[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/GUFnMbU.png[/img]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/rdwyYIk.gif[/img]
[sub][b]Interacting With:[/b] Felix [@jetipster], Beau [@Crimson Flame], Marcella [@Write][/sub][/center]

[color=6ecff6][i]You know, it's been a long time since I actually treated myself a little.[/i][/color]

Maybe a croissant French toast or an omelette? La Boulangerie back home had the best he'd ever tasted of either, but Viv swore by this place and its godly cooking. He wasn't exactly sure how, unless the kitchen staff had some divinities among their number without anyone knowing. It's not like many celebrity chefs found the time to disappear off the face of the planet to cook for demigods, and if any of the gods were so fucking great at cooking why did they need to keep abducting cup bearers on Earth? Dallas thought of asking his father, but what good would come of it? It's not like Dal particularly enjoyed cooking for himself unless a fling was over. And that was just an excuse not to talk to flings.

Not talking to anyone...

Now [i]that[/i] hit the spot. Just a nice, long bout of silence, punctuated by occasional effervescent bursts of Marcy, punctuated by some little artisanal breakfast. Maybe they made a good focaccia here. With pesto and nuts, tomato and mozzarella, mmm...the claws of the cerberus mangling Dallas Relo's brain were finally starting to slacken.

[color=lavender][b][i]“Hey, I know you’ll be meeting up with Marcy but...I'm a day late and was wondering how fucking mental your party was last night to make Hector look so… well…weird in my meeting with him this morning…?” [/i][/b][/color]

[color=6ecff6][i]I will [b]show you[/b] your voice box before you die.[/i][/color]

[color=6ecff6]"Then catch your flight next year." [i]Don't open your eyes. You are not obligated to have to open your eyes.[/i][/color] But the sound of a ceramic plate scraping along the surface of the table - the only surface that protected whatever wasp in a man's flesh from a lobotomy with a fucking coffee mug - distracted him, and the Son of the Sun's eyes slowly lolled open as though he'd been roused from anesthesia. Behind the eyelids that had been his paper shield against the frustrations of everyone currently alive in the solar system, his pupils were two black holes surrounded by an eye wall of lightning, iridescent blues crackling and blazing at whatever had roused them open. For a moment, Dallas looked more Zeus than Apollo.

Then he gingerly lifted up the croissant that had been offered to him in tribute and took a large bite off the end, finishing his bite in four chews and swallowing wolfishly. He didn't immediately go in for a second helping, but at least he seemed more likely to bite off another piece of pastry instead of someone's ear.

[color=6ecff6]"The usual. The staff is too old to remember when they got drunk underage, and they accused me of dealing to kids. Dumbass shit. I deal with it every year."[/color] That was half-true; it had certainly been the pressing concern on Dallas' mind all day yesterday leading up to the party, and it was the usual staff response to haul Dallas, Jonas, and Marcella up to the scaffolds for discipline after parties. Underage drinking made for a convenient catch-all. [color=6ecff6][i]Why didn't I just tell the truth about the barrier?[/i][/color] Dallas cocked his head faintly at Felix, taking another, more pensive bite of the almond croissant and chewing over the deception. He barely knew the upperclassmen, in truth, and he had as much right as anyone to know if Olympus wasn't safe. 

[color=6ecff6][i]Maybe,[/i][/color] Dal decided, [color=6ecff6][i]he'll just go the fuck away faster.[/i][/color]

[color=pink]“Au revoir mesdames et messieurs, you have been a wonderful audience!”[/color]

For a split second, an apology to Felix was forming on Dallas' Cupid-bow lips. It morphed into a snarl at the abrasive sound of another upperclassman, one who had apparently bee-lined in on the golden child of Olympus as so many before him had.

[color=6ecff6]"Oh [i]what the [b]fuck.[/b][/i]"[/color]

Beau ignored him, planting a kiss so fervent on first Felix's cheek, than Dal's, that Dallas wished he could sweat lye.

