking the boy inside the rack square in the face, claiming to be Marcus with a familiar voice. Damn, Siena sure had some fighting reflexes in her. How surprising from a refined and delicate looking girl like her Arbiter friend.

[color=9e0039]"Jesus fucking Christ, Marc. What the hell are you doing hidden in there?"[/color]

Allison was lost in thought, looking through the racks, when she heard a commotion coming from Siena and Angel. She turned to see Marcus Howell getting punched square in the face. Allison rushed over as quickly as she could. Based on what Marcus was saying, he had been hiding in the rack and had jumped out at Siena, startling her, and earning him one faceful of fist. Allison was about to say something, but her thoughts were expressed perfectly by Angel's question. Instead, she stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the idiot boy.

Once again, a terrible sense of deja vu as Siena's fist made contact, as static filled the air. 

[i]As she came to the legitimately horrifying realization that she'd punched her roommate in the face again.[/i]

"[color=ff57ff]Oh...ohhh my god, Marcus...! I'm so sorry...![/color]" Siena punched him in the face. AGAIN. "[color=ff57ff]I-I didn't--I thought...![/color]" She couldn't say she didn't [i]mean[/i] to punch him in the face when that was exactly what she'd meant to do, could she? Tugging at a few loose locks of her own hair, the brunette grimaced. "[color=ff57ff]I'm really, really, reaaaally sorry that I punched you. Again.[/color]" 

Marcus carefully crawled out of the pants rack, rolling over one of the bars and comically flopping onto the floor, looking up at everyone that happened to be gathered around. There were a lot more of them than he'd originally thought, but his focus had shifted onto the one person in the group he immediately recognized as 'friendly assistance'. Up until she punched him in the face, of course.

He sat up, giving Siena a dismissive wave. "[color 33ec06]Nope. My fault; I knew you punched when you got scared. Should have remembered that much![/color]" he gave a small chuckle, standing up and wrinkling his nose, despite the fact he knew that there would be no damage.

"[color 33ec06]Funny story actually![/color]" Marcus said, turning to Angel and the girl he didn't recognize. "[color 33ec06]Here I was, minding my own business, trying to get some clothing. When suddenly, I hear someone shout 'That's the one!', turn around, and see three or four people running at me from across the store.[/color]"

He paused here to give a nonchalant shrug. 

"[color 33ec06]I don't know if they were fans, or wanted to end my pitiful existance as 'herald of the subnaturals'. So I hid. And then I got punched. And now we're here.[/color]"

[color=9e0039]"Damn, that newfound reputation sure comes biting you back in the ass quite soon, heh Time Scar?"[/color] Angel chuckled, wondering now if those people were indeed groupies. No, it couldn't have been. Washington was very hostile towards Subnaturals, as far as she knew from personal experience. Probably some people who wanted to scare him shitless.

[color=9e0039]"How about coming with us? People seem to leave us alone when we travel in groups."[/color] the black-haired Aberration rockstar proposed to Marcus.

[color=B0C4DE]"Oh,"[/color] whistled Brent, watching all this occur from the back, [color=B0C4DE]"That was a nice punch, Siena. Bull's eye in the nose."[/color]

The amethyst-eyed arbiter similarly was surprised at the sudden appearance of a disembodied hand appearing from a set of racks, but the reveal that it was nothing but a fellow classmate practicing their espionage skills made him relax visibly. No crazed anti-subnatural assassin here, just the neighborhood friendly boy who broke time.

[color=B0C4DE]"Yeah, dude, I need someone to split the luggage with me while the girls buy another mountain load of clothing,"[/color] he added, waving at Marcus. That was more important than safety in numbers, after all.

[color=a187be]"Wait... again?"[/color] Allison looked at Siena, then at Marcus, then at Siena again. Was Siena really so vicious that she had punched him in the face already? [color=a187be]"This isn't the first time this has happened?"[/color] Allison almost felt pity for the boy. [color=a187be]"Wonderful way to be introduced to someone by the way, watching them get punched in the face."[/color] She approached the recently injured boy, [color=a187be]"I don't think we've formally met, Marcus. I'm Allison. Nice to meet you. Sorry that you got punched, I guess?"[/color] Allison threw her hand up, offering Marcus a handshake.

Grimacing faintly at the way things had turned out, Siena gave an expression that might have passed for a wry smile if not for the situation at hand. "[color=ff57ff]I really didn't mean to...[/color]" Both times. Deciding it was probably better off to go with the direction that the others were using, Siena smiled faintly at her roommate. "[color=ff57ff]Y-Yeah, it might be safer if we stick together. Um...[/color]" Another grimace. "[color=ff57ff]I don't think that sounds so convincing when I'm the one saying it anymore.[/color]" 

"[color 33ec06]I mean, if you'll have me![/color]" Marcus said, shrugging softly. He didn't want to intrude on what appeared to be a group shopping trip, but there were a few things he desperately needed to get - a change of clothes at least - and intruding on a group for saftey in numbers certainly sounded preferable to being torn limb from limb by rabid fans/journalists/racists.

"[color 33ec06]Certainly better than hanging out in a pants rack waiting for the store to close or something. Probably safer too![/color]" Marcus said, giving a very noticible glance to Siena.

"[color 33ec06]Marcus, by the way. No need to be sorry, it happens enough to get used to.[/color]" he said, shaking Allison's hand.

"Cool then. Welcome aboard the shopping train." Angel gabe the Time Mage a welcoming smile before resuming their walk inside the store. 

There were so many brands of expensive clothing, Angel did not know where to start. Gucci, La Prada, Saint-Laurent, Lacoste, to name only a few. A lot of the clothing looked simple in design, much to the musician's dismay. Figures that there would'nt be much choice for her own clothing style.

"Recognize any of those brands, Siena? Where do you wanna start?"

"[color=ff57ff]Hmmm, these are all great brands...[/color]" Even if the selection was a little lacking per brand, the department store didn't hesitate to show off that it wasn't polluting its racks with off-season items. For someone that didn't make their entire wardrobes out of specific brands, it was probably a good choice. Giving her group a quick once-over, Siena thought for a moment, trying to match brands to the person. "[color=ff57ff]Let me think...[/color]"

It took a few moments of said thinking before she had managed to make an attempt at matching their group to appropriate brands. For Angel, something bold, leather choices from Saint-Laurent, perhaps with simple items from Chanel to supplement the lack of selection available. Allison, on the other hand, was better suited for something with a bolder pattern. Siena directed her attention to Gucci and Neiman Marcus's woefully lacking female collection--bold and powerful or simple-yet-eyecatching. 

It took longer for her to process where to send her male companions, mostly because she didn't know enough about male fashion to be as confident as she was with her feminine companions. Thinking through it, she directed both to Hugo Boss for their formal needs--[i]would they even need that[/i]--and after some additional thought...

"[color=ff57ff]Aaaand for Brent, I think Ralph Lauren would match to your activity and could bring out the build if Hugo Boss is too stiff. Maybe Calvin Klein. Hmm...Boss is probably too stiff for you too, Marcus. Maybe something from Saint-Laurent too...[/color]" A pause. "[color=ff57ff]O-Oh! B-But um...th-that's just my opinion, y-you should pick out anything th-that looks comfortable.[/color]"

While Angélique initially protested against Siena paying for the whole outfit from her own credit card, the brunette female Arbiter was so adamant about gifting that horrendously pricy clothing, Angel caved in the end, accepting humbly the stylish newest additions to her wardrobe. The angel of rock was surprised by how skillful Siena had been in choosing everyone's selection of clothes. She seized the styles well, and Angélique wasn't shy to mention that what her friend came up with for her clothes fit perfectly her taste and would be absolutely glad to wear this hand-picked outfit. 

During their shopping trip, Angel had browsed through a variety of clothes, picking what she liked and felt comfortable in at this time of the year. Usually, she'd go for lighter, revealing clothes, but with the cold temperature slowly creeping in as fall was upon them, she opted to purchase extravagant but snuggly pieces of clothes.

Meanwhile, Marcus had taken Siena's suggestions in outift was well, finding himself a rather nice button-up shirt, as well as some of the more 'essential' things that he needed. That, along with the extra hoodie he purchased (for incognito mode, of course), limited the amount of money Siena had to spend on [i]him[/i]. He wasn't a very stylish person to be honest - long sleeves and jeans had served him well up until now. 

Buuuuut, if Siena was buying, he could be persuaded to get a few fancier things to wear.

Allison didn't really know what she was doing, fashion was never her forte, so she just took Siena's advice and accepted whatever the girl threw at her as long as it didn't seem too restrictive. The prices were, as expected, much too high for the poor girl to think about, but with Siena so willing to buy... It was still uncomfortable, watching Siena go around giving fashion suggestions of these expensive brands, and then paying for it like it was nothing. The only person Allison had known to spend money so easily was her mother; not good memories. 

Allison tried to keep her discomfort hidden, it was a personal issue anyway. She didn't need anyone asking about why she felt so uncomfortable around large amounts of money being spent, and why she could play the harp. 

[color=a187be][i]'Just let everyone enjoy themselves, and get some new clothes,'[/i][/color] Allison thought to herself.

Ralph Lauren? Hugo Boss? Calvin Klein? Though he recognized those brands, Brent really didn't understand the difference at all, and he quickly shook his head as Siena tried to back out from her divine fashionista advice. [color=B0C4DE]"No, no,"[/color] the arbiter said, [color=B0C4DE]"Please, Goddess of Fashion, enlighten us pitiful apes with the knowledge you bear. I honestly have no idea what to grab, cause I usually get my own clothes from Winners, so..."[/color]

He spent the rest of the time pretending he was Ken, and, unsurprisingly enough, with Siena's advice, he managed to grab himself quite a few dashing outfits after all, from a suit that he desperately needed to a wonderful assortment of physical-activity-ready clothing. If nothing else, his own collection of newly purchased clothes matched the size of the collections of others, and that, at least, made him slightly...happy?

That's what it was, wasn't it?

While handling what was necessary for the others, Siena had quickly made her own purchases. A few motions to a sales associate, a few questions here and there for the products she was familiar with, and it hadn't taken much for the burnette to put together a modest selection for a few days--in case they were stuck at the hotel for longer than expected. Though most shied--well, that was putting it lightly--away from helping a subnatural, the ones that did their jobs did so with speed. Anything to [i]not[/i] deal with the group of marked monsters, Siena supposed. 

By the time that they were ready to check out fully, Siena had her choice of swimwear, cosmetics, and a pretty new bracelet that had caught her eye waiting for her at the counter. It probably wouldn't help with the cuff that clearly marked her as one of USARILN's mages, but the habit of covering up was starting to try and kick in again. 

There were the obvious looks of protest, of course. How could [i]she[/i], a brat with clothing that hung off her strangely, a ratty pair of shoes, and a white splotch on her face afford luxury clothing? The questions were easy to read on everyone's face, the astonishment at the black card drawn from her card holder--the card for all her [i]frivolous[/i] needs, as she remembered Gerwulf--[i]maybe it had been her father. Siena couldn't quite remember anymore[/i]--presenting the all-powerful strip of plastic to her. 

[i]"[color=f7976a]This'll be plenty for you, kid. S'long as you stick around us, it should be the only card you ever need to use.[/color]"

He'd produced another card shortly after, this one far more minimal, but made of what felt like some sort of metal, the Santana name etched into it.

"[color=f7976a]This one is for emergencies. If I'm doin' my job right, you won't need it.[/color]"[/i]

Siena kept her smile as she tapped the black card against the scanner to finalize the purchase. The only thing she was really good for.
[/hider]

[hider=Friday | September 18 | 8AM]
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[img]https://i.imgur.com/jw3F1O9.png[/img]   [img]https://i.imgur.com/qdJ8I7l.jpg[/img]
[h1]Burning Bridges[/h1]
[/center]
While Chris was fixing up his breakfast, he noticed Brent in his peripheral vision. He sighed as he knew now was the time to try and put aside some of his recent source of bitterness. After getting a light meal ready of french toast and syrup, he walked over to his fellow arbiter.

[color=red]"Hey Brent, I got to tell you something."[/color]

Brent yawned. His muscles still ached after his recent bout with Angelic, and hey, who would have thought that Siena was going to be there as well? The more the merrier, ultimately, and now all he wanted to do was try all the breakfast foods that were available to him. From miso soup to German sausages to smoked bacon to tomato and cheese salads to farmer's wraps, his plate was just as full as it was during dinner last night, and he hummed merrily in spite of the disgust that his gluttony and subnatural status incited amongst the other professionals within the place. Turning at the sound of a familiar voice, Brent blinked, before smiling.

