Recent Statuses

3 mos ago
Thank you :)
1 like
3 mos ago
I’m tired of being the assistant to medical technologists and technicians, when I know more than some of these people with science degrees lol.
1 like
3 mos ago
My MLT certification, since I already have my foot in the door. I was thinking might as well optimize my experience so I can make more money lol. This will give me opportunity to work at hospitals.
1 like
3 mos ago
I made a decision to go back to school, so that means I’ll be sacrificing a lot of my hobby time to focus on that, while still working full time. I’m nervous and excited.
4 mos ago
Haters gonna hate. Potatoes gonna potate.



𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓵𝔂 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝔁.


Most Recent Posts


@HaleyTheRandom Second character: Spike Todd Langley || Male || Rosefell High Student || 228b22 || Bobby Lockwood
@HaleyTheRandom i'm here for the balance ;)
@HaleyTheRandom First character: Marcos Andres Kingsley || Male || Liberty High Student || b02727 || Daniel Illescas

My second character will be male and a Rosefell High Student. I'm still deciding on concept.
Imma just drop some interest so you know I exist and am thinking about it. But I want to think on it and who exactly I’d bring. Could bring Lucky again or could bring someone new or might lurk lol
Location: Errbody at Nectar's

There were clear problems lingering at their table and she had yet to pour herself a beer. Damn, no chill. Did they think she knew about whatever thing they had going on? Clearly they didn't know how oblivious Dee was to the drama that transpired at Meadow University. She wasn't glued to her phone like some people. While Nate tried his best to start a conversation, Dee drowned him out to recall her week and put two and two together. Why would Jasper look at Nate like that? Why would Nate let his nerves come out in laughter? Why would MJ's eyes roll so hard that you'd think they'd fall out? Dee's gaze trailed from her friends to the stage where one of the other legacies played on the piano. With a raised eyebrow, she curiously listened to his voice.

This was a first for her.

Hearing Bastíen Bonfamille singing.

Someone once told her music was an external heartbeat, and the lyrics were a gateway to the soul. Really, music only lives in moments like these, in a bond made accidentally, drowning yourself in intense emotion. This song came to the artist like it was second nature. Something he played without hesitation. It was something Dee could tell he held close to his heart. Whether it was the song itself, or the subject matter, Bastíen cared about the music he was playing. His song filled the air without effort, the sound rushing in and surrounding everyone and everything. The monotony of her day was made fresh simply by hearing his voice.


Color her impressed.

When a tsunami of applause filled the air, Dee turned to look at the people at her table and realized a couple of things:
1) MJ was gone.
2) Nate was looking like a deer in headlights - did no one reply to him?
3) Jasper was drinking a lot - as to be expected.

"Sorry, got distracted. Wasn't listening." Dee admitted, with a shrug. The applause came to a calm and the chatter around them filled the void where there would be inevitable awkward silence. Grabbing the pitcher that Nate so graciously got for the table and pouring herself a drink, she enthusiastically cheered, "Chicken wings, fuck yeah dude." Once she downed her first cup like a champ, she went straight for the wings and started devouring them. Completely unladylike, not caring about her appearance at all, even if she kind of was dressed like a slut, Dee looked between the two and bluntly asked, with her mouth full, "Did you guys fuck or something? I feel like I missed the memo. If you didn't, you guys probably should. Get all this tension out, if you know what I mean." She threw a bone on the nearest plate and licked her fingers real quick, "I got a great idea." She grabbed another wing and started waving it in the air, while she continued to make her proposition, "Why don't we all just say the petty shit we're thinking about and then leave it out in the air? Get shitfaced... have a good time... say fuck the past, cheers to the now. Like the sound of that? I love the sound of that. I know Viv always lookin' for a reason to drink, amiright?"

Chomp. Chew. Chuckle.

Seeing a waiter walk by, Dee shouted, "Waiter, bro. I'mma need three rounds of shots, for four people. Kamikaze, Blow Job, and Mind Eraser! Thanks, man. Yeah, on Nate's tab."

