[table][row][color=#2e2c2c][sup][h3][b]
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[/b][/h3][/sup][/color][/row][row][cell][sup][h2][color=black]MARCO VALENSI[/color][/h2][/sup]
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[sup][color=black][b]█  [sup]   [/sup]act one: way down we go;
        marco - "storm warning"  [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P1nCVWBTays][color=black][u]♫[/u][/color][/url] [/b][/color][/sup][indent][sup][color=a9a9a9][color=black]▸[/color] Ritman High [Football Field]
Interacting with [@prisk], [@gisk], [@rockette], [@aeolian],  [color=f3bb06]the gang[/color]
[/color][/sup][/indent][center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/824488408562794527/970459343667494932/unknown.png[/img][/center][sub][color=#2e2c2c]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/color][/sub][/cell][cell][center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/824488408562794527/967592442486460476/unknown.png[/img][/center][indent][color=dcdcdc][sub]It wasn't long before Marco had proclaimed his coldness that he was promptly inundated with remedies—first a sweater from Billy, then a jacket from Meir. He accepted them both gracefully—and gracefully meant quietly nowadays—but he couldn't help question their motivations. He always found this sort of thing to crop up more often when he went out with the cane; people making accommodations and sacrifices for him they otherwise wouldn't.
Of course, as much as he couldn't shake that feeling, he also couldn't shake the feeling he was way overthinking it. 

He slipped them both on with a bit of effort, exchanging his cane between hands so as not to drop it. It was when he pulled the sweater down from his nose that the group was joined by the next Ritman alumni: As his vision was de-wooled, Marco saw...
Samuel?
[b][color=black]"Oh my god."[/color][/b]
He stared for a moment, then realised he was staring, then awkwardly broke eye contact to shift his gaze around the group. [b][color=black]"Uh—It's, uh, ah...Hi. Sam."[/color][/b]
Ho-ly fuck-ing shit. Late puberty his this man like a goddamn 747. Marco almost felt self-conscious that, in all that time they'd had to change, he'd ostensibly just cut his hair and looked a little closer to death. And Samuel did...that. 
[b][color=black]"Uhm. Good...trip, over? From, uh...?"[/color][/b] He gestured vaguely into the air, urging Sam to chip in with the answer.

Thankfully, he was excused from the conversation by the coming of another: Oleander, who, mercifully, had not aged twenty years in seven. 
[i]"Okay, I need hugs. I need hugs."[/i]
Oh sweet mother of mercy, here it comes.
When it came time for his hug, Marco flashed something between an apologetic smile and a grimace on his face—in rather the same way primates flash their teeth to beg for mercy. 
[color=black][b]"Uh, I would, but, y'know."[/b][/color] He waved his cane halfheartedly. [color=black][b]"Glass bones. Paper skin. It'd hurt."[/b][/color]
He paused, as Oleander paused to take him in. Rather than look him in the eye, though, Marco found himself intensely interested at the grass at his feet. He pursed his lips at Oleander's well wishes. 
[color=black][b]"Uh, yeah. Same."[/b][/color]

His eyes darted from the grass towards his arm, which he was now acutely aware was being touched. Wow, okay, people were [i]way[/i] more into this than he was expecting them to be. 
Oh my god, now he was crying. People really were [i]really[/i] into this. Marco took Oleander's advice and didn't say anything, awkwardly clearing his throat. His eyes wandered to meet Natalie's gaze, eyebrows back as if to say [i]"Well, this is happening."[/i] This was going to be an interesting day. 

[color=black][b]"So, uh..."[/b][/color] His eyes darted between each member of the group, trying to pick out someone he knew a catch-up with wouldn't be too awkward. [color=black][b]"...Billy,"[/b][/color] Marco scooted across the grass, a little closer towards someone he'd once considered his closest friend. [color=black][b]"How's it going with the band?"[/b][/color]
Yeah, that was the best he could do for now. 
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