[color=B0C4DE]"Morning Chris, had a good sleep?"[/color]

[color=red]"Well I didnt sleep all too well, but thats why I wanted to talk to you. You are one of the few people I talk to fairly often, so I hope you don't find it odd that I trust you with this information. I believe..."[/color] He paused, partially to make sure no one else was listening and partially because he detested confessing his feelings. [color=red]"I have a thing for Siena...I noticed you seem to be on good terms with her so I was wondering if you could give me some ideas for a present."[/color]

In truth Chris wanted to say something entirely else. Inside he wanted to give Brent a stern warning to keep away from a dragon's prized treasure, but those inner demons weren't hard to suppress with his judgement. Had Angel not bring him to his senses the other day he may have been a lot more aggressive about it. These were all assumptions though, he knew that. It wasn't completely confirmed that Brent also had feelings for Siena, and even if he did, he couldn't have known of Chris's own feelings. That has now changed. 

[color=B0C4DE]"Ideas for a present?"[/color] he tilted his head to the side, wondering what brought that on. [color=B0C4DE]"Oh, is it her birthday or something? Yo, forget a present, we should plan out a party!"[/color]

There was, of course, a part of him that did recognize how Chris claimed to have a 'thing' for Siena, but in the context of a present, that 'thing' just sounded like a gift he wasn't sure he should give her.

[color=red]"Well no, more or less a token of my affection."[/color] He stated with a hint of a bashful nature.[color=red] "W-we were on a date before but...I don't know how she feels about me or anything. I don't have enough confidence to confess this now but, I don't know maybe a gift would be a nice gesture to start."[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Eh, that's cute,"[/color] Brent replied, somewhat bemused, [color=B0C4DE]"But...it doesn't matter if you don't have any confidence, right? Let's not talk about whether or not butterflies explode in your stomach, and instead, talk about what you want."[/color]

A break, as he downed a tall glass of milk. So he was wrong about the dragon arbiter being interested in Angelic. Strange.

[color=B0C4DE]"Do you want to confess or not?"[/color]

He paused, uncertain. He had no experience with this matter in addition to the anxiety that things could go to the worst. At the very least, Brent's response was reassuring. Whatever he thought previously about the two of them was just his misunderstanding. So he'd hope at least, he didnt take him for a liar. [color=red]"I think Ill ask her out on a second date, and if she agrees, Ill confess there. Id prefer waiting until we return to the school. Or at least relocate, this week just seems too hectic."[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"So if she doesn't agree, you never will?"[/color] A pause, and then a quirked eyebrow. [color=B0C4DE]"Chris, it really sounds like you're just making excuses and trying to delay this. Are you sure you actually like her? Or was she just the first reasonably good-looking girl that you interacted with when you got to USARILN?"[/color]

What the hell was this, really? Leaping through all this bullshit pointlessly? Was he really that weak-willed?

[color=red]"If she doesn't want to go on a date, unless if things are busy, then she doesn't really have those same feelings I have. I'm not going to waste my time pursuing someone I don't have a chance with." [/color] He quickly turned cold and defensive, his arms were crossed and his eyes were narrowed. [color=red]"My focus should be on saving lives and killing monsters, anything else is an afterthought. I do wish to bide my time, I don't like rushing things and a confession like this shouldn't be done out of the blue. I am certain I like her, and I will tell her on our next date if she'll have me, its as simple as that."[/color] He sounded a bit offended at his questioning. To him it was as if Brent was delegitimizing his whole ordeal. 

'Not going to waste my time pursuing someone I don't have a chance with.'

'Anything else is an afterthought.'

'Don't like rushing things.'

'I like her.'

[color=000000]Sound like someone you know?[/color]

Disgusting. Weak-willed cold-blooded bastard. Brent recalled Siena's hesitance, her falsities, her smile, everything, and it took all he had not to frown. What a spineless little piece of shit. Even with dragon blood flowing through his veins, Chris was still this much of a coward? Saying he'll give up on love due to a single rejection? Thinking of this relationship as a mere afterthought compared to the lives of people he's never seen? Not wanting to rush headlong into this?

Just [i]liking[/i] her?

Insufficient. His silver blood boiled, simmered, and then cooled.

Even if he helped Chris, did Siena really deserve such deception from a pale-ass, skinny-ass individual that saw her as less worthy of his attention than a couple of no-names? Was Chris really thinking that, between the lives of many and the lives of his beloved, he'd toss Siena away for the sake of saving the majority? No, he still wasn't calm enough. Still was looking at this unfairly. This ability to detach himself from his emotions was good, right? It was bad that Emma would rush to the side of Marcus and burn out all her energy to do so, right?

His grip on the fork tightened, silverware warping marginally under his grasp.

[color=B0C4DE]"A good present,"[/color] Brent said, slowly, steadily, [color=B0C4DE]"Would be a form of literature. But Marcus already gave her that, so you're shit out of luck there, Chris. Tell me, cause I'm seriously curious. Did you even visit Siena when she was hospitalized?"[/color]

Chris took a large sigh as he held his forehead. [color=red]"I was going to, infact I picked a flower for the meet-up, and got to her dorm. Only I noticed she was busy talking to you and didn't want to interrupt."[/color] He paused. [color=red]"Then some other student appeared and started to insult me."[/color] Another sigh, something that had become a habit now. He didn't care so much of what Brent thought of him, so he figured he might as well be fully honest to get it over with. [color=red]"If I am to be completely transparent Brent, I had grown a bit jealous, and I was worried your intentions to hang out with her was more then friendships. I can tell by this conversation however that wasn't the case, and I have to apologize for my idiocy. I'm not used to this kind of thing, mind you. I haven't had...'friends', let alone someone who captured my affection since I was 10."[/color]

A flower. That was a proper get-well gift, wasn't it? The pieces slowly clicked together. From Siena's hesitance to Marcus's silence on the matter. If Brent had felt a little more forgiving, perhaps, he'd be able to sympathize slightly with Chris. After all, he had sat by Siena during the APC ride constantly, had visited her before Chris did, and, even further back, had gotten the chance to train with her, as fellow mages wielding exceptionally versatile powers.

But...once again...

What?

He tried visiting once, got angry at Marcus, punched him, and then ran off?

What?

He didn't even try visiting again, see how Siena's mental health was after the brutalities witnessed on the frontlines of the Factory fight? Was he even aware of how close she had been to getting her face ripped off by a clockwork dog?

What?

He gave up so [i]easily[/i].

[color=B0C4DE]"There's nothing for you to apologize for,"[/color] Brent replied, that nasty, petty part of him rising once more, the same part that wasted his only bullet on harming the gargoyle, the same part that so thoughtlessly burned his bridge with Callan, [color=B0C4DE]"After all, you're right."[/color]

An intense gaze.

[color=B0C4DE]"I like Siena too."[/color]

A reflexive smile.

[color=B0C4DE]"I just like an even playing field."[/color]

A two-faced truth.

Chris returned a scowl, that of which was like that of a wolf's glare on an intruding rival. [color=red]"I can't fault you for that...But if you take her away from me before I get that chance I will not forgive you."[/color] That relief he had felt earlier had been immediately turned inside out and dragged down into intense negativity, mostly of anger and envy. He wasn't going to let that get the better of him though, nor was he going to let the monster within him send him down a more horrible path. That control caused his clenched hands to relax and his posture lean back on the chair. [color=red]"If she rejects me, then by all means you have your chance. Otherwise, I'm not letting you have her."[/color]

That smile remained, unbothered by the possibility of death. They were in close quarters, and Brent already had a weapon in his hand. Unlike this skinny scaly shit, he spent almost every morning working out, preparing for the day that his strength would be necessary, and if today turned out to be the day?

He'd be prepared.

[color=B0C4DE]"A chance?"[/color] Brent laughed, before going back to eating. [color=B0C4DE]"I enjoy an even playing field, Chris. Why on earth would I wait an eternity for you to stumble onto the right moment? Siena's smart, skilled, strong, cute, fashionable, and she has a wonderful smile when she's genuine. I sincerely doubt that I'm the only person you have to worry about."[/color]

[i]Bring it, dragon-bitch.[/i]

[color=B0C4DE]"Though seeing how you even considered giving up after just one rejection? You're one person I don't have to worry about."[/color]

Chris's eyes never did cease their narrowing. His laugh, his tone, the whole performance was a mockery. Still he tried to keep his cool, at the very least to be reasonable. [color=red]"I'm well aware that others can easily fall for her too. However I remain confident enough that I will have my chance. I told you I had made up my mind in that I'd ask her once we'd return to the school. If that is too short for you then I'll just get it over with. Once I finish breakfast I'll go to her room and ask her myself. Is that a problem?"[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Yes,"[/color] Brent smiled, [color=B0C4DE]"Go ahead, it's fine by me. C'mon, Chris, you barely eat anything. Hurry up and get out of here so I can see what happens!"[/color]

Then, a pause, and that smile finally turned into a smirk.

[color=B0C4DE]"Oh, do you even know what her room number is?"[/color]

[color=red] "No, but I figure someone knows it. Do you?"[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Naturally. Want to know?"[/color]

[color=red] "It would make this faster."[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"It would, wouldn't it?"[/color]

[color=red]"Are you going to tell me or not? [/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Where's your manners?"[/color]

Chris wanted to be done with this, so he swallowed his pride. [color=red]"May you please tell me Siena's room?[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"2012,"[/color] Brent replied nonchalantly, [color=B0C4DE]"Better get going."[/color]
[/hider]

[hider=Friday | September 18 | 1PM]
[center]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/jw3F1O9.png[/img]   [img]https://i.imgur.com/eoV4Dgr.jpg[/img]
[h1]Words Unspoken, Thoughts Unheard[/h1]
[/center]
Sophia didn't like to spend too long at buffets and cafeterias, out in the open where people could always walk by and stare at you eating if they felt like it. She had come in a little less than half an hour ago, getting a plate of familiar food: rice, cauliflower, and some kind of sliced pork. Wolfing down the food in ten minutes had been a tempting option (that being what she had done earlier this morning), but she made herself slow down and enjoy the food. It was good, she had to admit that much. Everything here was so high class, she still hadn't quite gotten used to it.

She was almost done eating now, a forkful of each kind of food left on her plate. Just as she liked it. But she frowned at her plate anyway, not because she wasn't satisfied, but because she was [i]thinking[/i]. Was her family finishing up their meal back at home right now? Or was her sister sitting in class at her community college? 

Would she be sitting with someone else right now if things would have gone differently? Like with Savannah? She could have asked if Lily wanted to eat with her today, but she hadn't felt up to it. Ever since reading that e-mail that her sister had sent to her yesterday, she hadn't been able to get calling off her mind. It had kept her up last night, though not enough to prevent her from getting the minimum required 7.5 hours she needed to function sufficiently. That was good.

Think of the good things. The food was good. Her room was nice, even though she had to share it. Lily was a good choice for a roommate, the only good choice there had been. She pressed her lips together tightly before finishing up the last mouthfuls and getting up, heading towards the exit.

He messed up. Burned another bridge. Turned someone else who trusted him as a friend into an enemy. And, still, he felt nothing about it. He still had his appetite, and he still ate enough to more than fill himself up. The events in the morning ran through his mind. His seething, cold disdain, multipled by that note that Chris dropped in because that scaly shit didn't have the balls to just WAIT for Siena. And then there was that whole matter with Marcus and what actually happened with the Evacuation Team, wasn't there?

How easy it was to turn 'like' into 'dislike'.

Brent shook his head, doubling his pace as he strode out of the buffet room. He needed some air, perhaps. Some different thing to focus on. Studying would be easy, if there was actually a library within the hotel. The computer lab was a good place then. Or maybe he could just kill some time by climbing onto the roof of the whole damn hotel. His throat already felt parched, a certain tension mounting in him. Lack of sleep? Too much exercise after all? Ju-

In the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar face. Sophia. The one who he talked to on his first day at USARILN, and then never again. The one he had been meaning to check up on, but never got around to doing. The [i]other[/i] person who was there in the APC when the gargoyle bursted out. Slowing down, Brent gave himself three seconds to compose his features, before relying on that not-so-genuine, reflexive smile of his again.

[color=B0C4DE]"Heyo Sophs,"[/color] he said, [color=B0C4DE]"Had a good lunch?"[/color]

Huh? She hadn't been paying attention, so being addressed out of the blue took her a little by surprise. Stopping, she eyed him for a few moments as she took in those violet eyes and that wide smile of his. Brent. Why did she suddenly have this sinking feeling when she looked at him? There went her plans to head straight back to her bedroom. 