@smarty0114 & @TootsiePop

Erica shut the door to her room behind her, wearing something that better met her standards for the night. Her first realization, which came to her as her eyes fell on the conference room, was that there were way more people here than she had planned on, and more were still streaming in. She pushed her way through as politely as she knew how, and came to her second realization. People were having fun.

She couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face, maybe because she was a little tipsy from her shot earlier, or maybe because she genuinely enjoyed making people happy. This kind of stuff was what brought kids closer. Later tonight, girls that had yet to become friends would bond over mutual toilet bowl escapades, and freshmen would work up the courage to text their crushes, and maybe, just maybe, Dwayne or Sam or any boy that wasn’t Leo would make a move on her.

“Y’know, for party planners, you sure know how to pick the place. Totally exclusive. I would’ve never found out.”

It was as if the universe had heard her wish, and laughed.

Rolling her eyes, Erica turned around to face Griffin Pierce. The two had what Brad called “crazy smart kid chemistry” and what Erica preferred to see as an unending academic rivalry.

“Well, unless you and the other two Musketeers have a secret clubhouse I don’t know about, I’d like to see you do better,” she said. A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth, but that was absolutely, positively, just the shot from earlier.

“I could—” Griffin leaned up against the wall peering at her, his eyes never wavering below her face, only looking into her deep gaze.

His mysterious, laid back nature, while playful and insufferable at times, covered up more than most people realized. A boy as smart as him — there was more to him than being an annoying flirt, aiming to get under the skin of the prettiest girl on his campus. Someone he saw as his equal. Though, he’d never admit that to her face, since seeing her get riled up was all part of the fun.

Taking moments to glance behind her at the hustle and bustle of the party to see who was here, he smirked right back at her,“— If I cared enough.” There was some bridge of trust between the two, whether they were aware of it or not. Just by how close they were standing near each other could show that there was some underlying magnetism. It was like their rivalry forced them to see each other in such a short time. Perhaps accepting her strengths and putting his pride down also helped, because if he had to choose anyone to notice something that was ‘out of place’, it would be Erica Monet. She was a clever girl.

Truth be told, Griffin cared. A lot. He didn’t know why, but ever since he woke up on the bus months ago, he couldn’t stop asking questions and noticing things slightly skewed. Rewind the clock to after his confrontation with Tyler Jane, he spent some time in his room, thinking to himself and preparing. For some reason, he had an unsettling gut feeling, as if his recent interview with Ms. Mulligan would be used against him.

Unbeknownst to anyone, including his best friends, Griffin had hidden secrets throughout his room. Before leaving his room for what felt like would be the last time, he did something he wouldn’t normally do. He added slight disorder to his picture perfect boy’s room. Purposely, he placed his basketball in front of the wardrobe in his closet, then made an opening with his clothes, as if that led to something more, like fucking Narnia. Afterwards, he stood on his bed and shifted the ceiling tile, once again making it only noticeable to those that actually were good at finding subtle changes. Once he went back to the ground, Griffin grabbed the small painting Bradley made for him and placed it on his pillow, as if the cartoon s'mores eyes were staring straight at the ceiling. The last secret place he had was his dresser, the third drawer. Unfolding his clothes, which would differ from the rest of his drawers that were neatly organized and color coded, he let the chaos take over the wide space, followed by leaving the drawer ajar.

Call him paranoid, or whatever, but he felt a storm coming and if something were to happen to him, he wanted to make sure someone caught on. Quickly, he scribbled a note and put it in an envelope. With elegant cursive, that looked like near calligraphy, he wrote his letter to: Erica Monet. Pocketing it in his coat, he sighed to himself as he made his way to his door. Opening it, he quickly looked down the hallway to make sure all the people were at the party, and not around him. Cooly and swiftly, he stepped out and went to close the door. Using his body to cover the view of the camera nearest to him, he pretended to lock his door and instead taped a coin between the doorknob and deadbolt.

