NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: OOC thread is here. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=582970)

There was much to be said about prom night, 1806 hours, Hibernia Standard Time.

For one, the buffet table was loaded with, of all things, Japanese food. Not a single ounce of more Western delicacies was laid on the white tables with white tablecloths, and white cards were labeled with such obscurities as “Katsudon” and “Teriyaki” (or, as the hiragana characters below the Latin characters described, カツ丼 and てりやき respectively).

Another was that the event took place in the school gymnasium. This was a fairly common occurrence, actually, but there had been bad feelings about the gym as a venue because in general, it was not very pretty. And then, some genius team of improvisational decorators darkened the room, added a retro disco ball, placed blue cellophane over the fluorescent light tubes, added paper and fabric drapes everywhere, and got good deals on good tables and chairs – and somehow the place ended up looked better than any other private school’s cookie-cutter hotel ballroom prom.

It's to be noted that the buffet table's contents were rotating; when the event prematurely began at 1700, the food was Chinese and so were the ideographs represented on the place cards. Additionally, while the typical rumor was that the PromCommittee broke the budget for the venue and so chose the gymnasium as some unhappy expedient, the actuality was that every suitable function room/ballroom in a reasonable vicinity was booked for the night, and anything else would've become a stuffy affair, owing to the population of the University's high school population.

A little background, perhaps, on the totality of this setting: Sandy Bridges University was located in the District of Hibernia, a medium-sized Locality situated almost on the very edge of the Grand Unified Federation of Perimeter Defense. It was a "fair-to-middlin'" campus of about 1,900 acres, with coffee shops, bookstores and electronics and fashion boutiques galore to be found within - as well as gun stores, and your friendly neighborhood armories located under each main building.

The University was divided, sectorally, into the Primary School, the Secondary School, and the Professional Schools which generally meant the college campuses. Bridging the Pro Schools and the Sec School was a large dormitory compound, but with the proximity of the school to the residential areas of Hibernia, these living areas were sparsely populated. There was also an unofficial area that many people called "The Mall," both as a reference to the large park along downtown D.C. (whose layout it shared) and as a literal description of the density of commercial stores within it.

Today's February 14 of St. Valentine's Day fame presented a lovely endeavor in which the Junior third years would partake; the aforementioned prom in the aforementioned gymnasium was the highlight of the night, and naturally the population of the invited was milling about either inside or outside the venue.

As per SBU High tradition of crashing Soph Night/Grad Ball/Prom, more than a few upper/lowerclassman party crashers were loitering outside, preparing to assault the gym with the force of a renewed Operation Desert Storm. But at 1806 hours, this would be impossible, for with the rotation of the buffet table coincided the rotation of the guards outside, and the 6pm shift comprised members of the football team, armed with rubbershot M1014's and nerves of steel. On the balcony were the "Beanbag girls," senior cheerleader chicks who'd be admired and ogled at if not for the beanbag shooters they carried.

Inside, of course, the great and admirable pains taken in embellishing the gym made themselves known in all their glory, hanging down or lighting up or just sitting around. Across the wide plains of the floor were tables and chairs with tablecloths, white china (or faux-china; there was still a lot of controversy about the debacle of last year's plastic plates) and little candelabras. Giant speakers and monitors were spread out across one of the lengthwise walls, and at the center was a stage where the emcees, commentators, awards and the occasional band would be present.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" said the Batch Co-Representative, a petite, perky girl named Christie, from the stage. "It's great seeing you all here for our Junior Prom. The night is young, and let's all have a blast tonight for the duration of our stay!

"Oh, and some friendly reminders from PromCom: SecSchool provisions prevent us from selling contraceptives in this area, but take a trip down to The Mall if you're looking into a rough night. Also, during the slow dance, please leave your firearms at your table. You'll be prohibited from dancing if you have any weapons on your body. And finally, if you're not supposed to be here, please leave with your dignity - and your balls attached. Five minutes after this announcement, any non-inviteds and potential party crashers discovered will be brought outside to be executed by beanbag firing squad and brought to the Soap Salesmen for summary cleansing. Thank you!" Christie walked down the stage, a great big smile on her face, and joined her friends near the sound booth, presumably to enter some kind of giddy trance characteristic of her personality archetype.

One less perky soul existed among the now-increasing number of people in the gym. Sarah Allendale, brunette with blue/green heterochromic eyes, was pretty enough for a low-end model job, but her dull demeanor today was far from contingent on her relative attractiveness. Just sitting there on some lonely table, staring into the distance, was her chosen status quo for Prom Night. Perhaps this was due to memories of last year's equivalent event: the Sophomore's Night. She had been put up for the Girl of the Night candidacy, but just because her competition's fucking date was a judge...

Another possible source of her slump was the fact that her expected date dumped her just a few hours ago for some blonde in the college. This would've been bad enough had the blonde been some dumb-as-Fallout-3-AI ditz with F-cups, but the fact of the matter was that the blonde was a guy. Nothing could have been more damaging to whatever was left of her psyche.

"Don't look so sad, babe," came a voice behind her. A "dashing, debonair" (proposed yearbook write-up) young man walked and put his hand on her shoulder. Sarah gently brushed off the hand of Conroe MacKenzie, a rakish womanizer who, it was said, slept with three to four girls a week, and not necessarily one at a time. His nickname was "BMG" because of some legendary photos that circulated around the Internet, which showed his flaccid flopper alongside a 12.7x99mm .50 BMG round, his member winning the contest.

"Shut up. And don't touch me," Sarah said venomously.

"Suit yourself. Personally, I don't have a date myself."

Sarah raised an eyebrow at that. Seeing this expression, he responded with:

"Of course, that's 'cause I could get any girl in this gym with a wink and a snap - you incl-"

"Me included? Get out of my face, asshole, while you still have a face to call your own." Sarah was ready to stand up and put this guy back in the hole from which he crawled.

"Sheesh, keep the hormones out of this. You're not my goddamn type anyway." Before Sarah could go B-61 on him, Conroe walked off for another lonely girl sitting at a lonely table, this one looking like a more viable prospect.

Sarah sat back and looked around her. The gym was still a little empty, people scattered about with their dates, or dateless and talking to classmates. Looking to the entrance, she saw a bunch of new arrivals coming in. They seemed to all be exchange students or at least not from Hibernia; their appearances didn't exactly match the standard 'round here.

Never actually seen them before, she thought to herself. Maybe it was a memory lapse brought about by yesterday's flubbed calculus quiz:

(d/dx) e^x = ?

That was totally fucked-up. The answer was, of course, just e^x, but she had tried reasoning out with some of the power rule combos and stuff, completely forgetting the "lim [f(a+h)-f(a)]/a as h goes to 0" thing, and just totally failing the entire quiz.

Anyway, looking at these new arrivals, and being alone at the moment, she thought it a good idea to walk over and say hi, but...well, she felt too bored and down to do anything. She scratched at the pink STANAG magazine strapped to her thigh, cursing whatever societal pressures made this magazine a fashion statement, and sighed.

Fall 186 cms tall dressed in Imperial (http://i157.photobucket.com/albums/t69/zxc_047/Imperial%20MT%20Navy-Army-Air%20Forces/NewMaleFormaldressUniformMT-PMT.jpg) Army Formal dress with his Dragoon combat pistol and combat knife hiden under the greatcoat ,stood leaning on the wall of the Gym.. He reached up to his face to scratch an itch beneath the small scar on his right cheek . His piercing green eyes darted around the gym as he observed the other Students going about their business

A lot had happened in the year and a half since the Incident that had given him his small scar and saw five of his platoon killed,One his brother had married the woman of his dreams, two he was sent to this school by the Military Headquarters to lean new things

"hell why am i here, i don't know anyone well enough to talk to or any girl to dance with when time comes "Fall say to himself as he took off his hat and ran his hand back through his thick, black hair before replacing the hat and taking out of a pocket a Imperial 13.85x122.7mm .55 cal bullet to flip it between his fingers

<snip>
Despite the food being served, Marcus Stugenov appeared in a faux chevalier suit, a cloak over one shoulder and fastened by a silver cord, with a costume rapier clipped to his belt with an equally-dashing silver buckle. At only fourteen, Marcus was smaller than most of the students at the dance, and nonchalantly brushed between them as he wandered throughout the gymnasium. He wasn't all that interested in being with someone, but as a foreigner in a strange land, Marcus felt even more alienated than usual. At least, if he was with someone, the people wouldn't necessarily look at him too oddly, after all, he knew someone there.

Hearing the announcement, Marcus wondered if his blunted rapier would be banned; though it seemed like he wouldn't be doing much dancing. His eyes caught sight of a girl and boy talking. The girl said something derisive, and Marcus saw the boy move on to another girl-new prey. Marcus frowned at that. Deciding that the only other prospect was to hug the wall for a few hours, Marcus threaded his way over. He noticed her immediately as Sarah Allendale. Though he was confused; his intel had mentioned she had a date. Marcus walked up anyway.

"Pardon me, miss," Marcus did a slight bow. "I've never introduced myself; I am Marcus Stugenov, how do you do?"

Kenji de Wit overlooked the crowd from the entrance. Nice place, he thought to himself. It was clear that the uni's decorators really knew what they were doing. Kenji stumbled through the different groups towards a food table, recognising persons here and there. Most just gave him foul looks, but a few were actually happy to see him. But all faces had one expression in common: Surprise. Kenji mostly lay in bed around this time, either sleeping or thinking up his next sneaky plan.

But not today. Today was a time of relaxation. Kenji felt at ease. His decision to go to the party may have been a little late, about ten minutes ago, but at least he was here. He got used to wearing a gun everywhere he went, even though this was outlawed in his own country. Absently he felt if his Glock 17 was still in the inside pocket of his suit. His clothing consisted of a simple, black suit with bow tie, black suede shoes and his shirt.

Kenji arrived at the table he had in mind. He grabbed a few snacks he was familiar with and planted himself on a chair. He watched as another exchange student who was wearing a ridiculous military outfit, including a red trimmed grey trench coat, was standing somewhere while playing with a bullet. Kenji looked at one if those Japanese sushi rolls. Makizushi, if he was correct there. After thorough inspection Kenji decided the food to be eatable and took a bite. He watched as the first people started to show their moves on the dancefloor. It all looked very hesitant. The night was still young though, and Kenji had all the time in the world...

[GYMNASIUM, SANDY BRIDGES UNIVERSITY, HIBERNIA, PERIMETER DEFENSE]
[PROM NIGHT, 1812 HOURS, HIBERNIA STANDARD TIME]

Marie Hawke was, quite possibly, the most unconventionally dressed person in the room. Let's get to her outfit before we get to her actions – it's important to understand exactly what her character was before we begin delving into her life.

She's short. That much is certain. But please, for the love of god, don't tell her that if she's in a bad mood. Also, she's... er... She doesn't look at all a bit like most of those women out on the floor. They have... some... major differences, as compared to Mari--

[HEY! NARRATOR!]

Oh god.

[ARE YOU TRYING TO INSINUATE THAT I HAVE THE BODILY FORM OF A 1/100 SCALE MINIATURE OF A DRAWING MANNEQUIN? ARE YOU ATTEMPTING TO MAKE THE COMPARISON THAT I--]

No! I'm not! I'm talking about your hair colour!

[...Oh! Okay. Well then. Get on with it. And call me Miri, damn it!]

Right. Anyways. Where was I? Hair colour. For one, Miri has naturally purple hair. Another is... She's right about the body shape thing. But don't let her catch me saying tha- AUGH

[SHUT UP AND GET ON WITH IT, YOU STUPID DOG. TELL THE DAMN STORY.]

Augh, fine, already! Anyways. Miri. Petite. Natural purple hair. This has some of its bonuses, though. She... well, she's the most unconventionally dressed person in the room. Most people wore standard dresses to their prom, right? Like, the standard body form fitting dresses, sometimes with no back, shimmering, whatever. Stuff like that, right?

Honestly, these people. If you take away their heads, they all look the same. It's annoying! Absolutely annoying!
“As if you looking absolutely different from everybody else is any sort of consolation, Mir- GAH” Out of nowhere, it seemed as if Miri's hand had reached out to slap shut her date's mouth.

“There was a fly on your mouth! Shut up!” Miri tossed part of her hair back over her shoulder and adjusted the hem on her excessively garish, poofy, frilly dress. (http://www.metamorphose.gr.jp/onlineshop/dresses/images/120840270089-noall.jpg) “Besides! I like wearing this kind of thing!” She smiled and spun around for a few moments. “Ahahahahaha!”

Her date just sighed and facepalmed. “Alright, alright, I get it already.” Miri spun back over to his side and looked him directly in the face. “Besides... it's not like I'm actually here for you, or anything.”

Miri's expression changed, again, from a happy smile to something that could only be described as [=3=]. “Right. You're looking for whats-her-face, aren't you?” She sighed and smiled. “Well, since I'm feeling all nice and all this month, I'll become reborn your angel of love for you!”

“Haaah?” Her date - alright, fine, he's been demoted to companion – looked on in confusion. “That... that's so wrong.”

“Oh, come on. Say what you will of me!” She began spinning across the reception area again, letting her frills billow out a bit around her. “In order to allow everyone to have a happy lastish month of school, I guess I'll be a bit less cynical for once.” She bumped into one of the other girls while spinning – one that she hated.

“Get away from me, you freak!” Miri bounced and spun off in another direction.

“Thanks for the compliment! I'll kill you later!” Miri raised a hand in a salute and continued spinning off in a direction, picking up a donut off one of the food tables. “Hey, Ryan!” She held the donut over her head and gave one of her nicer, more energetic smiles. “So, do I look like an angel?”

Ryan merely facepalmed. “No. You don't. And the crumbs are falling onto your head.”

“Eh?! What, really? Get them off!”

And as such, Miri's eventful night began.

Now for a Klatchian entrance

The long elegant coupehttp://www.morgan-motor.co.uk/sales/aeromax_images/aeromax_side_graf_web.jpg slid through the campus and turned into one of the faculty parking lots with the engine sounding like a contented Klatchian Tiger purring after a nice hot meal of fresh ork.

Martin just shook his head as he switched off the motor. It was actually a race car prototype that had been judged not fast enough. Rather than attempt to shoehorn in a slightly larger motor or even scrap the all aluminum Morgan frame, his sister had given Marvin the car as a birthday present.

Even Martin, who had been trying to get out from his elder sister's shadow since he was born, had no problem with this handme down.

Dr. Blackwell, as the students addressed him, pulled his gym bag from the back of the car before locking it. He turned and walked towards the gym, realizing that he was obviously late, as expected, and that the guards had deployed around the building. He hadn't seen things this well armed...well since the last Dyellian civil war. Of course Dyelli-Beybi had two seasons, War and Reload. Seeing similar paranoia at a school dance was a bit disconcerting to say the least.

Now then I know why I got this gig. Low man on the totem pole, zero points towards tenure, zero points towards anything. He smiled at a few Seniors in his advanced physics lab that he had been teaching over here. Apparently part of the Physics departments more menial classes.

At the line of guards he explained that he was a tardy chaperon for the event...which proved a bit more difficult since he was a bit too young to be a teacher and only one football player was currently in advanced physics.

Finally Dr. Blackwell was admitted and he wandered into the gym and paused. Martin hadn't grown up all that wealthy, his father being a miser of great note, but he seriously wondered about the disco ball. Maybe it was his more snobbish Cambridge days popping up. Anyway he really was not going to enjoy this evening in the filtered florescent lamps.

Dr. Blackwell looked across the students in the food line and decided to wait. He really wasn't that hungry. He pondered where the other chaperons were at the moment...and then wondered if he was the only one. Of course that seemed not to matter too much, he was far more physically developed than most of the eighteen and seventeen year olds about.

They just have a propensity for owning firearms around here. Which I don't understand really. Back home you had to carry a rifle or a handgun about because of the wildlife. It was never seen as a orniment or such. Well swords were a symbol of status but still, I mean a pink magazine?[i].

He considered the girl, and her apparent date. She really was not that bad looking a young woman and...then noticed the apparent whirlwind moving through the crowd.

[i]Really...she is just going to get dizzy doing that...but where did she find that doughnut?

Martin placed his bag underneath a chair and walked through the crowd to position himself in the path of the female tornado impersonator. Bracing himself to stop the girl after impact. As she neared him he stated dryly, in his proper professorial tone with South African accent. "I thought this was a dance not a game of human pinball"

When one glanced towards the door at that precise moment, one observed two of the most normal people of all. If one discounted the fact that they were both foreigners in Perimeter Defense, and that despite that, they were both highly ranked in the contest for potential King and Queen of Prom.

Charles Kenneth Waterstone was, like his date and girlfriend since their junior prom, a Tartarian, and a wealthy one, which meant that he took the decorations in stride. If anything, the idea of holding the Prom in the gym seemed off to him. After all, what self respecting place could not afford a proper ballroom?

Despite four years there, party crashing was as foreign to him as space travel, and so, despite all the training he had gotten during his stay, security considerations were the further thing from his mind that evening. Though when he had noticed them on the way in, he had in fact approved. Especially since the lovely young woman on his arm had had such a significant role in planning them.

Eden Knight had spent several hours getting ready, appearance was everything after all. And she was very happy with the end result. Her dress was royal blue, adding a touch to her noble air, while at the same time remaining sexy and stylish. Her midriff would have been bare if not for the skin tone embroidered netting that joined the top of her dress to the skirt, which had a split up to her left thigh and was long enough brushed lightly on the ground, even with heels.

Her gaze flicked around the room, picking out friends, as well as a few people she planned on avoiding at all costs. Her fingers tightened slightly on her companion’s arm as they moved a little further into the room, a smile placed firmly on her lips.

While Charles was decently tall, and the slim lines of the traditional tuxedo merely emphasized his athletic physique, he did not have to bend over much to whisper into his companion’s ear above the music. As he did so, his fingers slid over the silken nylon material that made up the midriff covering, pulling his date closer to him. “Talk, dance, drink, or sit?” he murmured into her ear, in a voice he knew from previous experience she found irresistible.

The smile grew, as Eden felt his warm breath against her skin. “Drink first, I think,” she finally decided as she looked at the few people who were currently making use of the dance floor. “And then dance, as long as they are playing something worth dancing to.”

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he cracked a grin. “We would not want to dance to something beneath us.” Keeping his arm around her waist, he carefully guided her towards the tables on the far side of the room, half focused on the punch bowl, with the rest of his attention drawn to the excitable head of purple hair bouncing nearby his destination. He rolled his eyes and muttered disgustedly, “Miri.”

Eden flicked her eyes towards the subject of Charles’ muttered words and shook her head, before once more looking away. “People with that colour hair really should look after their head better. A good dandruff shampoo would work wonders.”

Running his fingers up her spine before he let go to grab to glasses of punch, Charles turned so that he was facing his date and blocking her view of the purple haired menace, who had tried to light arrows on fire during archery practice the previous year. “Who’s here that we can be seen with?” he asked quietly, examining the room which had yet to fill up.

“There are plenty of people,” Eden replied, as she quickly spotted a couple of friends who had just entered and another few who were already sitting at tables. “I have no concerns about finding people to converse with during the evening. I just hope the others keep their distance.” She did not need to mention any names for Charles to know who she was referring to.

“I am sure they will.” He handed her one of the glasses and took a sip from his own as his now free hand found itself in the small of her back again, feeling the warmth of her skin through the sheer material. Guiding her forward, he led her around the edge dance floor towards some of the occupied tables. As they moved, Charles’ fingers slid downward and curled around Eden’s side, resting on her far hip possessively.

Noticing the overly obsessive military whackjob against the wall, his gaze pulled skyward. This was a high school, not a military academy. While many of the same things were taught, the environment was supposed to be more relaxed, even at a formal event like Prom. One advantage he had noticed early on to not attending Palo Alto. Another had his arm around her. To change the subject, he brought up someone he routinely teased Eden about.

“So, you assigned Andrea to be in charge of the cheerguard tonight, huh? Does that mean I will not have a chance to dance with her?” Charles grinned, anticipating the scowl that grace the otherwise beautiful face at the mention of Eden’s best friend and deputy in the varsity cheerleading squad. The girl was the total opposite of the captain in every way, dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin, though just as beautiful in the eyes of the male population of the school. It was a routine sort of tease between them, as before he and Eden had started to date, the two had competed over everything, especially male companionship, and that mode of thinking still ran roughshod over everything else between the two girls.

The scowl that Charles was expecting was on her face, furrowing her brow. “Charlie, as if I would do anything so mean.” Her eyes sparkled teasingly as she addressed him with a nickname she knew would make him cringe at. “Andrea was more than happy to take over the responsibility of organising the cheerguard, as you so sweetly call them.” A slight grin played on her lips. “Especially when I promised her that Karl – at least I hope that is who she said – would be nearby all evening.”

That nickname managed to prompt a matching scowl from Eden’s date. “If you cannot keep up with her flavour of the week, I have no idea how the rest of us are supposed to. Or she does, for that matter.” He took a quick sip of his drink. “Back home, a girl like her would be untouchable by anyone of status. Here she is just considered normal. And everyone likes her.” He shook his head then polished off the punch. “So much variety in different places.”

Eden took a sip of her drink, savouring the fruity taste, before lowering her glass and cupping it in her hands. “Fortunately, we are not in Tartarus.” She turned her eyes to meet his, her eyebrow raised slightly. The thought spreading through her mind brought a wider smile to her face. “There are some advantages to being away from home.”

Using his now free hand, Charles turned the cheerleader to face him squarely, his own eyes lighting with amusement at the memories he saw reflected behind her gaze. “Yes, there are,” he agreed in the same tone of voice he had used earlier, a smirk spreading across his face.

Carefully reaching out, Eden placed her glass on the table, without breaking eye contact with Charles. “I suddenly feel the need to get up close and personal.” She nibbled her lower lip provocatively, then released it slowly from between her teeth. “But as we’ve only just got here...” She grinned. “Shall we dance?”

“Tease,” the Tartarian young man muttered as the current song ended. He smiled again as he led her out onto the floor. “How many?” he continued, as a driving song with a heavy bass beat came on. They had a standing competition to see how many songs it would take before one person dragged the other off the floor to a secluded area. If they managed to guess right, it was worth a point, though they had yet to determine what the points were for.

Letting Charles lead her to the dance floor, Eden gave the question a moment’s thought. “It is still early, we have not spoken to anyone yet and we have not eaten, so I am going to say...six.”

“Five it is,” he declared just before kissing her lightly, as he ran his fingers down her spine, still feeling the warmth of her under his fingertips before they dropped below her waist and ground his date against him, pulling them both into the frenzy and pulse of the dance.


OOC:The style of the dress (http://www.dressesandaccessories.net/shop/images/5650.JPG). The dress is royal blue, though.

Worst intro post ever. It'll get better, I promise.

Boots are, without question, the most useful, versatile piece of footwear than any man can own. No single other form of footwear can serve a man so well. Working on the farm, on the range, in casual and formal settings, hiking, horse riding, and just relaxing. A good pair of boots cannot be beat.

To Cooper Freeman, there was no argument to this question. That is why he had saved fifty bucks on the tux rental. No shoes. Instead, he slipped out of his car, a black Buick GNX, and placed not a pair of awfully worn, supportive, and uncomfortable shoes, but a recently shined pair of perfectly worn black Tomasso Arditti alligator skin boots. At twenty six hundred dollars a pair, they were possibly the single most expensive piece of clothing that Cooper owned. The toes poked out from the heel, the calf hidden by the standard black tux slacks. However, from there in, the tux ended its tradition. Gone were the usual cummerbund and bow tie, replaced with a dark crimson red vest and straight tie. A black button down shirt was worn under the vest and tie, and the traditional black tux jacket hung over the passenger's seat of the Buick.

Cooper took one look around at the guards, the cheer leaders, and the Junior girl's walking into the gym. He wasn't really out to find another Pretty Young Thing, but should one come his way, he wouldn't turn her away. He reached into the mid eighties muscle car, pulled out the jacket, and slipped it on over the Galco Miami Classic shoulder rig. The Sig tucked away nicely, he made his way to the front line. It would be easy enough to slip past it and into the gym, half the guards were his friends. If not, he still had his marker in the trunk of the car, and a case of pepper balls that he had snuck out of the last visit to his uncle's in Miami.

He stopped for a moment, chatting with two of the shooters, a defensive nose tackle and the full back, joking about class and a few of the teachers before slipping each a twenty dollar bill as they stepped aside. The nose tackle turned, thew Cooper a thumbs up, and hollered after him.

"Go git you some Swampy!"

The nose tackle had been another transplant from Alabama, up in Birmingham. Cooper just laughed, shaking his head. "I'll send one of them your way pimpin'."

Freeman entered the gym, taking in the general feel.

"Fuck man, standard prom shit. They gotta get a real theme one of these years."

He grabbed a glass, filled it with punch, and started to do his rounds, deciding to be social this night.

[STILL AT THE GYM, YOU KNOW THE REST]
[PROM NIGHT, 1818 HOURS, HIBERNIA STANDARD TIME]

“Wahahahaha!” Miri continued spinning through the crowd, trying to not cause as much of a mess as possible. “Come on! You people should join in on this! It's good for your ankles and actually really a lot of fun!” Well, alright. Miri was generally one to spin around in open areas and hug walls, especially if the walls were cooler than the rest of the ambient air temperature. It's not like anybody knew that's what she was doing, but does it matter? Nope. Not to her, and not to the writer, either.

As she passed near the general area of the two excessively sensually acting Eden and Charles, she stuck out a tongue. She spun, “You know, I think there's a tent in the back of my car if you need a place to run off to. You'll have to set it up yourself, though! Ahahahahahaha...” Crazy people. Oi.

“Hey, you. Slow down a bit!” Ryan facepalmed. “You're going to nearly run into someone!”

Miri continued to spin around the room. “Oh, no, I'm not going to crash into anyb- ow!” She immediately rammed the good, young doctor, nearly toppling him over as he made his statement.

“Eh? Me? Oh, I'm just having a bit of fun! What's it to you?” She glared at the professor. “I'm dancing, in a sense! It's... it's an Aralonian traditional dance!”

Ryan facepalmed. “Honestly, could you be any less conspicuous? Well, it doesn't matter. Hey, Miri. I thought you were being good this month?”

Miri stopped spinning for a second and began to laugh. “Ahaha! Right, right, I forgot!” Then, in an entirely out of character fashion, she curtsied to Dr. Blackwell. “It's a pleasure seeing you here tonight, Doctor. I take it you got stuck as one of the chappies tonight? Well, at least try and have some fun while you're out there, okay?” She offered a proper, glowing smile. Probably one far too wide and too glowing.

Lewis Hawk had walked into the room about a half hour ago, attracting absolutely no attention, not that that was exactly unusual. It's kinda nice actually, Thought Lewis to himself. The one time I can get out from under my uncle's shadow, even if it is to complete obscurity. Not that that's a bad thing either. It always kind of sucked to stick out in a crowd. He was leaning against a wall, practically in the corner of the gym, watching as the other students danced or socialized.

Hawk's Clothing said a lot about his personality. He was wearing his ASD special forces uniform under a simple suit jacket. The uniform was a simple black matte made of "standard" Woad Raider nanofiber. Of course, that "standard" fiber was the most expensive material pound for pound in the ASD and could have been a lot more . . .flamboyant . . . but that just really wasn't his style. The uniform itself had been given to him following a particularly nasty shoot out between himself and some kidnappers. His mentor, Gunny Sargent Alex, had helped him become a part of the team and though technically the ASD military code wouldn't let him join for another few years, the Woad Raiders played by their own rules to a certain extent.

Leaning against the wall, hawk looked around the room again, specifically keeping his eye on a girl who appeared to be part tornado. Dipping into his pocket he pulled out a small coin and proceeded to play it across his knuckles. He was completely at ease and at peace watching the flow of people around him from the outside. He found himself looking at a group of football players near the door. "heh" He laughed slightly to himself. I could probably be one of them and--. He thought but no, then I'd have to show them exactly what I'm capable off and someone could get hurt. Even more it wouldn't exactly be fair to em, and I'd end up having to explain why a spec. ops. trained kid was here and I just don't wanna get into it.

Sarah's back had been turned to the source of the voice when it spoke to her. As she turned around, she began with:

"Acting all gentlemanly now, are you, you stupid fu- oh!" First of all, the guy was too small to be good ol' BMG. Secondly, in retrospect his voice didn't match at all that of the asshole of assholes, so there was more than a hint of embarrassment in her voice when she spoke.

"H-hi." She let him continue his sentence, and then: "Nice to meet you, Marcus. I'm...Sarah Allendale." She beamed. "I'm sorry, I thought you were Conroe MacKenzie. He's been going about..." She scratched at her leg magazine. Was she developing an allergy to it? "I'm fine, thanks."

She looked at Marcus. He was pretty youngish, if her generally accurate gauge-age-by-appearance perception was telling the truth. The question arose as to whether he really was a Junior, but she remembered him entering through the main entrance without a commotion, so this was probably the case.