[color=BD892F]"Oh uh, hi. Brent."[/color] Too quiet. She made herself raise her voice, now coming across as forced. [color=BD892F]"Yeah, I did."[/color] She kept her body angled towards the direction she had been heading, hoping he would notice and not keep her for too long.

A little less hesitant, this time. Or was she like this before? He couldn't recall enough, and what he did reminded him of other, unpleasant things. Shane, still comatose. That young x-marked subnatural, eyes glazed over because the hospital staff were too afraid to treat them if they weren't sedated.

[color=B0C4DE]"Getting used to this place yet?"[/color] he asked, walking in the general direction the younger arbiter was, [color=B0C4DE]"Didn't expect life as a USARILN mage to equate to free accomodations in places like this myself."[/color]

So this was going to turn into a longer kind of conversation, she supposed, since he seemed intent on walking with her. Even longer since she took twice as long to reply than a usual person should. Anyway, she should reply. [i]"No"[/i] would be a good answer, short and simple. Except it was too short and he probably expected more. Everyone always expected more. What about [i]"No, I'm not."[/i]? Same meaning. Or her all time favorite, "[i]I don't know"[/i]? A corner of her mouth quirked up as she thought of that, though it wasn't because she was amused. More like it was a grim expression. 

Answer. What about [i]"No, I'm not. But at least it's nice of them to put us up in such a fancy place."[/i] That was a polite answer, wasn't it? And it continued the conversation a bit. Except... she wasn't sure if [i]nice[/i] was the right word to use. It was more like, 'I'm sorry people died and got injured, but we don't really care. Take these fancy rooms as compensation.' She remembered what Lily had said in the luxury car, and what her thoughts had been in response to that. She really didn't know why they were being given such a nice place to stay in.

Shit. Too long. Without realizing it, she had begun to tune out Brent's precense. Snapping her head towards him before looking straight ahead to reply, she was quieter than before. [color=BD892F]"No? Not really? But it's... uh..."[/color] She tensed visibly, struggling to get the last few words out. [color=BD892F]"...nice of them to put us... here."[/color]

His response came fast, a snap judgment that he didn't think that much about. [color=B0C4DE]"Is it nice?"[/color]

The real words, the actual question, didn't make it out, and Brent's smile faded, back to neutral. The businessmen walked a wide berth around the two subnaturals. Was it really nice? Not when they were gonna be here for a different sort of mission. Not when this place specifically was full of assholes that could actually ruin them, even if the Director tried to stop her precious little experiment from being wiped off the face of the planet with heavy ordanance. Not when so many of them just wanted to head back to USARILN instead, so that they didn't have to deal with this garbage.

Brent blinked.

[color=B0C4DE]"Sorry, was that a weird question?"[/color]

The quick reply, a critique to her response, made Sophia uneasy. Did she say something wrong? That sudden lack of smile... Maybe a little more honesty there wouldn't have hurt, she was getting the idea that his opinion was the opposite of what she had said. That, or she was overthinking things. She was no longer paying attention to where they were going, not realizing that if she should have wanted to find an elevator to get back up to the 20th floor, she was going the wrong way.

She hadn't been expecting him to say more. Was it a weird question? No. [color=BD892F]"Far from weird,"[/color] she muttered under her breath. He was right. Probably. If she was getting the right idea about what he thought. [i]"You're right,"[/i] she wanted to say, [i]"We're probably not here just because they want to be nice. I don't know what's going to happen next, or what we're going to have to do."[/i] [i][color=BD892F]They really don't tell us much.[/color][/i]

Her lips parted to speak, but she hesitated before they closed again, into a frown. [color=BD892F][i]...can't speak around him.[/i][/color] She gave herself a few more seconds before trying again. Her start was so quiet that the first word was lost, and the only thing that came out was, [color=BD892F]"...right."[/color] She didn't try to continue.

Silence once more, barely a squeak coming out despite how much she must be mulling it over on the inside. Brent wanted to say something that would encourage her to speak her mind, something corny like 'say what you want, I won't hate you' or 'don't overthink it, you can always apologize after', but...those were just words.

Maybe he should have tried spending some more time with Sophia, tried befriending her? Tried helping her out? Checked up on how she was doing immediately after the Wisford incident? It was situations like this, wasn't it, that smiles and optimism didn't work out nearly as well. Should he just stay quiet then?

Gah, it was like his younger days all over again.

[color=B0C4DE]"Are you alright?"[/color] Brent asked, finally. There was more he could say, more he could clarify, and maybe asking open questions like that was just going to prolong the pauses, but the arbiter wouldn't stop just from those doubts.

And... another question. He kept asking, even though she gave him nothing to go on. Some might think it admirable, perhaps, and under other circumstances she might have been glad that someone wasn't turning away even after seeing how unresponsive she was. But really, what was the point of all this? They hadn't talked to each other or interacted for quite a while, and now all of a sudden here he was. She was fine. [i]Fine.[/i] 

Did it actually matter to him if she was alright or not, or was it just one of those questions that someone asked to create some semblance of them caring? Or was it supposed to be a lead that she should take, saying something like, [i]"No, I'm not. Sav's death really affected me,"[/i] so that he could then talk her through what had happened and her emotions? To him, she would be fine. He needn't bother. [color=BD892F][i]Then say it.[/i][/color]

[color=BD892F]"I'm fine."[/color] It came out curt, but at least feeling defensive made the words come out clearer and louder. [color=BD892F]"Why?"[/color] [color=BD892F][i]Does it matter to you?[/i][/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Because you were there."[/color]

Not in the face of Factory, who was taken care of rather steadily. Not against a horde of clockworks, who were similarly dispatched of with only a few injuries. Not against a flying snake that spewed fire and death. But in the aftermath, where four subnaturals seemingly came out of nowhere and turned everything into a hot, bloody mess.

[color=B0C4DE]"But if you're 'fine',"[/color] Brent continued, [color=B0C4DE]"That's..."[/color]

Good, that she wasn't all that attached to Savannah having her neck snapped and Lawrence having a hole punched into him? Bad, that she was adjusting very well to this merciless reality they were now facing?

[color=B0C4DE]"...that."[/color]

Ambiguous, too much so. Like stepping between glass shards with bare feet. Like tiptoeing down old staircases with muddy shoes. So much more, but two weeks changed him too much in some parts, and too little in other parts.

There. She had been [i]there[/i]. Since Brent had been at the battle too, he could only be referring to the scene... where Sav died. Where an older civilian had died too so the APC could get away. Where many people had gotten injured. Just as she had suspected. Why did he have to bring that up? Not that she hadn't been thinking about it just before, as well as every morning and night, but she tried not to think it while around other people. Not while walking down a hall with Brent.

Then he seemed to drop the subject. She should have felt relieved, but it upset her instead. Nice of him, to bring it up, have her think about it, and then just give up the moment she told him he was fine. [i]But she had made him drop the subject.[/i] With that answer of hers. She hadn't implied that she wanted to talk about it, because she didn't want to. Except she did. That didn't make sense. She wanted someone to push hard enough, to make her say [i]something more[/i].

Savannah. A very unlucky girl. 

It was too late to stop her train of thought from revisiting that scene, reliving the reason why she wasn't quite so fine. Outwardly she could actually be seen receding physically, her eyes growing distant with that faraway look, while her steps began to slow as she started to veer so she was walking diagonally closer to the wall.

Losing. A sudden moment of clarity, of remembering the things he had been so obssessed with before. Winning and losing. Making a mark. Actually doing something. Walking beside her, following yet leading, Brent saw that change in her eyes, dark brown dulling. Sedated.

A bitter taste pervaded the roof of his mouth, a frown emerging as the two made their way aimlessly around the tenth floor.

Always failing, no matter what he tried.

[color=B0C4DE]"I'm not fine,"[/color] he said, sounding his own thoughts, [color=B0C4DE]"Not when I had my shot lined up, not when I had so much more information to share, not when I thought it [i]was[/i] fine to relax once Callan arrived. Not when there's a music room here that would have made Sav ecstatic."[/color]

Not when he knew that she was just going to be fed to a boy's monster pet, and did nothing about it. So many people weren't fine. Marcus hadn't been. Callan hadn't been. Emma hadn't been. Did Zoe have her own regrets, not coming earlier? Did Lawrence have his own regrets, failing so easily? So...was Sophia fine, regardless? Had she come terms so easily with the fact that nothing could have been done?

How awful. Trying to apply his own thoughts and emotions onto others, when it really was just a matter of like or dislike. When he couldn't even feel all that bad about it.

[color=B0C4DE]"You're going to walk into a wall at this rate."[/color]

He was going to burn something again, at this rate.

The scene still continued to play out in her mind, even as Brent began to speak again. She listened to his words while comparing what he said to that scene, just his voice, since his words failed to connect back to him and the present. Shots. Brent had been the one shooting back then, she had never quite figured out which of the supporters it had been. Made sense, with his power and all. And then... Callan. Did Brent blame Callan for Sav's death? For jumping recklessly on that gargoyle? Did [i]she[/i] blame Callan? 

She didn't really know anymore. She had tried to find someone to blame the day Sav died, but there was no one. No one person could solely carry the blame so that everything made sense. You either had to blame everyone for the small decisions they made that, when put together, created that horrible end result, or blame no one. Or she could blame herself, though she tried her best not to do that. Or stop you could stop needing to blame someone and put that energy towards getting [i]better[/i].

Wasn't that what she had told herself she would do once returning to USARILN? Be "okay" once more and try to get stronger or something? But-- 

She put that thought on hold as the voice continued, moving on to talk about the music room. She would have looked forward to playing something with Savannah. She'd never found out anything about the pieces that Sav could play, never reached out enough to find out and suggest they play together sometime. What was going to happen to that violin Sav had gotten in class? Would it get given away?

A wall. Something about walking into a wall. [color=BD892F][i]Don't walk into the wall.[/i][/color] She began paying attention to her surroundings suddenly, stopping just as her arm brushed against the wall. She had just... oops. She'd never zoned out before while walking, and well, now she knew what could happen. Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, giving herself time to turn back to the present, she turned towards Brent. [color=BD892F][i]How embarrassing. What does he think of me now?[/i][/color]

[color=BD892F]"I... sorry. Thanks."[/color] He had shared his thoughts with her. Told her why he wasn't fine. But she wasn't able to return the favor, would never be able to get it all out. So she settled for a compromise. [color=BD892F]"I want to..."[/color] A hand reached for her hair, twirling the strands around her fingers as she spoke. [color=BD892F]"Become... more... like, fine?"[/color] A few more silent seconds passed as she struggled. [color=BD892F]"But... don't want to... forget?"[/color] She had been meaning to say something more comprehensible about wanting to be able to move on, to not dwell on that event everyday, but at the same time learning from what had happened. But it hadn't worked. Tensing once more, she turned to face down the hallway, still brushing against that wall. 

Was everyone so similar? Wanting to forgive themselves, to move on, but not to forget? Was that the most optimal solution, the healthiest? To carry on with life, despite these horrid memories and wretched sense of helplessness? Through her stuttered, hesitant words, those words that she struggled hard to breathe life into, Brent could understand it all too clearly. He constantly spoke of such things as well.

Turn your regrets into fuel.

Remember them even if it hurts.

Live well despite that pain.

Grant carried the knife of a girl who he had met only once. Angelic bore the cross of Montreal on her shoulders. Zoe sought the pleasure of agony, even though she couldn't truly forgive herself for it. Was it a presumptuous assumption? That everyone wanted forgiveness, but no one wanted to forget.

No. This was a...good thing. He remembered that one conversation he had with Grant.

[color=B0C4DE]"That's good,"[/color] Brent said, remembering a piece of himself, [color=B0C4DE]"That's what...everyone wants. To remember, but not to be consumed by those memories."[/color]

He breathed. Regulated his heart. Reorganized his mind. Asked another question.

[color=B0C4DE]"Where do you plan to go?"[/color]

Too soft. He wasn't like this before.

[color=B0C4DE]"What do you plan to do?"[/color]

Were Brent's words supposed to sound reassuring, or show approval? Something else? But to her, it sounded too much like someone trying to play the counselor. Something like that. Listening to what she wanted, and then asking what she planned to do about it. That tone she knew too well. 

But she shouldn't get so defensive.

She tried to let his words sink in, really think about where she wanted to go, what she planned to do. Too aware of him standing there waiting for her to come up with an answer, she wasn't able to get far. For the short term, she knew she wanted to call Matilda. Or at least respond to that e-mail. She wanted to try out the different parts of her power, not just the x-ray vision, but the other two. Except she didn't want to do that here, and she didn't know when they were going back. She wanted to understand more about the differences between Arbiters and Aberrations, and the Stigma, but it would be too personal if she asked anyone. 