As if right on cue, Erica left her room, not looking in his direction, and strode to the party that she partook in planning. With that, he took out the letter, trying to make it seem like some sappy love confession, and slipped it under her door. To add to this narrative, he took a comb out of his inner coat pocket, touched up his hair to make sure he looked ‘on point’ and tailed behind her. If people were watching them, they knew how heated some of their discussions got and how out of the way they both went to one up each other.

And now, here they were.

“So, are you here to just drink, or care to dance?” He offered his hand, gesturing toward the center of the room, which he imagined could easily be a dancefloor. Leaning in, he whispered, “Bullshit and drama aside.”

Erica made a show of mulling over Griffin’s offer, before holding up a single, slender finger. “One song,” she said, before turning and sauntering towards the dance floor, not bothering to check that Griffin was following. One song wouldn’t hurt, right?

The song switched as the duo entered the growing crowd of entangled bodies. It was high energy, a song designed to get people on their feet. The words were catchy enough, and Erica began to twist and turn, her body moving with a practiced grace. Her arms swung in time to the song, wrapping this way and that in sensual motions. Her eyes met Griff’s and she smiled. “Well, you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna dance?”

Completely out of his element, but not afraid to make a fool of himself, Griffin retracted his hand and strolled through the sweaty crowd, blindly following her to the center. He watched her loosen up and though it was hardly emitting from her body, he did smell the scent of alcohol coming off of her. Before he did anything, he carefully examined her dance and that weird feeling of nostalgia washed over him, that feeling that haunted him, as if something was oh-too-familiar about this.

“Do you want to impress her, or what?”

Shaking a voice out of his head, a voice that reminded him of the whistle of birds, he decided to take it easy and not over do it, doing this thing called the ‘side-to-side rock’. He didn’t know why he knew what this basic dance was called, but it made him look chill and confident. There were only so many ways a guy could make himself attractive in a party setting, especially if dancing wasn’t his forte. He’d let her take over the dance floor as he’d only add to her moves, like an accessory. Perhaps this was another reason why she appealed to him over her best friend. Erica didn’t need to try to stand out. She just did, and she didn’t pretend to be someone else. She held her strengths and weaknesses like a medal of honor.

“Ask her something!”

“Uh, so getting the booze. Did it go off without a hitch? I haven’t seen Wes yet to ask.”

“Mostly, but uh, our mutual friend might need to make things a bit more obvious,” Erica said tilting her head over to where Bradley was leaning against the wall. With anyone else, talking about Bradley and Wes would’ve been a betrayal of sorts. Brad hadn’t told her anything, but he didn’t need to. She could put two and two together just fine, but it still felt wrong to gossip about her friend. Griff was just as smart as she was though, as hard as it might be to admit. If anyone had noticed something between the two it was him. “The long looks aren’t really getting through to anyone, least of all the person he wants.”

“Well the person he wants needs it literally spelt out for him too.” Griffin looked in the same direction as her and shook his head, “B-rad’s been hard crushin’ since the first week. I’ve tried to give him openings, but I guess he isn’t ready to risk what they have.” For a moment, it looked like Bradley found them, so he waved at his friend, but he guessed wrong, since his friend continued to search around like a blind bat.

“Sometimes people just need a nudge in the right direction,” Erica said. She smirked well aware of the double meaning that dripped off of her sentence. She grabbed Griffin’s hands and began leading the duo in a series of quick steps. It was clear she’d learned to dance somewhere, though Erica couldn’t recall ever taking formal lessons. “You excited for the weekend?” she called out over the music. She was not privy to whatever sense for danger Griffin held. As far as she was concerned, life was good.

