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[indent]Cait awoke the next morning with her eyes hazed and her brain dazed. She sightlessly fumbled her hand across her nightstand until it landed on her glasses, which had been left outside of their case when she had returned. The lenses corrected the blurred vision, but it was no remedy for the hungover feeling she was experiencing as she wrestled her way out of her bed. Only when her feet set down onto the floor did she find the clarity to recall the afternoon prior. When she did, she let out a baked laugh.

The combined impairment of bud and beer had unlocked an evening ending up with her and mixed bag of 'inmates,' skaters, and street artists landing at Prince's place. The details eluded her, though she assumed it had been a time so wild, no one who wasn't there would believe a word if it anyways. The important part was that she had made it home somehow, and, pressumably, no one got into trouble along the way; the last any of them needed was a prolonged sentence. But, she assumed, that the current sentence was still on her shoulders; no way she had slept through it that long just to wake up at home. 

Noting she was already risking running late, she hastily got herself dressed. Making her way to her bedroom door she reached for the rickety old spare skateboard, propped lazily against the wall nearby. With her hand inches from the outfacing trucks, the board suddenly sprung toward her, knocking against the palm of her hand. Unprepared for this, she missed catching it, and took the hit of metal against her hand as the board clattered on the floor. Narrow-eyed and curious, she tried to replicate what had just happened, hovering her hand over the deck, daring it to jump up to her now ready hand. When it didn't, she picked it up proper, and set her way out to grab breakfast, and then to the Community Center.

She arrived a bit behind Prince, Henry, and Skye. [color=bc8dbf]"Yo, the weirdest thing happe--"[/color] She stopped still and silent when she rounded the corner into the lockerroom, where the three ahead of her had gathered around a sloppily painted message on the wall... a message threatening... them? 

[color=bc8dbf]"That can't be talking about us, can it? Unless Tony really has that short of a fuse?"[/color][/indent]