"I haven't seen you around before," she said, shrugging slightly. Or maybe I'm just forgetful.

Onstage, some big band jazz was starting up, the supreme Miller classic "Moonlight Serenade" playing on. The piercing clarinet leads played out in beautiful harmony, replacing the pounding pace of the previous pop electronica. With this changeover came a corresponding mellowing-out in the motion on the dance floor, a kinetic frenzy toning down to a sweet slow dance.

Sarah watched as people slowed down as though someone had switched the speeds on some turntable record. It was interesting to see all these couples dancing happily, and disappointing to know that she wasn't to be one of them tonight.

Sarah's back had been turned to the source of the voice when it spoke to her. As she turned around, she began with:

"Acting all gentlemanly now, are you, you stupid fu- oh!" First of all, the guy was too small to be good ol' BMG. Secondly, in retrospect his voice didn't match at all that of the asshole of assholes, so there was more than a hint of embarrassment in her voice when she spoke.

"H-hi." She let him continue his sentence, and then: "Nice to meet you, Marcus. I'm...Sarah Allendale." She beamed. "I'm sorry, I thought you were Conroe MacKenzie. He's been going about..." She scratched at her leg magazine. Was she developing an allergy to it? "I'm fine, thanks."

She looked at Marcus. He was pretty youngish, if her generally accurate gauge-age-by-appearance perception was telling the truth. The question arose as to whether he really was a Junior, but she remembered him entering through the main entrance without a commotion, so this was probably the case.

"I haven't seen you around before," she said, shrugging slightly. Or maybe I'm just forgetful.

Onstage, some big band jazz was starting up, the supreme Miller classic "Moonlight Serenade" playing on. The piercing clarinet leads played out in beautiful harmony, replacing the pounding pace of the previous pop electronica. With this changeover came a corresponding mellowing-out in the motion on the dance floor, a kinetic frenzy toning down to a sweet slow dance.

Sarah watched as people slowed down as though someone had switched the speeds on some turntable record. It was interesting to see all these couples dancing happily, and disappointing to know that she wasn't to be one of them tonight.
Marcus smiled at her 'greeting.' So, it had been true that the other boy had been harassing her.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquiantance, Miss Allendale," Marcus bowed slightly again. "I'm new here," he explained, "Which would explain why you don't recognize me." He turned to follow her gaze, watching the other students dancing to the lovely music. He wasn't all that skilled in talking to girls, but Marcus did know how to read people's reactions. "Miss Allendale, would you care to dance?" he asked.

i know better wars songs then this shit they playing and i never seen so many rich SOBs in my life, Fall throught to himself while still leaning on the wall he had been on for hours now as the jazz band started

"oh how i do wish i was facing a Helghan Spetsnaz right about now" Fall say while moving off heading for the drinks table to see what was there, which not to his surprise he found there was no alcohol

great can't go any where and there no alcohol to at less get myself half drunk Fall think as he turn around as some girl not watching where she was going due to watching the dancers, walks into him falling flat on her ass onto the floor

"hey sorry" she say as Fall helps her up from the floor

"yeah" Fall answer as he walks away from her ,heading back to the wall where he had came from

[STILL AT THE GYM, YOU KNOW THE REST]
[PROM NIGHT, 1818 HOURS, HIBERNIA STANDARD TIME]

“Eh? Me? Oh, I'm just having a bit of fun! What's it to you?” She glared at the professor. “I'm dancing, in a sense! It's... it's an Aralonian traditional dance!”


An eyebrow raised up at this statement.


Miri stopped spinning for a second and began to laugh. “Ahaha! Right, right, I forgot!” Then, in an entirely out of character fashion, she curtsied to Dr. Blackwell. “It's a pleasure seeing you here tonight, Doctor. I take it you got stuck as one of the chappies tonight? Well, at least try and have some fun while you're out there, okay?” She offered a proper, glowing smile. Probably one far too wide and too glowing.

"I might be able to enjoy myself if I didn't have to worry about your 'traditional' dance instigating a fight." The wry smile showed he likely wasn't fooled by her description at all.

As she curtsied he gave the small, traditional head bow.

He held out his hand for a moment to take her aside. "Of course you do seem to have learned some court etiquette." He leaned farther over, " And as my sister has learned, you don't attempt to run down your enemies at court physically, you just make them look bad." Martin's eyes looked into her and then indicated the gyrating couple she had teased earlier. "It would be a shame not to at least see if the potential King and Queen of the class can do more on the dance floor than illustrate their akward method of intercourse."

Marvin smiled slightly, "The question is, do you think you can assist me in this endeavor?" There was a gleam in his eye.

"spetnaz?" Asked Hawk as he caught up to the guy walking back to the wall. "Your special forces?"

He looked past the guy to a girl that he had just blown off. She looked a little upset actually.She's pretty good looking. I wonder whats eating this guy? He though to himself. Ah well, at least he's probably worth talking to. If he really is Spetnaz that is.

"spetnaz?" Asked Hawk as he caught up to the guy walking back to the wall. "Your special forces?"

He looked past the guy to a girl that he had just blown off. She looked a little upset actually.She's pretty good looking. I wonder whats eating this guy? He though to himself. Ah well, at least he's probably worth talking to. If he really is Spetnaz that is.

"killed some,and yes i'am in the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance ,short STR" answer Fall while turning to look at Hawk was looking at

"oh her,she was too busy watching the dancing, then where she was walking saw " Fall said as he watched her look the other way when she saw him look at her

"you look out of place as i do here and who are you" Fall now said with one eye on the girl who now moved to talk to two others, standing near a food table

"I think I might be remarkably similar to you." Replied Hawk holding out his hand, "Lewis Hawk, ASDM Elite Special Forces, we go by Woad Raiders."

He turned to look at the girl as well. "These dances just really aren't for me anymore. Something just seems a little, I don't know, juvenile perhaps?"

He turned back to the SRT. "I'm a sniper by choice, whats your specialty. Oh and what was your name?"

"I think I might be remarkably similar to you." Replied Hawk holding out his hand, "Lewis Hawk, ASDM Elite Special Forces, we go by Woad Raiders."

He turned to look at the girl as well. "These dances just really aren't for me anymore. Something just seems a little, I don't know, juvenile perhaps?"

He turned back to the SRT. "I'm a sniper by choice, whats your specialty. Oh and what was your name?"

Fall look at the hand been held out

"unless you want your hand to feel like you just shaken a Gorillas hand, you can put it away,as my poeple don't shake hands due to poeple feeling like they have shaken hands with a Gorilla"

"i can do a slow dance but been told i have to take off my thigh holster and knife to do so,is bullshit as both male and females back home have learn how to slow dance while wearing them" Fall say while still looking at the girls

"Fall just call me that and i'am a Rifleman cross trained as a medic" he add as the girls giggle

"Stop the car, Jeeves." The ATV pulled to a halt in the school parking lot and the hired driver (whose name was not Jeeves) exited to let his charge for the evening out. The young man stepped forth and sighed as he checked the pocketwatch given him by his older brother when he had made varsity. "I see the losers got here early." He remarked to his date, whatever her name was.

"Actually, we got here...." He placed a finger to her lips and smiled.

"Haven't I ever told you that half of being cool is knowing when to make an entrance?" Dylan Bernado, self-proclaimed prep, rich kid and legend in his own mind, certainly knew how to make an entrance. And part of that was arriving fifteen minutes late, for reasons that surely made sense in his own head. "Now, walk this way."

Even while he walked with his date into the prom, his thoughts were elsewhere. How expensive his single-breasted jacket had been to have tailored. How much the fabric had cost of his pants. If his aviator glasses were perched on his nose too cockily, or not cocky enough. His most prized possession was, of course, the new model Akdal Ghost nestled inside a pure bison-leather holster. Worn on his belt, of course, because what was the point of an expensive handgun and even more expensive holster if no one knew it was there? Far more to the point was the Glock Subcompact nestled in a pocket-holster inside his suit. His father, the long-standing Ambassador of Novar Ohan, had insisted upon it, not trusting the natives as far as he could throw them.

Of course, he didn't expect to use any of these weapons in self-defense, when there were perfectly useful poor people around to die on his behalf, such as the professors. He smiled and nodded to people as he entered, checking out some of the girls around the hall in case he wanted to dump whatsherface and give someone else the Joy that is Sex with Dylan Bernado.

And then he saw Doctor Blackwell. His expression went from pinkish confidence to purple terror in two seconds. He wondered if Doctor Blackwell remembered that he had never handed in that last assignment. He wondered if Doctor Blackwell remembered that he had been told if he didn't get that assignment in, he would be doing cleanup at the prom. Most of all, he wondered if he could toss his date for the evening at the good Doctor and get with the cute chick from Aralonia.

If there was one thing Cooper was good at, it was pretending to pay attention. It had gotten him through his basic required math classes, and was serving him well in the science courses now. Now, it was a skill he was putting to use with a not super model hot but still attractive blond from one of his classes. Her name was Lizzie, and she was good enough to keep Cooper around for a few moments, both in physical appearance and mental agility. She was definitely on his short list of Pretty Young Things, close to the top.

Cooper had just finished describing the concept of the no huddle offense when he looked up to see a girl he barely knew talking to one of the other expat students. This, in and of itself, would not be odd, until one took into account that this girl, Sarah he believed her name to be, had just blown off Conroe MacKenzie.

Conroe was, in Cooper's own words, a douche. He was the type of guy that gave decent, down to earth guys who were decent enough a bad name. Yet as high school usually went, all the good guys who had bad names because of Conroe were too afraid, or too in awe, to do anything about it. There was no love lost between Cooper and MacKenzie, and Cooper had been known, from time to time, to accidentally on purpose give MacKenzie a stiff shoulder in the hallways between class. Be it actual fear of Cooper, or the fact he was usually with at least five or six other football players, MacKenzie had never retaliated.

Cooper, being a proud Southerner, was always expecting a return shot. Yet to this day, it still hadn't come. It would sooner or later, Cooper knew that, and he was waiting for it. One of the reasons he had earned his nickname was hunting in the swamps with his father. One of the first things he learned, and that his father had never been to reluctant to teach, was that one always expected something. That advice easily moved out of the swamp and here to the high school.

"Lizzie, would you just excuse me for a second, I gotta go talk to someone real fast."

"Yeah, sure thing Coop," she responded, her tone almost disappointed.

"I'll be right back. Be sure to save me a dance," Freeman replied, winking. He then turned towards the table where Conroe had all but landed his catch, and set off.

Freeman dipped and danced between the crowd, avoiding a few already close couples. He had to shake his head at the event, in its entirety. While the actual scheduling and dance set up had been different than back home, prom at Sandy Bridges was no different than anywhere else. Girls dressed up in dresses that were cost ten times more than it took to produce them, advertised as "classy" despite showing off more skin than most stripper wear, and doing their best impersonations of a rap video girl to get someone to pay attention to them. Guys wore cheap rental tuxes that they prayed wouldn't get too stained, and that any stains were easy enough to remove. Some stains, sufficient to say, just didn't come out.

Cooper easily made it out of the crowd, and by then Conroe had his arm around the girl, and was moving in for the kill.

Now then, Cooper mused, we can't have that.

"Yo, Connie! Conroe! How's it going buddy?" He held out the u as he walked up, one hand in his right pocket, idly toying with a few coins. "And who is this Papa Yankee Tango?" he asked, eying the girl. He put on his full Southern face, which tended to serve well in the forced social situations and when he wanted to be polite without being nice.

"Miss, you'll just have to excuse me and Mr. MacKenzie here, I need to ask him about something I saw earlier, and get a few pointers from the master here." He slid his left arm over Conroe's shoulder, and led the grumbling student away from the girl.

"C'mon Connie, I know you have better taste than that. She's way to young anyway, don't need to be jail bait. Anyway, sorry about that nudge bout a week back. Just tripped over myself, two left feet and all. Guess that's why they keep me up front and on the line in season. But I gotta ask you brother, what was up with that Sarah girl. Blew you off good, looks like. And now she's bout to hit up the dance floor with another one of us lowly expats. You gonna let them stand you up like that? I mean, image to maintain and all."

"Hmm? Dance?" Sarah asked. She examined Stugenov. He seemed to be caparisoned rather regally for an event which called for rented tuxedos, but she guessed that that was the point in transcending the status quo - go stag, look better than average, and you won't be stag by the end of the night. He was actually a little shorter than her, and coupled with his youthful face, she judged him to be...sixteen? Fifteen? Something in that range.

He looked good, too. Cute? She wondered how the term would apply. His face had this strange, feminine look to it that was still a little handsome - thus translating to bishounen (beautiful youth), of which, in anime, she was admittedly a fan. Bonus points? He seemed smart, talked well, and at least looked like he had confidence. Reference: Conroe MacKenzie? That wasn't confidence - that was assholery at its most raw.

Yeah, she'd dance with him.

"Sure. Let's dance." She smiled, and stood up to go by his side.

Meanwhile, BMG MacKenzie was being smoothed over by one Cooper Freeman about his own failure to achieve Sarah Allendale, and wondered about Coop's reasoning while grumbling about being led away from his prey.

Sarah Allendale? Double-U Tee Eff. "Oh, come on, man," Conroe said, reeking of false closeness. "Sarah Allendale? You and I both know that hot as the chick is, she ain't worth the effort. Let 'er go dance with the little boy, they probably both need it." He chuckled. "She's probably secondhand goods anyway," he added.

[NEXT VERSE, SAME AS THE FIRST, YOU KNOW WHERE WE ARE]
[PROM NIGHT, 1826 HOURS, HIBERNIA STANDARD TIME]

Miri laughed at the statements given to her. “Well, I can't exactly do much with smacking people over the head. Though I really should get back to hiding that wooden dagger in my coat...” She drifted off for a sec, then noticed the short change in the music. “Ah...” She smiled at the hand outstretched to her, and almost took it, but decided to continue smiling instead. “I'd love to join you, but unfortunately, I'm not much of a dancer for anything other than spinning around!” She beamed, not showing even a hint of the fact that she was lying through her teeth. Nobody really had ever seen her take those ballroom dancing lessons. “It's alright, quite alright, though. I was planning on- oh, where did that dog go?” She looked around for Ryan for a moment, but luckily enough, he was already gone. That wasn't really a matter. ”HEY, RYAN. GOOD LUCK OUT THERE, YEAH? WAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHA” Turning back to Dr. Blackwell, she offered “Well, I'm going to continue milling around for the rest of this song, probably find a few people I've always liked and maybe distract them if they feel like being distracted. Onwards I go!” Waving a sort of a 'see you later,' she walked off.

Ryan merely facepalmed as he continued sifting the crowd for his true target of the night, another girl named Michelle, one of Miri's few friends. But he isn't the main character of my play style, so we'll go back to Miri.

She, while watching the group of dancers in the middle of the floor, was surprised at the sudden shift in peoples' movements from frenetic frenzies to slow subtleties, and decided to lean back and watch the situation flow by herself. “That stupid dog, I hope he does well with Michelle” She sighed and leaned over by a back wall. “Though, I guess that's what he's here for. Ah well...” Miri looked around for anybody else who was standing out - _There's that other warmonger... Honestly, what an annoying fellow. I can't believe that he's even here, saying such statements with bravado and annoyance... Those women around him are so damn shallow._ Turning to find other, possibly interesting people to talk to, she came across one Sarah Allendale, but... _Dammit! She's going to dance with someone. Ugh, that's my failure for not looking around properly._ “I'm bored. Someone entertain me.”

"Fall, cool." Replied Hawk, "I go by Hawk. Thanks for the concern about my delicate hands" He finished with a wry grin.

I wonder He though to himself. if he'd be so confident after the handshake. Aw well, at least theres one other real Warrior here. He looked out at the dance floor as people milled about though slightly less chaotically without the Tornado girl stirring things up. As he sized up the dancers he thought too himself A few other genuinely dangerous people out there but most of em seem to be more like militia types. Shouldn't be an issue though, i mean we're not exactly facing a war here, its a school damnit He laughed softly to himself Yah trust me to see the worst possible scenario he caught sight of the tornado girl and turned back to Fall.

"Well i'm gonna head out rifleman, but you look like you could use this," dipping into a pocket in the black nano-fiber he came out with a flask, "Its the best ASD'ian Scotch I could get my hands on before I left the ASD, gotta few more cases back in my room and they don't seem to be serving alcohol here. Enjoy it if you want or save it later." He tossed the flask to Fall and grinned again. "Enjoy" He said over his shoulder as he walked over to the tornado girl.

He stopped a coupled of feet away and said "Hey, My name's Hawk. Your Arlonian aren't you?"

Kenji was still sitting on his chair when he heard the yell from Miri Hawke. He smiled. He had always liked her, she was different. In a good way, different. She was able to stand out in a crowd and shine. It was time for some action.

Kenji took off his jacket, to reveal a light blue collared shirt, worn with black suspenders. He felt around in his pockets of his jacket and found what he was looking for: Three bottles; one filled with Grand Marnier, the second containing Irish Cream and finally a bottle of coffee liqueur. Out of another pocket he got a couple of shot glasses. Kenji started pouring the liqueur into the glass and then a bar spoon appeared out of nowhere in his hands. He performed a few corny tricks with the second bottle, the Irish Cream, before adding the second layer to the drink, using the bar spoon. Finally he added the Grand Marnier and the drinks were finished.

The only disadvantage of the B-52 is that it's quite difficult to make, thought Kenji. He had to practice for weeks to get a good grip on the bar spoon, before he was finally able to pour it properly. He was now able to avoid the different fluids to mangle, which was exactly the point of the alcoholic drink. Kenji was also able in creating the burning version, but that didn't seem like quite a good idea in this place.

He carefully tucked his bottles away in his jacket and left the latter on the table. He walked up the dance floor, where he spotted Miri and another fellow, clearly a young special forces soldier with a simple, elegant outfit. Kenji remembered him as Lewes Hawk, or something in the general direction of that name. "Good evening to the two of you. May I introduce myself? I am Kenji de Wit. Would you guys fancy a drink?"

Lewis Turned, slightly startled, which was a rather new experience. He was looking at a rather well dressed man, about his age. He didn't have a special forces look about him but sometimes it was nice to talk with someone without sizing them up for combat. "Sure," he said with a grin and held out a hand, "Lewis Hawk, but only if you'll join me." He pulled a second flask out of the uniform with his left.
"You drink scotch, either of you?"

"I'm not here to become completely wasted, but free whiskey is something I cannot refuse," replied Kenji and he shook Lewis' hand. He gave him one of the glasses filled with B-52 and lifted one of the other glasses high in the air. "Cheerio," he said to Lewis and Miri, and quickly emptied the drink.

Martin chuckled to himself. Shot down but then again I at least stopped the wirlwind from anymore damage

Martin turned and walked over to the wall for a moment, watching the couples on the dance floor. He smiled to himself when another young man appeared to hone in on Miri. Now see, doing the tornado keeps you away from the young men who wish to dance with you. He smiled even brighter about it. Well it seems I tried to dance with the most popular girl on the floor.

Martin considered the small group for a second longer before turning his eyes to the young man with obvious 'Military Socializing' fatigue. Or some other such problem. Really it was worrying that these kids existed, not even twenty and the look of someone who had been thrown into battle at age sixteen.

The young fight the wars of old men...but at least let them get through highschool before you send them into that kind of crap

Martin scowled when he noticed someone attempting to hide behind his date from him. He moved out of the dance area and an evil small grin fell on his face. He turned to face the band, but kept glancing at the couple for a moment.

Dylan Bernado...Ah so you finally arrived did you? The question is when is the most opportune time to remind you that your likely going to fail and you get do clean up duty since you failed to utilize that extension I gave you and get your physics research report done

Martin had been raised with far more fiscal frugality than warranted so he identified with some of the less 'wealthy' members of the school and college than one would assume. Bernado's inherent contempt of most of his classmates made him fairly high on the Blackwell s*** list. Then there was the added problem of a smart kid who was too lazy for his own good.

Martin decided to wait until Bernado was out on the floor dancing with some lovely thing before informing them both that Dylan's after Prom was going to be with Ms. Mop and Mr. Bucket.

His eyes went back to the small group around Miri and realized they were sipping at a flask. Great, now I need to worry about that also

Martin walked towards them and then noticed the demonstration of liquid density on the table. Eighteen year old bodies and...shot drinks...not unallowed but they may take it too far...

Martin picked the drink up and held it up to his nose. Waiting to see who attempted to ignore his rather uncoth ways or protest him drinking their alcohol.

"Hmm? Dance?" Sarah asked. She examined Stugenov. He seemed to be caparisoned rather regally for an event which called for rented tuxedos, but she guessed that that was the point in transcending the status quo - go stag, look better than average, and you won't be stag by the end of the night. He was actually a little shorter than her, and coupled with his youthful face, she judged him to be...sixteen? Fifteen? Something in that range.

He looked good, too. Cute? She wondered how the term would apply. His face had this strange, feminine look to it that was still a little handsome - thus translating to bishounen (beautiful youth), of which, in anime, she was admittedly a fan. Bonus points? He seemed smart, talked well, and at least looked like he had confidence. Reference: Conroe MacKenzie? That wasn't confidence - that was assholery at its most raw.

Yeah, she'd dance with him.

"Sure. Let's dance." She smiled, and stood up to go by his side.

Meanwhile, BMG MacKenzie was being smoothed over by one Cooper Freeman about his own failure to achieve Sarah Allendale, and wondered about Coop's reasoning while grumbling about being led away from his prey.

Sarah Allendale? Double-U Tee Eff. "Oh, come on, man," Conroe said, reeking of false closeness. "Sarah Allendale? You and I both know that hot as the chick is, she ain't worth the effort. Let 'er go dance with the little boy, they probably both need it." He chuckled. "She's probably secondhand goods anyway," he added.

When Sarah smiled [sic], Marcus smiled in response, offering his hand as she walked to his side. He knew it wasn't some ball or cotillion, but the regal manners that had been instilled in him were hard to shake as he led her to the dance-floor.

As he turned to face her on the dance-floor, Marcus noticed their slight height difference. It made no nevermind to him, however, since he expected to be the youngest person there. His eyes looked deeply into Sarah's as they shifted into dance positions and he began to lead her slowly across the floor.

Despite the costumery that he wore, Marcus was graceful, his feet light as he guided them smoothly across the floor. Again, it was the fruit of his education, which had taught him how to dance as well as the rapier slung at his side. During swifter turns, his cloak would billow regally, the dark blue and gold trimming catching the light slightly.

As the fast song ended and the rolling motion of Eden’s hips against his own with it, Charles cocked an eyebrow at her. As the slow Moonlight Serenade came on, she nodded to him, fully understanding his question. Neither of them were particularly ready for the odd slow song so early in the night. Teasingly, he slid his fingers down her back and gave her gentle, intimate squeeze before taking her arm and guiding his date back towards the table where she had left her punch.

“It certainly appears to be picking up in here,” Eden noted, as she slipped her arm through Charles’. She was pleased to see the arrival a few more of the normal crowd, as the place did seem in her opinion to be overly populated with those she considered to be more than a little strange.

Running his gaze over the room, Charles was forced to agree. The gymnasium was certainly filling up with the students, many of which he recognized as just those who were normal people, playing on a team or a member of a club, who wandered through life as average or slightly above average. Some were on his teams. He paused to let Eden retrieve her drink. “Do you see anyone you want to speak with?”

Casting her gaze across the various groups spread out around the gym, Eden nodded. “I probably should say ‘hi’ to a few people.” Her motion stopped as she spotted a couple of girls from the squad. “It is always good to be seen and there are some you will want to make your presence known to.”

Charles chuckled softly. “Yeah, the Fish have been bugging me for weeks about who Coach Simmons and I have picked for captain next year.” Simmons was the coach of the swim team, and the Fish was the affectionate name bestowed upon the usually victorious team. “And I’m sure the track guys will try to hunt Tony and myself down, as well.” He leaned his head on his date’s, careful not to disturb her carefully arranged hair. “If we get our socializing over with, we can have the rest of the night to ourselves.” His playful, suggestive wink left little to the imagination, though he was perfectly aware they would stay at the dance until early in the morning – even if they did slip out a couple of times for privacy.

“I would hate to disappoint them,” Eden replied, as she turned to face Charles and draped her arms loosely around his neck, her fingers interlaced behind him. “Just make sure you do not get too carried away with your sport talk and forget that I am here.” Her cheeky smile and sparkling eyes, hinted at the fact she knew he would not do so. Pulling her arms downwards, she lowered his head just enough for her to kiss him. As if to ensure his commitment to returning, she pressed her body up close to his, making sure he would know what he was missing.

Tightening his arms around the nubile blonde cheerleader, Charles returned her kiss with just enough passion to let her know he certainly would find her again. Possibly even soon. He broke away, grinning almost stupidly, though his eyes were glittering with humor. He brought a hand up and light touched his lips, still meeting Eden’s eyes. He frowned slightly and tried to remove the lipstick he found there with his fingers.

Moving her hand, Eden ran her fingers across his lips, helping him to remove the traces of the kiss. “Not really your colour,” she decided, the words lifted by the laugh in her voice. “I will catch up with you later.” Her other hand moved off his neck and she stepped away a little.

Smiling happily, Charles turned away to let Eden find her friends, turning his gaze back to the punch table, knowing his teammates would easily find him there. And he needed another drink anyway. Dancing with the head cheerleader was thirsty work.

[WE HAVEN'T CHANGED STATIONS YET]
[PROM NIGHT, 1832 HOURS, HIBERNIA STANDARD TIME]

Miri suddenly snapped out of her daydreaming state, and began answering people about a minute late or so, in proper order. “Wha? Yes, I am an Aralonian student! My name, to you, is Marie Hawke! Oh, I've seen you before, right?” She saluted, but realised the conversation regarding that point was way over. She then blinked once and noticed the alcohol in front of her! “Eh? I-i-i-I don't drink this stuff! Oh come on, what is it with people and drinking nowadays?” She facepalmed and started twisting a knuckle on her own head. “It kills brain cells, dontchaknow! We need as many of those as we can get, otherwise it's game over! Ah, hello, Doctor! How goes it on this fine evening? Oh, wait, I've seen you already, haven't I?”

Suddenly, she began to panic as she realised the depth of one of her previous actions. _Oh god, I forgot to wear my gloves, didn't I_ She began scratching at her right palm a bit, about at the same area she had slapped Ryan at, and began shuddering. _oh god where the hell are my gloves they're in my purse aren't they oh here they are thank god I found them_ Frantically, she had managed to replace her excessively long gloves on her arms, in order to possibly prevent terrible amounts of... terror among the student body.

She once again adjusted the sleeves on her frilly dress in order to attempt to show as little skin on her arms as possible. _So long as I don't make contact..._ “So, boys! Enjoying a drinkywink aren't we? It shouldn't be that cold in the night yet!”

"nothing excessive," Replied Lewis With a smile. "So it's Miri huh? An interesting name." He was still standing back from the young woman a little bit and shook himself as he noticed he was doing so. Damn I still haven't quite gotten a handle on my reactions yet.He thought Gunny would be swatting me down the hall right about now if he could see this. I wonder how the guy is doing?

"Sorry for the, ehm, distance." He said, Chagrined. " I ran into an Aralonian at a party once a couple of years ago and the experience still has quite, Ahem, left me." He grinned Wryly but the grin faded fast. Something seems, wrong here. He thought to himself. I haven't been this twitchy since the night me and my parents were attacked. Its not the party either something just feels off-- Ah well I'm probably just twitchy being at my first dance in such a long time. Never did enjoy these when I was younger either. His thought had kept him distracted enough That he didn't notice Miri's apparent glove fetish in fact he was missing out on quite a few of the more subtle things going on in the room tonight.

Kenji had watched the recent developments with raising amazement. First his physics teacher almost started sniffing one of his drinks, then Miri had rejected his B-52 offer and started to put on gloves as fast as he could and now Lewis was talking to Miri. Suddenly the absurdness of the situation slapped Kenji's consciousness and he started to laugh. Well, to be honest, it was more of a hysterical giggle, which continued for quite some time...

When Kenji finally got a hold of himself, he took the glass that was originally for Miri and faced Martin Blackwell. "Good evening to you, Mar... mister Blackwell!" He said with a grin. "Did you like my report on supermassive black holes? No, wait..." Kenji's grin got wider. "I don't want to know actually, I'll get my D- as soon as we get our reports back. Would you fancy a drink, sir?"

Blackwell lowered the glass for a moment and looked back at Miri. I hadn't realized she was so...odd until now

His attention was drawn back to the drink by Kenji. "I assume this drink is yours? If so Kenji, please don't leave them lying about for other individuals to use or drug." He paused again and smiled slightly, "Just to let you chaps know anyone who throws up this evening will be joining Dylan on clean up along with those who supplied them with alcohol."

It was delivered in a light tone, just a quick warning about them plying their stash too widely and to individuals who couldn't hold it.

"But cheers to a lovely evening, and to you not attempting to pass off an article I reviewed last year as your own work."

