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[sup][b][color=fada5e]INTERACTIONS[/color][/b]
[color=fada5e]〘[/color] Buford Cannon, Venus Alexander, Ylva Ulven [color=fada5e]〙[/color][/sup][/center]
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[indent][indent]The first thing that comes out of Ford’s mouth when he finally approaches is an insult, or constructive criticism, as they called it in the industry. But apart from an incredulous look directed towards Ford that seemed to say ‘really, dude?’, Ziggy takes the other’s [s]brazen affront[/s] feedback in stride. Besides, Ford was only trying to help; and in all twenty years of his life, he’s never been one to let his pride take the wheel.

…Not like he had much of it in the first place.

As Ford hands the blow-up doll over to Lou—who looked absolutely ecstatic at the prospect of getting to hold Matilda—Ziggy snorts in amusement, and shakes his head at the two’s antics. But on the other hand, it seemed as if Julius was none too pleased with his roommate’s display, quickly herding the latter off into a quieter corner of the room. For a moment or two, Ziggy watches on with measured curiosity. Julius’ concern for Lou seemed almost genuine, and while it could’ve merely been a trick of the light, he hopes that they’d be able to get along. But as with everything he does, it’s not long before he loses interest in the exchange, and turns his attention back to those gathered around the couch.

Of all the people here, Venus was one of the only few who seemed to be having as good a time as he was, and her comment about being stoned earns a grin from Ziggy. [color=fada5e][b]“I mean, that’s what we’re here for, right?”[/b][/color]

To say Ylva’s outburst caught him off guard would be an understatement. Ziggy very nearly chokes on his food, breaking out in hacking coughs until he manages to crack open another beer and take a swallow. He didn’t think it was possible, but Ylva looked even paler than she was before, almost like she’d seen a ghost. As far as he could tell, Ylva hadn’t touched any of the brownies, and everyone else who did was completely fine. It couldn’t be his fault, could it?

But despite his best efforts at convincing himself otherwise, Ziggy can’t help but feel at least a little responsible for what happened. Here he was, having the time of his life while someone else was suffering a full-blown panic attack. It reminded him of a friend back home, who after a bad trip, went through a pretty gnarly episode. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe… The words ring in his ears—gasping, gulping. Just like he couldn’t do anything back then, he can’t do anything now. Filled with the same sense of helplessness that he’d drowned in all those years ago, Ziggy finds his mind drawing a blank. Maybe if he was paying more attention, he would’ve been able to stop it, but he supposed a late start was better than nothing.

[color=fada5e][b]“Hey, you okay?”[/b][/color] His inquiry is tentative, like he’s worried that with one wrong move, Ylva would be set off again. Leaning forward to get a better look, he frowns at the glassy look in her eyes. [color=fada5e][b]“D’you need some water or something? What happened?”[/b][/color][/indent][/indent]
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