“Excited?” Griffin scoffed in amusement. He did his best to follow her lead. This took a whole nother level of coordination, and was nothing like any basketball drills he did to improve his quickness. “I’m excited to not wake up on a hospital bed!” He raised his voice so she could hear him over the music. After giving her a quick twirl, he reeled her in close, breaking the barrier she had put up between them. He leaned in, his lips close to her ear, and whispered, letting his breath tickle her skin, “But at least I can remember this dance.”

Her cheeks grew hot as Griffin leaned in. She’d been playing a game tonight, and games were fun, but suddenly it was real. She didn’t know where all this confidence came from, but the fluttering in her stomach confirmed for her once and for all that this was just a mask. A mask she’d worn without even realizing it. She was used to being desired, but never enough for someone to act on it. This sudden intimacy was new, and nerve racking. A nervous giggle escaped her lips, and she stepped back. “I’m gonna go grab a drink,” she said, before, slipping off into the crowd, new questions filling her head with a thick fog.

For a second, subconsciously, Griffin reached for her, not wanting the moment to end, but as she walked away, he pulled back his hand. Under different circumstances, and at a different school, there would’ve been more to look forward to. There could be more to their story, like attending a silly school dance together or both staying up till dawn because neither wanted to go to sleep before the other. But, he knew this wasn’t their time or place. He knew something was wrong with San Agustin, which didn’t leave room for simple things like teenage romance.

Maybe he suffered from a hero complex, constantly battling conspiracy theories. Even so, Griffin knew there was something he had to do tonight, while everyone had a party to keep their spirits up. Smiling with sadness in his eyes, he watched her disappear in the crowd. As he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, he felt his basketball bands and remembered one thing he wanted to do.

Turning his attention to the direction where his friend was still standing, Griffin decided it was time to set his night in motion. Once he finished walking through the crowd, he leaned back on the wall, beside one of his best friends, and chuckled, “Looks like Wes is taking his sweet ass time.”

Bradley looked up, and grinned at the sight of his friend. He raised his glass in salute and took a sip. “That he is,” Bradley said once he’d swallowed the drink. “Looked like you and Erica were having fun,” Brad said, raising his eyebrow in a silent suggestion. The liquor had loosened his lips, and broken down the shell just a little bit. He was feeling funny right now, like he’d been the class clown in hiding all along.

“Damn right we were.” Griffin lightheartedly admitted, even letting out a small chuckle. “Sometimes, man, you just gotta’ go for it.” He gave a knowingly look to B-rad, even nudging him to add to his double meaning statement. “Carpe diem or some shit.”

Brad let a nervous chuckle slip out, and glanced down at his shoes. Was Griff suggesting what he thought he was? And if he was, how long had he known? Did everyone know? He polished off his cup to quell the growing anxiety rising in him. “Maybe I’ll try it out one day,” he said, confident that said day would never come.

“What if you only had one day?” Pushing himself off the wall, Griffin stared out at the party, his eyes immediately falling on Erica at the drink table. His voice went from fun-loving to serious, quick. Looking behind him, back at his friend, he shook his head, “I know, B-rad.” He knew for quite some time now, and if there was something he hoped he could do, it was give his friend the push he needed to take a chance for himself and nobody else.

Bradley’s eyes widened in realization before he quickly reapplied the facade he’d perfected so well. “Well then you know there’s nothing to seize. Wes doesn’t like boys, and even if he does, he doesn’t like me,” Bradley said, matter of fact. He‘d clearly given the situation a great deal of thought.

“So you admit it. You don’t know if Wes likes boys or not.” Griffin rolled his eyes, clearly realizing how poor his friend’s observation skills were. Did he not see how Wesley drooled when he saw Teddy’s body? After taking a deep breath in and out, he opened his mouth to respond, only to close it when he saw the devil himself walk into the party, finally.