All these things couldn't be what he wanted to know, not what he meant. Then what did he mean? Vague questions, that's what they were. [i]"Where do you plan to go? What do you plan to do?"[/i] She couldn't come up with a good answer, so she fell back on those well used three words. 

[color=BD892F]"I don't know,"[/color] she whispered. 

She didn't know? Or she didn't want to say it? Because it was too private? Because it was too personal? Because it was unpleasant? Because it was childish? Dislikeable, her too soft voice and her too weak heart. Dislikeable, but understandable. Was this sort of phase common amongst adolescents? No. But it was common for him.

Had been.

He could understand it, but he couldn't empathize with that sort of mindset. Not after he thoroughly pulvernized that weak part of himself out of his system. So many things that were wanted, but so few things that were done, because pointless restraints and limitations were laid down. Chris, with his bullshit about 'afterthoughts' and the right time. He had disliked that mindset enough to burn that connection, leaving only a chasm behind, but...how many more times could he do this?

[color=B0C4DE][i]This is enough.[/i][/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"You think too much,"[/color] the arbiter remarked, [color=B0C4DE]"Sophia, are you actually walking towards somewhere? Cause there are better places to take a post-lunch walk."[/color]

Nice of him to state the obvious. Obvious to her, at least. As it had been for the past, what... three years? Or even before that? At what point had it even become this bad? She'd always been quiet since her early years, but... 

It didn't really matter. She focused on responding to his question within a reasonable amount of time, at least this question was a straight forwards one. [color=BD892F]"I was... going up."[/color] [color=Bd892F][i]Before you came along.[/i][/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Was?"[/color] he echoed. [color=B0C4DE]"Then go up."[/color]

He stopped by the elevator, regulars parting in their presence, as the light went from 7, to 8, to 9, to...

[color=B0C4DE]"Sophia, in the APC. Where did the gargoyle come from?"[/color]

She would be glad to go up. Alone would be best. He didn't need to tell her do so, she had just said it herself. Sophia hadn't been looking forward to a conversation with anyone when she had left the buffet, and now she was past tired of his company. It seemed the more he talked, the more... almost... passive agressive he was getting? Unless she was imagining things. The way he suddenly pointed out how she thought too much. How he had implied that she could be taking a walk somewhere [i]better[/i] than just around the halls after lunch, when he had been the one who had approached and then distracted her. 

She couldn't wait for that elevator to come, then--

Another question, and back to that topic. But what kind of question was that? [i]In the APC[/i], he said. Then he asked where it came from. It had come [i]from the APC[/i]. Since they were, yes surprisingly, smart enough to know not to let strange creatures into APCs, it had to have come from a human. Transformation. If one of the Arbiters from class could transform into a dragon, certainly another person could turn into a gargoyle. Answer aquired using: deductive reasoning. 

[color=BD892F]"You should know,"[/color] she answered tightly, for once not hesitating between words. She would regret it later, but for now, [color=BD892F]"Think."[/color]

Not teleportation. Not superspeed. Not intangibility.

Just human error.

The elevator reached 10, doors parting as regulars flooded out, clearing the space for the sole subnatural walking in. Disdain, fear, hostility, all dispersed in a single moment. Deception and self-loathing clarified and made indomintable.

[color=B0C4DE]"I hoped for a different answer."[/color]

[color=000000]He lied and you can't deny it now.[/color]

He smiled, but he couldn't, and instead, it became a pitiful grimace.

[color=B0C4DE]"Glad you're stil alive, Sophia."[/color]

[color=BD892F][i]If you wanted a different answer, you should have been more specific. There are a lot of ways to answer that question.[/i][/color] A common phrase in at least a few books she had read was, [i]"You never asked."[/i] True enough. She had half a mind to ask him what he had been looking for, but changed her mind. Since Brent didn't make any effort to get the answer he was hoping for, she let it be. If he ever wanted to know more, he could ask. She might answer, or not. She stepped into the now empty elevator, holding the open button to keep it from closing.

[color=BD892F]"Same."[/color] That sounded too much like she was agreeing with him that she was glad she was alive. [color=BD892F]"To you."[/color] She felt she should say something more, to end the conversation properly. Like... [i]"Nice talking to you."[/i]? She let the doors slide to a close, punching the button for the 20th floor. 

Alone.
[/hider]

[hider=Saturday | September 19 | 9PM]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/jzzw4on.jpg[/img]   [img]https://i.imgur.com/jw3F1O9.png[/img]   [img]https://i.imgur.com/FWMorlL.png[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/qdJ8I7l.jpg[/img]   [img]http://i65.tinypic.com/28hztyw.png[/img]
[h1]Bar Bois Busted[/h1]
[/center]
It was only their third night in Washington DC, in the luxurious Hyatt Regency, a place filled to the brim with all sorts of entertainment, and yet, inexplicably...Brent, Marcus, and Ernie were all in different degrees of boredom. Was it the fact that overclocking arcade machines got old after the fifteenth or so time? Was it the fact that they couldn't REALLY release all the pent-up stress from Wisford, due to there being no convenient Ground Zero to unload on? Was it because there was some strange tension between two of the members of the boy band?

Regardless, in the much too quiet penthouse, Brent flopped uncharacteristically onto a delightfully soft couch, finely-chiselled jaw resting on the leathery backrest. There should be something to do here, shouldn't there? There were a shit ton of arcade machines, but he was too burnt out to care for it. The swimming pool had the equipment for water polo, but they had uneven numbers. The computer lounge had League installed, but Ernie didn't know how to play and Brent only played to win. There was the gym, but trying for another round of exercise after going hard in the morning was just asking to get destroyed. There was a buffet, but they ate there every day. There was TV, but all the channels just featured anti-subnatural bullshit.

Thus, ultimately, here the sad trio were, with nothing to do on a Saturday Night.

[color=B0C4DE]"Ugh, imagine if they had bungee-jumping off the roof here,"[/color] Brent said, deflated, [color=B0C4DE]"Or, like, an indoor soccer field."[/color]

[color=00a99d]"I mean, I could probably rig some sort of bungee-jumping system with my power,"[/color] Ernie mumbled, scrolling vacantly through the feed on his phone and frowning at news of an interview with a certain red-headed X-mark, [color=00a99d]"But I can't guarantee that any of us'd live through it. Soccer's out too. Man, what's the point of calling them 'ballrooms' if we're not allowed to bring balls in there? That so wasn't worth a lifetime ban!"[/color]

"[color 33ec06]I can jump off one of the balconies and rewind for you, but I don't exactly think that's what you were looking for.[/color]" Marcus said, something a little more than boredom dulling his usual good mood. He was currently upside down in a couch, hair touching the floor while he impatiently kicked his legs against the back of the sofa, sending slight vibrations through it everytime he did.

"[color 33ec06]What do you think all the stuffy business men do when they get bored?[/color]" he asked, staring up at the ceiling. Almost as an afterthought, he added: "[color 33ec06]Or do you think CEO BusinessBots don't have boredom programmed?[/color]"

[color=B0C4DE]"Don't have any emotion programmed,"[/color] Brent replied, flipping over as if he was sunbathing in boredom, [color=B0C4DE]"But if Wolf of Wall Street was any indication...booze, strippers, and alcohol."[/color]

[color=00a99d]"Booze and alcohol..."[/color] Ernie repeated dreamily, [color=00a99d]"Well, we do have the minibar here. Not sure if getting wasted with just the three of us'll be much fun though."[/color]

A pause as he recalled something important.

[color=00a99d]"Just gotta make sure we don't make a mess here."[/color]

"[color 33ec06]Please, how much of a mess could we possibly make?[/color]" Marcus said, a small grin spreading across his face. 

He rolled off the couch and onto the floor, righting himself to better talk to his aquaintences. Or at least, the people he [i]thought[/i] of as his aquaintences. Although they'd hung out Thursday morning, Marcus had been purposefully avoiding Brent for a while. Things just seemed...tense, and he really didn't want that conversation to progress any more than it already had.

"[color 33ec06]If we were gonna drink, I'd say we should go out and do it. I feel like the dudes with guns would probably ruin the mood a little bit.[/color]" Marcus said, jerking his thumb to one of the seemingly omnipresent guards that were around.

[color=B0C4DE]"Yeah,"[/color] Brent agreed enthusiastically, [color=B0C4DE]"A minibar simply doesn't have the same vibe as a nightclub, you know? Not enough people and not enough music...though I guess the company wouldn't be THAT great, unless there's a super underground pro-subnatural one?"[/color]

He tilted his head to the side, mentally reaching for such an incomprehensible idea within the capital of 'fuck subnaturals', before ultimately shrugging. [color=B0C4DE]"Sounds like a good enough excuse to go bar-hopping anyways, eh?'[/color]

[color=00a99d]"Really? You wanna venture out into the world of asshole Regulars?"[/color] Ernie asked in mild disbelief. He decided not to voice out loud that USARILN students wouldn't be able to get into a subnatural nightclub anyway. Did D.C. even have a Senators branch? [color=00a99d]"Fuck, we could be surrounded in two seconds flat. Concealer wouldn't even work for my mark if I'm hanging out with Broteus and Time Scar here."[/color]

Though the prospect of bar-hopping with friends did sound pretty fun. Scaring Regulars would be interesting too.

"[color 33ec06]I mean, I've got a hoodie I snagged from one of the clothing stores. Or we could just throw paper bags on our heads and call it a day.[/color]" Marcus said, snickering. "[color 33ec06]Might be more beneficial than just hiding marks for you two![/color]"

[color=B0C4DE]"Surrounded in two seconds flat?"[/color] Brent whistled, impressed at how efficient Washington mobs sounded. [color=B0C4DE]"Sounds like a hell of a party then. Can't be worse than Factory though, right?"[/color]

Well, actually...

[color=B0C4DE]"Might be worse. Let's get everyone else in then! With the tacticool genius of 2Chainz and the indomintable edge of Dragontales, even if we're surrounded, we'd probably get out aight."[/color] Brent turned towards Marcus, a joking smirk already there. [color=B0C4DE]"And let's be real here. Three scars are way more obvious than our marks. Better watch your alcohol, dude, or you're wake up with a whole bunch of kiddos trying to frame you for drug trafficking."[/color]

Or just wake up bruised and bloodied on a freight ship going to the wastelands of China.

Ernie snorted. [color=00a99d]"What kinda kiddos have you been hanging around?"[/color] he joked but got up anyway. If they were heading out then he needed to be prepared, [color=00a99d]"I don't actually know the other guys too well so you should fetch them if we're really having a boys night out. I'm gonna get my disguise shit, just in case."[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"They're crazed kiddos,"[/color] Brent replied, [color=B0C4DE]"But I won't get my hopes up about them anyways."[/color]

He looked at Marcus, searching for a reaction at the mention of Chris, but there was nothing there. Either Time Scar had an impeccable poker face or he simply didn't give that much of a shit about what sort of hissy fit the scaly brat got into. A hint of a grimace emerged as Brent recalled the note once more, as if that bastard couldn't even be bothered to WAIT by the door for Siena to come back, but he smoothed over the creases of his face soon enough.

[color=B0C4DE]"But yeah, let's see who we can grab along on the way and meet back in...fifteen minutes, at the main entrance? The bigger the group, the better, eh?"[/color]

A nod from the Aberration. [color=00a99d]"Sounds like a plan."[/color]

Fifteen minutes later, the three reassembled at the doorway with a noticeable lack of invitees. Whether that was disappointing or not depended on who you asked. Personally, Ernie was fine with it. He wore a generous smear of concealer underneath his scarf, both bought at La Plata. Angelique had stopped by him to ask what the occasion was and it was with a somewhat heavy heart that he informed her that it was a boys-only event. Thankfully, the rockstar bid them goodbye with a friendly wave and they were off.

Well, Chris was a cunt and Grant was making love with a pillow, while Christmas and Lawrence could not be found at all. Sander was probably with Christmas, while Gregory had vanished like the dew, leaving the number of barhoppers more or less untouched. A pity, in a way, but hey, they could do a lot worse than the three coolest dudes in USARILN. WIth the night still long and no good reason to wait, Brent said, [color=B0C4DE]"Aight, let's check shit out!"[/color]

There wasn't much adventuring to really be had though. After getting approval (along with a disapproving glare) from one of the guards, the trio of subnaturals were off. Taking lead, for he had already prepared a list of nightclubs to hit up, Brent brought them through a scenic, fifteen minute walk that ended up at a repurposed bank. Electronic music pulsated through the tinted windows, while a queue of partygoers were already present. A muscular, 6'5 bouncer stood in the door, checking for IDs and weapons and drugs, occasionally lingering when a particularly good-looking woman came through, while a sign advertised the special of the night: the Double Pussy deal, where buying a Wet one got you a Red one as well.

