[hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/JkPtF9c.png[/img][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjEwNi4zMmNkMzIuS2xZcVNTcERLa3NxV1NvLC4w/novox-varsity.regular.webp[/img][/center]
[right][b]Interactions:[/b] Kersten [@Rekkuza]
[code]Warehouse[/code][/right][hr]
Everything was not fine! 

Vicky swatted away the bag of flaming hots like a fussy toddler refusing to open up for the airplane then returned to hiding her face behind her hands. Her life was already ruined. She was boyfriendless, phoneless, and drinkless, but she wasn’t willing to sink low enough to cover her fingers in cheese dust and get crumbs all over her outfit. Even if Vicky was starving. She probably shouldn’t have skipped dinner. Perhaps just a few of those unnatural orange bastards wouldn’t—no! If she started making justifications for junk food now, it wouldn’t be long before Vicky went from the ‘wow you’re so hot’ mountaintop to the ‘wow you used to be hot’ trash pile. 

Her fingers fanned and a teary eye peeked out between them as Kersten admitted that Chef hadn’t told them anything. She even confirmed his status as a dick. Briefly, Vicky’s muffled sobs grew quieter and her breathing became steady. She forgot all about wanting to call the cops to ruin the party for everyone. All she wanted was to make sure that everyone got fed the same lie that she had given to Tuyen and Kersten. Chef was the dick who had dumped someone at a party. Not Vicky. Vicky would never do something like that! She was so glad that Kersten had bought it.

…hey, wait…

Much to her own surprise, Vicky managed to activate her core and sit up straight in the bean bag. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she stared at Kersten. She failed to see the generosity and patience that was being given to her, the undeserved kindness and caring for her own well-being from someone that she had just insulted. Any normal drunk person would still be able to see at this moment how cool Kersten really was, but Vicky was not a normal drunk person. She was a dick when she was drunk (as she was when she was sober, although much better at hiding it) and Dicky was focused on only one fucking thing: she had never said to Kersten that Chef had dumped her. 

Kersten had just assumed.

So what, did Kersten just think that Vicky was the kind of the loser who would get dumped at a party? And she had done it while smoking a joint in front of Vicky to, what, taunt her about all the drugs she wasn’t willing to share? And why was he so intent on feeding her? First Cheetos, now a brownie? What the fuck! Heat rose up inside of Vicky as she jumped up to her feet, her stomach lurching, the pressure built up inside of her steaming out with a frustrated bellow.

[color=32cd32]“[i]Eeeergyah![/i] Are you that fucking high? Nobody breaks up with me, you druggie, burnout, dumbfuck!”[/color] So much for relaxing. The brownie definitely wasn’t happening now. [color=32cd32]“[b]I broke up with Chef! [i]I! DUMPED! HIM![/i][/b] Why would you even…why would you think…”[/color] 

Somebody let out a loud “HOLY SHIT” as a hush fell over the party, or as much as one was possible while bass heavy music threatened to give everyone tinnitus. Vicky looked around in a panic, her stomach doing somersaults from the sudden movements, certain that everyone was freaking out because of her revelation, unaware that while a few people might’ve overheard her the majority of attention was being drawn to Lexi who had just been head-butted by that foreign exchange kid. She saw stupid, motherfucking Danny Graham doubling over and pointing while his girlfriend Stupidho Slutjerk looked on in horror. She didn’t see Lexi but she heard her meanspirited laugh. She saw Tuyen, Ella’s pink hair serving as a beacon, hiding her face in her cup, embarrassed to be friends with someone who’d break up with someone at a party, or perhaps hiding her disappointment from realizing that Vicky had lied to her. 

[color=32cd32]“It’s…it’s not my fault…”[/color] uttered Vicky, horrified, looking as if someone just informed her that she’d been diagnosed with something terminal. She plopped back down in the beanbag, hoping it would serve as camouflage from her peers. ‘Why, that girl couldn’t possibly be Vicky Prescott, she was sitting in a beanbag chair!’ was what they would think. And Tuyen probably didn’t even hear her! She was just too polite to ignore Ella, and Ella was too stupid to know when to shut the hell up and let someone go about their very important business. She just had to clear the air with Kersten and then everything would be just fucking peachy. 

[color=32cd32]“Do you think I’m a dick?”[/color] asked Vicky hesitantly as she stared at her shoes.

Perhaps she should pivot away from worrying about what Kersten thought about her and move on instead to an apology for blowing up on her. But she had already asked the question, and frankly Vicky didn’t feel like apologizing for something that wasn’t her fault—Kersten should’ve just given her drugs and sent Vicky on her way. Vicky sniffed, squared her shoulders, and sat up as best as she could to stare down Kersten. The look in Vicky’s eyes was issuing a challenge, daring Kersten to say the wrong thing, hoping for it even. If she said yes, or if Vicky even got a hint that she was being a bit disingenuous, hoo boy, just wait until she got her phone! The cops in Cornell were bored as hell. They’d probably cream their jeans at the opportunity to bust up a party and beat the absolute shit out of some stoners. 

Vicky smiled. It was unfriendly. The slurred speech did little to offset the threatening undertones as she doubled down on the issue, [color=32cd32]“Do you think that I am a dick?”[/color]