He took the shot and placed the glass down on the table. "We'll discuss your decision to duel with Stephen Hawking later on."

[WE’RE STILL BLOODY HERE]
[1834 HOURS, HIBERNIA STANDARD TIME]

She blinked. “Eh? No, my name is Marie to you.” She smiled and lightly knuckled herself in the side of the head. “A scuffle with an Aralonian girl? Ahahahaha… wish I’d had a few of those myself…” Her eyes lit up as she blinked and coughed. “What am I saying? So, Kenji! Apparently you’re having issues with 1+1=1? Well, just stick it through some Lorentz transforms and you’re good to go!” She laughed and decided to begin eyeing some additional food, coming to a table with some Japanese ootoro, or fatty tuna sushi.

"What is this?!" She picked up one of the items and hoisted it to the sky. "A famous fancy finger food from Japan? How did something like this get here?!"

"Inspection!" The dorm lady for Miri's dorm suddenly appeared, wearing a traditional Japanese robe and carrying a katana at her waist. "It's an inspection!"

"Eh? What!?" The dorm lady sauntered over to Miri, picked up the ootoro and tray out of her hand, and promptly walked outside with it. "Wait a minute! What are you going to do with that!?" With no answer, Miri chased her around, all the while whining about her food, as the dorm lady dropped the tray into a hole in the ground and covered it in dirt. "IYAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

"The best way to handle smelly things is to seal them away desu yoooo~." And thus, the worst and most pressing danger in "Crashing Prom Night" was peacefully averted by the hand of God.

[I am going to kill you if you don't narrate this story properly.]

Sarah smiled lightly at Marcus as he led her gracefully across the dance floor. It was a fairly nice dance, and the song was good. Thus came a hope for a normal, comparatively okay point in the prom! Everything seemed to be all right, and Stugenov was a gentleman-

Some face in the distance caught her eye. Is that...him? she thought. Can't be; he's out doing God knows what with that little- IT IS HIM!

Everyone who knew Sarah Allendale was aware of the fact that she could be in three possible states, one of which would be active at any time: One was the soft-spoken, nice, quiet Sarah who would often sit down and observe people; another, rarer Sarah was perky and enthusiastic and would bounce around like a kid after three king-sized Snicker bars. Now the third... the third was sort of an activated PMS mode, and that's where it gets ugly. Even when not being close to or on her period, certain psychological triggers and breaking thresholds could be hit, causing Sarah to shift radically from either of the other two modes into a mode that could fuse hydrogen.

And this latter mode was now active, as she saw the bastard who'd invited her to be his date, who'd gone on to dump her for another guy, and who'd just walked through the entrance with a smile on his face and not a care in the world. Goddamn it, she was gonna change that.

"Excuse me, Marcus," she said harshly, though not really so much directed at him. "I'm just going to take care of some business over there."

She marched over to the bastard in question. Lorenzo Cartugio was tall, well-built and handsome, but in Sarah's eyes he'd never been that much of a muscleman. As she approached, entered his view, his eyes widened in recognition, and possibly fear and embarrassment.

"H-hey, Sarah!" he said, his lip trembling a bit. "W-what are you doi- I mean, sorry I'm late, you know? I had some business to attend to-"

"Late my ass. You knew that I'd walk out of this place after an hour if I came in without a date!"

"Sarah, what are you talking about?" The look of confusion on his face was too sincere.

"You asshole!" she interrupted very loudly, causing some heads to turn and some murmuring. "Did you not think that I wouldn't find out, huh? The least you could've done was be fucking discreet but no, Craig and Kelly and everyone else knew!"

The facts were these. Lorenzo Cartugio, at 1700 hours, had texted Sarah Allendale that he was extremely sorry that he could not go to prom with her, owing to some emergency family business, and that he wouldn't even be late - just totally absent. He had been aware of a vow Sarah'd made a year ago after soph night that she'd walk out of prom if she spent more than an hour without a companion, and this vow Sarah renewed in her response text, which presented disappointment as a main theme but an acceptance of his apology, and that she would just leave. Shortly thereafter, Sarah Allendale became aware of the fact that Lorenzo Cartugio had no such family business, that he was in fact having a ball with one Michael Luhmann at the student dorm, and that this knowledge was present in no less than all of his close friends. She stayed because she had by then become too miserable to go home.

"Sarah, what the hell? I just...unexpected got some help with that business I mentioned! I came back within the hour, hoping to see you still here! I couldn't text you because my phone died, and-"

In Sarah's eyes, Lorenzo Cartugio was tall, well-built and handsome - he was, however, no muscleman. This is why when she finally peaked and had had enough, and when she came up close to him, she had no thoughts of slapping him. Instead, her hand rose to her hip, clenched up into a tight fist, and in one smooth, quick motion, punched him squarely in his face.

"Bastard!" she screamed as her target staggered back, and as several promgoers around her stood up and held her back away from him.

"What the...what the hell is wrong with you!" Cartugio screamed back as he wiped the blood from his lip.

From the railing on the second level of the gym, a girl in a nice satin dress and holding a Benelli M4 Super 90 poked a little wireless headset on her ear.

"CINC-Prom, this is Georgia. Looks like we got a tussle on the buffet table quadrant. Girl just punched a guy. Spectators are pushing them apart."

"Got idents on them?" the response came.

"Flagging Sarah Allendale as attacker and Lorenzo Cartugio as recipient of the blow."

"Allendale and Cartugio? Aren't they listed as being each other's dates?"

"Yeah. Also got word that Cartugio's a lying bastard." She explained briefly what she knew.

"All right. Move in and restrain if the fighting continues and disrupts the event. Otherwise, let 'em be. I doubt they'll be beating the crap out of each other tonight. Allendale has her reputation to keep, and everyone'll know what Cartugio did, so this situation will handle itself."

"Got it. Georgia out." The girl looked on, and indeed the two parties concerned seemed to be less physical now and more of into a shouting match. She sighed and started on the catwalk again, looking for something else to do.

[FINALLY, SOMETHING MODERATELY INTERESTING]
[PROM NIGHT, 1835 HOURS, HIBERNIA STANDARD TIME]

Miri's ears suddenly perked up at the sound of rage. “oooh, I know whose voice that is~” She slinked over in her excessively frilly dress to observe the situation up close. Purple hair, bright blue dress, alright, so she was taking major hits to her sneak score, but who cares?

As she observed Sarah's _oh wow, she's got a nice arm. But then again, ah, lolschool._ injury of Cartugio, Miri began to applaud loudly, offering a loudish “Woo!” of encouragement, or approval, or something. Possibly both. She leaned on a nearbyish pole or wall or something and crossed her arms in front of here. “Looks like you're in a bit of a rut, Carty. And I think there's more wrong with you than there is with the person standing in front of you. AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH” Cue raucous laugher. Christ, does that ever get old?

[No, no it doesn't.]

...Fair enough. Regardless, Miri took this opportunity to walk up Sarah and poke her in the forehead. “So, now that I have my gloves on, I can take care of him. Want me to kick him, smack him, anything? I think I have a wooden dagger on me or something like that.”

The general attention was certainly at the other side of the gym, where Allendale was doing her thing. Enough chaos to actually perform something unusual, was the first thing that slipped into Kenji's mind. He quickly wrapped up his conversation with Dr. Blackwell: "Right, so Dylan didn't handle in his assignment? Suits him well. Arrogant bastard." Kenji pulled a face. "I'll be sure to keep my alcohol away from people who would drink too much. But... Wouldn't you be heading to the fight over there? We'll talk later, perhaps." Kenji grabbed his jacket and walked away, to the opposite direction of the crowd.

His goal in target. An almost empty punch bowl. Kenji walked past Bernardo. He grinned at him and impersonated a cleaner, before moving on. He reached his target. Seemingly at ease, he took a cup and filled it with punch. With a flair of laxness he took the flask of Grand Marnier out of his pocket and poured the substance into the bowl. As far as Kenji could see, nobody had noticed anything. Mission accomplished. Certainly not the best I'm capable of, thought Kenji to himself. It's actually even a bad joke, but oh well... Kenji took a sip of his punch and walked away, towards the gathered crowd. Missing this fight would mean not being able to talk about what would probably become conversation starter #1 for the next few days.

Sarah smiled lightly at Marcus as he led her gracefully across the dance floor. It was a fairly nice dance, and the song was good. Thus came a hope for a normal, comparatively okay point in the prom! Everything seemed to be all right, and Stugenov was a gentleman-

Some face in the distance caught her eye. Is that...him? she thought. Can't be; he's out doing God knows what with that little- IT IS HIM!

Everyone who knew Sarah Allendale was aware of the fact that she could be in three possible states, one of which would be active at any time: One was the soft-spoken, nice, quiet Sarah who would often sit down and observe people; another, rarer Sarah was perky and enthusiastic and would bounce around like a kid after three king-sized Snicker bars. Now the third... the third was sort of an activated PMS mode, and that's where it gets ugly. Even when not being close to or on her period, certain psychological triggers and breaking thresholds could be hit, causing Sarah to shift radically from either of the other two modes into a mode that could fuse hydrogen.

And this latter mode was now active, as she saw the bastard who'd invited her to be his date, who'd gone on to dump her for another guy, and who'd just walked through the entrance with a smile on his face and not a care in the world. Goddamn it, she was gonna change that.

"Excuse me, Marcus," she said harshly, though not really so much directed at him. "I'm just going to take care of some business over there."

She marched over to the bastard in question. Lorenzo Cartugio was tall, well-built and handsome, but in Sarah's eyes he'd never been that much of a muscleman. As she approached, entered his view, his eyes widened in recognition, and possibly fear and embarrassment.

"H-hey, Sarah!" he said, his lip trembling a bit. "W-what are you doi- I mean, sorry I'm late, you know? I had some business to attend to-"

"Late my ass. You knew that I'd walk out of this place after an hour if I came in without a date!"

"Sarah, what are you talking about?" The look of confusion on his face was too sincere.

"You asshole!" she interrupted very loudly, causing some heads to turn and some murmuring. "Did you not think that I wouldn't find out, huh? The least you could've done was be fucking discreet but no, Craig and Kelly and everyone else knew!"

The facts were these. Lorenzo Cartugio, at 1700 hours, had texted Sarah Allendale that he was extremely sorry that he could not go to prom with her, owing to some emergency family business, and that he wouldn't even be late - just totally absent. He had been aware of a vow Sarah'd made a year ago after soph night that she'd walk out of prom if she spent more than an hour without a companion, and this vow Sarah renewed in her response text, which presented disappointment as a main theme but an acceptance of his apology, and that she would just leave. Shortly thereafter, Sarah Allendale became aware of the fact that Lorenzo Cartugio had no such family business, that he was in fact having a ball with one Michael Luhmann at the student dorm, and that this knowledge was present in no less than all of his close friends. She stayed because she had by then become too miserable to go home.

"Sarah, what the hell? I just...unexpected got some help with that business I mentioned! I came back within the hour, hoping to see you still here! I couldn't text you because my phone died, and-"

In Sarah's eyes, Lorenzo Cartugio was tall, well-built and handsome - he was, however, no muscleman. This is why when she finally peaked and had had enough, and when she came up close to him, she had no thoughts of slapping him. Instead, her hand rose to her hip, clenched up into a tight fist, and in one smooth, quick motion, punched him squarely in his face.

"Bastard!" she screamed as her target staggered back, and as several promgoers around her stood up and held her back away from him.

"What the...what the hell is wrong with you!" Cartugio screamed back as he wiped the blood from his lip.

From the railing on the second level of the gym, a girl in a nice satin dress and holding a Benelli M4 Super 90 poked a little wireless headset on her ear.

"CINC-Prom, this is Georgia. Looks like we got a tussle on the buffet table quadrant. Girl just punched a guy. Spectators are pushing them apart."

"Got idents on them?" the response came.

"Flagging Sarah Allendale as attacker and Lorenzo Cartugio as recipient of the blow."

"Allendale and Cartugio? Aren't they listed as being each other's dates?"

"Yeah. Also got word that Cartugio's a lying bastard." She explained briefly what she knew.

"All right. Move in and restrain if the fighting continues and disrupts the event. Otherwise, let 'em be. I doubt they'll be beating the crap out of each other tonight. Allendale has her reputation to keep, and everyone'll know what Cartugio did, so this situation will handle itself."

"Got it. Georgia out." The girl looked on, and indeed the two parties concerned seemed to be less physical now and more of into a shouting match. She sighed and started on the catwalk again, looking for something else to do.

Marcus had been a bit miffed at her dismissal, but had followed at a close pace when he recognized the tone of her voice. The discussion brought a faint look of disgust on Marcus' face. It wasn't about who Lorenzo had ditched Sarah for; after all, his own brother Adelai was gay. No, it was a look of disgust because he just couldn't stand a man breaking his promise. He was a bit surprised when Sarah punched Lorenzo, and became one of the spectators holding her back.

"Miss Allendale," he said calmly, noticing the armed girl in a satin dress, "Let's leave it at that, okay...? Don't kicked out of this wonderful dance on his account." He smiled a bit bashfully, not very good at giving advice. "The best revenge would be to have a good time, no?"

Martin turned to the disturbance and began walking in that direction. He looked back to see Kenji near the punch.

He narrowed his eyes for a moment and then returned his gaze to the squabble that had broken out.

Then he remembered the small walkie talkie in his pocket and turned it on. "Ah, damn forgot my damn call sign, this is Blackwell who was in that scuffle. Also what is the 10-40 on that floating flower I put in the punch this afternoon..."

I guess this is the downside to having guns at parties. Thought lewis as he grinned at the scene evolving around the table. This is beginning to look a little more like a party now though. Booze, careful but relatively easygoing teachers and now a girl kicking the **** out of a guy. He started laughing to himself slightly as he noticed the various people taking note.

His gaze fell on a woman in a satin dress carrying a semi-automatic combat shotgun of all things.

Well I guess thats what you need when all your guests are armed.

He looked around and found the stairway up to the second floor of the gym. the doorway was locked but a few seconds with a rake he had secreted in the waistband of his pants and he was up on the second level.

"Hey" he said with a laugh from far enough away that he wouldn't be a threat. " how did you get roped into providing security for this thing?"

"No. Let go of me," Sarah mumbled, tugging roughly away from Marcus and all these guys who were trying to hold back. Boy, did she have a pulling arm... "This one is mine," she told Miri. "I don't need any help."

"Get over here and face me, you son of a bitch!" she screamed at Cartugio.

"Get that woman away from me," he mumbled to the security men who'd formed around the fight, but suddenly one of them grabbed him too.

"Enzo," a voice said. "You're not a registered attendee of this event. You formally declined to go, as well as having rejected Sarah Allendale's invitation. You aren't supposed to be here."

"Jake, what the hell? You know me; I wouldn't-"

"I know the story too, Enzo. It's not illegal, but frankly, it's disgusting. Get the fuck out of here before CINC-Prom files a report."

"Assholes," Cartugio grumbled, pulling away from Jake's grasp and apparently turning on a heel to walk away - but then he 180'd, lunged forward, and landed a strong punch on the restrained Sarah's face. It was a very hard punch, as she was knocked back and staggered, holding her face as a little stream of blood appeared to be rolling down her chin. Cartugio spat, and turned around to leave for real.

The STANAG magazine standard only determines a few guidelines for dimensions of firearm magazines. Manufacturers can choose to make inexpensive, light cartridges made of aluminum with some nominal plastic elements, or they can make heavy-duty, all-steel designs that could last longer than the gun they'll service. Sarah Allendale's pink STANAG was a fully-loaded 30-round magazine made of heavy steel, resulting in a hard-case magazine that weighed in at something like a kilogram.

This inertia of weight she exploited as she recovered from the blow, quickly dashed forward and slammed a corner of the sharp-edged cartridge onto the top of Cartugio's head. There was a resounding thud, followed by a scream of pain, and a trickle of blood staining his head.

At this point, two burly men rushed to grab the dazed Cartugio and roughed him out of the venue, while another security pair cleared out the crowd that had formed.

Sarah was given a bandage and then left alone. "Good riddance to that fucktard..." she groaned, holding her left eye which had turned a little dark.

Upstairs, "Georgia," whose real name was Lucy, watched below at the scene that had formed, and sighed. You could never avoid these things-

"Hey, how did you get roped into providing security for this thing?" The voice came from behind her.

"Hawk, you're not supposed to be here," she said, but not raising her rubber shotgun. Technically he's not broken any RoE yet... "And I chose to be here. I don't like being at proms, but I have to be here anyway."

[THAT'S GONNA LEAVE A MARK, ISN'T IT]
[PROM NIGHT, SOMETHING-OR-OTHER HOURS, HIBERNIA STANDARD TIME]

Miri first winced, then applauded the impact as it happened. “Good show! I approve such events happening to sleazebags.” She stepped towards Sarah and pointed at her pink STANAG, as well. “I also like the magazine there. I'm more of a person for stripper clips myself – though, really, I don't think that applies to my personality properly.” Miri shuddered before continuing. “Might change up to an extended Glock pistol mag... That also looks excessively painful. Think you should head to someone with field medic history...?”

She then turned and slid over to the professor, nearly putting an arm around his shoulder before twitching and her arm shooting back to a regular, at-her-side position. “What's this I hear about a floating flower? Is it like a hibiscus or a carnation?” She winked, entirely unknowingly yet acting as if she did.

<snip>


"Pardon me," Marcus told Sarah once Cartugio was hauled away. "I seemed to have overstepped myself." His hand fell from the hilt of his rapier, where it had gone automatically when he had struck her. Sarah's quick retaliation had stayed his hand, and Marcus now had a newfound respect for the older girl. He stepped in front of her to examine her eye.

"Are you all right?" he asked, truly concerned. "Is your sight okay?" Marcus held up a finger for Sarah to track. "I can't believe that I actually share some chromosomes with that beast..." he muttered derisively.

ooc: PD, you post very well, I must say.

Blackwell snarled as things got further out of hand. Dump a girl and show up at the dance without her. Twit...pure twit. And nodded to the two boys working security as the escorted the crasher back out bleeding past him.

Now then I asked for something from...er Lucy...
He picked up his radio again and hit the send button. "Lucy, anyone...I asked for a report on that punch bowl over by the North Window...is the fake flower still floating in it."

Blackwell shook his head as he walked near Marcus and Sarah while attempting to get a report out of Lucy or someone else up on the next floor.

ooc: bump...?

Dylan sighed and nodded to the fellow members of the varsity soccer team as he passed them, his date, whatsherface, prattling on about whatever it is women prattle about. "And then I said to her..." She drew breath, and Dylan released his own, feeling the pounding headache that had been gathering that night slowly fade. Then she started to babble once again and a low heat began to build. Finally, he led her over to the punchbowl, hoping his friends had managed to get something right for once.

"Boissone?"

She accepted the proffered punch and drained it in one slug. "I love how you talk..." She slurred after a moment. She yawned, and didn't resist when he led her to a table by the side to sleep.

"Are you tired, my dear? C'est la mode." He looked around the room for someone other than the freaks and losers who seemed to be dominating the place. Some of the cheerleaders, maybe, though offhand he couldn't recall their names, either. Miri and Sarah seemed interesting, though he wasn't going to touch the first one in that dress, as he couldn't be sure where she had been.

And then he saw her. The unattainable icon, the Head Cheerleader. Blond, perfect in form and body, everything he had ever wanted in a conquest... err... girl. He began to walk in that direction, leaving his slumbering date behind, already forgotten her as much as he had forgotten her name. "Eden! Enchantee! What a pleasant surprise to see someone normal." He held out his hand for hers, as was his custom, and leaned down to kiss her ring delicately after it was offered. "Though you are far more than normal." He murmured as he rose, enough of a gentleman to keep his eyes on her face despite all his desires otherwise. "I was watching your last performance, and you were c'est magnifique!' Truly, you are one of the few bright of this..." His eyes wandered around a few of the other groups around the prom, and the aristocrat faltered for a moment. "...ah, Rien. Are you, by chance, free for this dance, Mademoiselle Knight?"

"Sorry m'am." Replied Hawk trying to cover a smile. "So if you don't like Proms why do you feel like you need to be here?"

He looked down at the people below realizing what a good sight line she actually had over the whole party. He looked back at the woman a lot more appraisingly seeing, for the first time, more than just a rent-a-cop with a rubber bullet shotgun. He tilted his head slightly to the left and looked into her eyes in an attempt to discover exactly what the women was thinking and where she had gotten her military experience from.

"Nice sight lines" he laughed slightly. "Now I'm intrigued. Why, exactly, are you here? Its gotta be more than just keeping the peace. No?"

Eden walked passed Charles, giving him an appreciative look before moving through the throng of students towards a few of her crowd. She tried not to make eye contact with the crowd gathering around Miri, but she could not help her attention being drawn enough for her to shaker her head, roll her eyes and then continue on her way. As she got within speaking distance of her friends, a squeal of delighted recognition rose from two of the girls.

“Eden,” one of them announced, taking a step forward.

Before any of the others could respond, a commotion drew their attention. It seemed that Sarah Allendale had decided to knock out her date. All eyes followed the action for a moment before they once more returned to their previous conversation.

“Well, that was entertaining,” Eden remarked, once more becoming the centre of her friends’ attention. “Some people really do not know how to behave at a party. Of all people, I expected better of Sarah. But then, if my date was Lorenzo, I would scream and slap him too.”

A giggle of laughter erupted from her two companions, as both looked at the scene that was beginning to be made worse by the arrival of Miri. The girl was like a tempest of trouble.

“We’re glad you managed to pull yourself away from Charles,” Amy stated, as they finally put the scene out of their heads, at least while the fuss had died down. “We didn’t think you would tonight.”

Eden turned, casting a glance at her date. “He definitely looks hunkalicious.” She smiled. “But we’re not joined at the hip. And anyway, absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say, and I like the idea of him missing me.”

Once again her two friends giggled. “Is it true you put Andrea in the defence squad because she was planning on trying to get it on with Charles?” Amy finally asked, once they had laughed enough. “That’s what she’s been telling everyone, anyway.”

“Really, as if I would need to hide her away to stop her from stealing Charles,” despite the words, it annoyed Eden that it reminded her of Charles’ statement only moments earlier. “Charles is totally taken with me and would not even look at another person here.” As if to reassure herself, she once more grabbed a look at her date.

Suddenly another squeal came from Amy and Gemma, this time it was the latter that found her tongue first. “Ooh, Dylan is looking very tasty tonight and he’s...”

Before she could finish, Eden heard her name called. She turned to find herself face to face with the sudden topic of conversation. Behind her, she could hear Amy and Gemma sighing happily.

“Dylan, how nice of you to come over and say ‘hi’,” Eden replied, leaving the invitation to dance up in the air, at least for a moment. “And you are looking very normal yourself, if I might say so. In fact, very nice.” She ran her gaze over his attire. There was no getting away from it, he really did look good in a tuxedo.

Her eyes moved passed him to young woman sat lonely at a table. “I see you are being very charitable tonight,” she said with a smile, as she returned her attention to his face. “Giving someone a lift to the prom is very generous.” Her eyes twinkled, as she teased him about his reputation. Despite what she had heard, she was not going to hold it against him. If a girl could not keep his attention, she was not trying hard enough.

Once more her attention turned away from the young man before her, as she looked over at the dance floor, trying to decide if now was a good time to accept his offer or whether she could put him off to the dance proper. And with all the fighting and shouting going on, she was not sure now was a good time to let her hair down...or her guard.

“A dance would be delightful,” she began, as she once more focused her best smile at Dylan. “But maybe a little later. I really would hate for us to get caught up in all the strangeness going on.”

Sipping at a new glass of punch, Charles noted with a smirk the rather different flavor, and concluded that would add a new element of excitement to the night. Fortunately, there were enough people present that this batch would soon be gone, so it was unlikely to affect people late into the night.

Or so he hoped. From experience, he knew there were quite a few people in this school completely incapable of holding their liquor. Not that it would matter. Very few people remembered the end of their junior prom, and even less tended to remember why they were sore in places they did not know they had. Fortunately, Charles remembered the end of his and Eden’s junior prom very well. Though given their greater familiarity with each other now, he expected tonight to be far more memorable.

“Charles!” Ah, the people he had been looking for – some junior members of the varsity swim team. Well, more accurate, the people he had expected to come looking for him. David and Colin were the best junior male swimmers, and rightly had a feeling that the captain for the next year would be one of the two of them. Hanging on their arms were two of the more attractive but less accomplished members of the girls swim team. He thought their names were Karri and Lauren, but he was not entirely sure.

“How you guys doing?” he greeted them, extending his hand to shake as the two disentangled their arms from their dates. The shakes turned into back slapping half-hugs, but the three came away grinning.

“Where’s the lovely head cheerleader?” David said with a slightly leer, earning him a playfully annoyed frown from his team captain and a slap on the arm from his date.

The Tartarian young man just chuckled and inclined his head back over his left shoulder. “She’s over there, with some of her girls.”

“We never see you two apart, really,” said the girl on Colin’s arm. “I thought you two were joined just below the hips.” Who said girls cannot be as dirty minded as guys?

That did manage to get a laugh out of everyone present. “It’s hard to swim that way, isn’t it, Colin?” Colin and the girl both flushed red, prompting another round of laughter from the other three. Taking a moment to recover their breath, the two males got their dates and themselves drinks, and Charles felt it appropriate to warn them. “Careful, the punch has a bit more kick than normal.”

At first sip, their eyes widened, and then they all grinned. “Nothing wrong with more kick, is there?”

“The kick is very important in our business,” Charles replied with a smile, at ease with his teammates.

David’s date broke in, smiling almost emptily. “So, who have you picked for captain next year, Charlie?” She must be Karri, the only member of either gender on the swim team to be unable to accept that he preferred to be called Charles. Or too vacuous to remember. But the question did draw excited gazes from all four of them.

Charles merely grinned. “I have submitted my recommendation to Coach Simmons. I’m sure he will announce the new captain, or captains, on Monday at try outs.” Both guys grinned.

“Seriously, Charles?” Colin asked.

“Yeah, you guys earned it this year. But no telling anyone until after the Coach announces it.”

“Excellent, man,” David replied, grinning, while slapping Colin’s free hand, up high. “You’re the best captain we’ve had in three years.”

Charles rolled his eyes, unruffled and not particularly flattered by David’s overly excited compliments. Admittedly, they had won the regional tournament and placed well nationally under Charles, better than the two previous years in which they had placed fifth and fourth in regionals and not made it to nationals, a large portion of that had been due to greater experience and a senior class that would be graduating very soon.

As they all took some more of their drinks, a hush rippled across the room as loud voices began to echo through the gym. “Huh,” Colin said, “it’s not even seven yet.”

David laughed. “You owe me a fiver, then.” Everyone laughed as Colin grumbled and pulled out his wallet, handing over the money to David. “Who is it, anyway?” he continued, trying to look past the taller senior captain.

Charles turned around to look, keeping the others from seeing him roll his eyes at the lack of importance this had, despite the fact it would surely rule the gossip whispers on Monday. Well, assuming of course there were no other fights of greater magnitude. “Looks like Allendale and her homoboy. And it looks like he’s getting his ass handed to him on a silver platter.” He turned back to his teammates, who were all grinning, but not really moving to observe.

After all, if they were quiet, they could hear just fine.

After a moment, Karri spoke up. “Hey, that’s that dreamy soccer player over with Eden, Dylan somebody.”

Raising his eyebrow in question, Charles turned to look. “Bernado,” he grumbled, not appreciating the boy’s timing or his lack of sense.

“Yeah, maybe you should go interrupt them before he charms her away from you.”

The Tartarian youth chuckled darkly. “Not likely. But I really should show an interest.” He nodded to his teammates. “Later, then?”

“Of course, man. Go shut him up and sit him down.”

Calmly, Charles walked away from the accompanying laughter, a smile firmly planted on his face and over to his girlfriend, who, he could tell as he approached, first from her smile and then her words, was flirting outrageously with Bernado.

Coming up from behind the hypocritical, overly-religious soccer player, he stepped around him and slid his arm across Eden’s stomach, pivoting on one foot to be directly behind her as he dropped a light kiss on her bare neck. “Amy, Gemma” he acknowledged, putting his second arm around Eden’s waist. “Miss me, babe?” he murmured into her ear before finally getting around to the other male. “I wouldn’t have expected you to come stag tonight, Bernado.”

Blackwell realized someone was standing next to him and had asked a question. "Huh...Oh Miri...where did you come from."

Blackwell pondered Miri's outfit for a moment and then continued. "Nothing much, just an old home trick to ensure the punch isn't tampered with, A flower which is really a hydrometer, or a density meter. If you put alcohol in the punch the flower sinks because you've dropped the density of the fluid. A bit much for around here but in the Klatch the Dyellians have a habit of spiking punch with hemlock extract or a concentrate of Klatchian Red." He smiled wryly at her, "Both are quite deadly but need to be dissolved in alcohol before being dissolved in water."