Taking out one of his basketball bands, he swiftly slipped it on his friend’s right wrist, “You’re already thinking about getting rejected before you’ve even tried. What if he says no? What if he really doesn’t like boys? Okay, but ask yourself this: what if it does work out? What if he DOES like boys?” He let these questions linger in the air before grumbling, “Also: shut up with the whole he doesn’t like me. You’re right.” Griffin adjusted the band and gave a sincere grin, “He loves you, dumbass. And you have two options. Take the risk, or lose the chance. I don’t want you to end tonight not doing anything and living with that regret…” Momentarily, Griffin’s voice trailed off, wondering if he too should be doing something more daring. Sighing and going against his own advice, he added and released Bradley’s wrist, “Here, this is my lucky band.”

Placing his hand on Bradley’s shoulder, Griffin persisted, “Do you think I’d go this out of my way if I thought you had no chance in hell? Nah, man.” He decided to dismiss himself by lying, “I’m going to get a drink, and leave you two alone. Just stop thinking and just do. Okay? Okay!” With that, Griffin slapped the pair to his basketball band in Brad’s left hand and politely demanded, “Now give that to the little shit we love and seize the day motherfucker!” Not waiting for any objections, Griffin walked away, letting his two best friends have alone time together.

Bradley stood there, slightly shell shocked by Griff’s sudden passion, three words ringing clear through his brain. Seize. The. Day He mulled it over, and glanced down at the bands Griffin had given him. Maybe he’d take that advice.

Holding back a smile, Chrissie let her heels resound in the house she was choosing to leave. Leading a couple of men, having gotten no sleep the night prior, she mischievously whistled, as she sauntered her way to the guest room. She made sure to arrive just when everyone left, so she didn't have to deal with the bullshit of the Lambert family. Her parents, and by association, her, were never truly accepted in the main family. Why else do you think she was here for Christmas and not in Paris with Stella? Family drama and politics. Who knew breaking ties with her cousin would be so eyeopening?

Chris never truly belonged and Stella's actions have proven her place even further. Finally, she was seeing things through her father's eyes and refused to try anymore; to give a damn. Why should she? Her mother deserved so much more than this rotten family and it was time for them to burn this bridge. Her parents were geniuses and made their own fortune, and she would only add to that legacy once she pursued her acting career. They didn't need them and Chrissie was going to make it clear as day that the Lamberts, especially Stella, were dead to her.

With her daddy's card, she hired a crew to pack her things, swiftly, and move it to her new place of residency for the rest of the semester. The Mossos-Huntsberg household. Yes, she did have a good chat with her father while she was eating waffles, and both Ariana and Kavi went on their separate missions. Yes, she did ask Mama Audrey before inviting herself to live in her house. Yes, she was sleep deprived because she had to make sure to do this right, respecting the people she loved and being audaciously rude to those she hoped would drive themselves into a ditch. Opening her door, she gestured to the whole room, "Everything in the closet, not the bed, not the wardrobe, not the desk but everything in and on it." Walking inside she went to her prized possession, her vintage dressing table, and smiled while gliding her finger on the wood, "The vanity and bookshelf is mine. The chest too!"

Scanning the room, Chrissie nodded in enthusiasm, excited to start this new chapter, "Take the pictures and no need to clean the mess. The maid can do it." She paused, humorously letting out a giggle while playfully covering her lips, "Oh wait, they don't have one." Deciding they heard enough, she grabbed a bracelet out of one of many jewelry boxes on her vanity and dismissed herself, "Well I'll leave you boys to it!"

Once she exited, Chrissie twirled the symbol of friendship around her pointer finger. It had a pendent with a stamp that read 'soul sisters' with hearts and vines encircling it. Aside from the pendent, the bracelet itself was cheaply made and something she and Stella got when they were young and dumb. Standing in front of her cousin's door, she didn't hesitate to pull the dainty string and beads holding the pendent together apart, causing the beads to bounce on the floor and get all over the place. Effortlessly, she let the pendent join the other pieces, on the floor where it belonged. The hallway was big enough for the crew to avoid the walking hazard. It wasn't like they had a lot to carry anyways. Just in case though, she called out to them, "Please do be careful! Seems there's loose beads on the ground."