[color=B0C4DE]"Welcome,"[/color] Brent said, switching to a sauve, mature voice that suited his self-image as the lord of the nightclub, [color=B0C4DE]"to the Ultraaaaaabar."[/color]

The queue dispersed considerably at the sight of Brent's white streak, leaving only a five minute wait before they reached the bouncer. He was irritated enough that a handful of youths were trying to get into a nightclub. The white streak and obvious scarf only served to make things worse.

[color f7976a]"What do you think you're--"[/color] he began to snarl but was interrupted by a fifty dollar note slapped into his hand by the buzzcut boy.

Ernie simply waited for access to be granted, gazing innocently at the guard.

[color f7976a]"You subs really think--"[/color] Another fifty. The boys were let in without another hitch.

[color=00a99d]"Alriiight!"[/color] the Aberration cheered as they found a booth near the back, [color=00a99d]"That was easy. You guys better compensate me good. Let's try that special together!"[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Damn, dude,"[/color] Brent replied as the trio coasted by, [color=B0C4DE]"Guess people gotta make money, eh?"[/color]

He didn't exactly like the bouncer for being so malleable in the face of money, but on the other hand, the man's lack of integrity got them in, and soon, they were on the first floor of the refurbished bank. Chandeliers acted as discoballs, crystalline reflections creating pretty patterns in the veined marble, while a young, rugged looking bartender did a variety of fancy tricks as he produced one drink after another, a sexy smile on all the while.

There was a pinkish purple wash over everything, while the young adults of Washington DC partied on the catwalks, bouncing around like a bunch of Whack-a-Moles. The music was particularly aggressive, a bevy of heavy beats, but Brent took it into stride. From the warzones of Wisford to the battlegrounds of Ultrabar, eh?

[color=B0C4DE]"Sure thing,"[/color] he replied, flashing out his USARILN card like a magician, [color=B0C4DE]"Still gotta earn my stripes, so drinks on me today!"[/color]

Though, really, it wasn't like it was his money to begin with.

"[color 33ec06]Works for me![/color]" Marcus said, raising an imaginary glass to toast Brent. "[color 33ec06]Means I don't have to spend a dime![/color]"

Though originally Chris declined Brent's offer to join him and some others at a bar, his lonesome status gnawed away at his thoughts. Not wanting to keep bad terms settled in with his fellow subnaturals, Chris walked on his own onto the minibar they were heading. He paid the bouncer with his own cash, having arrived a few minutes after the group did. He was wearing blue jeans and a white shirt, one of the more simple outfits he bothered to keep around. He joined the others with his hands in his pockets. [color=red]"Still got room for one more?"[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Yo, Chris,"[/color] Brent replied, masking surprise with a smile, [color=B0C4DE]"There's always room in boy's night out!"[/color]

Ernie waved happily, despite having heard some weird gossip surrounding the guy and his temper from Brent. [color=00a99d]"Hey, Tuxman. You drinking tonight?"[/color]

"[color 33ec06]Oh hey, Geico![/color]" Marcus said, swiveling around to the new voice, slightly shocked when he realized who it was. His eyes scanned for any sign of building anger, still wearing the same shitty grin he had been back in a hospital corridor in La Plata.

"[color 33ec06]Only if you promise not to get fussy and bitch-slap me more than twice![/color]" he added, crossing his arms in front of him.

He waved back to Ernie and Brent before responding to Marcus. [color=red]"Don't plan to."[/color]  He removed his hands from his pockets. [color=red]"I'd rather put all this drama behind us starting with this night."[/color]

[color=00a99d]"Wait, so he really did..."[/color] Ernie's head whipped between the three, searching for any sign that Chris needed to be kicked out. To his relief (and slight disappointment), he found none,  [color=00a99d]"Ah well, nothing like a night out and a handful of shots to bring people together. Right, [i]Brent?[/i]"[/color]

The last sentiment was ended with a stare like that of an starving dog hearing its owner return home, the message clear. The boy wanted his booze already.

Huh, this sort of behavior...

Yeah, this was totally in line with Chris's personality, wasn't it? The lack of a backbone and all. Still, as long as the dragon arbiter didn't spout off any more lines about how his one true love is merely an afterthought in the face of the lives of others, Brent decided that they could bury the hatchet for at least the night.

[color=B0C4DE]"Geez, Ernie, so thirsty for pussy, huh?"[/color] Brent smiled. With four, they could get it twice, huh? Good enough. Suavely sliding up towards the bartender (who couldn't even look him in the eye), the arbiter said, [color=B0C4DE]"Two specials. Four drinks. Got it? Awesome."[/color]

Though there was a slight tremor in the bartender's hands, and though his sexy smile had become something a little less attractive, the routine of mixing and pouring the same shit over and over again made the process bearable, even a bit interesting, and soon, Brent got back to the group. No one had set the place on fire yet, so that was a good sign. [color=B0C4DE]"Yo ho, guys, got two wet and two red, whatcha want?"[/color]

A pause.

[color=B0C4DE]"Or are you just gonna down them all solo, Ernie?"[/color]

[color=00a99d]"Oh, is that a challenge?"[/color] the Aberration replied, faintly surprised, [color=00a99d]"I thought it was for all of us."[/color]

He could take it. He just didn't want to be rude, that was all. Then again, of all the descriptors he'd heard of his drunk self, 'rude' had never been one of them. He waited for Brent's permission anyway.

[color=B0C4DE]"Dude, you're actually that thirsty?"[/color] The arbiter placed the drinks on a nearby table, one by one. [color=B0C4DE]"Go ahead then! It's not like it's my money anyways!"[/color]

[color=00a99d]"Okay, if you say so!"[/color] Ernie smiled brightlyand pounded down all four before the others could protest. Best not to tell them that he couldn't remember the last time he went drinking without going full blackout.

Ernie could distinguish the poor quality of the shot and frowned. The bartender didn't pay much attention to the ratios, didn't he? Probably too busy snivelling at the sight of a white mark.

The annoyance dissipated like sugar in hot water as the alcohol took its effect. At first, it was just a widening of the eyes. Then the boy stopped slouching. Then he started grinning like a kid breaking into a chocolate factory. He looked around at his friends in awe, enjoying the hectic sway of the nightclub.

[color=00a99d]"Thaaanks, buddy!"[/color] the affectionate term sharp in contrast to the gratitude, [color=00a99d]"You're a true friendo."[/color]

A surprisingly crisp salute accompanied the statement.

"[color 33ec06]Oh boy.[/color]" Marcus said, slightly in awe from the [i]immediate[/i] effect the drinks had. He certainly wasn't upset that Ernie was the one biting the metaphorical bullet here. He didn't drink, certainly didn't plan to do four shots in a row; in all honesty, he was mostly here just to make sure Ernie and Brent didn't wander off and get shot like dogs in the middle of the street.

"[color 33ec06]What have you done?[/color]" Marcus said, turning to Brent with wide-eyed 'horror'.

[color=B0C4DE]"A service to society, I believe,"[/color] Brent replied, masking his own surprise at Ernie's all-too sudden transformation. [color=B0C4DE]"And no problemo, bro! Want some more?"[/color]

The rope did protect against alcohol poisoning, right?

[color=00a99d]"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,"[/color] Ernie shook his head with a solemn expression, [color=00a99d]"Need water first, lotsa water, otherwise I will die. Hammer head."[/color]

He peered around at his companions, head swivelling wildly with the motion.

[color=00a99d]"You aren't drinking?"[/color] he asked no one in particular but worry was clear on his face. Was he going to be alone in this strange, swirling universe?

Sander chose that precise moment to walk in, vestiges of a frown still clung to his brows after the brisk conversation with the bouncer. The man didn’t want to let him in, but apparently arguments with a violent X at the door was chasing away customers and Sander didn’t want to leave, so the bouncer eventually let him in. 
 
As soon as he walked through the front door though, familiar scents hit him, making him jerk his head in their direction. He spotted the group almost immediately; Chris’ stark white hair did stand out, even in a sea of moving people and dim light. 

'Hammer head'. Right. Whatever that meant. Still, water probably was a good idea. Considering how Ernie was so eager to get wasted tonight, having something to act as a break inbetween pounding down shots was definitely a good idea. Still, Marcus didn't look all too eager, and Chris might relapse into an edgy angry shit with too many drinks, which left...

Oh, no! There definitely was someone else!

Standing tall (and separate) from the singular organism that were crowds of regulars was Sander, the invincible juggernaut!

[color=B0C4DE]"I'm not drinking much myself,"[/color] Brent admitted with an apologetic smile, [color=B0C4DE]"But...yo, Sander! Come over and drink with Ernie! You look like a hell of a heavyweight!"[/color]

Sander blinked at the invitation. He did remember the boy from the track, but he didn't think he knew his name. But it would be rude to ignore them, now that they had noticed him, so Sander moved toward the group, nodding a curt greeting to each one. 

"[color cyan]Hey.[/color]"

Ernie sobered for a brief moment, the sudden name making choke on what was his fifth glass of water. Or sixth. Fuck math. But the liquor took its effect back easily, turning that overwhelming fear into nothing more than drunken irritation.

[color=00a99d]"Too heavy! Took like eight thousand Frostbites last time I served! Look at him, wasting all my cuuuuracao!"[/color] a rigid finger pointed at Sander. Ernie finished his seventh glass with the other hand. Look at that multitask. Bet that bitch Sander couldn't do that.

"[color cyan]Sorry?[/color]" -Sander raised an eyebrow at Ernie's odd demeanor -"[color cyan]Are you...drunk?[/color]"

[color=00a99d]"Ernie doesn't get drunk, he just has fun,"[/color] Ernie snapped the referenced line in an unnatural New York accent and turned to Brent, handing him a crumpled fifty from another pants pocket, [color=00a99d]"Buy as many specials as you can. Don't worry about the money, it's legal. Get me orange juice and chips. More sugar and hydrate that way!"[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Damn,"[/color] Brent whistled, impressed at the stories of Sander's legendary alcohol tolerance, [color=B0C4DE]"And yah, turns out Ernie's the happy sort of drunk. Or hyper. No idea, but it's hella fun to watch."[/color]

Taking the fifty dollar bill, the arbiter sauntered over once more towards the bartender. There was no way in hell the man hadn't noticed Ernie's aggressive drinking habits, and, as if to minimize close contact with subnatural scum, the man had already prepared two trays: one of drinks, one of chips. Didn't even ask for any sort of payment. Nice dude, really.

[color=B0C4DE]"Yo, I'm back. I'd tell you to pace yourself, Ernie, but it looks like you're already too far gone. Sander, want a drink or two?"[/color]

"[color cyan]Sure.[/color]" -The blood mage agreed easily. It was why he came, after all. Even though the company wasn't ideal, he supposed he could deal with that -"[color cyan]Do you have any recommendation?[/color]"

[color=00a99d]"I wreck-a-men ya eat a dick,"[/color] Ernie snarled between ravenous mouthfuls of chips and orange juice. He saw the unused note on the tray and waved it back in Brent's face, lamenting the capitalist system of money and goods, [color=00a99d]"Business needs money! Get more shots, bitch can take it."[/color]

The 'bitch' was Sander, of course.

"[color cyan]Excuse me?[/color]" -Sander raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by Ernie's words. 

Brent's eyebrows lifted slightly at just how aggressive Ernie was towards Sander, as well as how little Sander gave a shit about all that. Almost amusing? Eh...at least it looked like they were having fun?

[color=B0C4DE]"Sure sure,"[/color] the arbiter said, heading back towards the bartender for another round of drinks. One eye was on the man as he continued to pump out the same shit over and over again, a charming individual turned into an emotional wreck due to the presence of not one, but two x-marks now beginning to slam down shot glasses.

[color=B0C4DE]"Don't worry, man,"[/color] Brent said to him as another tray was obtained, [color=B0C4DE]"Time Scar there will make sure nothing gets out of hand."[/color]

Not that Time Scar could do shit, but hey, it's the thought that counts.

Coming back to the table, he plopped down the tray once more, ready to grab another as soon as Ernie started mowing through it all.

No attention was paid to Brent. Ernie's eyes didn't leave Sander's face as the new tray was set down. He grabbed a few more shots for himself before letting out a low [color=00a99d]"Drink."[/color]

"[color cyan]I think you are drunk.[/color]" -Sander warned once more, yet he still picked up a drink for himself and downed it in one gulp. The taste was...surprisingly pleasant, if anything. 

