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[color=slategray][sub]A [color=b57f13][b]Henry Green[/b][/color] post, featuring Benedict and Arnold
Location: The Green River
Interacting With: Inner thoughts[/sub][/color][/center][hr][hr]
[indent]Benedict and Arnold’s habitat on the Green compound was undeniable proof that when you threw enough money at something, you get what you want. For how stupidly over the top and extravagant it was, it was a damn shame that the pair of capybaras spent most of their time inside the house, hanging out with Henry, Parker, Min, or some variation of the three together. Their habitat was a man made river, with large trees surrounding it. It went in a small circle, and the water flowed in a direction, which made it perfect for relaxing. Henry could often be found, lazing on an air mattress, with Benedict and Arnold on either side while he floated down the river. Typically, he did so accompanied by a joint or a bottle of booze.

Today, Henry was accompanied by both. There was an ice chest that floated beside him, kept cool mostly from the water surrounding it. It contained a single bottle of the alcohol of the day: peppermint schnapps. Was it gay? Probably. But Henry was having a fucking god awful day and he didn’t care if he looked gay. He’d had to go to fucking detention for christ’s sake. Which, by the way, he didn’t deserve.

Resting on his chest now was a dab pen that had done a wonderful of dulling the mental and emotional exhausting of the day by instead drowning it out with a purple, THC influenced haze. This, to Henry, made it easier to think. Coupled with the buzz from the schnapps, and Henry was in a pretty decent place, all things considered. This was when he was at his best, mentally speaking. This was the [i]only[/i] way he could come up with a genius plan to deal with all this crap.

There was a third thing that he was waiting for, that Hana was supposed to be bringing to him, but for now, Henry was doing alright. He had his babies swimming beside him, and the speakers hanging from the trees above him played soft music, an older song that he’d heard in a movie forever and a half ago.

[center][color=black][b][i]Well I don’t know why I came here tonight[/i][/b][/color][/center]

Looking up at the cloudy sky, Henry considered things. Why did he agree to help them? Oh, right. Because they wanted to stick it to his sister — but Damian cracked like a fucking bitch at the first scent of woman. Hailey and the goons were let inside like it was nothing, and it damn near broke Owen’s resolve. Maybe he’d lost his mind a bit [i]too[/i] much, but hey. They deserved it, fucking cunts.

Then, Hailey just left. She just turned around and left. It wasn’t surprising to Henry, he knew Hailey well enough to know why [i]she’d[/i] left. It’d just been another show of power from her, another way to say [color=922b2b][b][i]“By the way, Satan always gets her way.”[/i][/b][/color]

[center][color=black][b][i]I’ve got the feelin’ that somethin’ ain’t right[/i][/b][/color][/center]

That much was true whenever Hailey was involved. She was basically the Omen, and Henry’s mind was fucking blown everytime his parents didn’t see anything wrong with the shit she did. Really, in a lot of ways, Henry wanted to give up. Apparently, Hailey had the power over the Weekend Warrior too, since all it had done was take shots at them. There had been one or two attacks on Hailey and her bitch brigade, but anything against Hailey was low hanging fruit.

Besides, the Weekend Warrior hadn’t painted Hailey or her friends as the enemy, the villains of the night. That honor rested with Henry, Damian, and Owen. Trevor, it seemed, had skated by simply because he hadn’t done anything anything that could be painted as controversial. Henry though? He’d clearly taken advantage of Paker. Owen? Obviously, a homophobic gay beater. Damian? The mastermind behind the whole thing. No, the Weekend Warrior was used a vehicle to push the idea that the Elite were evil, their intentions were moreso. Stealers Wheel had a point: Something ain’t right.

[center][color=black][b][i]I’m so scared, in case I fall off my chair[/i][/b][/color][/center]

Henry definitely wasn’t afraid. He couldn’t speak for all of them, in fact he suspected that Damian might be afraid. It was too much, too fast. The punishment from the school was unfair, to say the least. It was overwhelming, and it stole Damian’s identity from him, more or less. Without football, what was he? Owen… Owen was a harder nut to crack. Henry knew, just from the way he acted and spoke, that Owen was still very much in love with Trixie.

It was almost sad, when he really thought about it. And Henry Green didn’t often admit when things were sad. From what he understood, their breakup was caused by the meddling of Ophelia and Hailey which… sounded about right. That was why Owen had been present, that was why he’d helped. He wanted revenge, and to get his girl back. But would it happen? Maybe. Maybe not. Owen, Owen may have been afraid of the idea that he couldn’t win.

