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[/b][/h3][/sup][/color][/row][row][cell][sup][h2][color=black]DANTE IBARRA[/color][/h2][/sup]
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[sup][color=black][b]█  [sup]   [/sup]act one: way down we go    [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZXxmhok1AU][color=black]♫[/color][/url] [/b][/color][/sup][indent][sup][color=a9a9a9]Ritman High, Football Field
Interacting with [@Benzaiten] [@Gisk] [@The Man Emperor]
[/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][color=black][b]“Yeah, well, I’ve been living out of a conference room for the past two weeks,”[/b][/color] Dante scoffs, shooting Melanie a knowing, sideways glance. [color=black][b]“You know those suits I told you about? Thought I’d never get ‘em to leave. They basically set up camp in the breakroom while I wasn’t looking.”[/b][/color]

His nose wrinkles at the very mention of the word [i]‘suits’[/i]. There’s a special kind of irony in the fact that the business end of things was his least favourite part of running a business. Most of the time, he’s got people dealing with that sort of stuff for him. Dante’s still trying to get used to it, this whole having [i]people[/i] thing — all those designers and programmers and accountants all relying on him to make a livelihood. If it were up to him, he’d probably spend the entire day hunched over his workstation like some kind of cave creature, completely senseless to the world around him, but he’s seen [i]The Social Network[/i] enough times to know that the quickest way to get screwed out of your own company was letting other people run it for you.

Right now, though, he [i]really[/i] needed to shut up about work. He isn’t in SF anymore. He’s in Delton, standing in the middle of a football field with one of his best friends and a bunch of people from high school he never thought he’d see again. The more he thinks about it, the less real it feels.

Like an optical illusion.

Dante flicks a hand through the air, fingers fluttering as if to clear away the last unwanted dregs of memory.

[color=black][b]“…But yeah, other than that, I’ve been good! Peachy keen. I think I need a touch-up, though. These roots are making me look like Guy Fieri.”[/b][/color] Grinning, he rakes a hand through the strands of hsi hair for emphasis. Nevermind that he’d just gotten off a flight that morning where an inhumanly tenacious eight-year-old had taken it upon herself to kick the back of his seat every minute or so. He’s actually feeling pretty alright for someone running on two hours of sleep. That power nap he’d taken once he got back home was doing wonders, as was the very, very strong coffee swirling inside his thermos, which comes dangerously close to sloshing out when he uses it to gesture toward Melanie. [color=black][b]“You gotta catch me up with all the crazy shit you’ve been up to after we finally crack this thing open, and… where the hell is it, anyway?”[/b][/color]

Dante makes a show of looking around, hoping to God that the capsule wasn’t still buried in the ground somewhere. He didn’t exactly have [i]‘digging a ditch’[/i] on his agenda, least of all in this weather. Then, Billy makes a smart-ass comment and it all comes rushing back to him at once. With that trademark white hair and sly grin, of course it had to be him.

[color=black][b]“C’mon, man, you’re killing me here. I was trying to make a grand entrance and shit.”[/b][/color] Laughing, he gives Billy a playful shove, and after a moment’s hesitation, waves off the proffered cigarette. [color=black][b]“Nah, I’m good. Still smoking the same brand, huh?”[/b][/color]

Dante remembers heading round to the back of the school or under the bleachers to sneak a smoke with him and Sam, how they would stomp out the cigs beneath their heels whenever they saw a teacher coming and pretend like the smell didn’t instantly give them away. And yes, there was also that thing with the band. After watching a grainy, 240p video online of The Velvet Underground’s [i]Venus in Furs[/i], learning how to play the guitar became Dante’s latest obsession. He never really got much further beyond the fundamentals, but he knew how to play power chords, keep and keep a tune, and apparently that was enough for Billy to welcome him into the fold. 

Slim pickings at Ritman, he supposed; and it was, admittedly, a rather short-lived venture. Thankfully, though, he gets an actual answer to his question about the time capsule sooner rather than later.

[color=black][b]“Wait, don’t tell me. It’sss… Trystan, right?”[/b][/color] Dante mentally congratulates himself for remembering his name. The two of them rarely ever spoke to each other, but he mentioned Trystan to his mom after coming back from school one day, and since then, she always thought that they could’ve been friends. There weren’t many Filipinos living in Maine, and even less in Delton. Always good to meet people like yourself, she said; except Dante could hardly speak a word of Tagalog while Trystan seemed dead-set on avoiding him. Between those two things, there was never really any chance of them becoming [i]BFFs[/i] like his mother thought they were going to.

Still, he’s here now. No harm in making conversation while they wait.

[color=black][b]“How’ve you been, man? Cool hair.”[/b][/color]

Right on cue, he spots Meir making his way back, lugging along something heavy and metal. Dante screws the cap of his thermos back on before stuffing it into the side pocket of his bag. In spite of it all — the wait, the cold, the awkward [i]everything[/i] — he actually finds himself getting kind of excited for the big reveal. Up until he got the invitation from Jack, he’d almost forgotten about the time capsule altogether. Seeing it now, though… Has it really been seven years?

So who can blame him if he looms a little too close, peering over Meir’s shoulder as he starts prying open the capsule? Shifting his weight from one foot to another in nervous anticipation, he waits for some kind of laugh, maybe a cheer when the lid finally pops open, but a moment passes, and all he gets is a look of bewilderment from Meir.

[color=black][b]“[i]The fuck?[/i]”[/b][/color] Dante picks it up himself, turning the container this way and that as if doing so would dislodge something or reveal a secret compartment. When nothing else happens, he shakes his head in disbelief and lets the capsule fall uselessly to the ground. [color=black][b]“Where is — who put the [i]Necronomicon[/i] in here?”[/b][/color]
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