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[right][code]September 7th
Warehouse
Interactions: Lexi [@FernStone][/code][/right][hr]

[color=crimson]”Lacterr. Laterr. Lie-terr.”[/color] The sounds just wouldn’t come out right, the vowels twisting behind his teeth, his Rs refusing to be anything else than guttural. Annoying. Everything about this was an exercise in frustration.

Camille huffed, smoke curling out from his mouth and nostrils. [color=crimson]”Tsk. Wat-everr. You underrstand. Dat is the imporrtant parrt.”[/color]

His stare eased off his new companion, returning to the crowd. He’d felt a couple of people looking over, caught a few in the act as well. Were they looking at him? Or at Lexi? Was she someone worth staring at? He had to admit he had no clue, he didn’t know her or of her until only a few minutes ago. He hoped she wasn’t, he hoped that her presence wouldn’t drag anymore attention to him. It set his teeth on edge.

Their eyes felt like ants digging their way under his skin.

[color=crimson]”De parrty iz… fine. I ‘ave notting again parrties.”[/color] His eyes nervously followed the arcs of the dancers on the dance floor, catching how they bumped into each other, laughing all the while. [color=crimson]”But de people... Too many. Not use-ed to it.”[/color]

[color=crimson]”Maybe derre arre morre people in de school ‘erre dan in my entirre village. Probably iz de case. It, euh, feels werrd.”[/color] Was that too much? Was he opening himself too much? It felt like a normal thing to say. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he didn’t look like he was having fun, so trying to pretend otherwise was just stupid. But should he have made up an excuse? But then again, it’s not like no one knew where he was from, that was very easily verifiable information (and oh, how he hated that fact, but it’s not like he could change it…)

Dammit, he really has to stop getting in his head so much. What’s done is done, and can’t be taken back, and he almost missed Lexi’s question. What did he like? At least, he’s pretty sure that’s what she asked, though he wasn’t sure what excrements and/or swears had to do with it.

…what did he like? Quite a lot, actually. He liked going to the beach, and listening to the waves. He liked watching the seal pups in winter, and counting shooting stars during the Perseids. He liked playing dek hockey with his friends. He liked being safe, and alone.

But he didn’t have any of that anymore. All he had left were…

[color=crimson]”Books. I like books.”[/color] He tried to smile again, though it felt too stiff and bitter to truly be anything more than a grimace. [color=crimson]”Dey arre one of de last Frrensh ting I ‘ave left ‘erre. Also, dey arre fun. Everr read Beckett? ‘E trransla-ted ‘is own, euh, te-a-ter pieces? Iz dat de rright worrd?”[/color]

His frown returned, more thoughtful than frustrated this time. [color=crimson]”Wat-everr. ‘E trransla-ted ‘is worrk in English, iz wat I mean. Iz a good trranslation. I like [i]Fin de partie[/i], euh, [i]Endgame[/i], de most.”[/color] He remembered having fun comparing the two versions. It had been good practice back then too, comparing how one sentence became another when the language changed. To this day, his English reading comprehension was his strongest suit, leagues better than his speaking, hearing, or writing.

He caught Lexi’s eyes, and something in them made him hesitate. They were sharp, and seemed to look not [i]at[/i] him, but [i]into[/i] him. The part of his brain still tracking everyone else’s movement, [i]just in case,[/i] was screaming at him, warning him. He messed up, he should not have said that, he should not, but why? Why shouldn’t he have?

For once in his life, he shut out the warning. He must’ve simply been a bit boring. [color=crimson]”Ah, but dis prrobably interrests you not a lot. Sorry. Not de best time to talk of [i]tragi-comédies[/i].”[/color] Hopefully the conversation wouldn’t be too derailed.

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[right][code]September 7th
Warehouse
Interactions: Vicky [@Atrophy], Tuyen [@FernStone][/code][/right][hr]

To say Kersten was taken aback when Vicky approached him would be an understatement. They never really spoke, like, at all. Chief would sometimes come see him for weed (a lot of people did) but as far as he knew, Vicky was not someone who partook in the green goodness. So an absolutely [i]smashed[/i] Vicky loudly demanding drugs from him was even more of a surprise.

Looks like the curaçao did its job.

She looked down at the shorter girl's face, her eyebrows drawn together in worry. Even through the haze of her own habitual high, she made short work of cataloguing every single one of Vicky’s symptoms. Lack of balance, dizziness, slightly slurred speech… Diagnosis: wayyyy too much alcohol, but no other drugs. Good. Wouldn’t do to mix weed, alcohol, [i]and[/i] stimulants…

They briefly peeked over behind Vicky, quickly spotting the other girl that always seemed to follow her. Tuyen, if they remembered correctly. A long time friend, they were pretty sure. They subtly motioned to Vicky with their head, mouthing out a message to Tuyen.

[color=greenyellow][i]Is she okay?[/i][/color]

[color=greenyellow]”Don’t worry sister, you don’t owe me anything. I’m all about sharing, you know?”[/color] He gave her a smile, any trace of worry instantly erased from his face. [color=greenyellow]”Here at Kersten’s Fresh Green Produce, all products only cost a smile, and the promise to spread the good vibes.”[/color]

[color=greenyellow]”Whiiiiich is why I’m not hooking you with anything for now, dear Victoria. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are obviously very, very drunk.”[/color] They patted her back as if commiserating, and then wrapped an arm around her shoulder to gently begin to guide her off the dance floor and towards the Stoner Corner.

[color=greenyellow]”Nothing wrong with that, by the way, that’s what most of the people are here for after all. It’s just that mixing too much booze with the green stuff in a loud room is a great way to end up on a bad trip. Or in the hospital. Or both.”[/color] They’d seen enough people not know their limit, and they weren’t looking to facilitate that tonight. Or any night, really. They weren’t totally irresponsible, only slightly.

[color=greenyellow]”So instead, your good pal Kushten will hook you up with a nice comfy beanbag and a bag of cheetos,”[/color] if Richie hadn’t finished them all by now, [color=greenyellow]”and then we’re gonna chill until you sober up a bit, and [i]then[/i] we’ll make sure you’re not sober for a good long while. I’ll even give you the [i]really[/i] good bud I usually keep for myself.”[/color] And if she insisted on smoking before Kersten judged it was safe, well, she was probably too drunk to tell apart real weed from crushed up oregano.

She glanced back towards Tuyen, giving her a reassuring smile. [color=greenyellow]”I just want everyone to have a nice evening. That’s why I made my brownies extra weak tonight. Even newbies like you should be able to handle them!”[/color]

Looks like sneaking out back with Richie would have to be postponed until these two were properly settled in. Oh well, no big deal.