[color=00a99d]"Course I'm drunk, why would I wanna be sober with [i]yoouu[/i] around?"[/color] Ernie scoffed and downed some more liquor. Ten was the magic number. Or maybe it was thirteen? Fifteen? He took some more, just in case. Didn't want to ruin tradition, or magic...or whatever the fuckin' reason for numbers was. Future Ernie was going to regret this so hard. But then again, Future Ernie wasn't the one having to deal with fucking [i]Sander[/i] here. Despite the devil-may-care attitude, the boy shovelled some more chips and juice into his mouth, just to help the morning's buddy out.

"[color cyan]...Is there a problem?[/color]"

Ernie blinked. [color=00a99d]"You threatened to fucking kill me! And then you almost did it at Wissssferb! How is there not a problem?!"[/color]

"[color cyan]I didn't do it.[/color]" -Sander frowned, sipping from a second drink slowly. He almost lost control at Wisford. That much was true. But with Ernie at the receiving end, he didn't really much mind, cruel as it was. 

[color=00a99d]"Uhhhhhhh, yeah! You totally did! He musta saw it!"[/color] Ernie shouted, gesturing vaguely and angrily at Marcus, [color=00a99d]"It's a big, fat problem! You shoulda just done it so I stop being angry. Angry drunk is so baddd!"[/color]

A morbid fragment of his sober thoughts barging through. But it wasn't anger that was the problem. It was fear.

"[color 33ec06]I did see that, yes.[/color]" Marcus said very matter-of-factually, leaning out from behind Ernie. "[color 33ec06]Gotta be honest, little far there, Sander.[/color]" he leaned back out of sight as he finished, not really wanting to be in the line of fire if anything started.

"[color cyan]I didn't kill you, Ernie. You are still here.[/color]" -Sander clarified, gesturing toward the fellow Aberration -"[color cyan]Do you need a rest?[/color]"

Another snarl. [color=00a99d]"Fuck off. Stop talking scary or just kill me. No in-betweensies,"[/color] Ernie sat even straighter at Sander's suggestion. He wasn't no weak bitch, [color=00a99d]"Look. I'm on a chair. That's rest."[/color]

He did stop with the shots now, at least. The non-alcoholic sides were another matter.

"[color cyan]I'm not going to...[/color]" -Sander cut himself off then though. He didn't want to make any promises -"[color cyan]I think you should go back to the hotel? Get proper rest?[/color]"

[color=00a99d]"Don't be a nice boy. Lying is fer bitches and yer'lready a bitch. Double bitch is bad fer ya. Math,"[/color] Ernie muttered, [color=00a99d]"I ain't leave-going. You just wanna steal my cool friends away. Nice try, smarty-fart. But I smart too,"[/color] the boy tapped his temple with a pointer finger. Ewww, why so sticky. He tried to wash his hand off with the remaining pitcher of water but spilt it all over the table instead.

"[color cyan]I don't?[/color]" -Sander smiled a bit then, clearly amused by Ernie's drunken language. 

[color=00a99d]"Aaargh,"[/color] Ernie hissed before stumbling up onto his feet, [color=00a99d]"Need to pee now. And clean."[/color]

He pointed towards the remaining shots on the table.

[color=00a99d]"Those better be gone when I come back. Don't waste my ffffffuckin' money!"[/color]

With that, the boy left for the bathroom.

Sander looked at Ernie's retreating back, then turned to the full tray of drinks before him -"[color cyan]Huh...Do you two need help?[/color]" -He turned to Marcus and the other Arbiters -"[color cyan]I don't really get drunk, so...don't worry.[/color]"

"[color 33ec06]Go for it, have mine if you want it.[/color]" Marcus said, sliding one of the shots down towards Sander. "[color 33ec06]Between him, Party-Boy Brent, and Designated Dipshit over there,[/color]" he continued, pointing to the bathroom, Brent, and Chris respectively, "[color 33ec06]Somebody here has to stay sober enough to make sure we don't get gunned down in the street.[/color]"

[color=B0C4DE]"Amazing, Marcus,"[/color] Brent replied, taking a taste of one of the pussies, [color=B0C4DE]""I didn't know you loved us enough to take a bullet for us! But yeah, more planning on getting drunk on the atmosphere than alcohol. So go ahead, Sander, before E- oh, he's back."[/color]

Ernie returned, embracing a half empty bulk pack of paper towels as he walked. It seemed that no one had the nerve to stop the boy accompanying Proteus and Time Scar from taking it on the way out. The clean freak handed a few rolls out to some Regulars who were too polite or drunk to refuse but otherwise began to wipe at the liquid almost as soon as he sat back down. He was too intently focused to make another dig at Sander.

[color=B0C4DE]"Yo, Ernie, got your alcoholic high up at max now?"[/color] Brent grinned, helping him out with the task. [color=B0C4DE]"Ready to start mingling on the dancefloor? Put your tapdancing skills to the real test?"[/color]

Sander quietly nodded and accepted the shots. It occured to him that it was rather strange to compare drinks and 'pussies', but he figured he didn't really care as he began to down the shots one by one.

[color=00a99d]"Ffffffffuck, yeah!"[/color] Ernie roared into the paper towel in his fist in response to Brent's question, [color=00a99d]"But, no! Regulars are bitches! And I do not dance with bitches!"[/color]

Oh, that was rather rude, wasn't it? The buzzcut boy whispered loudly, as if he feared Brent's wrath for such a bold statement.

[color=00a99d]"They lovely people. Drunk. They like my paper towels. But they all bitches. Don't deserve my s...skillz."[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Just gonna let them jump around like a bunch of whack-a-moles then, Ernie? Blind to the legend that drinks amongst them?"[/color] Brent shook his head, feigning disappointment. [color=B0C4DE]"What a cruel tapdancer you are, Ernest Mars. Would you deny even us, your closest comrades, the sight of your divine footshuffling techniques, set to the beat of the electric drum?"[/color]

[color=00a99d]"Naw, naw, naw,"[/color] Ernie shook his head. Was that a Texan accent he was doing now? Like that butthole Liam and his brother? Eww, gotta talk normal, [color=00a99d]"You guys are great! Except Sander. The finest for you gentlemen! Check this!"[/color]

The Aberration jumped to his feet and began performing something that was a cross between a flawless Charleston dance and the Drunken Fist technique. Though the boy seemed to be humming his own accompaniment, the notes and rhythm were too incoherent to be a discernible song. Nevertheless he continued dancing, surprisingly co-ordinated for the level of inebriation he was under. It was a miracle that nothing had been launched off the table by that mess of frenzied but rhythmic kicks.

[color=00a99d]"Siiiiii...ena said jay duh rhythm-uh. She right, right? Fancy French is always right!"[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Damn, careful Ernie, you're gonna light this place on [i]fire[/i] with those moves!"[/color] Brent laughed, before pounding down a drink himself. So Ernie was cool with Siena as well? As expected of a bud of his! It was always nice to have friends who were also friends with each other, after all! Watching the x-marked ruffian dance to his own tune, the arbiter decided that there was no way he couldn't join in on this fun.

Dramatically removing his jacket, Brent enjoyed the burn of another shot down his throat before doing a few preliminary stretches and jumping in on the fun.

[color=B0C4DE]"Of course it's always right! French is the language of love and justice!"[/color]

Launching into his own horrid choreography with much less skill and much more stupidity compared to Drunken Dance Master Ernie, Brent opted to cut and paste various dance moves from popular music videos instead, going from Michael Jackson's moonwalking into Wonder Girls' finger wagging and hip gyrating into that chinese cartoon girl's dance from the DDR machine back in the Hyatt Regency to Elvis's rapidfire pelvis thrusts to whatever else he could think of. He even tossed in an impromptu backflip, landing on one knee, before a shit-eating grin surfaced. With a super smooth dab in that pointed at Marcus's direction, Brent called out, [color=B0C4DE]"Yo, Marc, show me [i]your[/i] moves!"[/color]

Marcus laughed, giving Brent and Ernie a few claps, and even one low whistle. He shook his head at Brent, grinning slightly.

"[color 33ec06]Alright, first of all, don't dab at me, you moron. What is this, 2016?[/color]" he said, standing up and brushing his shirt down, giving a few preliminary stretches of his own, before moving out to meet Brent on the dance floor.

"[color 33ec06]Secondly, you can't just throw random moves like that together; you gotta have [i]style[/i], man![/color]"

Marcus emphasized the word 'style' with a brush of the shoulder, smoothly sliding a little towards Brent, giving him a cocky grin. The term he'd always heard used whenever he did his dance of style was usually 'slide-and-glide', sometimes 'shuffling'; the two were equally interchangable, and meant little to nothing when people tried to talk to him about things like that. No matter what it was called, Marcus's body flowed smoothly, seemingly floating across the floor as his feet slid him around, punctuating with a tight spin.

"[color 33ec06]That good enough for ya, Brent?[/color]" he said, grinning widely.

[color=B0C4DE]"Smooth as honey, my man,"[/color] Brent replied, offering a fist bump to the scarred mage. [color=B0C4DE]"Gotta teach me those moves some time."[/color]

Turning his gaze towards Chris and Sander, he snapped his fingers and winked at the pair. [color=B0C4DE]"Well? The gauntlet's been thrown!"[/color]

Sander merely lifted his head a bit in acknowledgement of his fellow subnaturals, before turning back to his drinks.

The white haired arbiter was helping himself to a drink while Ernie, Brent and Marcus had started dancing. So far the arbiter had been drinking light, enough so that he wasn't so much as drunk yet. At least, not drunk enough to join in on something so embarrassing. He had given Brent a bit of a glare for even suggesting that he'd join in. 

Since everyone had seemed to be taken by the night, Chris decided to take what was then his third shot. With each second going by he thank'd the good lord, if he existed, that no one else was here to see this embarrassment take fold. 

With a dazzled [color=00a99d]"oooooh!"[/color] and a fascinated sparkle in his half-lidded eyes, Ernie gave the dancers a hearty round of applause.

[color=00a99d]"Team SAP got skilllllz!"[/color] he whooped, feeding himself another chip. However, the sight of an ungrooving Sander brought him back to his earlier irritation.

[color=00a99d]" 'tsup with you?"[/color] Ernie scoff-slurred, [color=00a99d]"Too good to dance, boya?"[/color]

"[color cyan]I would prefer not to, if you don't mind.[/color]"

[color=B0C4DE]"C'mon dude! It's a nightclub, not just a bar! Even a little jig will be fine, Sander!"[/color]

[color=00a99d]"You heard the man. Does it look like I don't mind? Cos I do,"[/color] Ernie stared.

"[color cyan]That sounds like a personal problem.[/color]" -Sander replied with a shrug, then turned back to the drinks. More than half of the glasses had been emptied out.

[color=00a99d]"Oh yeeahh?"[/color] Ernie's hand grabbed onto Sander's shoulder, wrenching it so the blood mage faced him, [color=00a99d]"Why the fuck you here then? Coulda drank by yourself instead being a fuckin' nancy here."[/color]

Sander frowned, but obliged the movement and turned around to look at Ernie. The boy clearly had had too much to drink.

"[color cyan]I would like to drink here. Do you have a problem with that?[/color]"

[color=00a99d]"You already know what the fucking problem is, I already fucking told you,"[/color] Ernie's voice lowered in a threatening manner, [color=00a99d]"I don't want to see you on a night out. Fuck off."[/color]

"[color 33ec06]Wo-ohkay![/color]" Marcus said, stepping between Ernie and the kid who kept losing his shit and [i]mauling[/i] people. "[color 33ec06]Erns, buddy. It's a boy's night out! You don't see me yelling at Chris over there; forgive and forget and garbage! At least for tonight![/color]" he said, pulling another drink off a nearby try and handing it to the boy.

[color=00a99d]"Chris dint try 'n' kill you,"[/color] Ernie mumbled as he drank. Not a pretty sight, [color=00a99d]"How do I forget that? It still hurts."[/color]

The boy looked to Marcus with drunken puppy dog eyes. He seriously looked on the verge of tears.

[color=00a99d]"How do I forget stuff? He just makes it more angrier. How do I be like you, all nice and brave and forgiving and shit? I remember too much."[/color]

Marcus stopped in his tracks. He hadn't exactly expected such a coherent and biting thought to come from Ernie in this state, much less a thought he didn't have an answer to. His eyes searched the ground for an explanation, coming up empty. He wasn't nice, or brave, and he still remembered way too much. His only answer...

