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[sub][sub][b]Interactions |[/b] [@Bee][/sub][/sub][/center][hr][color=7DF9FF][right][b]Red Rock Canyon[/b]
Nighttime[/right][/color][hr]

	After pulling apart the Little Prince and the Even Little-r Surfer That Could, Jules didn't remember much else going forward. His brain had hit its limit. Of course he remembered some bits like moving his junk out of the RV and hauling it to one of the Gearhead's cars, which he was pretty sure was the one with the block car, Ellie Something. He remembered giggling at her name because of some reason or another, something about Fords and Nissans? Fuck if he could actually recall. There was some attempt at some light conversation, jokes about their situation, casual bullshit that he had once perfected and was slowly honing back, driving at speeds that he wasn't unaccustomed to (mainly because his sister drove like a maniac. And his dad. And apparently himself. Maybe there was a reason his mom insisted on driving every time). That lasted about as long as it took for a two-pump virgin, knocking out afterwards just as quick too. 

	Next thing he knew, he found himself in the middle of a desert campground, pitching up a tent. Exhaustion was magic. 

	Still, like the good little boy scout he once was, Jules finished setting up the tent that he finally recognized was the one he brought along in case he didn't ever want to sleep in the RV and threw all his baggage inside, leaving it open in case anyone else wanted to do the same. Out of curiosity, he opened his phone to see if anything new had happened in his sleep-addled haze, which, aside from the regular slew of deliberately unread messages, was a grand total of nothing really. 

	Considering he was near all his stuff anyway, Jules kicked off his socks and shoes and replaced them with his sandals. With his little piggies feeling freer than they ever had in the last few hours, he took a moment to relish the still-warm desert air. He briefly considered taking out a jacket in preparation for the oncoming cold night. His sense of reason, however, (or extreme laziness) told him that no, a ho does not get cold. 

	And then a brief recollection of him shivering in this same desert canyon on a different camping trip reminded him that yes, sometimes, a ho did get cold. 

	He compromised by shrugging on the red flannel that used to hang at his waist, providing his bare midriff with at least some protection. His toes, however, would remain persistently free. A last minute thought had him pull out one of several bottles of alcohol he had hidden among his luggage, this particular vintage being a fairly shitty vodka, the $20 kind a recent highschool grad has a friend buy for them with no particular instruction beyond [color=7DF9FF]"something to get me drunk~"[/color]. A perfect brand for a perfectly shitty start of a beautiful summer vacation. The actual good stuff that was wrapped in actual layers of protection were reserved for later and potentially more heartfelt nights. That, or swindled later from horny guys at bars. 

	Some chatter and a fire crackle caused him to peek over his shoulder and see a gaggle of his Misfits and then other misfits gathered around a bonfire. The atmosphere was tense and awkward, perhaps rightfully so, but it wasn't anything that he probably couldn't fix with the magic juice he held in his hands. 

	Jules sauntered over just as King Sami declared their raid on the City of Sin, to which Jules could only reply with a derisive [color=7DF9FF]"pffft,"[/color] cracking the seal of the Shitty Vodka and taking a straight shot from the bottle, allowing the familiar burn to settle comfortably in his stomach before snuggling it inside the cooler for anyone to grab. The young pretty boy lounged close to Yessi, feeling the alcohol comfortably warm his body as he himself tried to get comfortable. 

	That was quickly ruined when an unfamiliar voice and presence made itself very quickly and uncomfortably known by sitting down between him and Yessi, causing Jules to jump with a start. The man, for it could only be a man with his voice and build, began to speak casually as if they were all already friends, causing Jules to immediately stiffen and scramble quickly to the other side of the fire. His eyes followed the man's as he reached into the cooler. He grabbed a bottle of water, while Jules only wished that he had kept the alcohol with him before another memory gave him a physical reminder by way of his churning stomach that perhaps that wouldn't be such a good idea. 

	Jules tried to calm himself down, make it seem as if all the man did was spook him a little. Force out a smile, make a joke, pretend everything was ok, don't have anybody worry. All he did instead was sit down slightly opposite the man so that the fire didn't obstruct his view and give a weak smile to anyone who gave him any looks, the blood pounding in his ears drowning out anything else.