[hr][center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjEwNi43NjY3NjcuVTJ4dllXNWxJRVpoY21sei4w/bachelorette.regular.webp[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/r7scdkh.png[/img][/center]
 [right][b]Interactions:[/b]  Anya  [@Fernstone] & Trevor [@Punished GN]
[code]The Halloween Festival[/code][/right][hr]


Sloane was grateful that Anya had been courteous enough to wrap her arm around her shoulder to help her walk, as her legs had suddenly felt like they were made out of jello. It wasn’t because she was drunk—again, if this hadn’t already been made clear, Anya was drunk. Anya. Anya was the drunk one. Sloane was as sober as a judge. It was because something Anya had said, a secret she had let slip due quite simply to how belligerently shitfaced she was right now. Why, Sloane was quite certain that Anya was leaning on her for support and not the other way around! However, that was neither here nor there. Something massive had just happened. A revelation. A confirmation. Vindication. 

She had been right: [i]he’s obsessed![/i]

Sloane didn’t know how she thought she would feel knowing that she had been right about Jasper, but right now knowing that he dreamed about her made Sloane feel sick. Her stomach tightened, twisted, and filled with a fluttering sensation as if she needed to vomit.  She felt feverish as her face flushed, the yellow scarf around her overheating throat suddenly becoming so unbearable she had to pull it away with a trembling hand. The blood pumped in her ringing ears as she felt a sudden sharp pain in her chest. Her mind was flooded with visions of her catching Jasper’s verdant green eyes darting away from her, only ever getting a taste of his disparaging glances. God, what was his problem? What was his deal? What did Anya exactly mean by “quite a few times” and what kind of dreams were they? 

What kind of deviant imbecile spent so much time obsessing over another person that they obviously hated? Damn it, Anya. She needed the details! 

Where even was Anya? Before panic could set in, Anya slid a drink across the table to her as she magically reappeared exactly when Sloane needed her. Finally, she had been dying to ask her about Jasper. Sloane’s mouth opened and [color=9966CC]”...No thoughts about the boys…”[/color] closed as she raised her glass to meet Anya’s toast and then buried her face in the cup to keep her from blurting out the undesired question. She drank deeply and gave Anya a warm smile as she set down her cup. 

If they couldn’t talk about Jasper—no, what she meant was that why would anyone want to talk about Jasper—nevermind, the point was that she wanted to hear Anya talk about the dreams. Sloane enjoyed hearing about other people’s dreams. They were always so much more interesting than her own. She leaned forward with rapt attention and glossy eyes, putting her elbow on the table in a breach of etiquette to proper up her chin so that her head would stop bobbing. 

And then from a couple tables over Jason Lee Scott went, "Oooooooh!" 

Sloane immediately slumped forward onto the table with a soft thunk as Trevor unmasked himself, burying her head in her arms and hiding beneath her hat. Why was he here?  Sure, he was supposed to be surveillancing them, but not like this. He shouldn’t be talking to them in person, or at all. From underneath her cover her muffled voice could be heard, saying something against the idea of fate and something about government tracking, something that got further impossible to understand as he dropped his pickup line on Anya that was as smooth as a gravel road. From underneath Sloane’s hat, the muffled words were replaced by the sound of a whistling tea kettle as she screamed into her jacket.

She just barely caught Meifeng’s words, but it was enough to make her head snap up and, whoa, one second. Sloane blinked rapidly, looking past the two red rangers to the red ranger’s boss. What was that? It had sounded like Meifeng had just admitted that after unjustly raiding Sycamore’s headquarters in a complete display of an abuse of power and unprofessionalism she had intended to just blow them all off with a stupid prank despite Sloane’s earnest attempt to offer her their cooperation. All because Sloane was going to be annoying by, what, [i]asking her to do her job?[/i] Sloane seethed, her shoulders shaking. Her best friend hand been traumatized—Sloane had been traumatized—because this irresponsible bitch didn’t want to…[i][b]ERGH![/b][/i]

[color=silver]“Hey!”[/color] shouted Sloane, slapping her hands against the table as she shot up with a stumble. That was it. She was going to give Meifeng the dressing down she deserved [i]and[/i] she was going to get her badge number so that she could file an official complaint.

As Sloane was about to turn and earn herself the top bunk in Eve’s cell she made eye contact with Anya and hesitated. In the week since Anya’s sacrifice none of their colleagues had been murdered by Father Wolf. She would never forgive herself if something she said made the PRA pull out on their part of the deal. She gave Anya a sad, apologetic look that said, “Trust me, this is for the best. I’m sorry, I love you.” She slammed her drink and closed her eyes tight, squeezing them shut so hard that her entire face scrunched up and looked as if it was about to pop, letting out a sigh instead. She stepped around the table to take the only available spot next to Anya and gestured towards where she had been sitting. 

[color=silver]“Please, join us,”[/color] said Sloane to Trevor. She was unable to make eye contact with him. Somehow, impossibly, her voice sounded more hollow than it had ever before, as if saying those three words had obliterated whatever husk of a soul she had rattling around inside of her. She pulled her cup up to her lips and faked surprise in the stiffest performance ever when she “discovered” that it was empty. [color=silver]“Oh. No. Anya. Our drinks. They’re empty.”[/color]

Anya’s wasn’t. Sloane lashed out like lightning, grabbed the long island, and chugged it. Immediate regret slashed its way across her face. She covered her mouth with her hand, worried that she was going to let out an unladylike burp or worse. 

[color=silver]“Oooh, yep, they’re both…they’re both empty. Anya, could you grab anot…another?”[/color] And run, letting the future generations know of Sloane’s sacrifice. [color=silver]“Trevor will keep me company. W-won’t you?”[/color]

Sloane couldn’t think of what would be worse—spending any amount of time alone with Trevor, or getting rejected by someone like him. She hoped she wouldn’t have to actually find out. The one time she needed Jack to give her an emergency teleport and he wasn't there! Thunder rumbled above. Maybe if Sloane was lucky she’d be struck by lightning.