Dylan's expression grew slightly fixed as Charles joined him and Eden. "Why, Charles! Mon ami! What a pleasant surprise to see you, here with your girlfriend..." His tone indicating anything but. "Alas, while I did not come, how do you say, stag, my 'date'... she has taken under the weather, as you say." And, indeed, the young woman slowly fell face forward onto the table, slipping completely into unconsciousness. "Very sad, no? Mais... the brave girl told me that though she is not well, I should enjoy myself, and she will too. Do you see?"

Indeed, some of Dylan's cronies from the soccer team had arrived at the table and were quietly escorting the semiconscious woman from the hall. "As you see, she is quite well, ladies. And in the very best of hands, yes? My friends shall get her back to her papa at the embassy." He held his own hands out and gave the traditional gallic shrug, then smiled at Amy and Gemma "Although, her illness leaves me, alas, alone for the evening. Think how it shall appear to my teammates if I, their star striker, do not have a date at this prom? And on this day, the Feast of Saint Valentine? Zeut alors, this must not stand!"

He turned beseechingly to Amy and Gemma, hands outstretched. "Beautiful ladies, my heart and soul are in your hands. I must ask, for the sake of myself, would one of you belles of this ball be my date for this evening?"

As Charles approached and wrapped his arms around her, Eden’s smile grew. There was nothing she liked more than seeing her boyfriend demonstrate a little jealousy when she was talking to another man. She placed her hand lightly over Charles’ hand where it rested against her body. “As always,” she responded to his question.

Behind her, Gemma and Amy acknowledged the young Tartarian man’s greeting without distracting from the main conversation. While they did so, she turned the conversation back to the Ambassador’s son.

“Dylan, how unlucky is that?” Her gaze flicked once more to the poor girl being removed from the prom. Eden would have died if something like that had happened to her, but then again, she would never have come to the prom with someone who was not hanging on her every word. “I really hope this does not spoil the party for you.”

A delighted squeal rose from both of the junior cheerleaders at his request, but it was Gemma’s that managed to hit new heights. “I would happily be your date, Dylan,” she finally managed to get out, her heart beating loudly in her chest with excitement. “Jeff broke his ankle during the match last Saturday, so he couldn’t make it, and by then it was too late to find someone else to bring me. But Amy and Jake, her date, said that I could come...with...them.” She faltered to a stop, as she saw the look Eden gave her and knew that she had waffled a little too much.

“It seems that your evening is not spoilt after all,” Eden said with a smile at Dylan. “I hope this does not mean that we do not get our dance later.” She frowned slightly, pouting. “I was so looking forward to it.”

[WE'RE STILL HERE, AND I'M RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS]
[PROM NIGHT, NIGHT, HIBERNIA STANDARD NIGHT]

“I came out of the old legends, you see. There was a magical tale about the one with the white hair and the dark skin! Or maybe that was something else? Purple hair and white as a... well, not so much a board, and bananas are too yellow.” She grinned. “ Ah, nobody wants to kill anybody here, though. You wouldn't need death devices for mass murder. Besides.” Miri sighed and, amazingly, visibly began to show general unhappiness and melancholy. “The only thing that anyone would put into the major drinks are alcohol. That way, it'll mask something like date-rape drugs being laced directly into the cups.” She looked back up at Prof Blackwell. “It's really kinda despicable, isn't it?” She then smiled, slightly more tired than before. “Ah well. I honestly hope they see the error of their ways before they move on further in life.” She put her hands together in a sort of a prayer before putting her rabbit eared hood on. Continuing with speaking to Blackwell, she looked up and added “Well, that's it, though. Honestly, I'm not surprised, and more promiently, annoyed at the--” she took a moment to raise her voice and point her head in the proper direction of Charles, Eden, and Dylan-- “some people who need to undo their corsets a bit because it's supposed to be an enjoyable night, so drop the formality, for insert deity here's sake!” She smiled at the reaction of the group of aristocrats, and turned back to the Professor. “You know, you're not bad of a person. I wonder how well you teach.”

OOC: Wai thank you, FUS, but I'd rather thank all the others who've written wonderful posts. ^____^

"This is 2IC-Prom to Blackwell over secure comm channel," expressed a calm feminine voice over Marvin Blackwell's walkie-talkie. "Advise you stick to codes when referring to security personnel over the wide-cast channel; griefers and crashers are outside listening. Also, Grace says your flower sunk like a rock. PromCom suspects intervention by infiltrating crashers, but I think someone just spiked it with some vodka."

On the catwalk above, Lucy surveyed the event below as she responded to Hawk:

"I've always liked watching people. Every face tells a different story, every action a glimpse into their psyches. I tune into someone, and I can't get it out of my head - what'd he do if his date never showed up? What if this whole prom went to hell and invaders crashed through Perimeter Defense? What would any person do in any given scenario?" She looked at the man who stood across the room from her.

"Hawk, what if I told you that I locked that door myself, and that breaking in like that is grounds for me to flag you as a crasher?" She smiled.

Down below again, Sarah Allendale had a scowl etched on her face and an ice pack on her eye, her STANAG still held tightly in her hand. She'd been very quiet for the past few minutes.

Kenji had been watching the whole happening and felt nervous. Blackwell was certainly suspecting something, he had looked his was several times and that walkie-talkie was even more worrisome. Kenji had a feeling that he was going to spend some time with Bernardo after the ball and that both of them wouldn't enjoy their activities.

But there was another issue that needed more attention. Sarah Allendale really looked like she needed some time alone. And Kenji could imagine her needing that. He slowly walked towards her. He made eye contact, but avoided touching the girl. "Sarah, would you like summat to drink?" He asked. "A glass of water, perhaps, or something stronger... Shall I walk you to the backdoor? Some fresh air does wonders, they say."

OOC: Wai thank you, FUS, but I'd rather thank all the others who've written wonderful posts. ^____^

"This is 2IC-Prom to Blackwell over secure comm channel," expressed a calm feminine voice over Marvin Blackwell's walkie-talkie. "Advise you stick to codes when referring to security personnel over the wide-cast channel; griefers and crashers are outside listening. Also, Grace says your flower sunk like a rock. PromCom suspects intervention by infiltrating crashers, but I think someone just spiked it with some vodka."

On the catwalk above, Lucy surveyed the event below as she responded to Hawk:

"I've always liked watching people. Every face tells a different story, every action a glimpse into their psyches. I tune into someone, and I can't get it out of my head - what'd he do if his date never showed up? What if this whole prom went to hell and invaders crashed through Perimeter Defense? What would any person do in any given scenario?" She looked at the man who stood across the room from her.

"Hawk, what if I told you that I locked that door myself, and that breaking in like that is grounds for me to flag you as a crasher?" She smiled.

Down below again, Sarah Allendale had a scowl etched on her face and an ice pack on her eye, her STANAG still held tightly in her hand. She'd been very quiet for the past few minutes.
At her side, Marcus fidgeted nervously. He didn't really know what to do in this situation. He wasn't very good at consolation, but he didn't want to just abandon the girl. Marcus' gaze fixed on the weapon.

"I think you can put that away now," he said calmly, gesturing to the Stanag. Suddenly, there was someone else on the scene, inviting her to go with him. Now Marcus really didn't know what to do.

"The Lock, right um . . ." Stumbled Hawk feeling more than just a little sheepish. He coughed slightly " I think I'd say you needed a better lock."He grinned "I managed to get through that one without anyone down there even noticing and I'm not the greatest lock-pick out there either."

He looked out at the crowds of people thinking over the rest of what the women had said. He watched as various scenarios played out below. The one focused on the fight between a woman and her date was apparently cooling down but now at least a pair of guys seemed to be trying to pick her up. Other scenes revolved around various small groups that seemed to have formed.

Its almost like watching some sort of intricate dance Thought Lewis to himself. The way the players down there interact with each other.

Moving to the edge of the walkway and leaned against a rail looking out over the party and spotted some of the people he'd met that night. Fal, still hanging out against the wall scanning the crowd, Miri causing havoc to anything within a 15 meter radius of her and Blackwell attracting a certain amount of attention from everyone around.

He turned back to the woman. "I guess I see what you mean," He laughed slightly. "Um, I just realized I don't actually know your name?"

It would be forgivable--nay, in his mind, actually laudable--that he hasn't been noticed up until now. He doesn't have a date, of course; for one, he couldn't fairly split his attention between her and his job and for two, he's not exactly the kind of guy who's particularly high on the shack-up list when it comes to the fairer sex. There are far more popular, attractive, and 'successful' people to attempt to latch onto first, and... well... he's not a creep, but "sweet" doesn't really go far in this society and "retiring" probably goes an even shorter distance. Then you get him behind a camera and it's like he melds to it; it's not an extension of him, no, he's an extension of it, a pair of hands to run and point it, a pair of legs to move it around. Now that was kinda creepy...

...but you get used to it. He's a school reporter, so it's his job or something to record anything and everything of import. He's also on the AV club, so the sound system is something of his responsibility, and he's going to be assembling the video yearbook, so yeah, I guess he needs to be around doing his thing. Plus, as he's wearing a tuxedo with a Mandarin cut, he looks more like a priest than a student, and being overall darker than everyone else in penguin suits makes him blend just that much more easily into the subdued lighting of the area.

Subdued lighting. Always an annoyance to a good photographer, but, in this case, taken care of. It's just a matter of gamma correction and color balance, and looking between the viewfinder of his boxy Sony HVR-A1U with the foam-and-duct-tape impact cage and Mark One Mod Zero eyeball at the scene confirms that when he puts it into the yearbook it'll look how people generally remember it... assuming that they aren't so drunk that they forget or that they're on something hallucinogenic so their own color balance is wrong. It'll be recorded in history as it happened, more or less, without an editorial bias because he doesn't have one to offer; he really could not possibly care less.

They say victors write history; well, he found that interesting but couldn't recall when since Marcus Aurelius that the people who made the victory happen actually wrote the history about the victory. Oh, sure, the victors often control the people who write history, but then again... how many people are utterly convinced that Caligula was batshit insane based on the "evidence" of historians who used the practice, common at the time, of ascribing insanity to people they just didn't like? Who changed the course of the Vietnam War by inadvertently aiding the enemy through the demoralization of an already destabilized home front? Who is it that the generals now tiptoe around and either dominate (in "unfree" countries) or try to manage (in "free" ones)? The historians, that's who.

They say the camera never lies. This is true. The camera is an instrument incapable of the act of lying. Guns also never murder. The gun is an instrument incapable of the act of murder. It is the man behind the camera who frames the shot so only a portion of the truth is retained, allowing the lie to be formed in the mind of the viewer as intended, who lies. It is the man holding the gun who pulls the trigger to send the bullet into the heart of his target who murders. The camera, the gun... mere instrumentality. Mere powerful instrumentality. Force multipliers, as the junior cadet corps instructors like to say.

This is Dudley "Dud" Clemons' take on his preferred monomania. Throughout the night, he has been hovering wherever he's had to hover to capture people chatting, drinking, dancing, doing all the things that normally occur at prom. Occasionally, he has tilted the camera upwards to image the security, just in case that deserves recording as well. This is humdrum everyday history, eventually to be packaged so in five, ten, fifteen, twenty years people feeling that the best times of their lives are behind them can look back with nostalgia on tapes and CDs and DVDs and computer files where they will be eternally seventeen until the tapes stretch to unreadability and the discs outgas and warp to unplayability and until the computer files are so archaic that only those in dusty museums or practicing archaeology will ever have the interest and the equipment to read them. Mercy history, after a fashion.

Then shouts and fists fly and blood flows. This isn't so much a matter of 'if it bleeds, it leads;' Dud is a decent guy. No, blood is a bigger, a hotter story, it's news, and he transitions seamlessly from archivist to reporter as he steps up, camera at the ready as he captures shouting and hitting and bludgeoning. He pushes through the crowd forming (he never would do that before) around Sarah, staying behind the ring of important first responders (that's what zoom is for) but not letting lollygaggers and rubberneckers and mere spectators get into his sightline. "Sandy Bridges Secondary Star," he announces to the few people who don't know him, "reporting from the junior prom where a fight has just broken out." That was for posterity. "What's going on?"

He never adds his name to his video reports. Originally, it was a form of introduction--I'm Dudley and I'm from the Star--but in the age of video it became a signature, an addition of ego. Oh, he has his reporting ego... he simply doesn't wish it to be so obvious.

You know, somehow the décor … works.

Natti never was one for absolute schedules, and so, had walked in a bit late to the party. She didn’t have a date, and didn’t really care – she was here for the experience. That, and it was bound to be more entertaining than sitting alone in her dorm room.

She hadn’t been here too long, and not really long enough to make many friends, which was fine. Getting used to the gun-nut society, strange (to her) foods, and all the rest had been an interesting challenge – and she welcomed the change. She also appreciated the fact that her mother would probably go into hysterics knowing what she was wearing to what usually was thought of as a formal social event.

Natti had gone with the long black opera gloves, though hers were fingerless so as to show off her neatly manicured and shimmery-black polished nails. And she was wearing a dress, if by dress you meant an intricately buckled and laced black pvc corset, and an uneven knee-length skirt of various layers of crushed velvet, lace, and silk, with a longer underskirt of triangled, and in some places torn, gauze. Fishnet stockings were of course worn, and completed with knee-length combat-style boots, the buckles of which were adorned with silver skulls. Necklaces were worn, one being a spiked leather choker, layered with a longer series of silver chains, and completed with an intricate crucifix inset with onyx, and heavily antiqued.

Apoplexy. Most definitely.

There seemed to be all sorts here tonight, as expected, though she didn’t see any kindred spirits right off the bat. And guns, at parties. Damn, but that was something she still hadn’t gotten used to. Everyone and their dog seemed to have guns here. And already, something seemed to have gone pear-shaped, given the bleeding mess security had hauled past her s she was entering the building.

Ah well. Hopefully it had ended there, and the rest would be pleasant enough. Perhaps a beverage or some nibblies would make for a good start, she pondered, and thus, made her way towards the rotating food tables with a confident stride, weaving her way through the crowd, tossing her long hair back over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist.

Dodging out of the way just in time, the two slender figures managed to avoid a bleeding partygoer who was being hauled out by some very large men with very threatening guns. They didn't look back, figuring it best not to contemplate that one's fate. This was a party, and there was no time to be nervous!

The two sisters had come to the dance together, as they did just about everything together since they'd arrived at the school two years prior. Scarlett and Ellenith were their names, and both of the young women had scrimped and saved for months just to wear the best dresses money could buy for this event. Scarlett's gown was of a rich colour to match her name, and had a wide, billowing skirt and matching heels, while Ellenith preferred a much more modest black gown that clung to her form all the way down to her ankles, though it was slit up one side so she could actually walk. Since weaponry was much prized here, they saw fit to wear their highborn birthswords, a pair of rapiers that were bound around their slim waists with leather belts. Swords to a gunfight, Ellenith had laughed when they were getting ready, but they both knew that their blades ment more to them then most people could understand.

"I hope that's the worst that happens tonight..." Scarlett muttered just loud enough for her sister to hear, as she brushed her radiant golden hair from her eyes. "I've heard some of the upperclassmen talk about this party... or what they remember it!"

Ellenith, her twin in almost every way, could just grin and shake her head. While her sister loved drinking and partying to the wee hours of the morning, she would much rather be at home curled up with a book. It's not that she didn't enjoy going out, but it wasn't her thing. She left that up to her sis, and she took care of the more serious, academic pursuits.

"Don't worry... I'm sure the loss of one tux-clad jock won't ruin the night. There'll be plenty more to go around..."

Rolling her eyes, she wrapped her arm around Elle's shoulder and laughed, "Yeah, suppose so. At least I'm not such a terrible tease... I'll actually go home happy tonight!"

Both girls laughed, and skirted the edge of the fracas. Splitting up, Scarlett made a beeline for the punchbowl, while Ellenith tried to reach out and tap a familiar boy on the shoulder who was half-wading into the crowd, camera ever at the ready. "Hey Dudley! Oh, nice tux! What's going on here?" she called, trying to be heard over the din...

"Hey Dudley! Oh, nice tux! What's going on here?" she called, trying to be heard over the din...
Argh, what timing-- Dudley keeps his camera steady on Sarah, professional all the way, as his forebrain races to keep up with his hindbrain. It's Elly the Elf, she's in the club, she's a good one. She was a member, sure, but she wasn't quite so committed... then again, to be fair, no one's as committed as Dudley. They'd talked about journalism and photography and composition and history and, well, she tried but she doesn't quite get it, it's not internalized it's... academic knowledge, to her, really, and it's not her big thing. Fair enough. She'd tried to turn him on to some of those non-photojournalism and non-history books she read all the time and, well, while he found it interesting, it wasn't really his thing either. Also fair enough. She did compliment me on my tux, though. So far the only feedback he'd gotten were sniggers and "you look like a priest" from the people who actually deigned to notice him.

In that case, the response is better than average and his forebrain wins the race to the decision point, as it wouldn't do any good to get pushy now with her, even over his most favorite thing to do in the world. I'd probably have to dub over it anyway. "I dunno, Elly," he says with a vocal shrug, body still keeping steady to keep the camera from jostling, "Sarah here just got into a shouting match with Lorenzo, fists landed and Lorenzo just got a magazine to the back of the head."

He actually managed to catch that, actually. The guys back at the junior cadet corps would like to see that, probably. "I'm trying to find out what happened in more depth." That was his codephrase for 'working:' 'in more depth.' 'I need to work the composition in more depth,' 'I've got to cover this report in more depth,' so on and so forth. It was one of the tired cliches of the AV club. It didn't mean that one should stop talking to him so much as they should understand his attention is divided at best.

Fall who moved unseen while the fight was going was standing on the other side of the table that held the punchbowl and other,when he saw Scarlett make her way to it

"so what a elf doing here so far from their homeland ?" Fall asked Scarlett while he picked up a can of cola from a icebox

"drink are a let down" he added as he open the can before taking a sip

"A magazine? Ouch..." she let go of Dudley's shoulder so she wouldn't jostle his camera as she pushed through the onlookers enough to stand fairly close behind him. "Hey, uhm, look... I'm gonna go get a drink... can I get you anything? Water, or something?" she smiled, knowing that Dudley, like her, was here on his own. Of course, he was working... so maybe that counted as a date for him? She really didn't know. "Oh! I think I might have seen Natti brooding over there by the food... I'm gonna go say hi!"

Scarlett, on the other hand, already had a drink in hand, and broad grin on her face. 'Someone put something nice and tasty in this that they shouldn't have...' she thought to herself. She'd been accustomed to some alcohol, as she'd been drinking wine with her family since she was ten, though it had only been a year or two since she'd been able to handle un-watered reds and dry whites.

Still, it gave her a nice buzz as she spied the stranger approaching. "Ah, have we met?" she says with a slight scoff, as both the twins were usually pretty careful about having their hair hanging over their ears whenever they could. Aside from the lack of acne and the less awkward way that she held herself, she wasn't very different from anyone else here. Despite being a million times more tolerant of others then even her most immediate cousins, she still felt the need to be a condescending bitch every now and then, to keep the cretins in line... something totally at odds with her twin's attitude...

"A magazine? Ouch... Hey, uhm, look... I'm gonna go get a drink... can I get you anything? Water, or something? Oh! I think I might have seen Natti brooding over there by the food... I'm gonna go say hi!"
"Hmm? Oh, yes, water would be nice, gotta keep hydrated after all." It's odd, seeing someone respond absentmindedly and yet keep their body completely still of all the usual little physical quirks associated with distraction and momentary surprise. Years of practice, that. "And if you could finagle a straw, that'd be great too... thank you so very much."

He's not being intentionally rude, simply intent; right now he is staring through one massive manufactured eye on life, seeing as light passes through a series of machined glass lenses to be captured on charge-coupled devices, measuring light wavelength and amplitude and converting it to digital data to later be processed into news. Preserving information, much like a black hole is supposed to, in magnetic charge states and electrical couplings. "And Natti?" A few quick calculations: what are her skills? Interests? Does she aid in acquiring the story?

Would it be polite? somewhere in his brain remembers to ask. "Oh, yeah, Natti, have fun!"

Of course, somewhere in his skull Dud knows that Elly is by herself, or at least it wouldn't come as much of a surprise. Most guys would note this to be an entrance, an 'in' as it were... but he's far too mission-oriented for those sorts of thoughts right now.

[TOTALLY OUT OF IDEAS]
[PROM NIGHT, NIGHT NIGHT, FIVE NIGHTS FOR THE NIGHT CACTUS]

She sighed with some semblance of jealousy as Sarah was being surrounded by a group of boys trying to help her out. _Men. Oh well. I guess that's alright... sorta. Or something._ She spun around, rather gracefully and slowly while heading away from the Professor, allowing her frills to billow out, as she scanned the room and looked at all the new arrivals. _Wonder if there's anyone else who made it... wheeeeee._

Miri grimaced and quickly began to spin slightly further out of the way as she saw the camera lens pointing in the general direction of where she was – _Oh god, cameras, keep them the hell away from me, I know the people behind them are decent, but still, must stay away from evil device_ – and, well, kept spinning. People kept a berth from her, as was usual, as she just enjoyed herself to the music. Her eyes passed over Natalia – _Huh, glad there's someone else with a sense of uniqueness here. Though, I guess that's her thing. She looks way different than she does on the archery range. In a very good way, I think._ – then over to the two elven ladies. _Now there's something exotic that... Well, okay, I guess I do see it every day, or at least most days. Considering that they're in my damn school Honestly, I'd like to have gotten to know them better, but they seem kinda... unapproachable._ Miri's spinning began to slow down a bit as she sighed and closed her eyes. _I gotta work on my people skills! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH_ She punched herself lightly on the side of the head, and... well, what happens when a spinning object loses balance?

That's right, folks! Finally, the moment you've all been waiting for!

She spun too quickly. It was easily possible to feel each little bit of mass travel over the edge, more and more as each moment passed. _Okay, I give up._ She at least was able to re-orient herself before falling flat onto her tail end, feet pointing up into the air for a split second. _I really, really,_ “REALLY GIVE UP.” As she exhaled, she decided to just... stay there. Nearly spread eagled, on the floor. A wonderful location for a corpse. _This actually isn't half bad. Ahh... ah well. Right. Miri. You don't care. You don't care, at all, about what anyone out there thinks about you, and you are going to keep it that way. Okay? Okay. Well. Alright. As long as they don't invade your personal space, or anything. Just... People are people are people. The less you interact with them, the less it'll matter when they disappear off and you all go on your own paths. Right? Okay._ She breathed deeply, still on the floor, and closed her eyes for a sec. _Still, there's... well, there's memories, and... and..._

"Ah, I would not dream of abandoning a dance with you, merely because my evening is now accompanied with one of this school's other great beauties." He walked around Eden and Charles, with a smile at Eden and a slightly perplexed frown at Charles, and took Gemma by the waist, gently slipping his arms around her and drawing her into the crook under his shoulder. "Mais, non... for the moment, my date for the evening and I should walk and be seen together."

He led her off, his hand gently stroking smoothly along her side once in a while, and walked past Miri and the Professor. Miri elicited a perplexed expression from from Dylan and a compassionate one from Gemma, while both of them ignored the professor. Soon, they found themselves at the corner by... by... "What's his name?" Dylan asked Gemma, pointing with his little finger at the cameraman.

"Dudley... Clemons, I think. He's in my history class." Gemma said.

"Bonsoir, Clemons! The real story is over here!" Dylan waved to the cameraman and laughed, holding up his glass of punch. "The beautiful people, non?" He and Gemma laughed and moved off.

The two of them arrived at the punchbowl by Scarlett and Fall. Dylan's hand stroked Gemma's hair, and their lips met for a moment, then parted, as the soccer-star cast a dubious eye at Fall. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"Be nice!" Gemma said, smacking him, but not really meaning it.

"You know, I don't understand." Dylan said, loud enough for Fall and Scarlette to hear him. "You spend all year sticking people like that in lockers, and generally teaching them where they belong, and zeut alors! Here is one now, creeping from his disgusting den to torment the innocent with his vile company. Shall I have him escorted to his locker?" Behind Dylan, the soccer team's defensive line began to gather, summoned by their lord and master's evil bidding. "Excuse me, my dear." He kissed Gemma on the cheek and parted from her.

"Bonsoir, madame Scarlette." Dylan held out his hand and bowed elegantly. "Is this... individual... disturbing your evening?"

Scarlett, on the other hand, already had a drink in hand, and broad grin on her face. 'Someone put something nice and tasty in this that they shouldn't have...' she thought to herself. She'd been accustomed to some alcohol, as she'd been drinking wine with her family since she was ten, though it had only been a year or two since she'd been able to handle un-watered reds and dry whites.

Still, it gave her a nice buzz as she spied the stranger approaching. "Ah, have we met?" she says with a slight scoff, as both the twins were usually pretty careful about having their hair hanging over their ears whenever they could. Aside from the lack of acne and the less awkward way that she held herself, she wasn't very different from anyone else here. Despite being a million times more tolerant of others then even her most immediate cousins, she still felt the need to be a condescending bitch every now and then, to keep the cretins in line... something totally at odds with her twin's attitude

"no but i've met of other elfs before and know what to spot,be that you hiding your ears "answer Fall then turning Dylan
"Bonsoir, madame Scarlette." Dylan held out his hand and bowed elegantly. "Is this... individual... disturbing your evening?"

"only person disturbing the evening is you so go back to your date"

A wry smirk on her lips, Scarlett placed her hand in Dylan's, allowing him to raise it and give it a soft little kiss, as was his way. She'd known him quite well, as they were both quite active on the school sports and party scenes, but she made it a point to tease the boy, leading him on since he clearly desired her, and her twin sister. However, being another notch on his bedpost was not worth it unless she could break him, and have him grovelling for it first. Not something that was likely to happen any time soon...

"Ah, mon chéri," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she spoke the phrase in his peculiar language, "Good to see you this evening... and you too, Gemma," she gave the cheerleader a little curtsy, almost mockingly. "As for... him..." she turned, and gave Fall a glare, "He seems to have a rather awkward way with words, I'll give him that..." After spotting the approaching soccer players responding to their lord's call, she decided that the time was right to dramatically sigh and raise the back of her hand to her forehead, "I think he's giving me a headache..."

Lewis Hawk glanced over the rail as he spoke to the Woman with the shotgun and caught a glimpse of a group coalescing. As he watched the group seemed to become threatening and was moving towards Aw hell Thought Lewis. its fal. This can't be good He realized immediately that the security for the event had not yet noticed the fact that a brawl was about to break out on the floor and that nothing good was going to come of it.

He turned to the female security Woman. "I'm sorry I'm gonna have to wait on that name. You'd better watch that group there." He said pointing, and then moved quickly down the stairs. Within seconds he was close enough to see, and more importantly hear, exactly what was going on.

"Aw shit" he muttered to himself reading the scene perfectly and moved to Fal's side. He fell into a a slightly less relaxed posture than normal though it would take a Muay Tai expert to recognize it as a fighting stance.

"Hey bro." He said then looked at the soccer jock standing in front of him. "You, I don't think We've been introduced. My name's Hawk and ah what, exactly, are you trying to pull here?"

"As for... him..." she turned, and gave Fall a glare, "He seems to have a rather awkward way with words, I'll give him that..." After spotting the approaching soccer players responding to their lord's call, she decided that the time was right to dramatically sigh and raise the back of her hand to her forehead, "I think he's giving me a headache..."

"so you a slut who think the soccer players are going to scar me"said Fall as he drop the can on the floor

"i've seen Spetsnaz that were more scary" Fall added as he saw Lewis coming down the stairs.

Dylan laughed out loud. "Oh, Hawk. Hawk, Hawk, Hawk." Dylan's thugs spread out behind him, and the four of them laughed with him. He spread his hand, and the boys stopped laughing as one. "I like you, you know?" Dylan took Hawk's outstretched hand and gave it a good firm shake. "You are good people. I admire that. I think you would do very well in our team, do you not, my friends?" The men behind him shifted back and forth uncomfortably. "But, please, do not call me your brother. I am not your brother. You see? All friends."

Dylan inspected Fall for a moment, found him beneath contempt, and shook his head, returning to Hawk. "We are all friends here, are we not? I saw this... specimen... annoying my good friend Scarlett, and I came here to help her. If you are his friend, and I'm sure you are, for we are all friends, then tell him it is not polite to call a lady such a nasty word, no? As for me and my other friends, we shall be leaving now. You and your... friend... have a good night. Scarlett, shall we go?" He held his hand out for the girl.

Lewis grinned, or rather showed every one of his teeth. "So we atre all friends here huh? thats. . . interesting cause your soccer buddies seem like they are looking for a fight. Youd better keep your boys on a short leash there Dylan I'd hate to see anything go . . .wrong."
He turned to Fall. "That being said, Fall its below you to stoop to that kind of insult man. I'd apologize."

The soccer jocks looked more uncomfortable than anything else and Hawk was really hoping nothing would come of this little spat.