The corner of her lips were no longer fighting to smile. With a full-on grin, she went downstairs to the kitchen island, took out a cigarette from her purse, and lit it up. No, she didn't usually smoke, but has she? Of course. Today, she would, in celebration of her departure. Once she breathed in smoke, she let it seep out slowly as the ashes unceremoniously decorated the table. With music in her head, she started swaying and slowly twirling in the kitchen. After inhaling and exhaling enough of the grey stench, she dropped it on the floor, rubbed her right shoe on it, and went outside to watch the boys carry her things.

Today was a good day and by the time anyone would return, she'd be gone.

Just his luck. He would get the teacher who only knows how to treat her students like preschoolers. With his mouth shut and hands relaxed, he followed her to wherever she was taking him. Ms. Mulligan was a peculiar one, that's for sure. Part of her he felt feared most of the kids, the other part of her actually felt like she was genuinely sweet and easily pushed around. She was one of the younger teachers at this school, trying to get the kids invested in English & Literature when all they wanted was to go outside and not be stuck with her - someone who felt more like a babysitter than an actual teacher.

Stuffing one of his hands in his pockets, he felt the goddamn 'thanks for trying' stickers. Sol almost socked him in the face, purposely aiming too far left to miss him, but being inches away to get her anger across. To calm her down, Griffin offered her a picnic. Now, he has to make it up to her by providing lunch that isn't found in the cafeteria. So... a teacher's lunch. He'll worry about that later.

Back to Ms. Mulligan, Griffin believed her solution to dealing with most things was downplaying them and using antics like... carrying an old teddy bear with her so her students can direct their comments to Boris Bear instead of her. The 'speaking teddy bear' she calls it. In a large class setting, it's her way to manage who speaks. If you have it, you can speak, if you don't, you must respect the person who does and ultimately, that is respecting Boris (as if he was an actual person). In a small setting, it seemed like she was using it more for confidence than anything. Fin wasn't about to give her a hard time because he could only assume this was her first teaching gig and she was still figuring out how to teach teens properly. Like someone just out of college who was faking it until they make it sort of deal.

Having droned out most of her idle chatter about the weather, the hunt, the lunch menu, he realized where they were heading and opened his mouth to ask why here exactly. As if she could read his mind, Ms. Mulligan smiled, hugging the bear as she got to the academic building stairs, third floor, that led to the roof, “I hope you don't mind! I just feel... comfortable here. It's a bit more private and away from it all. And, uh, I think that's a perfect place to talk!"

Raising an eyebrow, glancing from the door knob to Boris' annoying face, Griffin nodded, “I don't mind at all, actually." It was nice to know a teacher liked high places too. He never did see her up here though. That probably was because they had different schedules - as to be expected with a teacher and a student - and he wasn't one to stalk a teacher like Ms. Mulligan and know exactly how her day went. To him, she felt like an open crayon book, who could never hide her lines (and quirks) even if her life depended on it.

While he did look down on her, because of how naive and oblivious she acted, Fin found her to be one of the more approachable and kind teachers. Maybe, he was giving her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, he didn't think this whole school was up to something sinister. Maybe, he didn't want to be trapped in his mind full of conspiracy theories for once. Times like these, where he could be at peace in the sky, helped with that deep-seated gut feeling which sounded alarms in him. He appreciated her for that.

When they reached their destination, two seats were waiting for them, both facing each other, but close enough to the ledge so they could enjoy the view. Not needing to ask, Griffin took his seat, had his right leg crossed over his left leg, and leaned right, resting his elbow on the arm rest and his chin in hand. He watched as the nervous, mousy teacher took her seat and looked at her as she offered him the plushie, “Nah, I'm good."