[color=lavender]"Hey."[/color] Felix was burning up himself. You would think that anyone old enough to remember where they were on 9/11 would know what a kiss was like, but maybe he was just more romantic than Dallas. A dynamo in the sack? Yeah. A little playful with the people he liked most? Sure. But there was a difference between white-hot solar passion and random meet cute infatuation. Felix should have learned it by now. It was no good being sensitive in a place where everyone was a mix between Trojan warrior and Instagram influencer.

[color=6ecff6]"Hey, Skye."[/color] The greeting was far more blunt coming out of Dal's throat than Felix's. Outside, it had started to snow. The light that shone through the window and onto Dal's hands was starting to chill, and one of his hands made a fist under the other.

[color=pink]"I apologize for not being here yesterday. I was busy. Did anything interesting happen while I was away?"[/color]

[color=lavender]"That's exactly what we're about to find out."[/color]

Dallas' eyes fixed on the son of Aphrodite, alabaster teeth chewing pointedly on the end of his lip. The croissant was being choked inside his fist, almonds and powdered sugar falling to the ground in a mirror image of the scene outside their table.

[color=6ecff6]"I heard Kate Spade killed herself." [i]You should go check on her.[/i] "And Michael Kors bought Versace. That must be hard for you. We can go burn a couple Kohls to the ground if you want to cheer up later."[/color]

They really were not letting this fucking party go. It always seemed like the last thing in the world Dallas Relo [i]ever[/i] wanted to discuss was the only thing that was ever on anyone else's mind. He let out an angry sigh and ran the hand that [i]wasn't[/i] currently disemboweling a pastry through his dark gold bangs.

[color=6ecff6]"Look, gang. If I knew what kind of bugs had crawled up the asses of that waste-of-life power couple, I would tell you. Gods know they're the most useless fucking people on this campus. But all they told me this morning was the same thing they tell me every year. [i]Don't give kids reasons to drink.[/i] If I don't listen, that's on me."[/color] Dallas' lips pursed in barely contained rage. [color=6ecff6]"Now, other than that? Not much. Dusty lost a tooth in Viv's skull, that was good for a laugh. We caught the Nyx kids in the middle of sacrificing one of the last virgins on campus when we got to the lake. We played some beer pong, Marcy and Kelso held me down and pierced me with sapphires. They match my eyes. I'd show you, but we're out in public right now. Anything else--"[/color]

[color=e03c31]"Oh zut alors! Pouvez vous m'aider, Ma voiture est tombée en panne. Je ne c'est pas quoi faire!"[/color] 

[color=6ecff6]"What the fuck."

[i]Oh, fuck, she thinks she's helping.[/i][/color]

Whether or not the two upperclassmen were about to leave him alone, Dallas would never know. What he knew now was that his head was about to go full Scanners in the middle of this diner, and Viv would never forgive him if he splattered her favorite cafe with his brain matter. There was way too much degenerate shit inside his skull, she would be sitting in all sorts of memories and sex moves for weeks and--

[color=e03c31]"Please monsieur, s'il vous plaît, come 'ere. Je suis tres desole."[/color]

Leave it to Marcy to say the one word he might have understood in French...in English. All he knew of French was a curse or two - [color=6ecff6][i]what the fuck did you just say[/i][/color] was something he'd demanded to be taught, to full effect whenever someone was irritating him past the point of wisdom, and one time in the French Quarter of New Orleans on vacation he'd learned to call a cop a whore and ask a girl to flash him. Marcy seemed like she was wearing too many layers on top for that to be an option, though.

[color=6ecff6]"Marcy."[/color] Dallas' voice was shaking like a car with a slipped timing belt. [color=6ecff6]"This is the Apollo Cafe. I will fucking [i]kill everyone here[/i] with my [i]fists[/i], with [i]a table,[/i] [i]with egg whisks fucking akimbo,[/i] before I let myself get driven out of the [u][i][b]Apollo[/b][/i][/u] Cafe. Sit down. And [i]bon appetit.[/i]"[/color]

To prove his point, he dropped the rest of the uneaten, smushed croissant on the plate.

Poor thing. It [i]was[/i] kinda tasty.