He’d done nothing wrong, and gotten stabbed in the back. Henry had chastised him about it a bit. Trusting Hailey, even slightly, was just getting yourself ready for the bite of a snake. Did Owen deserve it? Absolutely note. He reckoned that the entire situation sprung as retaliation over something he’d done ages ago, defying Hailey. Henry could agree with that. Hailey was such a control freak that even the slightest bump in her life had to be quickly smoothed out. Now, for all intents and purposes, the Owen bump was smoothed out.

[center][color=black][b][i]And I’m wonderin’ how I’ll get down the stairs[/i][/b][/color][/center]

That was fair. Stairs weren’t the right word, weren’t the right metaphor. At least not [i]down[/i] the stairs. Henry had to climb up the stairs, and he had to pull the dead weight of the Elite the whole goddamn way. Henry would be damned if he was going to go down in history as the reason Hailey managed to flex on the Elite.

As a group, the Elite were volatile. Damian was himself; he was the king, he was the charisma, the it factor. He was hot and everyone loved him. But, he was very emotional. He overreacted, he was dramatic. Then you had Owen. Owen was angry, blinded by anger and pain and hatred and all variety of negative emotions. Then, there was Trevor. Trevor was the simplest there; his major flaw was that he was just too goddamn sweet. It was honestly gross. There was a fourth one, but they hadn’t been around in a while, so Henry chose not to think about them.

They had something that the HOT girls. The Elite, despite all their individual problems, were a unit. They were friends. A group. Inseparable. Hailey and hers? They were fake friends because the felt obligated to be.

With a little bit of work, Henry would whip them into shape and everything would be back to normal. He’d beat the life back into them, and they’d square up for round two sooner rather than later. 

[center][color=black][b][i]Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right[/i][/b][/color][/center]

A little harsh, but basically. Henry was a consultant, but he was a consultant for what was a group of a bunch of people who had no idea what they were doing or who they were messing with or what they needed to do next. Damian thought the fight was over, but it wasn’t. That was just round one of what was sure to be a [i]war[/i]. The war against Hailey would be a battle of attrition.

Henry felt like he’d done a good job of getting Owen refocused. When Owen had been getting ready to leave, to run away after the girls had made their way inside, Henry had stopped him and they’d had a conversation. He’d told Owen what he was confident of: the only way to get Trixie back was to deal with the Omen and her Demons. Maybe with that wall out of the place, he could talk to Trixie.

Henry had told Owen the truth: the break up was half his fault, half Trixie’s. Sure, it was driven by outside factors, but ultimately it fell back on the two involved. It was their responsibility to talk and to work things out. If nothing had happened, then Henry knew it would be as easy a discussion before things were back to normal. [color=b57f13][b][i]“But,”[/i][/b][/color] Henry had warned, [color=b57f13][b][i]“forgive, bro. Don’t forget.”[/i][/b][/color] Time would heal all wounds, but Henry felt it would be best if he warned Owen to keep his guard up at first, should he and Trixie fall back for each other.

[center][color=black][b][i]And here I am, stuck in the middle with you[/i][/b][/color][/center]

Henry was stuck in the middle. He was sandwiched in between the Elite, in some kind of sick, gross fantasy Marshall had surely had. At first, it had been simple. Henry was fucking with Hailey because he liked doing so, so he’d taken a clear role not fully involved in the Elite. He’d been a consultant. No more. Henry would take his place as an official member of the squad soon enough.

Fuck it, boy band time.

Henry cracked open an eye and saw they had floated an entire lap. Henry caught himself on a piece of grass, and brought it to a stop, shoring himself, his ice chest, his floaty, and Arnold. Henry rolled up onto the grass and stood up to his full height. [color=b57f13][b]“Cut the track. Come on, Ben, what are you doing? It’s time to roll.”[/b][/color] He gestured, and the second capybara pulled himself out of the water and onto the shore. Both of the animals shook themselves, slooshing water around.

Henry brought the dab pen up to his lips, hitting the button. He inhaled and let the smoke out with a couple of coughs. A plan was beginning to form in his head. [color=b57f13][b]“How hard you guys think it is to get a meeting with the Weekend Warrior? An interview, dig? I need to hit up the big dog.”[/b][/color] Henry tugged the air mattress behind himself, dangled the ice chest of peppermint schnapps on his arm, and had a pet on either side of himself as he and his two beloved capybaras headed toward the castle entrance.

Time to play the fucking game. Let’s go, Hailey. By fire be fucking purged, bitch. Henry Green was going to bring the world crashing down around that bitch.[/indent]