"an why would i be friends with someone who beneath my contempt like you"said Fall as he let his Feral Abilities take over him while watching the players

"oh yes take Scarlett ,there are others way better then her around that are not beneath my contempt " Fall added as he moved his left hand toward where he kept his knife and tunr to look at Lewis
That being said, Fall its below you to stoop to that kind of insult man. I'd apologize."
"don't apologize. for dick like him Hawk they think they can take on someone trained as a soldier and win they are fools"

"Woh now Fall." Said Hawk edging more between him and the soccer jock. "Don't do this bro. Just back off a little." he noticed Fall's hand snaking towards the knife and gritted his teeth somewhat.

"I get what your saying man but picking a fight here isn't . .. smart." He was moving his head slowly back and forth trying to keep the whole scene in his field of vision. "You can take em but its not worth it man and you know it."

With a derisive huff, Scarlett took Dylan's offered hand. Before she left though, she whispered to Fall, letting the more natural, sibilant accent of her people colour her words. "If I catch you near me again, scum, I'll slice off that useless sack of flesh dangling limply between your legs. It's a crime to knowingly insult your betters where I'm from, you filth."

Turning back to Dylan, who undoubtedly heard some of what she said, she smiled. "That's possibly the best thing I've heard so far tonight! I do hope dear Gemma won't mind me intruding with you for a moment or two, will you dear?" she said, not even pausing to let the cheerleader open her mouth before she took the offered arm and walked off with them in the opposite direction, leaving the cretin to stew.

With a derisive huff, Scarlett took Dylan's offered hand. Before she left though, she whispered to Fall, letting the more natural, sibilant accent of her people colour her words. "If I catch you near me again, scum, I'll slice off that useless sack of flesh dangling limply between your legs. It's a crime to knowingly insult your betters where I'm from, you filth."

Turning back to Dylan, who undoubtedly heard some of what she said, she smiled. "That's possibly the best thing I've heard so far tonight! I do hope dear Gemma won't mind me intruding with you for a moment or two, will you dear?" she said, not even pausing to let the cheerleader open her mouth before she took the offered arm and walked off with them in the opposite direction, leaving the cretin to stew.

"my betters don't cry wolf when there no wolf like you did by faking you getting a headache by just talking to me " Fall say out loud for all to hear

"Woh now Fall." Said Hawk edging more between him and the soccer jock. "Don't do this bro. Just back off a little."

"vith ol"Fall said as he jump to steel beam that was above them and sat down

"I get what your saying man but picking a fight here isn't . .. smart." He was moving his head slowly back and forth trying to keep the whole scene in his field of vision. "You can take em but its not worth it man and you know it."
"Hawk i never started it,Scarlett and Dylan the ones who did" Jim now answer from where he sits

Hawk tracked upward to the guy sitting on the steel beam above his head. Then he looked at the, now very nervous, group of soccer jocks around him and the half of the room now watching Fall.

"oh great" he muttered to himself. "he's still trying to pick a fight."

He laughed slightly, now a little embarrassed and still with combat reflexes running high.

"I know Fall," Said Hawk up to him "But they've backed off now so how bout you come down and do the same before the Prom Secs come round and escort you out."

"Strange little man." Dylan said as they left. He swept Gemma up in his arm and kissed her cheek to demonstrate that he was still interested in her, though his other hand did slide around Scarlett's waist with a sly look back at Hawk. "Please, my friend, avoir un bon soir, eh? If you find the time to be away from babysitting," He said this with a roll of his eyes, "I would be more than happy to discuss welcoming you to our team. Adieu, Hawk." He waved, bowed, and turned to leave with his soccer comrades and the two girls in each arm, looking back at Hawk to wink.

"As for you, my dear..." He whispered in Scarllet's ear as they returned to the dance floor, "I believe you owe me now." His eyes twinkled. "Shall we discuss just what it is you owe me while we dance later in the evening?" His hand 'accidentally' slipped down her waist to her bum and cupped it for a moment, before he broke off at a decently distant point.

"Au revoir mon ami," Replied Hawk with a slight grin. "Nous discuterons votre proposition ce soir"

He turned back to Fall watching as the situation, appeared to be returning to some sense of normality.

"i said she was a slut did i not" Fall said to Hawk as he drop down behind him with out a sound

"most elfs think they better then any one and she show it to the full" he added as he pulled the coat arm down to show his watch

'Hawk i bet Dylan drop his date to sleep with her too"

"Ah... yes, a dance... later. Fair is fair..." Scarlett said, doing her best to keep her cheeks from flushing when his hand slid down. She bit her lip, cursing to herself that she'd been weak enough to require his help, but also glad that he had come to rescue her from that intolerably thick-headed clown. Yes... of course it was going to be him. It always was. They were almost like each others' shadows, bound together, but each unwilling to compromise and give in to the other. The thought of swallowing her pride drifted to the fore briefly, very briefly, before she dismissed it and slipped away from his arm.

"Thank you again, mon chéri," she said it softly, this time without the sarcasm, "Now, if you'll excuse me... my sister is probably wondering where I disappeared to!"

"Yah, yah ya did fall but you've gotta watch yourself a little here man. those guys may have been a joke but there are some here who could be threat, even to you."
He looked around again. "Just, take a little care Fall" he said as he turned away and disappeared back into the crowd, heading again for the stairs.

He watched as he walked, and saw one of the elves walk away from the soccer player. interesting he thought to himself. throwing herself at the guy like that and then just ditching him? hmmmm maybe fall . . .but no I don't think of any girl like that and she actually looks genuinely upset. This is just odd.

He climbed the stairs back up to the observation post.

"I'm really sorry," he said to the shotgun wielder. "I hope you'll go easy on my friend down there he is a little .. . edgy about a conflict with a certain type of people. Now back to the conversation." he grinned as the tension of the last few moments seeped away. "what is your name?"

"i be fine ,if bitches like Scarlett keep thier mouths shut and their legs closed and Hawk see if she has a girlfriend that is better taste then Scarlett " Fall say to his back as he pushed a button and turning on active camouflage system he was wearing and returning to the steel beam

Eden Knight and Amy watched as Dylan walked away with the overly beaming Gemma on his arm. The first had a look of amusement on her face; the other had a look of disappointment. Neither said anything for a moment, as they watched the two disappear across the gym, each with their head filled with very different thoughts.

Once they were out of earshot, Eden broke the silence. “Poor Gemma.”

Her friend looked at her incredulously. “What do you mean? She’s managed to bag herself the best soccer player in the school and definitely one of the best looking.” Amy let out a sigh. “If only I wasn’t here with Jake.”

Turning her head, Eden frowned at the younger cheerleader. “There is nothing wrong with Jake. At least you know you will have a ride home after the prom.” She turned back towards the crowd where Gemma and Dylan were walking. “She will be lucky if she keeps him until the next dance.”

Getting bored of the topic, she turned around in Charles’ arms until she was facing him. “But that is more than enough about them.” She announced, before breaking into a huge smile as she looked up into her boyfriend’s adoring eyes. “We really must make sure to say ‘hi’ to the camera guy, I see he is around filming.” Eden normally would not bother, but there were times when she just had to be polite and even a little friendly.

“And there are still a few other people we really must mingle with.” As she spoke she took a step back and slipped out of Charles’ arms, allowing herself to stand beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she surveyed the room, which was now quickly filling up with people.

Her gaze lingered for a moment on the crowd surrounding Sarah, before her attention was piqued by a few new arrivals. ‘The Goth’ and ‘Ying and Yang’, the nickname she had given the Colthique twins for very obvious reasons. She always felt it was a shame about Natalia Salieri, a girl with so much potential and not an ounce of fashion sense. Still, not everyone could be Eden.

She watched at the twins split up and went their natural way, and it made Eden smile when she saw Scarlett approached by that strange boy. Now what did she call him. It did not matter the fun was in watching Scarlett dealing with him. Not that the fun lasted, because White Knight Dylan was there helping her. Poor Gemma, she did not last as long as even Eden had expected.

Not being able to hear did not distract from the entertainment as Dylan and what’s his name got into a verbal match. It really did not surprise her to find half of his cronies gathered around him to do so. It pained her that Dylan was afraid of his own shadow. If only he had some of the gumption that his opponent was displaying. Still, she marked it down to the fact that Dylan could not have everything. It seemed that charm, good looks and an ability to kick a ball was all he needed to get through school.

Getting bored of the spectacle, she gave everyone one more second of her attention, before instantly ignoring the insanity that was prom night. Oh, how she wished more people were just like her. Still, at least she had Charles, an island of normalcy in an ocean of weird.

Ellenith, or Elly as some friends called her, could only watch and giggle to herself as Scarlett made a scene with the strange foreign kid. 'How am I not surprised... it's like a soap opera. And there's the other starring character, that french toad..." she thought, rolling her eyes at the very sight of him. Dylan had made passes at her in the past, and she'd laughed... more then a few times too, on account of her being Scarlett's twin. But she knew what he really wanted, and it made her cringe just thinking about it. Nearing the food tables, she decided to not think about it, and instead find something to do.

Spotting Natti, her smile grew as she took in her look. Never one to follow a crowd, the girl had certainly failed to dissapoint.

"My my... I think I'm speechless. You've outdone yourself," she commented loudly enough for Natti to hear as she pulled up alongside her, while grabbing a few choice pieces of finger food and neatly arranging them on her plate. She chuckled a bit, too, as she was rather rusty using the language of the Dominion, as it'd been about five years since she'd learned it during a summer spent there. She had some classes with the other exchange student, so they knew each other enough to share a bit of respect, if not outright friendship. "You're certainly a much better trendsetter then I am..." she switched back to english, rather then embarass herself too much more, "Though, I suppose not carrying around enough firepower to blow away a city block makes me a bit of a rebel too, eh?"

Is there something in that punch, or is Mirri just being … well, Mirri? Jesu, what a mess.

Arching a brow at the scene, she prudently avoided the punch on principle, instead taking a sampling of some of the foods made available, only to be again distracted by something else going on near the bowl of beverage. She was an observer. She watched people. Its just what she liked doing when there were people to watch. Never knew what you might learn. Or might wish you hadn’t, but no gain without risk, no?

One of the twins – Scarlett? Getting hit on by … hrm, not sure. Some guy who had the sullen air of someone who thought himself to be a real hardass and best everyone remember that. And sure enough, it seemed he’d hit a sour note, and left the lady less than amused with whatever it was he was pushing.

Elly coming across the room in her direction caught her attention, though she kept an eye on the happenings out of curiosity. Enter the self-proclaimed school ‘nobility’ – rich, popular, athletic, what have you, didn’t matter so much as the attitude that went with it. A slight rolling of the eyes at the affectations, nibbling a bit on something that seemed to include rice wrapped in something or other that tasted interesting, but pleasant … and the little gathering had attracted yet another willing participant? Santa Maria madre del dio, some women just attracted attention, and men, like ants to a picnic. Wannabe knight in shining armor? She wasn’t certain she remembered this one or not. She inched a little closer, all the better to hear.

Oh no he didn’t.

Natti shook her head and looked away, letting out a slow breath. And as expected, the exchange went over like a lead balloon. Barbs were traded, insults escalated – little or no tact on the part of some, no skill. So much could have been done with the situation, she thought, so little creativity went into some of the jabs … pity. She would have killed to know what it was that Scarlett whispered, though. The expression on her face at least, was priceless. And … rafters? The hell was that all about?

“Cafone,” she muttered under her breath, then smiled as Elly closed the gap. “Buonaserra, Elly. And grazie – I doubt I’ll be setting any trends here, but then, who cares. We probably are the only ones not hiding a gun locker in our bodices or God knows where else,” she replies with a wry smile, sensing the discomfort and keeping it English for ease of both parties. A nice girl, Elly. A little shy it seemed, but that wasn’t always a bad thing. Still waters running deep, and so on.

“Hope your night is going more smoothly than your sister’s – seems she ran afoul of someone suffering from T.D.S. …” Here she paused, and loudly whispered, “You know. Tiny Dick Syndrome. Turns men into instant asses who feel the need to belittle others and toss out insults to make up for their ah, lacking. A shame, really. They say steroid abuse might be a contributor. Who knows, eh?”

Fall still sitting unseen above the room had drop a small spider shape UGA and was now watching and listening on his PDA

"wow a goth who most likely never seen dick in her life going on like she has or have any clue of what happen,wow this whole place fall of nut jobs who would shit them self if they land in the middle of a full blown out battle" Fall said as he moved the spider along to a new area

"look here more people with money and think they better then all" Fall said to himself as he move the UGA pass Eden Knight and her group

"So far? Not too bad. Ran into Dudley. He's been glued to his lens, as usual. I think that was Sarah involved in that first row. Clocked some guy over the head with a magazine!" she turned, watching Scarlett in the middle of the young night's second dust-up, though this one managed to fall short of actual violence. "Aww... looks like Scarlett has a friend..." Finally, her composure broke, after the scene had unfolded and resolved itself. "Ahh, ahaha! Well, she's tougher then she looks. Probably threatened to cut his little precious wanker off, too, which might have deterred him a bit!"

Still laughing as she nibbled on the appy's, she avoided the punch after Natti warned her it was probably spiked by now. "Just as well... I'll stick to water for now. Oh! I told Dudley I'd get him a bottle... poor boy wouldn't remember to blink if it wouldn't wreck his shots..."

Just then, Scarlett finally arrived to grace them with her presence, however briefly. Despite Elly's warning, she refilled her punch cup, drained it in one big slug, and then filled it again. "Ah, there you are... And there you are," she said, first to Elly, then Natti, biting her tongue to avoid saying anything too snarky to her sister's friend. "Well, anyways... that cretin called me a slut! A slut! Me!" she stammered, her natural accent that she slipped into when angry briefly colouring her words. She paused, and took and deep breath, "Gods, and Dylan..." a long, loud sigh at the mention of that name, "At least I'm armed more appropriately for the next one..." she said, holding up the full glass.

Thinking the idea of throwing punch in some poor loser's face to be quite clever a clever one, she smirked and waved goodbye to the girls, her anger forgotten as she blended back into the crowd, course set generally towards the dance floor like a self-contained whirlwind. All of this left Elly rather speechless.

Charles relaxed slightly as Dylan’s attention was drawn away immediately upon his arrival. Seriously, the boy just could not compete, even for something he wanted as badly as history indicated he wanted Eden. He remained silently as the soccer player moved onto a secondary target, wondering if he even realized quite how desperate that made him appear.

Not that the two junior cheerleaders seemed to notice. Oddly, Dylan’s reputation seemed to win him more contacts with women than the reverse that would have occurred at home in Tartarus. He relaxed more as Eden first leaned into him slightly, and then as Dylan wandered off, Gemma on his arm. He barely paid attention as Amy rambled on, concentrating on the feel of the woman in his arms instead, smiling as he felt the flex of taught skin through the barely there fabric when she turned around. The smile touched his eyes as Eden met his gaze, and he allowed himself to focus on more than just the feel of her body as she spoke to him.

Before he had a chance to reply, the cheerleader was squirming out his arms, and as he was looking down at her, he noticed movement on the floor. It took him a second to identify it, and then to track it. It looked like some sort of metal bug. Lightly stroking Eden’s bare arm, he knelt down, bending his knees to grab the thing before it could move away. He held it up, watching as it wriggled about, clearly trying to keep walking. “Maybe we should speak with Dudley. Sending little camera drones around to look up girls’ skirts is a bit creepy, even for an AV tech like him. Come on.”

Taking Eden’s arm, he led her through the throngs of people beginning to crowd the room, to where the young man with the camera was busily filming, making sure to grip the little bug tightly enough it couldn’t escape, but carefully holding it by the leg so as to not smash it. Smiling, he once more unwrapped his arm from Eden and, tapping the boy on his shoulder, said calmly, though penetratingly, the voice he used to control his teams, “Did you lose something, Dudley?” He smirked slightly, though not meanly, as he held out the robot. “I know the camera lends itself to a voyeuristic enjoyment of life, but I never thought you’d take it this far.”

It was not really cruel, just something close to a brutal truth. Too bad he had picked the wrong source.

Miri sighed as she lay on the ground. _Either way, this place is comfortable. I like the ground..._ Before she could properly comment, however, a group of loud and overbearing boys began charging past her. She yelped and rolled out of the way, to avoid getting trampled. “Okay! Ground! Dark area! Danger! Right!”

She sighed out again, and sat back up from her location on the ground. “Okay! I'm okay. Just needed a quick reboot.” She jumped up onto her feet, smiling as before. _Right! People! Must be friendly! I like people, anyways, especially if they're interesting people!_ She began to saunter over to Natti and Elly, just to say hi and hopefully rid herself of her immense boredom. Before she could get there, however, she noticed Charles brushing past, carrying a small metallic object. _What in the world is that crazy thing? Probably not his, considering how openly he's carrying it... what mentally retarded, psychotic, antisocial, and downright evil prick would carry THAT into a prom?!_ She shuddered highly visibly to the point of lifting herself off the floor, and continued on her way.

Miri arrived at Natti and Elly before the other twin left, witnessing the highly directional exeunt of the girl. “She... wow, she looks like a bullet going out there. Or maybe an artillery shell” Turning to the two properly, Miri grinned and waved hello. “Hi guys! Natti, I absolutely love your outfit. And yours too, Elly... that is also an amazingly cool sword.” Miri proceeded to lose herself, staring at the birthsword, enthused by, well, how shiny the object was...

The UGA dropping to the ground was an interesting thing – it wasn’t all the time things of recognizable size were falling out of seemingly nowhere from the ceiling after all – but as it didn’t hit anyone, and if the dickless wonder wanted to play spy games, that was his problem.

Talk about your head case. Mannagia! that guy needs a serious reality check. Almost a pity the Jockstrap Johnnies didn’t put him in the hurt locker. Meh. Figlio di puttana… And the rest trailed off into a mental string of general obscenities towards all unibrowed, knuckledragging, testosterone bags who by all measure needed a quick kick in the dangly bits.

“Si, si – that’s what I was getting at about Scarlett - mi dispiace,” Natti replied to Elly. “I saw the guy they dragged out earlier – a magazine to his head? Jesu dolce, and nothing worse happened? Back home there’d have been a row, and it would have hit the fan something fierce. Then again, its good to see some life in people, no? A bit of fierce? Some spirit?”

She scanned the room quickly at the mention of Dudley. “Ah, si bella – the boy always with the camera going. Does he ever go anywhere without that? Happy to take something over to him with you –“ she continued, then was figuratively bowled over by the entrance of Scarlett to the scene.

Natti took it all in with a wry sort of smile, clearly unconcerned with what Scarlett may or may not think of her, dismissing the ‘tude’ and ‘airs’ out of hand. She’d grown up with that sort of thing, and it had been old for years now – a case of the ritchie bitchies, she called it. Look at me, I’m important – don’t forget, and by damn, you’d best treat me like it. Scarlett wasn’t –bad- really, she was just familiar with the type, and wasn’t intimidated in the least.

Elly was more pleasant to be around, by far. And that was good enough.

“The audacity,” she commented dryly, shaking her head and clucking her tongue. “Give ‘em hell, Scarlett,” she offered as the other made her way out as if looking for a target to vent on.

“Christ, Elly. You two are twins? How did you end up with all the nice genes?”

And then came Miri, bless her little heart. Natti couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly, not unkindly. She had to respect the individuality the other girl exhibited – clearly, she was in it for the fun, and didn’t give a crap about what anyone else thought. And though the seemingly infinitely bubbly personality wasn’t something she could personally relate to, hey – it worked for Miri, and that’s what really mattered.

“Ciao, Miri. And thank you – you’re looking very pink tonight,” she says with a little smile – again, not unkindly. And to Elly, upon mention of the sword, “How in hell do you manage not to get all tangled up in that anyways?”

Elly could only shake her head in bemusement as her sister faded into the background. "You know, I couldn't tell you. Besides, we're not perfectly identical... that blond hair of hers clearly must have turned her evil."

They were still laughing when Miri arrived... or stumbled in, blindingly pink ensemble and all. She couldn't figure the girl out, a small analytical part of her brain telling her that it must be terrible to have such awful balance, though the rest of her telling her brain that it was just an act, a way for her to have fun. It was a bit of a foreign concept to her.

When the discussion turned to her, however, Elly seemed to squirm a bit in the spotlight. The complement on her choice of flashy weaponry made her blush and look down at the pair of blades, belted together in their black leather scabbards, clinging tightly to her hip. "What, these? Thank you, Miri... they're very special to me. And Natti, they're not any worse then dealing with this infernal purse..." she suddenly trailed off, and muttered something that sounded like a string of angry hisses as, for the umpteenth time, the small bag's strap slipped from her bare shoulder at the slightest hint of movement, almost as if the leather accessory was trying to escape...

Well, alright. So Miri drooling at whatever visible exquisite workmanship displayed wouldn't be the most elegant of ways of talking to people. But regardless, that's what she was doing.

“Wow...” Staaaaaaare. Sigh. That's the only reaction to be expected from one with a general like for shiny objects. Hey! Wake up!

“Wha! Oh. Hi again. Sorry, just... those just look really nice. I can see why they'd be precious, though I'm guessing it's just more than the fact that they look really nice.” She grumbled and facepalmed. “Damned sight better than--” she pointed her head in the general direction of the ceiling-- “SOME ANTISOCIAL, PSYCHOTIC, MENTALLY RETARDED, DOWNRIGHT EVIL PRICKS THAT DECIDED TO TOTALLY IGNORE AND ACT LIKE A TOUGH GUY AT A SCHOOL FUNCTION DESIGNED TO PROMOTE SOME SORT OF SOCIAL INTERACTION--” she stopped to breathe-- “that we are... well, that goes to our school.” She grinned, slightly sheepishly at that. “Sorry if that was loud. You know me, I call out people that suck. So, anything interesting happen in your nights, so far? I've witnessed a fistfight, some accosting, and lots of spinning. And drunk people. And... your sister is really, really fiery, Elly.”

"Yes," Sarah said to Kenji, though not knowing his name, "a glass of water would be great, thank you..." Her eye felt better now, and the blood flow had stopped, so she stood up and paced around her table. "Marcus, I'm going to take a little walk. Thank you again for the dance, and trying to defend me, though a magazine to the head is a little more demeaning, thank you." She mustered a weak smile, and tottered off in a random direction.

Now there was a curious gathering of the expatriates whom Sarah had witnessed entering the prom, and whom she hadn't known. To speak with her batchmates who probably knew her better would have become an issue, since no matter who you were, you'd definitely ask a question on the matter of her smacking Lorenzo Cartugio a new one, right? It was the oppositive methodology to keeping a lower profile than she'd already given herself; looking back, hitting Cartugio twice had probably been a bad idea, and she probably deserved that retaliatory strike - even though it had been a little too rough to have landed on her most feminine face - digressive.

Sarah had bad ears, but the mechanical click of a shutter indicated the presence of an optics assembly behind which saw into the world a possible CMOS image sensor or maybe a CCD. This was confirmed by the sight of a Nikon D300, which she recalled as having a 12.3-megapixel CMOS sensor, a 6 FPS burst-mode and an HD video output over mini-HDMI, which she doubted anyone would really need since most of these pictures and videos would in the end be outputted to a PC with better image processing pow- why the hell did she know this? It was sometimes irritating to have random flashes of information explode in her brain, especially if she was trying to focus on the people behind the camera.

Oh wait, that was no expatriate. That was Dudley Clemons. She remembered from way back during the experimental Organization Switch day where students could pick any org to join for one day, and Sarah had chosen the local AV club. This was another "way back" moment for her, when she had just taken a liking to photography and prior to when she decided that she was a video gamer. Anyway, Dud Clemons was the org head, school paper photographer, and she remembered trying to talk to him during a photoshoot. That failed. His focus probably sent his brain out of phase with the local space-time continuum - probably for the best, since his photos were really damn good. She'd have loved to have him as photographer when she did that amateur model shoot for last year's school fair - yet another debacle that should be preserved for another narrative.

She walked over to the so-monikered "Camera Guy" and considered poking his lens so that he'd see her through the viewfinder, but decided against it after remembering how enthusiasts were with their equipment.

"Hi, Dud," she said. "You got the fight documented, I guess."

Nodding politely, Marcus was gracious as Sarah excused herself. Marcus smiled wryly as he watched her walk away. He turned to Kenji, "I suppose we're both out of luck," he chuckled, fixing his cloak as he sighed. "A breath of air would be nice," he commented, turning and heading in the opposite direction.

Marcus exited the gymnasium and wandered about its perimeter. Things were certainly different in this country, but at least he could be his own self here. Back home, it was always the same thing Remember that your work is for the pride of the Stugenov name! and Your brothers and sisters never acted like this, what's wrong with you? What was wrong, in Marcus' view, was their drive to defeat their rivals, the Tikhomirovs. So what that both had legitimate claims to the Mitgarian throne? No one could ever claim it as long as the Commonwealth existed.

He sighed again. Marcus had wandered the whole perimeter without even realizing it. A stiff breeze blew back his cloak and ruffled his almost-shoulder-length hair. If only I weren't so high-born, he lamented lamely. It was something he'd often wished for, but knew he'd never achieve. Marcus looked up at the stars, knowing some would trade everything for his life...and he would make the same sacrifice to live normally.

Blackwell had replied to Sara with "You kids act as if there were a damn battalion of Vaadians waiting outside..." He sniffed at it all and turned. He completely missed Miri's question as he focused on dealing with the punch.

Blackwell vanished through the swinging door into the kitchen. There he discovered three annoying facts. One, that the prep fridge had been locked with a combination padlock. Two, that the door of said fridge had developed a vacuum on it. Three, when pulling on the door, and entire bag of ice decided to descend on his foot.

If any students were in the Kitchen, today's lesson was unique epitaphs of Klatchian swearing. He stood up and grabbed a gallon container of punch and carried it back out to the table. He limped over as he did so and filled the punch bowl with more punch until the flower almost returned to the surface. Now it's got the alcholic punch of near beer.

Alconians in a foul mood were not fun people. Alconian Naval Officers in a foul mood were definitively not people who's sh** list you wanted to be on. Which is why Dylan was about to learn why it pays to turn in your assignments.

He didn't so much as plow through the crowds as cut through the people on the dance floor until comming up behind Dylan and the fair young lass he was dancing with. Tapping Dylan on the shoulder he gave a slight bow, "Pardon, I think I shall have to cut in since you sir have a clean up in the kitchen to attend to..."

The smile that accompanied this statement was rather narrow and almost evil when he looked at Dylan. However it became far more pleasent looking upon Scarlett. "If you do not mind?..."

Dudley represses a sigh and lowers the Nikon he was using to get some stills of the party (and an argument across the gym). He was only standing next to her with a huge camcorder for several minutes as she recovered from the magazine incident, trying to press her for a scoop; now everyone involved was moving away and he knew from experience that each moment that passed meant it was less likely anyone would be willing to talk about it. Ah well. She was hit in the face, after all. Turning, he smiles and shrugs slightly. "At least after the shouting started, though I didn't document everything."

There's a dramatic difference in his personality behind the camera and by himself. While before he easily demanded information in an assertive voice, now he sounds inoffensive almost to the point of being apologetic. As being demure is not generally considered a masculine trait, especially in PD, it explains a bit about Clemons' existence just outside of the mainstream--not enough to be properly bullied, but sufficient that whenever people like, say, Dylan did notice him it was always with a sort of condescending disdain. The story's with the "beautiful people," huh? Ephemera. "I'm sure you're not interested in it now," he says in a half-hearted attempt to do his job before attempting to be more sociable in perhaps a too cheerful--but only slightly forced--way: "Other than the usual fighting and stuff, though, great party, right? Heh."

Then things go south.

Smiling, he once more unwrapped his arm from Eden and, tapping the boy on his shoulder, said calmly, though penetratingly, the voice he used to control his teams, “Did you lose something, Dudley?” He smirked slightly, though not meanly, as he held out the robot. “I know the camera lends itself to a voyeuristic enjoyment of life, but I never thought you’d take it this far.”
At 'lose something' and the shoulder tap Dudley says "Hm, no, I--" as he turns around and is brought short by a good case of j'accuse. Not knowing at all what to say, he turns beet red with a mixture of fear, shame, and anger while said emotions fight to be expressed on limited facial territory. "Of--of course not!" he stammers, anger conquering the language center of his brain while fear takes the vocal cords and surprise makes a valiant holding action across his brows, "I've never seen that--that thing before in my life!"

By this point fear's armored advance has penetrated into his motor cortex sufficiently that he takes a single half-step back before anger's counterassault with massed tactical airpower makes him plant his feet where he now stands. Dudley's hands declare neutrality, mostly just fidgeting by themselves and hoping the war will be over by Christmas so they won't have to get involved.

Keeping the angry expression on his face, despite believe the boy’s story, or lack thereof, Charles continued to glower at the cameraman. Dudley made movies – he did not star in them. He was definitely not an actor, and probably could not tell a lie to save his life, if the last few years had been any indication, in Charles’ admittedly limited experience with the techie.