"[color 33ec06]...fake it 'till you make it.[/color]" he said with a weak smile, pulling a half-spilled shot off and downing it himself. It took less than a second for him to become a sputtering mess, taken by surprise and starting into a coughing fit.

It went deeper than he thought. Or had he just turned a blind eye to the fear that undercut the hostility? Had something more happened in Wisford that Brent had been unaware of? As far as he recalled, Sander did perfectly well, tearing apart all the enemy subnaturals he could reach, but then...

A question for another time. If Sander and Ernie had such a negative relationship, then it was his fault for calling Sander over. And if it was his fault, it was his own duty to fix it. Absentmindedly, Brent patted Marcus on the back as the scarred arbiter went through the same experience he had on the first day, before turning his gaze to Sander.

[color=B0C4DE]"This is gonna be pretty weird, considering how I was the one that called you over,"[/color] he began, [color=B0C4DE]"But mind, uh, finding somewhere else to drink? Put Ernie in a rougher spot than I thought, so yeah...I'd appreciate it."[/color]

It should have been a...happier occasion than this. A part of him thought that it would have been a good opportunity for classmates to get along better. But even [i]this[/i] was still too soon, huh?

Sander only blinked at Ernie's cutting words, an expression of mild surprise and something akin to pity began to form. He rose to his full height then, looming over the other Aberration. 

He knew he should have kept his mouth shut and leave then. It was clearly the better option. Yet, the Stigma stirred in him, like an itch that was begging to be scratched, and he knew it was the same for Ernie.

"[color cyan]I see how it is, Ernie. Is it the Stigma again?[/color]" -He said, the barest hint of a smile on his lips -"[color cyan]...Forgive for saying this, but why are you so bad at keeping it in check? Find someone else to hurt this time. Christmas is off limits. [/color]"

Ernie reeled at the mention of the blond, glancing around in panic. No, no, NO. Marcus already knew. Chris, he didn't care about. But Brent?

Something worse than fear appeared in his eyes as he looked to the built Arbiter. But he looked away just as quickly. Fear became morphed by the liquor in his system and the Aberration felt his fists clench. Strange, pride had never been a priority for the coward. He never had the means to protect it. But fuck, they didn't call this shit Liquid Courage for nothing. Even a ghost of the real thing was better than nothing here.

[color=00a99d]"At least my Stigma doesn't make me a murderous fuckwit,"[/color] he spat, slamming his glass down, [color=00a99d]"I already know your boyfriend is off-limits. Shouldn't you be jerking him off somewhere instead of wasting your time trying to piss me off?"[/color]

"[color cyan]If I am a...murderous fuckwit, then what does your Stigma make you?[/color]"

Ernie tilted his head, like he was actually thinking about it. Dumb, very dumb. Ernie was dumb in general. Drunkness made it worse. Anger made it worser. Lotsa, lotsa dumb. Simple math. So what the Stigma made him was...

[color=00a99d]"A really angry dumbass,"[/color] he grinned maniacally, grabbing the half-full pitcher of orange juice and moving to bash Sander's fucking brains out in one swift motion.

Sander saw the motion. Saw the hand sail through the air. But alcohol had dulled his senses, and he didn't react in time. Shattered glass rang in his ears, just as a sharp pain bloomed on the side of his head. He closed his eyes on instinct. Something cold washed down his shoulder, and Sander reached out, grabbing the countertop to keep himself from falling.

[i]Oh [b]shit[/b].[/i]

Marcus didn't move as Ernie swung the pitcher, still recovering from his bout with whatever drink he'd downed and unable to move to stop anything. The glass seemed to move in slow motion as it shattered across Sander's head, spilling the orange liquid across him, and continued in slow motion as Sander braced himself on the bar, reeling from the blow.

Immediately, Marcus moved to put himself in between the two (an idea that could in no way backfire on him), shoving Ernie slightly out of the way to fit himself in.

"[color 33ec06]Alright you two - that's probably enough for the night![/color]" he said, his jokester tone starting to become noticibly more worried.

Ernie fell back on the seat as red started to drip from the side of Sander's head. Oh yeah, that was more than enough. His psychopathic grin fell back into a dopey, drunk yawn as he leaned back and fed himself another chip. Best to do what Marcus said. Marcus knows best. Satisfaction overshadowed the gross stickiness that now coated his forearm. And the pain from the shattered glass that had stuck into his hand. Dumbly, he sniffed the red grossness and summoned his rope. That would make picking out the shards easier, right?

Nearby, panicked clubbers scattered at the sight of a fight breaking out among the subnaturals, gasps and screams cutting through the undulating beat of the dance music.

Chris watched from the sidelines as Ernie and Sander started talking to each other. Before he knew it, Ernie had hit Sander with glass. As if the drama between the two was bad enough, the screams from regulars exiting the club only made the situation worse. [color=red]"Jesus Christ guys."[/color] Chris muttered to himself with his typical sigh. He reached over to help Sander stand straight. [color=red]"Anyone good with first aid?"[/color]

[color=00a99d]"The best first aid,"[/color] Ernie raised his hand and cackled like it was the funniest thing in the world. He was bleeding too.

It happened fast. Way too fast. He had thought that he grew accustomed to explosive escalation when the Wisford scenario grew worse by the minute once rogue subnaturals were introduced, but this was a whole other level. Two drunk aberrations that hated each others guts turned a battle of words into one of sheer violence, and as Ernie smashed a glass against Sander's head, what Brent caught wasn't the fact that Sander was bleeding, but the fact that Ernie was.

He recalled the lanky subnatural's power once more: the ability to empower himself in proportion with the amount of blood he takes in.

He recalled the Flag and Seek fight once more: Sander going as far as to [i]bite[/i] Callan.

Ernie may have started this shitstorm, but Sander didn't make any attempts to just walk away from it either. The x-marked blood mage hadn't even [i]responded[/i] to Brent's own words. So, in lieu of mere words...

[color=B0C4DE]"Chris, Marcus, keep them separate,"[/color] Brent snapped, amethyst eyes tracking down that poor bartender that was similarly making a run for it. [color=B0C4DE]"I'll get a kit."[/color]

Making a beeline towards the definitely-no-longer-smiling man, the arbiter said, no smile present at all, [color=B0C4DE]"You have medical supplies in the staff room, right? For treating cuts and such?"[/color]

A pause. Was he going to answer or not? [i]Who the fuck cared?[/i]

[color=B0C4DE]"Get them here [b]now.[/b]"[/color] Another pause, a bit nervous this time. He really didn't know how much of a loose cannon either of them were, huh? [color=B0C4DE]"Please?"[/color]

The man only screamed for help and sprinted for his life, having seen enough of the "accidental" damage a subnatural could do on the news. All monsters, and he would rather die escaping than stupidly walking back to the scene of the impending disaster.

Sander thought he smelled blood. Could taste it, too. Which meant he was bleeding. Which was good. Because that meant the slick heat on his face was his blood, and not someone else. He could take it. 

[i]He deserved it.[/i] 

Shut up.

However, the fear of seeing Christmas again in this state sparked in him, so he brought a hand to his face and tried to wipe at the blood. But that motion only stained his palm and ignited new pain. Then someone to his left was reaching out for him. 

"[color cyan]Don't touch me.[/color]" -He hissed, batting the hand away, voice low and dangerous. A warning. Because it hurt, and he wasn't sure what he was going to do.

Slowly, he straightened himself up, directing blue eyes at Ernie. For some reason, his eyes refused to focus, and a body was blocking his view. But he didn't need sight to know that the other Aberration was also bleeding. He licked his lips. Mudslide. 

"[color cyan]Your bark is worse than your bite.[/color]"

Ernie chuckled derisively, looking up from his glass removal. [color=00a99d]"What, you want more of both?"[/color]

"[color cyan]Can't hurt me.[/color]" -The spreading heat on his face was saying otherwise, but Sander stood tall, a wild look in his eyes. 

Funny. It was almost as if he were looking at a mirror.

Ernie assessed the situation in his liquor-addled mind. His brain was finally starting to register the pain in his hand. Ouch. Needed to finish picking those shards out first. Didn't want them digging further in if he needed to slap Sander silly. That's why he summoned his rope, wasn't it? To stop the ouching digs.

Sander's taunt--no, [i]challenge[/i]--hit him like a fucking train. The boy continued smiling despite the latent fury clouding his every thought. Marcus was going to get in the way if he tried it again. Could get hurt. Bad idea. Ernie didn't want hurt friends. Only Sander was to be hurt.

But Sander was trying to be really tall here. Ernie was tall too. He'd show him. A mouthful of glass fragments would make anyone short. Or maybe he'd shove them into his eyes. Eyes were always easy. Like Allison. Like David. Glass was messy though. It made it annoying to sit down and hurt his hand. Hard to sweep. Hurt the vacuum. Ouch. But wait. He had two hands! Silly Ernie.

The buzzcut Aberration clumsily vaulted onto the table, aiming to nail Sander in the face with his unharmed fist. A quick but horrendously sloppy punch. At least there was no glass this time.

The panicked stampede of people from the nightclub had already attracted local law enforcement and, loosely interpreting orders to "kill if any of them act wildly beyond control," the overeager policemen had loaded guns and deactivated safeties ready the moment their first five stepped into the club as more trickled in. USARILN East's personal military force was already on the way, and orders had already arrived to the first responders to hold fire unless directly attacked, but even East's reputation couldn't stay the triggers when the armed men saw the chaos. Several of them had seen their own friends torn apart in similar situations, punished for trying to talk down monsters peacefully, and they believed--especially in the hateful city--that with magic it was shoot first and clean up the mess later.

Just as their fingers squeezed the triggers, a hooded figure in the corner, easily nondescript and forgettable in the club's usual atmosphere, stood up from his obscured booth seat, finally revealing himself. But there was no stop of the bullets at some dramatically close distance to the students.

Shots blasted through the sounds of sirens and screams outside, and the unsheathed pellets of lead hung in the air, suspended just outside the muzzles of the standard-issue pistols.

The figure had seen the mess coming. Had been ready to intervene.

Before the policemen could react, the casually dressed man lifted the guns from their hands with an unknown force, pulling them up by their clothes as well to eliminate the factor of traction against the floor. Two of the officers refused to let go of their weapons, so the man removed their magazines for them and fired the already-chambered shot into the ground.

[color f7976a]"Apologies, officers,"[/color] Kadabra spoke as he flicked off his hood. [color f7976a]"But I'll be handling this."[/color]

Sander's surprise over the Precursor's appearance didn't make its way to sound. Instead, he kept his mouth shut, still slightly staggered from Ernie's punch but not very injured by it. It had more knockback than actual damaging potential, and he had been ready to retaliate had the familiar sounds of gunfire not startled him into frozen wariness. With someone as important as Kadabra here, it was better to keep his mouth shut, and even the drink coursing its way through his system couldn't argue that.

Gunfire had sent the former gang member reeling away from the sources as soon as the firearms went off. He scuttered backwards, falling awkwardly back into the damp seats of the booth. His rope would defend against bullets. But he had no idea how well it'd hold against a Precursor. Ernie eyed the asian man warily as he tried to correct his position on the seat. An attempt to retain the little dignity he still had.

Kadabra. The legend. The killer. Numerous unlucky Senator branches had had unfortunate run-ins with the world-famous mages, enough for Ernie to have to suppress a scowl as the mage revealed himself. Those Aberrations had probably been swept away without a care. So why was he in a [i]nightclub[/i] of all places, getting in the way of a dozen or so police officers to defend a bunch of dumbass teenager subs? Ernie didn't like the look of this. His rope remained active, held in tight fists resting on the now-drenched table. The buzzcut boy remained silent.

Kadabra turned just enough to keep the group in his field of vision, but seemed to frown at Ernie in particular.

[color f7976a]"Drop the power. At least don't make it [i]that[/i] obvious. Don't make me kill children."[/color]

Ernie's fists only clenched harder. The fear in his voice was unmistakable. [color=00a99d]"You're not gonna hurt us?"[/color]

The frown turned into a sideways flick of the eyes and mounting exasperation. [color f7976a]"No."[/color]

A stiff nod in response. Ernie dissipated the rope and kept his eyes trained on the toppled shot glasses in front of him, like a child waiting to be reprimanded. Because that was what was happening here, right?

Marcus's mind raced at the sound of gunshots, nearly causing him to panic and rewind, or even use the new thing he'd managed to get back in Wisford. However, whether it was because his mind was simply not fast enough, or it had been dulled by the drink that had barely made it into his system, he didn't do either of those things. Instead, he focused on the officers outside, completely missing Ernie's punch in favor of a sudden helping hand.