“Please, I insist." Ms. Mulligan pouted, only causing Griffin to roll his eyes and refusing to budge. When he didn't move from his position, simply staring at her with dull, bored eyes, she huffed, “Very well." Placing Boris on her lap, situating him where he looked comfortable, she and the toy gave all their attention to Subject #50. There was no notebook, no pen, no bag with her. Just her and that bear. Griffin took a mental note of that, wondering if she had a photographic memory like him. Clearing her throat, she sweetly went right into things, “So, um, Griffin. I know your team..." Awkward pause. “Lost. Sorry about that. But did you have fun?"

Uninterested, yet at eased, Griffin calmly looked at his teacher, still in his leaned position, his pointer finger tapping his face, like a metronome marking, “I didn't care about winning in the first place. But it was okay, I guess. Kind of dumb."

“D-dumb? Why is that?"

“Don't take this personal, Ms. M, but I've been stuck inside for a good two weeks now. Instead of having time to get back into the groove of things, I get thrown into an event where the sole purpose is to build 'community'. Community, really? We're teens. Egg toss? Basic riddles? 1 out of 10 free throws had to be shot to get to the next round? What is this? Fifth grade field day?"

Anxiously playing with Boris' paws, Ms. Mulligan nodded, “I'm sorry we didn't seem to challenge you enough... then how do you explain coming in last?"

Picking up the tempo in his tapping, Griffin jested, "Because I was enjoying myself, spending an entire day with a hubristic prick, who can talk about himself for hours without even trying."

Clearly picking up his growing annoyance, the older woman bit her bottom lip and decided to redirect this interview, “Okay, enough about the hunt. It's done and over with! Let's see, let's see, school. Let's talk about school! Aside from you getting sick, everything else has been going okay, yeah? You got basketball, your grades are exceptional, I'm sure you have friends too!"

"School is school. I make due with what you guys offer, but I'm not going to act like there isn't any cabin fever. Are there going to be field trips? I'd like to, I don't know, go camping or something. Off of campus."

“That breaks the whole... unplugged policy. If there is a trip being planned, I just don't know yet. Sorry I can't be helpful! I'll make sure to get a message across that you want some outside time? A field trip sounds like a fantastic idea. Maybe to a lake or something! Is there anyone you'd specifically want to be paired with for that? Like any of your friends?" Ms. Mulligan enthusiastically cheered.

Sighing, Griffin simply nodded, leaning further back, and crossing his arms. His attention went from looking into his teacher's eyes to Boris' dark void gaze.

Inside a lab, two, mysterious figures, one with the posture of a sloth loafer and the other with a posture of a gorilla solider, in lab coats observed Griffin through the teddy bear's eyes. The lazily one, resting his head on the table, as he listened to the interview, humorously laughed, "She's a good weapon, don't you think? I'm such a genius. Pairing the 'young and dumb' one with our biggest problem child."

"Now you're considering who we'd prefer to hang with? Rather than do that whole randomizing thing you had going for us, for the hunt?"

"Eliza has a charm about her." The one standing at halt looked at the screen at Subject #50's mannerisms, gestures, and general attitude for signs of dishonesty. For once, the Hawk seemed to be playing along. Not causing trouble. "Freedom is a state of mind and it seems like out of all our experiments, Subject #50 is the most aware of his state."

"I-I had no control over that Griffin. Can you just tell me that you have healthy friendships here? Why can't you give me a straight answer!"

"Since day 1 he's been a problem, why are we keeping him again?" The sluggish man looked up at his colleague curiously.

"Ms. M getting hot and bothered, I likey. Okay, I'll give you a bone. I do have friends. There. Happy?"

"To test the waters. I think his time at the hospital has done miracles with setting him back. Now he seems... more compliant." The bigger man gestured for his colleague to straighten his posture and focus on the screen. "It's only a matter of time where his inner beast comes out."

"I imagine that's the best I'm going to get."

"He seems that way." Sighing, the thinner figure stood up and went beside the brawny man. "'Suppose we'll wait and see, now won't we?"

"Yeah. It is. Now can I go?"
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