“It looks expensive,” he commented languorously, rotating his wrist to show off the highly detailed robotic critter that he held pinched between two fingers. “But if it isn’t yours,” he lowered his hand and then dropped it, quickly moving his foot with the ease of someone who’s hand-eye, or in this case, foot-eye, coordination was to be expected from the captain of two varsity athletics teams, “you won’t mind if I do this?”

The heel of his dress shoe slammed down, and with a crunching noise and a slight whiff of burning silicates, crushed the robotic spy against the hardwood floor of the gym. No doubt, given the lack of space for internal memory, whoever was on the other end got a painful blast of static in whatever format the thing was transmitting, audio or visual. And if I’m lucky, maybe both, Charles thought before continuing. “I know you prefer equipment with enough size to get detail, Dudley,” he said, dropping the hardcase act from the moment before. “But who would be enough of a sick, creepy freak with the kind of money or skill this would require?”

Almost against his will, Charles’ eyes flicked to Dylan, standing on the other side of the room, possibly even who Dudley had been photographing when the Tartarian had interrupted him. He had the money, but Charles doubted the skill. But he had shown an inordinate amount of interest in Eden in the last year, and he had just been talking to them before Charles spotted the thing. And honestly, with the amount of philandering he did, he might just be creepy enough.

As it was, Charles was probably asking the right person to find out about who had the technical skills required to pull off something like this. After all, they probably played at making movies, or at least developing film, and those rooms and all the equipment in them were Dudley’s kingdom. After all, if someone wanted tips on swimming, who did they come to?

The master.

So Charles went to the master at the top of this mountain - and a strange mountain it was.

Dudley winces as the spybot gets crushed. Not because it's his, of course, but because he's the kind of guy who flinches at unexpected loud noises and violence in general. "I won't mind other than in a... uh... professionally curious sense." He rubs the back of his neck as color retreats from his face, slowly returning back towards normalcy. "Who's got that sort of interest and skill?"

He's not dull, despite what some think, so he catches the glance towards Dylan. The sheer cognitive dissonance associated with the thought that Dylan could be involved makes him choke back a sudden laugh. "Oh, not him. I don't think he'd bother with a middleman if all he wanted was an upskirt. I don't think he'd bother with middlemen under any circumstance."

Chuckling in that sort of post-stress nervousness that some people do as they relax, he looks around conspiratorially. "A few of the kids in the robotics club could probably have done the chassis, but they don't care about optics for anything other than... well, seeing." Clemons says the last word with the vaguest sense of a disdainful sniff. "I've actually helped a few AV nerds to make spy cams--hey, okay, I don't ask questions--but they were all optical. Used a Minox-style curved film plate, not too useful for, well, a literal bug. Heh. Curved CCDs are still hard to come by, so a digital camera that size is either not for upskirting--lacks the focus, see--or it's military grade by someone with a pocketbook."

He frowns and looks around again. "A relatively large pocketbook, considering. That reduces the list of suspects..." Dudley glances at the foreigner, is struck by a thought, and grins with the silliness of it all. "But you know our country. People here love their expensive milspec toys."

'And I thought Scarlett could get riled up!'

Elly could only blink at Miri's sudden outburst. She didn't know the girl that well, so she didn't see it coming at all. Backing away a step, she stood right beside Natti and whispered to her. Not wanting to draw attention from the bombastic speaker, Elly used Natti's native tongue once again, though it was a bit halting.

"I, ah... Don't think I've seen her like this... did she have some of that punch?" Shuddering at the thought, she could only give the girl a nervous smile.

"Yeah... people that suck... sure suck," she stammered for them all to understand, trying to wrap her mind around what she just witnessed. She liked the girl, but... Scarlett had told her once that she didn't always 'get' people, which was probably why she was rather shy and introverted. She knew there was more to Miri then met the eye, but she just had no idea what it might be


Scarlett's fortunes seemed to be rising, however. She'd danced with a few boys from the basketball team, as they were amongst the few taller then her. True, five-foot eight wasn't colossal, but it was above average at this age. Truthfully, it was the thought of dancing with one of the shorter boys who would have his face planted in her chest that was the real thing making her picky with her partners. Some of them were quite nice, but she was sure more then a few were rather keen on her low-cut gown. So she circulated around the floor, her purse and swords resting with her punch on a table near the edge. Without realizing it, she was almost back to back with Dylan when Professor Blackwell decided to confront him.

"Ah, Professor Blackwell! I know I didn't do as well on that test as I... Oh, what would I mind?"

The softening grin on Blackwell's face piqued her curiosity, and she glanced past him to see a groaning and complaining Dylan, "Oooh... the report! He didn't mean to miss the due date! Well, see," she'd let her partner go, who frowned a bit and then wandered off, "I was supposed to help him with it, but I was away last week, remember? Volleyball team going to state? Anyways," her voice was picking up speed now, "He couldn't get it done in time to hand it in without my help, so you see that it's my fault. I'm sooo sorry, but I'm sure he'll get it all wrapped up and ready for you by Monday, right Dylan?"

She gave Dylan one of her best camouflaged 'you owe me big time' squints, even as she smiled for the professor and lied through her teeth, apologizing profusely for just about everything.

'This better make us even...' she thought, wondering if she'd been persuasive enough to placate the professor...

“Still pretty cool, Elly,” Natti replied in regards to the swords. “As for the purse – that’s why you get a decent bag or backpack, or have some working pockets. All look, no function, loses no matter how ‘cute’ it is.”

She immediately got the giggles at Miri’s outburst, totally ruining the ‘aloof’ look she’d been going for earlier. “Yeah – they suck,” she agreed. “And nah, not so much on this end. Just hanging out, nibbling the goods, watching some sods make asses of themselves, and others parade around like royalty. You know. The usual.”

Natti shrugged at Elly’s question, figuring one way or another, so long as no one was hurt, it was fine. There seemed to be something or other going on with Elly’s camera boy and one of the Jockstrap Johnnies.”Um, weren’t you gonna bring Dudley a drink or something?” she reminded the girl, arching a brow and nodding in his general direction.

"It's been pretty quiet for me, too... the food is pretty good, though. It's still early, so I haven't danced yet..."

Elly suddenly blushed rather vividly when Natti reminded her of her promise, and she glanced at poor Dudley. It wasn't normally like her, but Miri had done her job well and completely distracted her. Scarlett was normally the one forgetting things in the middle of doing them, not her...

"Right! Water!" she quickly scanned down the table, found the bottles, and grabbed one, "C'mon, lets go give the poor boy some backup. Looks like he'll need it..."

Grabbing one for herself, she nodded and motioned for Elly to lead the way. "Come with, or keep on spinnin'? Just getting Duds a drink." Natti asked Miri, figuring a dash of decency wouldn't be amiss, all things considered, and not really wanting the other girl to get riled up at her for anything either.

Scarlett's fortunes seemed to be rising, however. She'd danced with a few boys from the basketball team, as they were amongst the few taller then her. True, five-foot eight wasn't colossal, but it was above average at this age. Truthfully, it was the thought of dancing with one of the shorter boys who would have his face planted in her chest that was the real thing making her picky with her partners. Some of them were quite nice, but she was sure more then a few were rather keen on her low-cut gown. So she circulated around the floor, her purse and swords resting with her punch on a table near the edge. Without realizing it, she was almost back to back with Dylan when Professor Blackwell decided to confront him.

"Ah, Professor Blackwell! I know I didn't do as well on that test as I... Oh, what would I mind?"

The softening grin on Blackwell's face piqued her curiosity, and she glanced past him to see a groaning and complaining Dylan, "Oooh... the report! He didn't mean to miss the due date! Well, see," she'd let her partner go, who frowned a bit and then wandered off, "I was supposed to help him with it, but I was away last week, remember? Volleyball team going to state? Anyways," her voice was picking up speed now, "He couldn't get it done in time to hand it in without my help, so you see that it's my fault. I'm sooo sorry, but I'm sure he'll get it all wrapped up and ready for you by Monday, right Dylan?"

She gave Dylan one of her best camouflaged 'you owe me big time' squints, even as she smiled for the professor and lied through her teeth, apologizing profusely for just about everything.

'This better make us even...' she thought, wondering if she'd been persuasive enough to placate the professor...

OOC: I thought she was dancing with Dylan...

Blackwell raised an eyebrow at Scarlett. "Projects were to be individual work and thought. Now then, Dylan knew the consequences of missing his extension due date when he negotiated it and he failed to do so. If he was dependent upon you to do his project then he deserves the grade he will receive. And his failure to meet the extended deadline falls squarely upon his shoulders." He looked over at the young man with a smile, "And I am sure Dylan wouldn't want you to discover the penalty for cheating"

He turned slightly and leaned over to her ear whispering. "Your not helping him in the long run, he needs a little slice of humility before getting his pampered rear into worse trouble."

Dudley’s analysis made perfect sense to Charles. He was completely aware that Dylan would have no reason to resort to such tactics – someone who slept around as much as the ambassador’s son would hardly need any voyeuristic materials for solely personal or private reasons, even if they were of the one girl he wanted and could not have.

Even with that knowledge, it was hard to ignore his dislike of the other young foreigner, drawing him to suspect him. That dislike was perhaps irrational, but a long standing teenage male jealousy prior to Charles dating Eden over Dylan’s success with females, combined with Dylan clearly not caring that Eden was going out with Charles, added to an instinctive dislike of persons who so brutally abused their social standing and family ties, professed strong religious ties in general, and were generally bullies, meant that it had no choice but to exist.

But, as the AV tech had made perfectly clear, there were plenty of people in Perimeter Defense who had fetishes for military grade hardware, and the bug could have belonged to any one of them. Not to mention that the Tartarians and Bernado were hardly the only foreign students from fairly wealthy and powerful families. If Clemons could not identify a suspect straight off, Charles doubted they would ever have somewhere to look.

Charles just hoped whatever asshole had done it did not have any clear pictures of what was his. Even if no one could see her face, he would hate it if any pictures, or worse, videos, of Eden found their way into public domain. “This is a dangerous environment for a toy like this,” he said after a moment. “All the people moving around, dancing and walking, makes it far more likely that someone would crush the spider by accident, much less on purpose. Which means whoever was going peeping tom on us probably has more of them, and may have used them in the past.”

Making a mental note to conduct a search of less than reputable Internet sites for the school name and the first names of the dozen or so hottest girls in school, Eden included, when he had time, Charles frowned. Kneeling down once more, the young man scooped the remains of the bug off the ground and offered them to Dudley. “You may know someone more interested in these than I. I’m sure not everything is ruined beyond repair.” A peace offering, of sorts.

Dylan growled under his breath. "Mon dieu, your persistence would be admirable if you placed it to better ends, sieur. Excuse me, my dear." He said, releasing the body of Gemma. "I'll meet you shortly." He took his dance partner by the waist again, kissed her soft lips, and released her, sending her to drift in a glorious haze away.

"I am gratified that my education is of such concern to you, professor, and your concern deserves a serious answer. During the week in which you were explaining the fundamental relationship between mass and force, I was defending our pride, non, our very honor by leading our team to victory in the regional contests of the game of soccer. Alas, Scarlett did not present her notes to me in a speedy fashion before she went on to play the volleyball." Dylan held his hands out and shrugged. "Sadly, I was working too hard to assemble the notes for the week I was there and she was absent to try to copy the notes of someone else."

Dylan turned to the punch table, selecting the punch that his original date had drunk from before deciding she was exhausted and filling a cup. He didn't know if Miri had distracted the professor before he found the 'special' punch. "Me papa always told me that it is polite for one gentleman to offer another gentleman that he has wronged a drink, sieur. Alas, I am reduced to what this school has on offer, yet I hope you will accept this in the spirit in which it is intended?"

Blackwell looked at Dylan. "At what point Dylan did you wrong me? I informed you the penalty for not turning in your paper in by the extension date, and you sir accepted that penalty."
He took the punch in his hand checking on the location of the hydrometer in the punch bowl to see how much tampering had been done to it. "Now then, I am sure that your papa informed you that an honorable gentleman must, in order to retain his honor, honor his agreements. And no matter how much attempt at distributing the blame to school activities, you failed to meet your obligations."

He held the glass for a moment and then smiled brightly, "But I would like you to tell me how plasma physics had anything to do with your declared topic of supercritical fluids utilization? Since that was the topic you missed I would add."

“You may know someone more interested in these than I. I’m sure not everything is ruined beyond repair.” A peace offering, of sorts.
Not punching him on a vague suspicion was enough of a peace offering, but Dudley accepts the mangled remains of the drone in cupped hands anyway, mostly because he can't think of anything else to do. "Uh, thanks, ah... good luck." He sighs very softly after excusing himself to wander off to a safe distance, and finds the nearest rubbish bin to nonchalantly drop the ex-UGV into. While it may have been of interest to someone--particularly the intelligence and robotics communities of some less advanced nations--there's not much Clemons can do with powdered solid-state electronics and horribly scratched, if not completely destroyed, adaptive lenses. Shrugging slightly, he turns again just in time to greet Elly the water-bearer.

"Oh, uh, thanks," he says with the slight bashfulness inherent to his character as he accepts the bottle and unscrews the top, "I guess you're bringing the cavalry but, well, all's well that ends well or whatever." He takes a sip, and allows himself just a little frustration in front of his friend. "What a night. First, I don't get any scoop on Sarah's story and then I get falsely accused of trying to use some sort of spider drone to catch upskirt pictures, as if I didn't have anything better to do with my time."

He shrugs it off, generally being unable to hold a grudge, and starts checking some of the pictures on his Nikon's preview screen. "Oh well. At least we'll have photo documentation for the yearbook, I guess."

"Can't it wait till next week, professor?" Scarlett whispered back to him, almost pleadingly, as Blackwell made his case that it was for Dylan's own good. While the thought of begging for Dylan made her shiver, she was going to do her best to bail him out; she owed him that much. Just as Dylan handed the professor a drink, a devious idea came to mind. She leaned close to Blackwell, and told to him just what it was.

"You know professor... if you really want to punish him, call him in to detention first thing tomorrow morning... I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you so bright and early..."

---

Shrugging and smiling, Elly gave Dudley a gentle pat on the shoulder as he fiddled with his camera, . "Well... I know it's small consolation, but it could be worse... nobody's tried to shoot you yet!"

Miri winced at the step back that Elly took. _Dammit! Whoops._ “Ahaha...” _No, more like AAAAAAAAAAAH._ She grinned again, however, when Natti commented on the situation. “What else is new? Come on, let's bring your friend a drink, right? Though, I guess to get through a crowd, we'd need to, well, not-spin around.” She reached for a bottle of water (or melon soda, considering it's Japan food night) and proceeded to follow the other two girls to their friend.

When she got there, late as usual, she smiled at Dudley, barely catching the tail end of the conversation. “Spider?” She shuddered. “Normal spiders are bad enough. Metal ones are probably even worse...” She waved a hello. “I could give you a bit of a... oh, what're they again? Secondary or tertiary opinion? Whatever. An observer's view of the event, if you want.” She grinned. “It was definitely a good show, that's for sure!”

"Well... I know it's small consolation, but it could be worse... nobody's tried to shoot you yet!"
Clemons looks up quickly with a quiet scoff and a look somewhere between wry and annoyed, more towards the former. The armed nature of local society made the potential of getting shot a definite motivating influence over the culture. Of course, he can't really stay angry, and so his face immediately softens. "If Charles over there was a local, and not quite so reasonable, that could've happened. I dunno if you noticed how common fights are around here."

He takes a sip of water, partly to clear his head.

“Spider?” She shuddered. “Normal spiders are bad enough. Metal ones are probably even worse...” She waved a hello. “I could give you a bit of a... oh, what're they again? Secondary or tertiary opinion? Whatever. An observer's view of the event, if you want.” She grinned. “It was definitely a good show, that's for sure!”
Oh God, it's Miri.

Her grasp on reality never really seemed that stable to begin with, so she's not exactly his first pick as a witness. Still, beggars can't be choosers, and at least this means there's no point in filming her--it's not like any of the footage could be used in a newsreel. "Okay, sure, Miri." Dudley smiles weakly. "What did you see?"

_To give a proper explanation or not? Well, bah!_ “Well, I guess the only thing to tell is what I saw. Let the truth be heard! Why embellish a properly good story that's crazy enough on its own?” She smiled wider than before, as if that were even possible. “It might be a bit barebones, but there you have it!” She grinned and started poking herself on the temple. “I heard a scream of rage, something on the lines of 'asshole' and 'motherfucker.' When I got there, her fist was in contact with his face!” She smacked one fist into an open palm, just like that. “She has a nice arm, did you know? Granted, well, lole at military society, but that's what you get.” Miri put two fingers over her mouse and spun around once. “Right... after that they were separated, but that asshole turned and gave Sarah a punch himself.”

Miri sighed and closed her eyes. “Absolutely disgusting, did you know? Honestly, I have no idea what the hell she was thinking... though, really, I'm not one to talk.” A sheepish grin later, she started giggling. “Well, he got his due course, and she whacked him back with her magazine ornamental thingy. You know, like this?” She lifted her skirt to the point that the garter right above her knee, and consequently the 7.92 x 57mm Mauser stripper clip became visible. “Now that I think about it, this clip really says something about me that I don't think it should.” She sighed and started exuding a tonal note before continuing. “Ahhhhhhh... After that, they dragged the guy out, she went to sit down, and... that's it.” Miri shrugged. “My opinion is that the guy's a sleaze for slamming a girl's face that badly.

“Is that all?” She shrugged again and began to adjust the bunny ears on her hood, just for the sake of rearranging them symmetrically.

This is surprisingly... coherent. The instant Miri shows that she's going to relate the story in a relatively direct and clear manner, Dudley fumbles a notepad and a pen out from somewhere in his tuxedo. Quickly noting down what she says, he nods appreciatively. "Thank you. Hmmm." He leaves editorial comments on who may or may not be responsible to himself, but mostly to keep himself from agreeing aloud. She may have planted the first hit, but... "So, any idea why it started? The shouting match, I mean."

Lucy Kentsfield was the observer's name, and hers were eyes sufficiently sharp to spy upon the so-called "Buffet Table Quadrant," which was unaccountably a hotspot for physical conflict, shouting matches and the like. This did not imply that she was a voyeur for violence and discord, but she favored the practice of being in position to stop these things before they got out of hand.

When Lewis Hawk had excused himself, it was about the time that Fall came in the scene as a possible aggressor, and the thought arose within Lucy's mind that Hawk was trouble. Thankfully, he was there to help prevent conflict, and that raised him up a little in her book. This was why she told him her name when he went back upstairs.

"Lucy Kentsfield," she said. "Good thing that fight down there didn't escalate, eh?"

Down below, Sarah idly walked around after having spoken with Dud, and then she came across Professor Marvin Blackwell, speaking with some guy she didn't know. It wasn't that Sarah knew few people; the exact opposite was true, as she knew at the very least half of this batch, and she strove to be friends with everyone - and she could be. It's just that she'd become so accustomed to these batchmates of hers that the exchange students weren't really on her radar. This meant that the "some guy" in question, Dylan Bernardo, was pretty much unknown to her. He was a little cute, she'd give him that.

"Good eve, Professor Blackwell," she said as she motioned forward. And then she noticed that the guy the prof was talking to was a little sheepish-looking, and more than a little frustrated. And then she remembered that this was the same teacher who made her classmate redo her entire term paper after this slight hint of plagiarism, so subtle that it could easily have been subconsciously added, made itself known to his eyes. Sarah never cheated, and got grades that would've been pretty good by anyone's standards, but she just thought that was unfair.

She looked into the conversation a little, and then noticed the music in the background slowing down. Blackwell was youngish for a teacher; he actually looked like one of the older students. Thinking fast therefore, she said: "Professor, would you like to dance? You've probably already heard the news about the fight between me and my date, so you know I got no one to be with tonight." She winked almost indiscernibly at the other guy, who'd been the recipient of a Blackwell lecture.

Marcus arrived back inside, idly moving through the room. Well, here I am, still alone... he smiled bitterly. At fourteen, he wasn't that interested in girls yet; in fact, constant conflict with his family made sure that more pressing matters were at the forefront of his thoughts. Although, at the moment, the fight between Sarah and her former date was continuisly running in his head in a loop. He sighed.

From across the room, Marcus spied Sarah, and thought for a moment of approaching her again. But that faded as he saw her speaking to someone else. He wondered to himself if the other exchange students were in a similar bind, though he saw few wallflowers in the midst of the attendants. Wandering around, Marcus wondered what to do next.

Blackwell chuckled slightly at both the intervention of Sarah and Scarlett. "Dylan you seem to have gained quite a popularity with the ladies who are trying to intervene on your behalf." He shook his head, "As I was saying about agreements, your going to point out that we agreed to your assisting the clean up of the dance and not clean up during the dance. So I must give you my apologies for attempting to shangihi you early. But do remember that your after prom date is a mop...Kenji will be on scrub brush for his bad attempt at 50's humor." Blackwell raised the glass and took a small sip before placing it on a convieniant table.

He turned slightly and replied to Scarlett, "I'm afraid punishing myself for Dylan's mistakes is too Alconian for this boy from Hubris."

Blackwell turned to face Sarah, "Ah yes, I did want to have a word with you..." He gave a wry grin, "and I see no better way of conversing then while dancing. Shall we?"

"Nice to meet you Lucy, Lewis Hawk," Replied Lewis. " Yah its definitely good but I am a little worried. The football jock seemed to leave rather . . .suddenly and he definitely wasn't afraid either. "

Hawk looked away over the scenes playing out below. He turned back to Lucy.

"I'm afraid that it might explode down there if those soccer players get violent." He said then looked sheepish. "I'm a little afraid that I may have made myself a target."

Natti sort of just faded into the background, watching the scene unfold as Elly passed over the drink, and Mir launched into her explanation.

She didn't know what had happened, and only saw the aftermath. There wasn't any real reason to be there other than curiosity and she didn't have anywhere else to be, and Elly was nice, so there wasn't any harm in being nice back. One didn't have to be a complete ass or outcast just because one chose to be different, after all.

The girl nodded in Dudley's direction when she thought his eyes might have passed over her in his scanning of the area, but other than that, just quietly listened, and sipped her drink. Camera boy was obviously looking for something more interesting as well - always chasing the story, so he was sure to be moving on soon.

"A word with me?" What the hell could that mean? "Let's talk about it, then." She smiled lightly, and went with him to the dance floor. She maneuvered about slowly dancing couples and some vigorous partnerships who didn't get the point of slow music. She stood in front of him when they got there, took one of his hands in hers and put her free hand on his shoulder.

"So, Professor Blackwell, what's this about?"

---

"Damn right you've made yourself a target, Hawk," Lucy expressed without breaking her gaze on the crowd. She never seemed to make eye contact with people to whom she spoke. "I'd watch myself if I were you. 'Course, I know that Bernardo and company are pretty arrogant and barky, but they're not likely to bite. If they do, though, I suggest you just take the blows. Security and I'll handle it from there." She winked.

Martin took his position with Sarah and began to lead her across the floor for a few moments before destracting himself with concern for her eye.
"Here tilt your head back a bit hmm, that is likely going to be nasty bruise in the morning..."

Realizing that she would obviously see through his stalling he closed his eyes and sighed, "Sara, the incident this evening with that rather twit of a young man made me realize that I should convey...a suggestion...Not from a teacher...but from a man who's grown up with young women who act rather than mope or some other activity." He gave her a slow twirl as he paused again timing it perfectly with the music.

"A lesson my sister, and a few others of your tempermant have learned is to think tactically when dealing with your enemies. That way they don't have a chance to give you a shiner or catch you out in an open feild unarmed..." He smiled a wry grin at her, "Sorry for that but you remind me of a very famous and powerful woman...who I wish was giving you this recommendation rather than me."

Natti sort of just faded into the background, watching the scene unfold as Elly passed over the drink, and Mir launched into her explanation.

She didn't know what had happened, and only saw the aftermath. There wasn't any real reason to be there other than curiosity and she didn't have anywhere else to be, and Elly was nice, so there wasn't any harm in being nice back. One didn't have to be a complete ass or outcast just because one chose to be different, after all.

The girl nodded in Dudley's direction when she thought his eyes might have passed over her in his scanning of the area, but other than that, just quietly listened, and sipped her drink. Camera boy was obviously looking for something more interesting as well - always chasing the story, so he was sure to be moving on soon.
Marcus was still wandering the dance. He found a quiet spot on the wall and stood there, utterly bored. It wasn't that he hated parties, he just hated the fact that he usually didn't do anything at them. If he was going to be at a party, ought he to enjoy himself. Despite his thoughts, his face showed no hint to his mood. He retained a stoic-bemusement, watching the others mill about or glide across the dance floor.

His eyes wandered over to Natti, though he didn't know her name. He wondered whether or not to approach her. Marcus' luck obviously wasn't on tonight, but that didn't mean anything. Hell, he'd settle for an idle conversation at this point. But his feet remained rooted as he contemplated his actions.

ooc: sorry if this is un-informed, but my guy's basically just off to the sidelines for now, lol

"Yah I was never very good at picking my battles wisely." Hawk suppressed a grin. "I guess I'll try to just roll with the punches huh? As to the bark over bite, I'm not so sure. His "crew" seems to be your standard bully boys, all talk and no action, but Bernardo seems a little tougher to me. Oh I'm worried about fall too. The guy seems . . .a little to intense. If those guys push em far enough before someone breaks it up they could get hurt."

"Ah, sweet freedom." Dylan said to Scarlett as the professor vanished. "Now, since I appear to have once again lost my date..." He took her hand. "Scarlett, shall we dance our cares away?"

A smirk gracing her lips, Scarlett allowed Dylan to embrace her as they began to move together. Keeping her expression carefully neutral as his hands went quite low on her hips, she leaned in close, resting her cheek against his shoulder as she talked.

"Suppose this makes us even then... quid pro quo? You saved me from the creepy weirdo, and I saved you from the angry professor?"

His hand traveled around her waist, the other one taking her shoulder, and he drew her right close to him. "After this one dance, then, madameoiselle, we will be even." Dylan said, his solid body welcoming her soft one against him. "If that is what you want."

This is not going well at all, Fall thinks dourly as he closed a steel of a room his sqaud had entered after having fought their way into the facility,they had orders to blow after a lucky guard raised the alarm while they were in the process of entering the building.

"by thor"said somone making Fall turn around to see there were people young old and animal inside vats mechanically attached to machines,being used as for god knows experiments

"just set the explosives before they get through the door"said the Corporal as the sound of enemy soldiers working on the door now could be heard

"sir "answer Fall taking one of Detonation charges and head over to one vat line to set while the other four men with him set theirs

bboopl

on hearing a odd noise near him ,Fall stops what he was doing ,to check it out and walked over to the area he thought the noise had came from

Fall open his eye's drop to the floor while choking back the urge to vomit ,and head outside by one of the open door to a quiet sitting area for some air ,while looking at the stars as he got over the nightmare

"so soldier boy leaves the beam" came soft feminine voice from behind Falls back

"i know you " Fall say as he turn to look at who spoken to him

"yes i walked into you at the drinks table,and i showed you around when you started here'said the girl from before as she sat down on a banch

"oh yes you did ,sorry did not recall you when you bump into me before Kat" answer Fall as he stood there as they talk

It certainly was turning out to be one of those nights, the kind that never turns out how they should. Eden had planned on speaking to Dudley during the evening, though she was not expecting it to be in the form of accusing him of looking up her skirt. She gave the ‘Camera Guy’ another look, totally surprised that he had it in him. He always seemed so non-invasive, even for a journalist. And she would never have expected him to stoop so low for a scoop.

Barely getting her head around the first accusation, she soon found Charles quickly laying the blame on a more probably target. Dylan was into that kind of thing, but even Eden could not imagine him being that obvious. He was more of a charmer than a techno freak. She giggled lightly at the thought of Dylan and technology, then brought her attention back to the room.

She slipped her arm through Charles’ as Dudley walked away, looking at his face. “That was not quite what I had in mind,” she remarked, as she looked at the young man’s retreating back. “But at least, he will remember we are here.” She smiled, as she once more scanned the party.

There really was a weird mix of people in the school. She often wondered if the same was true everywhere, but she was beginning to think that the open attitude towards violence in Perimeter Defence probably added a little more to the weirdness. She wondered what her mother would make of the place. She would probably have fainted if she seen half the things her daughter had seen...and would probably have died of shock at the other half.

She watched as several groups broke apart and headed for the dance floor. “Are you ready for round two?” She whispered into Charles’ ear before flicking her tongue teasingly against his lobe. She wanted to make sure she won the points at this dance.

Wait, is Scarlett hitting up on the walking penis? Oh, ew. Ew, ew, ew. I think it’s easier to ask where he hasn’t been than where he has. Stupid rich bastard, thinks he’s God’s gift to women … ew. Just ew. I swear, I feel like I need an inoculation just after looking at the creep.

There was Eden and Charles – trying to tease a bit? She was certain that girl was SO far out of Dylan’s reach it wasn’t funny. And fairy certain that Dylan wouldn’t let that stop him from trying, the git.