He whirled, noticing a familiar face; only familiar because he had seen it on TV - and a few times on the bandaids that he never used.

However, the sudden intervention of Kadabra was not a good thing, and Marcus was only just beginning to realize what levels of trouble they'd just gotten themselves into. Raising his hands slightly to show he had nothing, he leaned over to the group and whispered.

"[color 33ec06]I swear to god, if Zhang executes us for this, I'm gonna be [i]super[/i] pissed.[/color]"

[color f7976a]"On the contrary,"[/color] Kadabra replied, the barest traces of his Vietnamese accent surfacing in the amused pronunciation of the last word, [color f7976a]"she ordered this intervention."[/color]

Sander just leaned against the counter, watching the Precursor carefully. More or less watching, as the cuts on his head had proven to be far more serious that he had originally thought, and they wouldn't stop bleeding. He already pressed a hand against the cuts, but the added pressure only seemed to worsen them. Sticky residues from the orange juice were not helping either. If anything though, the pain had cleared his thoughts. The Stigma faded to a soft mumble now, and the effect of the alcohol seemed to have lessened.

No more rage in his heart. Just an ashen regret and bone deep exhaustion. 

God, his head hurt.

“[color cyan]So…What now?[/color]”

[color f7976a]"Now,"[/color] Kadabra looked to the floating police forces as he spoke, lowering them slowly to the ground, [color f7976a]"I escort you back to your hotel. Then I leave. Zhang is lucky I was the first to return and there was no pressing issue on hand, but...then again, she has always had good luck. Such things trump even the best of skill at times."[/color]

When the bartender had ran, Brent thought that it couldn't be helped. When Marcus and Chris both failed to stop the two drunk subnaturals from going at each other again, Brent thought that it was the expected outcome. When the police kicked open the door though?

He realized that it was definitely a bad idea, and was already up and over the bar counter, ready to...what? Run away? That thought gave him enough time to realize that the crescendo of shots fired didn't herald a wave of screams, and he poked his head out from there once more, seeing the person that saved them. Kadabra, the telekinetic Precursor.

Sander was still bleeding. Ernie finally looked like he was out of his drunken stupor. Chris had done [i]nothing[/i]. Marcus had his back turned.

A short night, huh? His eyes gazed towards the cartridges that littered the ground by the entrance, and Brent raised his hands up as well, walking over to join his classmates.

[color=B0C4DE]"Real lucky..."[/color] he murmured. [color=B0C4DE]"So are we walking back, or are you planning on just floating us there?"[/color]

Just as things were getting heated between the two, the police arrived. At that point Chris thought he was going to die by armed forces dealing at this messy situation. There was only more surprise as a Precursor intervened. The next theory Chris had was that they were going to be escorted to be punished or executed personally for their antics. A theory that wasn't entirely disproven by Kadabra's statements, but did make him worry less about it at the very least. Still he hung his head in shame, standing a bit away from Sander and the others as he waited to be escorted with the rest of them.

[color f7976a]“We’re walking.”[/color] -The Precursor answered almost dispassionately, before turning around and heading toward the exit. The unsaid message was clear enough: follow. 

Around them, the armed policemen were still restless, but at least, back on their feet again. Most still directed gazes darkened with fear and hatred at the subnaturals. Without their weapons though, there was little they could do but watched the group left. 

Despite the lingering pain, Sander righted himself and followed wordlessly. Ernie and his problems could go to hell for all he cared; he was just too tired. He just wanted rest.

"[color 33ec06]So uhh....thanks for not letting us get shot![/color]" Marcus said to Kadabra's back, eager to both try and worm his way out of any sort of scolding from the Precursor, as well as actually seem appreciative of his actions, since nobody else was appearing to do so. 

An affirmative ‘hmm’ and a nod from the Precursor indicated that he had acknowledge the gratitude, but that was all.

Ernie remained sullen, refusing to say another word to the group or the Precursor.

Droves of reporters were waiting outside, cameras and microphones at the ready. Gunshots and reports of multiple USARILN East subnaturals had kept the sensible ones a fair distance from the club itself, though a select few were desperate or crazy enough to wait right outside the door. But any questions those few had ready were quickly silenced by the presence of a Precursor in the flesh. The mages were able to begin their journey back with little interruption, as most of the journalists were kept at bay by their own nerve. However, a young man brandishing audio recorders shoved their way through the crowd. Another man, presumably his partner, took quickfire snaps of the group.

[color f7976a]"Hey, hey! You kids, Proteus and Time Scar and all you other ones! What are your names? Powers? What the heck even happened in there?"[/color]

Following Kadabra's example, Ernie ignored the pests and merely tightened his scarf a little more. The other boys did the same, remaining silent, though Sander was keeping his face mostly obscured by his hand. Fortunately, the blood had done most of the work for him.

The intrusive reporters were gently lifted by their clothes and sent back into the throng. Whether it was due to intimidation, politeness or even Kadabra's own action, the crowd of journalists kept their distance as they tailed the group. Any other overeager reporters were pulled back, making the walk back a mostly undisturbed journey.

"[color 33ec06]So, quick question:[/color]" Marcus said, turning around to watch some of the reporters as they slunk along like predators. It was interesting to see some of them cowed, but he was feeling a little bit intimidated by the metaphorical bloodlust in their eyes. Just waiting for one of them to fall behind so they could pounce.

He made sure to stay [i]very[/i] close.

"[color 33ec06]...what were [i]you[/i] doing in there? Did you sneak in at some point, or were you already at that club, and we just ruined your night?[/color]"

[color f7976a]"I [i]was[/i] at the club,"[/color] the Precursor replied, conceding the obvious, [color f7976a]"but events followed expectations. Wouldn't call it 'ruined.' "[/color]

[color=00a99d]"But how'd you know the exact club we were in?"[/color] Curiosity killed Ernie's silence and he glanced shyly at the man, [color=00a99d]"Did you follow us from the hotel? Heard the fuss over police radio and came over?"[/color]

[color f7976a]"Zhang has a way with questions. And Stella has all the answers if you know what and how to ask."[/color]

The buzzcut boy looked at him confusedly. Stella was...Foresight, if he remembered correctly. Zhang was consulting Precursors on this special class of subnaturals. Was that how she managed to gather all the ones who had visions? Ernie looked down again and frowned, lost in his own thoughts.

"[color 33ec06]Wait? We're important enough to [i]not only[/i] have Kadabra watching over us, but also important enough to bother Foresight? Why?[/color]" The tone of Marcus's voice could nearly be described as 'pleading'; there was no reason for someone to got through the trouble of contracting [i]two[/i] Precursors, just for the sake of a couple dumb kids.

[color f7976a]"I believe it was coincidence that Zhang stumbled on this incident in the process of questioning Stella. Suffice to say, without intervention, you all would have died,"[/color] Kadabra answered, tone betraying nothing.

Ernie stiffened at that last revelation. Kadabra had said it himself. It was dumb luck that Zhang was able to call a Precursor to their location. Four of his classmates would have been shot to death because of him and his temper.

He wasn't just useless anymore. He was a liability.

The subnaturals were dropped off in the lobby of the hotel, the reporters crowding the entrance stepping aside once the de facto leader of the Precursors came into view. A man of few words, Kadabra let the boys off with little more than a nod and some words of advice.

[color f7976a]"Try not to die because you can't hold your alcohol. There are better ways to go."[/color]

"[color 33ec06]Wait![/color]" Marcus called out, before the Precursor could slip into the cold darkness.

"[color 33ec06]Not even a kiss goodnight?[/color]"

Kadabra turned, a glint of rarely seen humor in his eyes.

The front of Ernie's face collided with Marcus's as a sharp telekinetic tug on the former's clothes fulfilled the time mage's request. The cameras outside seemed to flash with even more vigor than before.

With that, Kadabra left. A slight shake of his shoulders hinting at old childhood mischief.

On the elevator back up, Ernie remained silent, still nursing a busted lip and unsure of how to articulate his thoughts. The drunken stupor had long since worn off, enough for all the regrets of the night to replace what ditzy bliss had blinded him earlier. He began tentatively.

[color=00a99d]"Guys...I'm not gonna remember most of tonight."[/color]

After everything, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"[color 33ec06]Oh don't worry, I'm going to make [i]absolutely damn sure[/i] you remember.[/color]" Marcus said, the slightest hint of irritation in his voice as he massaged his damaged nose.

[color=B0C4DE]"Marcus,"[/color] Brent began, before deciding against it. [color=B0C4DE]"No, yeah, Ernie, what the hell was that?"[/color]

Exhaustion darkened his expression. Ernie hoped that Brent wouldn't notice the fear still shaking his frame.

[color=00a99d]"Give morning me a good punch in the face, yeah? Tell me everything,"[/color] he looked to Marcus before addressing Brent. He couldn't even look at those amethyst eyes, [color=00a99d]"I...can't explain. I'm sorry."[/color]

He bit his lip, trying to find more to say.

[color=00a99d]"Just...don't make me talk to him again. I know it's not worth much but,"[/color] he bowed his head to his two friends, [color=00a99d]"I'm sorry. I fucked up bad. It should've just been me getting shot at. I never meant to put you guys in danger."[/color]

Marcus sighed a bit, before shrugging. "[color 33ec06]Ernie, we get put in danger all the time now. Hell, if our days of relaxation didn't end with us almost getting wrecked by something, I'd be shocked.[/color]"

He gave a slight smile before chuckling. "[color 33ec06]We would have been fine though; I could have rewound, you've got your wierd rope tricks, Brent would have...I dunno, overclocked the ventilation and sucked himself out of the club? Point is, it's gonna take more than a few trigger-happy mall cops to take down Team SAP.[/color]"

"[color 33ec06]I'm still totally gonna slap you in the back of the head though.[/color]"

[color=B0C4DE]"Morning?"[/color] Brent wasn't wholly satisfied with this, but he recognized that the fault laid in him for bringing Sander over to begin with. [color=B0C4DE]"You sure you'll be able to wake up on time with that building hangover of yours?"[/color]

Ernie managed a small snicker at the mental image of Brent getting sucked into a vent like a cartoon character. Though he wasn't convinced that everything would have turned out fine. He appreciated the attempt to make him feel better though, though his relieved smile soon morphed into a horrified gasp as he remembered his recent morning routine.

[color=00a99d]"Ah fuck, I'm gonna have to set like fifty alarms!"[/color] Ernie scratched his head, trying to figure out the logistics of waking at five in such a state, [color=00a99d]"I loaded up on juice and shit between shots so I should be able to. Otherwise I'll just dunk myself into a cold bath or something. I'll figure it out, man, I'm sorry!"[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Dude,"[/color] Brent laughed, patting the x-marked on the back. [color=B0C4DE]"Don't worry about it. After the shit that went down today, I don't think I'd want to wake up that early. And god knows how wasted our resident rockstar is at this point."[/color]

[color=00a99d]"For real?"[/color] Ernie chuckled nervously, falling slightly forward from the hand on his back. Guess his motor skills hadn't returned with his regrets, [color=00a99d]"Thanks man. I'll make up for it, I promise."[/color]

[color=B0C4DE]"Ernie, gourmet corndogs, figure out a godly, original recipe, and all shall be forgiven."[/color]

The boys spilled out of the elevators as they reached the 20th floor. Ernie was more than ready to put the night behind him. He waved goodbye to Chris and ignored Sander, but threw an arm around Marcus' shoulder.

[color=00a99d]"He never answered that question."[/color]

"[color 33ec06]You're going to hafta be a little more specific.[/color]" Marcus said, looking to Ernie as he leaned across his shoulder. There had been a lot of people and a lot of questions tonight, a few too many of each for him to know what Ernie was talking about at the exact moment.

[color=00a99d]"Why we're important,"[/color] the Aberration murmured, suddenly wondering if this was a good idea. So far he'd decided to keep this between himself and Angelique, lest he get shot for knowing too much or whatever. Fred and Rosa were off-limits, he couldn't trust their answers. There was no tangible reason to keep this from his classmates but maybe he simply just didn't [i]like[/i] most of them enough to let them know. There was payment due for the shit he pulled tonight. He didn't know if it would even begin to make up for it, but it was better to get it done before he forgot or lost his nerve in the morning.

Ernie pulled his two friends in close, whispering so that the cuff wouldn't pick it up. A useless tactic if USARILN had listened in on his and Angelique's conversation but he did it anyway.

[color=00a99d]"Visions. Power changes. No one else gets them like this class."[/color]

With that, he departed to his room with a salute, leaving the remaining two to their silence.
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