Ew.

The Prof was making time with … Sarah, was it? And the crowded room seemed to be getting a little hot, at least to her. Taking a casual swig of her water, she tossed her long hair back over her shoulders again.

“Jesus, Elly. I thought your sister had better taste than that,” she finally muttered.

Wait, is Scarlett hitting up on the walking penis? Oh, ew. Ew, ew, ew. I think it’s easier to ask where he hasn’t been than where he has. Stupid rich bastard, thinks he’s God’s gift to women … ew. Just ew. I swear, I feel like I need an inoculation just after looking at the creep.

There was Eden and Charles – trying to tease a bit? She was certain that girl was SO far out of Dylan’s reach it wasn’t funny. And fairy certain that Dylan wouldn’t let that stop him from trying, the git.

Ew.

The Prof was making time with … Sarah, was it? And the crowded room seemed to be getting a little hot, at least to her. Taking a casual swig of her water, she tossed her long hair back over her shoulders again.

“Jesus, Elly. I thought your sister had better taste than that,” she finally muttered.
Well, the alternative is standing here alone...and worse case scenario is that it remains that way. No time like the present Marcus said. He'd seen her toss her hair back, and that had been the trigger that told him to talk to her.

Marcus was a bit nervous; as aforementioned, he wasn't good with girls. And being younger than the other students didn't help matters either, Unless she's into younger, shorter guys his mind bitterly interjected. He pushed that thought aside, though his brain continued to prompt him with scenarios; each one worse than the one before it.

"Excuse me," Marcus said with a slight bow. Dammit, that's cheesy! "I'm a new student here. My name is Marcus," he continued. Great, what now?! His calm face revealed none of this inner turmoil, however.

Natti had no idea what the bishy-boi was who’d walked up wanted, but then he did say he was new, so that sort of explained things.

Wow, with the blue eyes. You know, with a bit of work, we might be able to put an edge on this guy.

Or not.

“Natti,” she says with a nod in return, giving him an appraising look. “New, you say? Not local myself. Dominion. Buongiorno, all that. Whatcha need?”

She shifts position, cocking one hip to the side, taking another drink from her bottled water, her non-anchored, booted foot twisting slowly on its toes against the floor in an idle fashion.

Natti had no idea what the bishy-boi was who’d walked up wanted, but then he did say he was new, so that sort of explained things.

Wow, with the blue eyes. You know, with a bit of work, we might be able to put an edge on this guy.

Or not.

“Natti,” she says with a nod in return, giving him an appraising look. “New, you say? Not local myself. Dominion. Buongiorno, all that. Whatcha need?”

She shifts position, cocking one hip to the side, taking another drink from her bottled water, her non-anchored, booted foot twisting slowly on its toes against the floor in an idle fashion.
Wow, that's a good question...

"Nice to meet you, Natti," Marcus smiles. "Don't you mean *buona sera?" he asked. "Not that that's of any consequence...I don't need anything, but I would like to know if you care to dance with me," Marcus prompted.

*buongiorno is 'good morning.' buona sera is 'good evening'

She gives him an amused look and a wry smile at that. Is this kid for real?

“Yeah, one does tend to know their own native language, bishy. Point was to give you a hint at some background, seeing as ‘boungiorno’ tends to be more recognizable to people who don’t know the lingo or the nation – so I guess the short cut wasn’t much of one there. Mi dispiace.”

Natti looks him over again, wondering whether he really is younger, just looks younger, if its just his effeminate appearance that makes one think that, and if indeed, he’s more trouble than he actually seems.

“A dance?” She glances around at the more likely targets for attention, like Elly, or her other-engaged sister. Hell, even Duds, come to think of it. One never knows. “If you’re sure, Marco. Though if you asked others, they might tell you I bite.”

Giving him a bright white toothy smile, she offers his her hand.

As she gave Dylan the biggest smile she'd ever spared him, she nodded. Holding his shoulder, she pressed closer as the dance wore on.

"Well, I suppose you can have a few dances... but that's all you're getting tonight..."

---

Elly remained quiet, watching Natti and the slender foreign boy. 'Of course, everyone's foreign to me here, though,' she thought. Grinning, she glanced at Natti at her sharp retort to his correction. She did have plenty of wit to spare, and didn't spare anyone who she felt deserved it. Of course, that wasn't a quick way to win friends...

Dylan smiled serenely. "As it pleases you, Scarlett." His lips and face drifted nearer to hers, but broke off at the last moment, as he instead returned merely to dancing. "What do you think of the crowd tonight?" He asked after a moment's thought, slipping into their old banter even as his hand stroked gently along the small of her back. The two of them danced along the hall, and Dylan smiled at his fellow soccer players, all of whom were also engaged in chatting up prospective girls for the night, one or two of the largest ones, meanwhile, watching Hawk very carefully indeed.

She gives him an amused look and a wry smile at that. Is this kid for real?

“Yeah, one does tend to know their own native language, bishy. Point was to give you a hint at some background, seeing as ‘boungiorno’ tends to be more recognizable to people who don’t know the lingo or the nation – so I guess the short cut wasn’t much of one there. Mi dispiace.”

Natti looks him over again, wondering whether he really is younger, just looks younger, if its just his effeminate appearance that makes one think that, and if indeed, he’s more trouble than he actually seems.

“A dance?” She glances around at the more likely targets for attention, like Elly, or her other-engaged sister. Hell, even Duds, come to think of it. One never knows. “If you’re sure, Marco. Though if you asked others, they might tell you I bite.”

Giving him a bright white toothy smile, she offers his her hand.
"No ce problema," Marcus smiled warmly, "Il mio Italiano e orribile, but, what is bishy?" he enquired. He smiled again at her warning, "I can handle a bit of danger," Marcus assured her, taking Nitti's hand. "The honor is mine then," he concluded, leading her to the dance just as a **slow song began.


**hope that's all right, Perimeter...

Miri smirked as she eavesdropped on Natti and Lelou- Marcus' conversation. _So young. What the hell is he doing here? And is he a he? I need to make sure I can see the Adam's apple... or I could touch him... but... ewwwwwwwww AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ewwwww oh god I don't want to have to deal with the... sanitary complications..._ She shrugged and continued watching the awkwardness of the situation for no real apparent reason other than boredom, finally sighing and walking off to spin in the centre of the room as the next song came on. “Wheeeeeeeeeee....”

"spinner girl happily back at her spinning"said Fall as he enter the gym with Kat walking behind

"oh Miri yeah look like she having fun "said Kat as she lead Fall back to her group

"Kat you about to say who was it that got hit" say Fall when they stop

"who yes,that was Sarah who was hit early"answers Kat as she took her seat

" she'll have a mark for some days now thanks to him"answer Fall as Kat talked to the others before turning back to Fall an pointing to the free seat

"oh yes too bad she a okay girl to talk to an didn't need that to happen and any how she can do better then him now" Kat answer Fall sat down

"think you should at less say hello to her Fall" Kay added

“Be back, Elly, ciao Mir, Duds,” Natti said over her shoulder, giving Elly a look of ‘I have NO idea’ and a smile as she allowed Marcus to lead her off.

“Bishy,” she continued to Marcus. “Short for bishōnen. Pretty boy – Japanese. Seems to fit, no? Which reminds me – just how old are you? Finding it hard to place.”

There wasn’t any meanness in her tone or anything, just her usual quietly direct self being well, direct. And noting that he probably knew enough to understand any native tidbits she might drop, decided to just for simplicity’s sake, to keep it in English.

Looking up from his notepad to see if his question took, Dudley sees Miri back to happily spinning in circles leaving him... well, with a story without background. A story without background that's going to be passed around by word of mouth at this point, a word that will get back to the participants and infect their thinking so they will--by no real fault of their own--think differently and the story, even the primary source eye-witness account, will change. The only people who really know are Sarah, who's too popular and surrounded right now to get access to without insulting somebody (odd how he thinks when he doesn't have the camera up) and Lorenzo, who is now in the comforting clutches of site security.

Pocketing the notepad, he scratches the back of his head and looks around. Same old same old, really, and maybe it's time to get the other side of the story--the worst the fuzz can say is "no," after all. Dudley then wanders off to find a member of that self-same security to ask permission to interview Lorenzo, keeping in mind that his story will be colored as well. Maybe he could then use that as a sort of leverage to get the rest of the scoop...

To his credit, he does remember enough to return Natti's note of departure with a "bye" of his own before proceeding with a purpose.

“Be back, Elly, ciao Mir, Duds,” Natti said over her shoulder, giving Elly a look of ‘I have NO idea’ and a smile as she allowed Marcus to lead her off.

“Bishy,” she continued to Marcus. “Short for bishōnen. Pretty boy – Japanese. Seems to fit, no? Which reminds me – just how old are you? Finding it hard to place.”

There wasn’t any meanness in her tone or anything, just her usual quietly direct self being well, direct. And noting that he probably knew enough to understand any native tidbits she might drop, decided to just for simplicity’s sake, to keep it in English.
Marcus smiled a bit awkwardly, even as his feet were light and sure as he began to dance with Natti.

"Oh, I get it now," Marcus smiled broadly. "I suppose it is a fitting term. As for my age, I'm fourteen. I've advanced several grades," he explained. "Please don't think little of me because of my age," Doh! Marcus said inwardly. Don't think little...

"Well," Sarah said with a little singsong. "Thank you for your advice. I'm not sure exactly how it applies to me, seeing as Enzo won't be messing with me...but thank you regardless." She smiled at the professor.

"I'd like to ask, sir. Who was that to whom you were giving a decent little reprimand over there?"

---

"I didn't like what was going down there with Fall. Could've turned ugly." Lucy frowned. "This isn't the prom, Hawk, this is the security platform. There's no fun to be had here. Go on, now, back to the party."

---

CINC-Prom James Yorkfield was six feet three inches, muscular, and wore glasses. The general consensus expected him to be in some control room surrounded by monitors, a radio in hand, but in reality he was one of the attendees of prom night, dancing with a pretty redheaded girl named Lauren, who was 2IC-Prom but not his date. No one among the crowd knew either's position in security.

CINC-Prom Yorkfield held 2IC-Prom Lauren close to him as they danced, carefully guiding her through the motions while surveying the event. Everything seemed to be in order; initial violence was to be expected anyway, and the dancing couples weren't getting too fussy or...close.

"Sir," Lauren quietly said with her head against Yorkfield's shoulder. "Center of the dance floor. About ten meters away."

"I see her," Yorkfield replied. "Miri Hawke. Nice dress."

"There have been lots of suspicious moves on her end since the beginning of the event. Advise flag as possible crasher."

"Lauren, Miri's been that way ever since she entered the damn school. Cut her some slack. Besides, she's not one to go into organized prom crashing."

"If you say so, sir."

"Now, Fall...there's someone you should have flagged earlier."

"We did, along with Bernardo, his auxiliaries, and Lewis Hawk, until the group broke up before any fighting could take place."

"What's his status now?"

"He went outside. Not communicating with party crashers."

Yorkfield looked about the crowd. "Any other issues as of now?"

"No, sir."

"All right," he said, breaking the dance. "Go back to your seat and find someone else to dance with. I'm going to have a word with Cartugio in the backroom; someone from the AV club wants to interview him."

"Yes, sir. Thank you for the dance."

"You're welcome, Lauren."

"Yes M'am" Replied Hawk with a somewhat sardonic half salute. He walked downstairs and back into the mass of people that he'd been watching just seconds ago.

He walked through the the crowd of dancing and talking people more aware of the Watch of a couple of the Sec-prom people he'd seen before. He switched from scanning the room to something just a little more normal as he spotted a girl leaning against the wall near to where he'd been about an hour earlier. She was pretty, not classically beautiful but pretty none-the less but she seemed to share that "fade into the background" trait with him. He walked over to her and grinned at the surprise in her eyes that anyone had noticed.

"Hey, thats my patch of wall your leaning against miss." He said with a grin that died as quickly as the surprise in her eyes.

"Well if thats what you want its all your" She said in a low flat tone as she truned to leave.

"Hey, wait." Said Hawk. " I'm sorry let me start again, my names Lewis, Lewis Hawk would you care to dance miss . . ."

"Barret" She replied with a smile now. "Stephanie Barret, and sure Lewis I'd love too."

Hawk wasn't a great dancer but he moved lightly on his feet mostly Following Stephanie who turned out to be a great dancer. The two of them blended fairly seamlessly into the mass of dancing people, making small talk as they danced to the music.

Scarlett would only grin softly as Dylan made his passes at her, but proved to have enough sense to back off at the last second. It was quite fun, watching him try to restrain himself, knowing he'd likely fall short on what he desired. She wasn't sure who she wanted to spend the rest of the evening with, as she didn't have a pre-arranged date, but she had some ideas. Dylan would have to work pretty hard to figure into her plans...

---

While her sister seemed to have things well in hand, Elly's night had more or less spiraled out of control. She had half a mind to ask Natti to dance with her before, as she's called him, the little bishy boy came and took her off. They'd barely even been looked at by any of the boys so far, let alone asked to dance, and Dudley was proving his nickname by being totally oblivious to everyone. And Miri... she was being herself, which seemed to only usually include herself. This left her standing alone, and not looking all that excited.

"Maybe I will have some of that punch," she mumbled to herself, soon finding an empty table to sit at with a defeated sigh...

He did NOT just hand me that line. Natti suppressed a snicker at the ‘little’ comment. Poor kid, already seemed nervous enough as it was. But 14?

“So you’re a brain, neh? How’s it go, mucking about with all the older students? I mean, seems to be a pretty competitive bunch overall. Much more ah … intense, say, than I recall back home being. I mean granted, we do have compulsory military service at eighteen and all, and there’s always the drive to succeed, and compete, mind - but prior to that, its just not nearly as militaristic as this place.”

He did NOT just hand me that line. Natti suppressed a snicker at the ‘little’ comment. Poor kid, already seemed nervous enough as it was. But 14?

“So you’re a brain, neh? How’s it go, mucking about with all the older students? I mean, seems to be a pretty competitive bunch overall. Much more ah … intense, say, than I recall back home being. I mean granted, we do have compulsory military service at eighteen and all, and there’s always the drive to succeed, and compete, mind - but prior to that, its just not nearly as militaristic as this place.”
"My country isn't militaristic either. In fact, it's pretty peaceful," Marcus answered, glad she hadn't used the ammunition he'd provided her. "As for competition; this is nothing compared to my family. My brothers graduated early, one even worked in the Air Force designing aircraft-and this was before he'd turned 22."

She pondered that for a moment as they danced. There was a lot she could reply to that way, but really, she wasn’t all that into sharing personal info with everyone who happened by, even if they did seem decent-ish.

I mean what, I’m an only child from an overly-privileged family who is sorely disappointed that I’m not all ‘la bella donna’ society girl, just wanna do what I wanna do, gotta wait to get outta the house, and outta the military after that, then disappear maybe somewhere in the Segments or something to see if I can lose them and just be myself, boo hoo woe is me? Pfft. Get a grip.

So, Natti nodded, scanning the room as they danced.

“Well, sounds like you’re well on your way to keeping up with or surpassing your brothers. You say you skipped grades already, no? S’all good, boyo. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

She pondered that for a moment as they danced. There was a lot she could reply to that way, but really, she wasn’t all that into sharing personal info with everyone who happened by, even if they did seem decent-ish.

I mean what, I’m an only child from an overly-privileged family who is sorely disappointed that I’m not all ‘la bella donna’ society girl, just wanna do what I wanna do, gotta wait to get outta the house, and outta the military after that, then disappear maybe somewhere in the Segments or something to see if I can lose them and just be myself, boo hoo woe is me? Pfft. Get a grip.

So, Natti nodded, scanning the room as they danced.

“Well, sounds like you’re well on your way to keeping up with or surpassing your brothers. You say you skipped grades already, no? S’all good, boyo. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
"Believe it or not, I'm still considered the black sheep," he smiled rather...sheepishly. His eyes looked deeply into hers, "You know...they say the eyes are the window of the soul. You wouldn't happen to be in a similar situation, would you?" Marcus asked innocently.

Natti rolled her eyes and smirked a bit. “You, a black sheep. Mannaggia, but that’s a line if I ever heard one. What is it, too pretty, or didn’t graduate before you hit puberty? No, got no sob story here, I’m not easily swept off my feet by a pair of pretty blue eyes, and I don’t sleep with kids, regardless – just so we’re clear.”

Natti rolled her eyes and smirked a bit. “You, a black sheep. Mannaggia, but that’s a line if I ever heard one. What is it, too pretty, or didn’t graduate before you hit puberty? No, got no sob story here, I’m not easily swept off my feet by a pair of pretty blue eyes, and I don’t sleep with kids, regardless – just so we’re clear.”
"More like hasn't designed a fighter plane or software program before high school," Marcus chuckled a bit. "That describes each of my siblings, except me of course...Pardon me, I didn't mean to sound so base. And I wouldn't expect something from a lady I have just met." He playfully frowned, "You know, I kinda resent the 'pretty' remarks. That term isn't used for boys," Marcus smirked.

“A lady, is it. I dunno whether to be flattered, or insulted you think I’m old enough or frou-frou enough to be called ‘lady’,” she replied with a quiet chuckle. “And sorry about the ‘pretty’ thing, but well … you do sorta fit the bill (http://i244.photobucket.com/albums/gg7/TsukiChristina/Cosplay/Code_Geass_Lelouch_2_by_omiyalotus.jpg), bishy - boy or young or what have you. Maybe some scruffs, rough up the edges or something?”

She looked unconvinced of whether that was possible all the same.

Dylan released her following their dance, and beamed in her general direction. "Oui, I believe that was more than enough to balance our debts." He looked around the room for someone of interest. "Shall we go and say hello to your sister and dear Natalia, Scarlett?"

Another wash.

Dudley wandered back into the crowd after a frank discussion with the security 'forces' at the dance. His request to see the disgraced Lorenzo was completely and categorically denied, and while plenty were willing to talk about it, no one was willing to go on the record in a combination of camaraderie and fear of bucking the group should one break ranks. What could have been a great story to go into the prom recap paper would now just be a footnote, to go with any simple scuffle. This one was different, though, there was something behind it. History and passions and drama, or at least what amounts to such amongst teenagers, and it would be a gem of amateur newspapermanship to prise it from the remarkably rigid strata of high school culture. Take all the discordant stories and polish them to reveal the shining truth inside.

Face it, kid, you're just not that good. He sighs. Maybe I should've been faster. More assertive? Pressed too hard? I dunno. Nothing quite like being an auteur at an early age. Momentarily looking around at the various couples and wallflowers, he comes to the conclusion that he's really not supposed to be here. Not in the same way as the wallflowers, mind; their presence is somehow mandatory, in order to augment the experience of those (generally the populars) taking it to the fullest. For whatever reason, they were forced or decided to come and be more or less miserable, or to just watch the crowds, or just to hang out because they were supposed to go to prom because they were told it was something important. He, on the other hand, flitted like a ghost, a true non-participant. While he could certainly be angsty, it wasn't perpetual self-hatred, and while he observed, it wasn't simply for his own sake. No, his survival instinct was to blend in, to be so unassuming and inoffensive that he was unnoticeable to bullies and most everyone else unless he happened to have a camera, which gave him a sort of artificial face, artificial legitimacy, and an artificial social shield in front of himself. If the wallflowers weren't here, something would be missing. If he wasn't, nothing would be.

Great for being a reporter with an interest in the truth.

Not so great for morale right now.

Hands in his pockets, he checks to see if anything is picture-worthy. No, not really. Everyone is starting to look slightly less dapper as time wears on, spiked punch and physical activity taking minuscule toll on their appearance. If he were to start taking pictures now, they'd be too true; his classmates wouldn't be the beautiful people they'd made themselves out to be because they were no longer flawless and those flaws had not quite yet been covered up by the 'character' that youthful exhaustion brings--the exuberance that would draw people in and let them ignore that this has begun to slip or that looks somewhat rumpled. A good photographer has to know his subject, after all. Maybe he'd have something to do in an hour, maybe two. For now, though, barring something exceptional, any effort would be entirely wasted as nothing he'd do would be accepted for the yearbook (not appropriate for nostalgia) nor the newspaper (not important enough; and when the pictures aren't important, choose the best looking).

With nothing better to do and all of the good people-watching spots taken by those who prefer to watch people for the sake of doing so, Dudley just dumps himself into an empty chair next to the emptiest table available--the less people there are, the less likely he is to intrude; it's just how he operates--and ponders how he's going to spend the next hour or so while still being alert enough to catch pictures. The only reason he is here, after all, is to take stills and video; it's not like he had, or could ever have, anything remotely approximating a date to bring to these sorts of things.

That Elly happens to be sitting at said table is perchance happy, perchance horrible coincidence.

Coming to the end of a song, hawk and Stephanie separated.
"Hey, I'm gonna go get a drink" Said Steph. "Meet you back here in five?"

"Sure," Replied hawk actually somewhat surprised that She'd wanna dance with him some more. "that'd be great. I'll see you here then"

As she turned around and headed for the drinks table he stood there trying to get a hold of himself.

Dmn He thought to himself I haven't felt like this since mandy. Best not to think on that but man . . . He shook himself Get A hold of yourself Lewis!

He turned planning to go and grab some food and instead nearly ran into Dylan, moving in the other direction. Quick reflexes kept him from running straight into the soccer player but he brushed him anyway and stumbled back a half step before recovering himself.

Wow, this girl has really turned my head He thought not even recognizing the soccer player immediatly Either that or . . .oh hell, its Dylan.

"Hey," He said "I'm really sorry about that Dylan."

The song stopped, thankfully, as did Miri's spinning. Well, almost – instead of spinning for the enjoyment of spinning, her last few twirls tended to be area scans, to see what she could move on to next. Really, that happened every few minutes, or so – it's really important not to miss talking with interesting people, or calling out some idiocy, or basically staving off boredom for another short amount of time. And, lo and behold, she noticed Elly. Sitting rather alone. And looking excessively bored.

_CHAAAAAAANCE_ she thought, with a sparking gleam in her eye, probably registering as 5500 K on a blackbody curve. She grabbed two bottles of some sort of proper juice or soda – it's not every day you could get melon flavoured soda, and bottled drinks, as they were, are safer, after all! - and spun around to face the table that Elly and Dudley were sitting at.

_Wait, what? Oh, damn it, I'm so slow! This does not matter, however! I shall proceed onwards to some sort of awkward fate! Whatever the hell that may be!_ She continued spinning and grabbed another bottle for the other tablemate, to make sure that nobody was excluded. Regardless of this sudden kink in her plans, Miri glided over to Elly and Dudley, attempting to be unthreatening (yet probably failing miserably and still being herself), holding up a bottle of drink as a peace offering.

“Yo!” _Oh god did I just fail epically_ “Spinning takes it out of me, I gotta say! Mind if I sit down? I brought you guys a drink if you'd like one, too.” In typical Miri fashion, she grinned, though not an insane, toothy, overextended one was was usual. No, this was a rather kind and friendly one.

_COMEONGOGOGOGOGO_

It took Dylan a few seconds to place Hawk, as Hawk is not a soccer ball or a member of the soccer team, and his cup-size is far smaller than those of most other people the striker is interested in listening to. Nevertheless, Dylan did reply, "Ah. Bonsoir, Lewis." The soccer player idly brushed his suit-sleeve where Hawk ran into him. "I see you have left your... 'friend'."

It took Dylan a few seconds to place Hawk, as Hawk is not a soccer ball or a member of the soccer team, and his cup-size is far smaller than those of most other people the striker is interested in listening to. Nevertheless, Dylan did reply, "Ah. Bonsoir, Lewis." The soccer player idly brushed his suit-sleeve where Hawk ran into him. "I see you have left your... 'friend'."

"Bonsoir monsieur and True," Replied Lewis. "Though I'd call him more of an acquaintance than anything else. You seem to have stuck with yours." He gestured to Scarlett.

"Are you having a good night Dylan?" he asked.

"Well," Sarah said with a little singsong. "Thank you for your advice. I'm not sure exactly how it applies to me, seeing as Enzo won't be messing with me...but thank you regardless." She smiled at the professor.

"I think you'll find other young men causing you problems in the future...that seems the lot of beutiful young women.


"I'd like to ask, sir. Who was that to whom you were giving a decent little reprimand over there?"


"A rather difficult young man, named Dylan Bernado who suffers grandiose ideas due to his families wealth. I'm afraid I know his type well..." He smiled at her with a bemused look. "Are you becoming another member of the Dylan fan club on me?"

“Yo!” ... “Spinning takes it out of me, I gotta say! Mind if I sit down? I brought you guys a drink if you'd like one, too.”
Miri may be a spaz, but that's pretty much what it takes to get Dudley's attention when he's either working or morose. "Oh," he says quietly, not so much looking up as actually seeing (by paying attention to his visual input) all of a sudden, "um, sure. Thank you." He accepts the drink gingerly, then notices who he sat down across from. "Oh, hi, Elly." The wheels in his brain spin out mildly as they try to find traction in the ice of his inexperience so he can come up with something appropriate to say. The best he can do is: "It's a, uh, fun party, isn't it?"

The conflict between how he says it--equivalent to "hm, what odd weather we're having today"--and what he says could be comical, especially considering that no one at the table except Miri could really be said by any objective observer to be having that much fun, and how obvious this fact is based on their postures, bearing, and general look of moroseness.

“A lady, is it. I dunno whether to be flattered, or insulted you think I’m old enough or frou-frou enough to be called ‘lady’,” she replied with a quiet chuckle. “And sorry about the ‘pretty’ thing, but well … you do sorta fit the bill (http://i244.photobucket.com/albums/gg7/TsukiChristina/Cosplay/Code_Geass_Lelouch_2_by_omiyalotus.jpg), bishy - boy or young or what have you. Maybe some scruffs, rough up the edges or something?”

She looked unconvinced of whether that was possible all the same.
"Lady is a term of respect; it used to be reserved for women who held title," Marcus mentioned. "I meant the highest respect, not the opposite." He seemed to pout a bit. "Eh, I suppose it is a curse then...rough up the edges...? I guess I could..." he seemed to seriously ponder that thought.

She shrugs and smiles and gives him a pat on the shoulder as the song ends.

“Seriously though, you’ve got to go with what moves you. Do what you want, dress how you want, look like you want. So long as you’re happy with yourself, that’s what really matters. So quit comparing yourself to the rest of your family and stop playing catch-up and just be yourself, neh? If you’re not content with yourself, doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks of you when all’s said and done.”

Natti gestures towards the table where Elly was sitting – now with Duds and Mirri – looking a bit glum.

“Thanks for the dance, Marcus. Maybe I’ll see you around later, or at school? Gonna go see what’s got El all sadfaced. After all, I’m the only one supposed to be looking like it’s a funeral, not a party.” That last is delivered in a very dry tone.

Miri visibly sighed and slumped over at the table. “Other than the fact that I'm acting the same as I usually do? Honestly, it's just the same. What the hell kind of prom is this anyways?” She sat up and crossed her arms, beginning to appear slightly frustrated.. “One of my old friends in Aralonia messaged me about her own prom, back at the school that I used to go to. They had gambling there! They rented out part of a casino and set it up all nice like that.” She sighed and began pulling a few strands of purple hair out of her ponytail, attempting to tie two of them together into a knot to hang down her forehead.. “Honestly... I should have copied one of my friends. She brings a small LED table lamp and a pack of cards EVERYWHERE she goes... We wouldn't be bored, huh? And I wouldn't be dizzy...” She sighed and took a long swig on her drink. “So, get any other footage tonight, Dudley?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could also have sworn that she saw Natti waving towards the table, so she turned her head slightly towards that general direction to get a bit of a look.

Dudley tests his drink very carefully and, after finding that it isn't drugged, enjoys it more visibly. "More footage? Well... not of anything particularly exciting, no." He looks over at the people dancing merrily. "Plenty of stuff for nostalgia's sake, but nothing newsworthy. The more I take now would mean the more I'd have to edit later," he lies. Anything taken now would be useless. "If anything else happens, cool, if not, it's pretty much cruising until the obligatory really-slow-dance and stuff."

Elly sighed as she slouched in her chair, sipping on some of the punch until Miri arrives. She nods and accepts the bottle, switching to it once her punch cup has run dry.

"Well, it's alright. I'm just bored. Nobody's been keen on dancing, and I don't think I can eat anymore sushi without throwing up. Stupid fish doesn't agree with me,"

She sighed, crossed her arms, planted her chin on the table. "Could be worse, I suppose... I could be stuck dancing with Dylan."

--

Scarlett, however, wasn't planning on staying with the soccer player for much longer. She slipped from his grasp just as someone vaguely familiar bumped into him, distracting him long enough for her to make good her escape. She wandered deeper into the crowd, searching for a new partner like a shark looking for prey. The night was young, and she hardly wanted to waste it sitting with her sister and her nerdy friends...

Dudley nods and takes another sip from his bottle. He doesn't need depressants to be depressed. "Yeah, I don't know who's responsible for deciding it'd be Japanese cuisine night." He shrugs. "I'm going to blame the anime club--woo, we like cartoons, so let's steal the entire culture. Sort of like francophilia in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries."

Of course, he doesn't recognize any suggestions about dancing as suggestions or offers or opportunities or any such thing. He thinks he's no good at dancing (and this is probably an accurate assessment); therefore, he assumes this to be common knowledge and thus comes to the conclusion that no one could ever be interested.

She shrugs and smiles and gives him a pat on the shoulder as the song ends.

“Seriously though, you’ve got to go with what moves you. Do what you want, dress how you want, look like you want. So long as you’re happy with yourself, that’s what really matters. So quit comparing yourself to the rest of your family and stop playing catch-up and just be yourself, neh? If you’re not content with yourself, doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks of you when all’s said and done.”

Natti gestures towards the table where Elly was sitting – now with Duds and Mirri – looking a bit glum.

“Thanks for the dance, Marcus. Maybe I’ll see you around later, or at school? Gonna go see what’s got El all sadfaced. After all, I’m the only one supposed to be looking like it’s a funeral, not a party.” That last is delivered in a very dry tone.

"Hmm, I will certainly do that," Marcus said. He was a bit sad to see the song end. "Thank you for the honor," he did another slight bow, "And that certainly is nice of you, tending to a friend...but why should you be glum at a party?"

Some people were watching the news.

"And at this time," some blond anchor was saying on the TV, "border command centers on the eastern end of the nation have assured the public that the local increased state of awareness and alert level is only a mitigatory response to what we've been hearing over the past few days. Counselor Shimamoto has said that such border areas as the District of Hibernia and the Seventh Cardinal will not need their citizens to take up arms, nor deploy troops any more than the standard amount. More on this as it develops, if it ever will."

"Would you believe this crap?" one watcher, a teacher, asked to his fellow viewers, rather angrily. "Getting us all riled up for nothing."

"At least," a girl said, "that's what they're saying. We handle panic pretty damn well, but panic's never a good thing."

"Hell," another piped in. "If some cockheads decide to bring on the heat this prom night, they're gonna get some from me. Xander never lets guns get in the way of girls!" There was a collective sigh at that.

"It's a joke, Marco. A joke. All the black (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/gothgirl.jpg), the pale complexion (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/11485535751098112661_areyouGoth1.jpg), the non-conformist attire (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/alee.jpg) ..." Natti couldn't help but laugh softly.

"It's ok, Marcus. You'll get it someday. Thanks for the dance, boyo - hope you're able to enjoy the rest of the evening."

And with a gentle pat on his cheek, she turned and walked back towards the table where Elly and company were. She looked over the situation, and decided on a course of action on the spur of the moment.

"Elly, you've been sitting too long. Get up and come dance with me. You folks are welcome to join us - no point sitting around all night, no?"

And she held out her hand to Elly with a shrug and a smile, nodding her head in the direction of the dancefloor to the group there in general.

"It's a joke, Marco. A joke. All the black (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/gothgirl.jpg), the pale complexion (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/11485535751098112661_areyouGoth1.jpg), the non-conformist attire (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/alee.jpg) ..." Natti couldn't help but laugh softly.

"It's ok, Marcus. You'll get it someday. Thanks for the dance, boyo - hope you're able to enjoy the rest of the evening."

And with a gentle pat on his cheek, she turned and walked back towards the table where Elly and company were. She looked over the situation, and decided on a course of action on the spur of the moment.

"Elly, you've been sitting too long. Get up and come dance with me. You folks are welcome to join us - no point sitting around all night, no?"

And she held out her hand to Elly with a shrug and a smile, nodding her head in the direction of the dancefloor to the group there in general.
ooc: ok, sorry, i totally didn't get that...i think i forgot the char description...

ic:

Marcus couldn't help the silly smile that crossed his face. His hand drifted up to his cheek where she touched it. He continued to smile as he drifted from the dancefloor as well, his eyes remaining locked on Natti's figure as she spoke to her group. He bumped into someone in his distraction, and began to apologize prefusely.

ooc2: someone can be the 'bump-ee' or not.

Miri's eyes lit up at the invitation. _HOLD ON ONE SECOND. Okay, so it wasn't directed at me exactly, but what the hell! But if I go along, will I look too enthusiastic? Should I even be enthusiastic about it? I should be trying not to scare them far far far away, right? But regardless of that, I should at least be friendly and gentle, right? As opposed to friendly yet overbearing and scary. I should not be scary! Scary is bad. Scary is relatively bad on people that you don't want to scare. Because I don't want to scare these people. Yes. I shouldn't scare these people. Because these people are rather nice, rather decent, and I would like to get to know them betterWAIT A MINUTE DID I JUST THINK THAT? I didn't mean thinking it like THAT, right? Right? I mean it's entirely possible that I did think it like that but at the same time it's entirely possible that I didn't mean it like that and that was just a that sort of mental issue of problematic issue that didn't turn out properly what the hell am I supposed to be thinking about again? Oh right, situation in front of me. Right. Breather, Marie! Breathe in, breathe out, and wow you're doing a lot of mental thought process. So, what should I do? GET OUT THERE, DAMN IT, MARIE, DON'T SLOW DOWN FOR ANYTHING! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?_ “You know what, I don't think I'm that tired after all anymore!” Miri grinned and stood up. In her mind, of course, the situation had taken on several pastel colours and there were many, many sparkles around, with bubbles floating around her. Oh, god, can someone please kill me now? And replace me with another narrator? I don't want to talk about this anymo-

[SHUT UP AND DO YOUR JOB, DOG. YOU KNOW I'M PAYING YOU TO TELL A GOOD STORY.]

Oh, alright, fine.

Sparkles. Bubbles. More of that crap. In a sudden moment of sanity, however, she thought about Dudley. “Are you coming too?” Making sure that her glove was on tight and sealed and lined against all possible incursions, she offered a hand, excessively tentatively and visibly shaking by a few degrees.

She groaned at first... but didn't really mean it. This was more or less exactly what she'd wanted, to just giver 'er and have some fun with her friends, everyone else be damned. So she sat up straight, and smiled at Natti's offer.

"Dance? Ah, might as well..." she rose, and promptly set off for the dance floor, trying not to look too eager. She secretly loved to dance, which was in contrast to most of the people she associated with. Oh well. At least she'd have some fun with Natti.

"Say... have you seen Jo or Katie or anyone else here yet? I can't remember if they said they were coming or not..."

Sparkles. Bubbles. More of that crap. In a sudden moment of sanity, however, she thought about Dudley. “Are you coming too?” Making sure that her glove was on tight and sealed and lined against all possible incursions, she offered a hand, excessively tentatively and visibly shaking by a few degrees.
"Uhm..." Dudley honestly and visibly ponders the question, staring at Miri blankly with the unmistakable look of someone who has been completely and utterly blindsided. This does not happen, and while Miri is a spaz, she's not a bad girl. Plus, she's shaking, which, knowing her, may either be sugar or fear. If it's the latter, he can't possibly turn her down, because she is in essence exposing herself to the possibility of disappointment, and it's not gentlemanly to disappoint a lady--he is sort of being trained to be an officer and a gentleman, after all. That being said, Dudley is still absolutely convinced that he dances like a one-legged inbred donkey with a degenerative nerve disease and by accepting he would be exposing himself to a very high probability of failure and public embarrassment.

Oh well. With nearly Slavic levels of fatalism, he draws himself up to some semblance of solidarity. It won't be the first time and it won't be the last. Standing slightly awkwardly, he nods and tries his best to be assertive, which isn't very. "Uhm, sure, okay. I, uh, can't possibly..." He tries to think of something dashing. "I can't possibly refuse a lady."

He makes it sound as corny as it reads, but accepts Miri's hand like a trooper. Maybe not much of a trooper; probably one back in the third rank who's not really there of his own free will and accord and is just wanting to get through all this so he can go on to do what he really wants, but one that, while he may not be a model trooper at least does his best to be dependable and can be relied on within his limits, so still a trooper nonetheless. "I've got to admit though, that, ah," he shifts his cameras around so they're not quite in the way, "I'm not really the best dancer. Just to let you know."

“Aa-a-aw, thh-h-anks, I'm ff-f-f-f-f-f-fffffffffffffffflattered by theeeeee compliment! S-s-s-sorry about sounding so damn weird right now ahahahahahahahaha” _AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH_, she screamed mentally, as she suffered the possibility of, well, suffering. Regardless, Miri's hand slowly reached towards Dudley's, out of sheer respect, or was it spite? Something like that. Regardless, the hand slowly extended further and further, twitching more and more...

_PLEASE OH GOD I HOPE THE FABRIC HOLDS OR WAIT DID I LINE THESE PROPERLY I DON'T WANT TO DIE NASTY RED BOILS OH GODPLEASE DON'T LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO ME WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING AM I HONESTLY ABOUT TO TOUCH SOMETHING WITH A Y CHROMOSOME OUT OF RESPECT PLEASE DON'T HURT ME I DON'T WANT TO DIE_

Sometimes, I wish I could turn off that damn squawking--

[LOOK I'M SUFFERING ENOUGH ALREADY CAN WE JUST GET ON WITH IT]

Eh! Alright! Working on it! Anyways, Miri's hand continued stretching, extending... well, technically, it was moving on joints, but you get the picture. Right! Moment of truth!

Her arm jittering has increased to the point (_OHGODNONONOMOREBOILS_) that she wouldn't be able to hit even a computer-sized target at point blank range, so she obviously twitched wide and out of the way, missing terribly and nearly falling over. _Dammit, gotta try again...!_ On the backsweep, however, she was able to connect with Dudley's hand, quickly turning both her own and the hapless AV boy's over, grasping it firmly enough.

Luckily enough, as soon as she touched Dudley and there was no growth of excessive amounts of red boils, her arm stopped shaking at 10.5 on the Richter and returned to normal, as if she were holding Elly's or Natti's hand. _Well, alright, if it were either of those two, I'd be shuddering like hell or something else, but that isn't the point, is it? I am going to have to kill Monica when I get back home to Aralonia. Then hug her, because god damn, these gloves are coming in handy! I think... okay, maybe I need stronger allergy medicine. But, every step is another step!......but I still prefer, well._ She smiled at Dudley and instantly flipped a mental switch, changing a bit from her self-insane form to something more... proper, really. She began to smile as if the weight of suffering insane amounts of pain lifted off her shoulders, and possibly was able to have some fun (or similar) with some friends (well, the closest equivalent at the moment). Wait, what? Hang on a second! I wasn't paid for this!

[You're not getting paid at all.]

...Oh, alright, fine...

“Don't worry so much, you know.” Miri offered a smile at Dudley. “I'm no good either,” _WRONG, thank you ballroom dancing classes and thank you Far Western Aralonian parentage, but that's beside the point, that doesn't goddamn apply at school dances!_ “but it doesn't matter, right? Just gotta... well, something will make sense, or something. At least there's some nice people to give us some semblance of an idea as to what to do.” She pointed her free hand at Natti and Elly, who were already starting on their way off. “Hey, guys, wait up!”

It takes a bit of effort, but Dudley doesn't flinch (much) whilst Miri flails about and looks like she's about to take hold of the most vile horror ever to drag itself out of the mire and muck of the Black Lagoon Next To Innsmouth. He's about to ask if there's something wrong (and if it'd be better if he just sat this one out) when she suddenly makes contact, grabs, holds, and settles down to some degree. At that point, he figures that bringing it up would just be uncomfortable for everyone involved and decides to just imagine for the time being that nothing happened--she's just a spaz.

Once she begins to drag him after Natti and Elly, he suddenly realizes that he really does not want to do this. It isn't his sort of thing, he's no good at it, and despite a lifetime of occasional public embarrassment it's still not something he particularly seeks out. Especially not with someone who seems to be visually repressing disgust. There's absolutely no point to this, and she's not looking too well; Dudley is a nice guy, and is therefore reasonably concerned even while his primal mind desperately wants to just disappear somewhere before something bad happens. It's grasping at straws, but it's worth a shot. "Ah, are you sure this is a good idea?" That doesn't sound right at all. "I mean, you look awfully flushed. Should I get you a bottle of water or something?"

He still follows along, mostly because he's too meek not to, but this seems to be his last chance before something goes horribly wrong.

“Not sure that I have – hadn’t been here long and got a bit distracted what with the fight aftermath and wondering what crack that self-proclaimed commando guy was smoking earlier,” Natti replied idly, shrugging. “Hell, I’m surprised I’m here.”

It was a decent song for dancing, good beat to move to, so she did. She was clearly completely at ease with herself, not out to impress anyone, and didn’t give a damn what anyone else might infer from her dancing with pretty boy first, then the beautiful Elly the next. Dance wasn’t about necessarily pairing off for her – it was about the feeling, and the movement that feeling was transcribed into, hence the invitation to the others to join as well.

And so she moved, and gyrated, and swayed as the mood took her, not smiling, but not frowning either. More simply caught up in a world of her own that she was temporarily at least willing to share with her friend, and the others moving to join them …

Oh gods what have I wrought.

Dudley looked like he would rather melt, thaw, and resolve himself into a dew – and barring that, swallow his camera in an effort to quickly choke to death, Everlasting canon ‘gainst self-slaughter or no – than be out on that dance floor.

And Mirri … her usually effervescent approach had withered into a dreadful resignation of her own impending doom, if not horrible, lingering death at the prospect of dancing with Dudley.

What in hell is wrong with these people? It’s a frigging dance for Chrissakes, not the firing squad.

“You know, its true. You just can’t please everyone,” she mutters, rolling her eyes, then spinning around in place with a well-timed shake of her head, letting her long black hair trail out in a wave.

“Not sure that I have – hadn’t been here long and got a bit distracted what with the fight aftermath and wondering what crack that self-proclaimed commando guy was smoking earlier,” Natti replied idly, shrugging. “Hell, I’m surprised I’m here.”

It was a decent song for dancing, good beat to move to, so she did. She was clearly completely at ease with herself, not out to impress anyone, and didn’t give a damn what anyone else might infer from her dancing with pretty boy first, then the beautiful Elly the next. Dance wasn’t about necessarily pairing off for her – it was about the feeling, and the movement that feeling was transcribed into, hence the invitation to the others to join as well.

And so she moved, and gyrated, and swayed as the mood took her, not smiling, but not frowning either. More simply caught up in a world of her own that she was temporarily at least willing to share with her friend, and the others moving to join them …

Oh gods what have I wrought.

Dudley looked like he would rather melt, thaw, and resolve himself into a dew – and barring that, swallow his camera in an effort to quickly choke to death, Everlasting canon ‘gainst self-slaughter or no – than be out on that dance floor.

And Mirri … her usually effervescent approach had withered into a dreadful resignation of her own impending doom, if not horrible, lingering death at the prospect of dancing with Dudley.

What in hell is wrong with these people? It’s a frigging dance for Chrissakes, not the firing squad.

“You know, its true. You just can’t please everyone,” she mutters, rolling her eyes, then spinning around in place with a well-timed shake of her head, letting her long black hair trail out in a wave.
In between watching Natti dance with her friends and mingle among the other students, Marcus had wandered over to where some were watching a news brief. It certainly sounded bad, and it reminded him of old news recordings from his country's last war, Bloody Valentine. That war had started with almost the same precursors.

Marcus certainly didn't like the prospect of something happening, but in his mind, if something did happen, it wasn't like he could prevent it. In fact, he was pretty sure it'd be out of his hands. And besides, it wasn't like he had anything invested in the country; he was an International.

All his thoughts ceased, however, when he caught a glimpse of Natti spinning on the dancefloor.

Dylan ground his teeth idly when Scarlett successfully slipped from him, but he had better things to do than pursue her for the time being. His other 'date' was dancing with a member of the soccer team now, so that was a possibility, but he had far more important matters, such as watching Natti dance, to cope with. "That is good, friend Hawk. Perhaps you will meet me and my other friends by the door later this evening? Of course you will. Do not be concerned, my friend, you will know when. If you will excuse me, though, I must meet someone."

As the dance ended, the noble stepped forward to Natti and Elle. Not particularly interested in Scarlett's sister, he nevertheless smiled at her in a friendly fashion. The whole strength of his personality, however, was turned upon Natti. "Why, Lady Salieri... your parents must be so proud to know they've taught you how to, how do you say," Dylan's English was worse than Natti's, though generally far better than he occasionally pretended, "dress for such an event." He held his hand out to her. "Mon dieu, Natalia!" It was unmitigated gall, of course, to address her such, yet if there was one thing the scions of Novar Ohan's aristocracy hated more than the uppity peasant, it was the class traitor. "Still, I feel 'obligated' to ask you to join me for a dance." And, in truth, he did. He would prefer for her to refuse, yet felt that as she was one of his few 'equals' (though the Salieris outranked Dylan's family on any of the numerous noble scales in christendom) he would be failing in his duty as a nobleman to ask her.

ooc: hrm, looks interesting, considering my country's ideas of class struggle...

ic:

Oh boy Marcus thought. He wondered to himself Didn't Natti say she hated this kind of person? He couldn't tell what Dylan was saying to her, but his body language told Marcus all he needed to know. Moving away from the news and back towards the dance floor, Marcus kept a nonchalant pace, moving indirectly towards the pair as if he were passing among the crowd. But his attention was locked and focused.

Natti arched one sculpted brow, idly tossing her hair back over her shoulder, looking Dylan over as she would a bug under a microscope. Clinically detached.

“Why hullo there, Dylweed. Couldn’t get into Scarlett’s panties, so figured you’d sleaze on over and see if something resembling personality might rub off on you?”

If anything he’d said ruffled her, she didn’t show it for now, though inside she contented herself with images of him being slowly roasted alive and the like. She then put on an arch little smile, and adopted the attitude and bearing that so very irritated her about some of the classist pigs at home – only took it right over the top into the realm of absurdity.

“Prithee, do not feel thyself obligated in any way, as firstly, I tire of the strenuous task of dancing and would proceed anon to refresh mineself, and secondly, I wouldst rather bed a filthy swine than be seen in any closer approximation than we now stand to you – in the public eye, or its imagination.”

And with that, she lifts her chin, glances away, and raises her gloved hand to make a dismissive gesture, as imperious and snooty as any ‘noble’ could like …

Then lapses back to her usual unabashed self, turns that gesture into a decidedly rude one, however delicately made with her fingers, and smirks.

“Seriously. Go fuck yourself, you froggy bastard.”

Natti arched one sculpted brow, idly tossing her hair back over her shoulder, looking Dylan over as she would a bug under a microscope. Clinically detached.

“Why hullo there, Dylweed. Couldn’t get into Scarlett’s panties, so figured you’d sleaze on over and see if something resembling personality might rub off on you?”

If anything he’d said ruffled her, she didn’t show it for now, though inside she contented herself with images of him being slowly roasted alive and the like. She then put on an arch little smile, and adopted the attitude and bearing that so very irritated her about some of the classist pigs at home – only took it right over the top into the realm of absurdity.

“Prithee, do not feel thyself obligated in any way, as firstly, I tire of the strenuous task of dancing and would proceed anon to refresh mineself, and secondly, I wouldst rather bed a filthy swine than be seen in any closer approximation than we now stand to you – in the public eye, or its imagination.”

And with that, she lifts her chin, glances away, and raises her gloved hand to make a dismissive gesture, as imperious and snooty as any ‘noble’ could like …

Then lapses back to her usual unabashed self, turns that gesture into a decidedly rude one, however delicately made with her fingers, and smirks.

“Seriously. Go fuck yourself, you froggy bastard.”
Marcus stood rooted, a smile crossing his beautific face.

"Well done, Milady," Marcus told Natti as she walked by him.

In truth, Dylan had not expected any better from her. And he would definitely not have bedded her, even if she had paid him. "Si, si, belladona." Dylan remarked pleasantly, and then he saw Marcus' arrival. "Ah, of course. You and your lover are busy anyway. Do not be concerned, Lady Salieri. I shall have my friends tell everyone to leave you alone, as you are already... involved." The aristocrat paused for better effect, and then delivered the kicker. "And I am sure your parents would be most delighted to hear of your new relationship." He wasn't entirely sure how he would manage that, but that was an errant detail to be sorted out later. "I shall leave you two, how do you say, lovebirds alone, no?"

And with that, he began to walk off haughtily.

In truth, Dylan had not expected any better from her. And he would definitely not have bedded her, even if she had paid him. "Si, si, belladona." Dylan remarked pleasantly, and then he saw Marcus' arrival. "Ah, of course. You and your lover are busy anyway. Do not be concerned, Lady Salieri. I shall have my friends tell everyone to leave you alone, as you are already... involved." The aristocrat paused for better effect, and then delivered the kicker. "And I am sure your parents would be most delighted to hear of your new relationship." He wasn't entirely sure how he would manage that, but that was an errant detail to be sorted out later. "I shall leave you two, how do you say, lovebirds alone, no?"

And with that, he began to walk off haughtily.
"Stand and deliver!" Marcus said, his rapier drawn and at Dylan's throat. "To portray gentlemanly qualities and act in such a manner...and then to speak so plainly and base to a young woman..." His grip tightened on the hilt. "Apologize truthfully and begone." he ordered forcefully.

Dylan's expression ran through a variety of colors, before settling on a strange combination of green and purple. "Ah..." The Ohanite swallowed. "Do you challenge me, then, sieur?" He had plainly not expected to be met with such... an open challenge, and the fact that it came from someone so much younger than him also added to his uncertainty. With gritted teeth, he stepped away from Marcus and bowed to Natti. "My apologies, Lady Natalia. I have indeed acted discourteously." And with that, he turned on his heel and stepped off as quickly as dignity did allow.

"Stand and deliver!" Marcus said, his rapier drawn and at Dylan's throat. "To portray gentlemanly qualities and act in such a manner...and then to speak so plainly and base to a young woman..." His grip tightened on the hilt. "Apologize truthfully and begone." he ordered forcefully.

Hawk had been watching the dance floor as Dylan walked away. Missing someone drawing a Damn longsword in a crowd would have taken someone a lot less observative than Lewis and as the sword went to Dylans throat Lewis moved, fast. Never could pick my fights He thought to himself as his hand dipped to his ankle. The guy was setting me up for a fall and now I'm trying this. Lewis' hand came up holding a Ka-Bar. As Marcus spoke Lewis was moving quietly. When he had finished speaking lewis spoke, softly, into his ear as the Ka-Bar priked the back of his neck, resting right between the second and third cervical vertebrea. "Drop it." He said. "No one wants to get hurt here so just put up the sword and relax."

Dancers continued dancing while keeping a marginal distance when they saw that nothing was lethal was probably going to occur (save that of Lewis's blade), but still noted that a fistfight or otherwise would disrupt the night.

2IC-Prom Lauren had been watching Bernardo from her seat when this scene unfolded, and this caused her to immediately stand up, and then immediately sit down. She didn't want to be discovered to be part of security; that'd definitely ruin her chances of having someone to dance with. Instead, she tapped her earpiece.

"This is 2IC from dance floor. Advise Gabo Alcantara, Angelo Cortez, Marcus Stugenov and Lewis Hawk in conflict. Also, I want some eyes on Dylan Bernardo. He seems to attract trouble wherever he goes."

From the tables, three guys and a girl stood up, each carrying M1014's and walking swiftly towards the scene. They drew their guns forward at the same time, one barrel for each offender.

"Hawk! Stugenov! Withdraw those blades now!" shouted the girl. "Cortez and Alcantara, back off. We will not abide another fight tonight."

Damn Lewis grinned Their better than I thought.
"done" Lewis replied calmly as the blade that had been within an inch of killing Marcus slid into an arm sheath that had previously empty. Two empty hands move too his head as he watched the shotgun armed People. Of course that marked them but so had the shotguns. Unfortunatly, for them, lewis had also noticed that another woman had noticed them and touched here ear seconds before he overt guards arrived.
Huh he thought to himself well theres another one. Not that it matters, im not exactly on a hit mission here.

Dylan's expression ran through a variety of colors, before settling on a strange combination of green and purple. "Ah..." The Ohanite swallowed. "Do you challenge me, then, sieur?" He had plainly not expected to be met with such... an open challenge, and the fact that it came from someone so much younger than him also added to his uncertainty. With gritted teeth, he stepped away from Marcus and bowed to Natti. "My apologies, Lady Natalia. I have indeed acted discourteously." And with that, he turned on his heel and stepped off as quickly as dignity did allow.
"Hmph...only cowards run," Marcus spat. He soon noticed the blade, which was quickly retracted from his neck when the two armed students approaching.

"Of course," Marcus held up his hands. "It's just a foil...not even sharp," he added.

Blackwell continued to dance with Sarah and shook his head. "I think the party clean up crew has two new members who just volunteered."

"Sorry...I interrupted you..." turning his attention to Sarah again.

Natti stood quietly fuming as the situation unfolded, her dark eyes growing harder by the moment becoming a veritable Glare of Death. Oddly enough, by the end of things, the main target of her displeasure was not Dylan, but Marcus.

Oh, she’d had a retort to Dylan’s stupidity alright, but then the kid had interjected himself further and of all things, made a scene of something that hadn’t required a second’s more attention than she’d already given. And then this other guy had made the scene even bigger, and they’d gotten the attention of the damn security of all things.

“Mannagia! What is wrong with you people? Who in hell do you think you are?” she asked of first of Hawk, then turned on Marcus, and jabbed him in the chest with her index finger, keeping her tone low and threatening, but easily heard by the immediate group.

“And you! No one asked for your input or interference here.” She glanced back at Hawk then. “Either of you. Next time mind your own damned business and leave well enough alone!

And from there she trailed off into a string of expletives and insults in her own native language, questioning the parentage of all three of them, their general lack of balls, the diseased status of what little equipment they might have down there, and a promise to kick each and every one of their asses if they ever so much as looked at her again – all delivered in the quick and fluid manner that only those of Italian descent can manage.

Yes, clearly she was not amused, and for the moment, did not care what the security detail thought of any of it. She wasn’t the one waving weapons around, after all.

Natti stood quietly fuming as the situation unfolded, her dark eyes growing harder by the moment becoming a veritable Glare of Death. Oddly enough, by the end of things, the main target of her displeasure was not Dylan, but Marcus.

Oh, she’d had a retort to Dylan’s stupidity alright, but then the kid had interjected himself further and of all things, made a scene of something that hadn’t required a second’s more attention than she’d already given. And then this other guy had made the scene even bigger, and they’d gotten the attention of the damn security of all things.

“Mannagia! What is wrong with you people? Who in hell do you think you are?” she asked of first of Hawk, then turned on Marcus, and jabbed him in the chest with her index finger, keeping her tone low and threatening, but easily heard by the immediate group.

“And you! No one asked for your input or interference here.” She glanced back at Hawk then. “Either of you. Next time mind your own damned business and leave well enough alone!

And from there she trailed off into a string of expletives and insults in her own native language, questioning the parentage of all three of them, their general lack of balls, the diseased status of what little equipment they might have down there, and a promise to kick each and every one of their asses if they ever so much as looked at her again – all delivered in the quick and fluid manner that only those of Italian descent can manage.

Yes, clearly she was not amused, and for the moment, did not care what the security detail thought of any of it. She wasn’t the one waving weapons around, after all.
"I-it's just..." Marcus replied, visibly hurt by her tirade. "I couldn't s-stand to see him talk to you like that..." he finished weakly, letting her continue her rant against him. Marcus flinched but didn't say anything as she questioned his parentage.

"Sono completamente spiacente per l'avendo offesa," Marcus apologized, bowing his head deeply towards her as he said it.

ooc: yeah, it's probably not grammatically correct, i got it off a translator

Of all the stupid bloody idiotic meat-headed testosterone-driven …

First the ‘nobility’ bullshit with Dylan, then the other boys had to step it up with their own ‘noble’ crap, upholding ‘honor’ and ‘keeping the peace’ and such – it was that sort of thing she got tired of back home and didn’t want to have to put up with at what ought to be a simple social event for teens. Life was just never that simple, it seemed. Especially when you got men involved.

Certainly there were things she could say. There were even possibly things she should say, but instead, she shook her head, made a curt dismissive gesture with her hand, and turned to walk back towards the table, so long as no one stopped her.

“Scuse,” was all she managed to Elly, Mirri, and Dudley, still fuming from having had such a scene made – regardless of the fact that she’d contributed with her spiteful response.

Of all the stupid bloody idiotic meat-headed testosterone-driven …

First the ‘nobility’ bullshit with Dylan, then the other boys had to step it up with their own ‘noble’ crap, upholding ‘honor’ and ‘keeping the peace’ and such – it was that sort of thing she got tired of back home and didn’t want to have to put up with at what ought to be a simple social event for teens. Life was just never that simple, it seemed. Especially when you got men involved.

Certainly there were things she could say. There were even possibly things she should say, but instead, she shook her head, made a curt dismissive gesture with her hand, and turned to walk back towards the table, so long as no one stopped her.

“Scuse,” was all she managed to Elly, Mirri, and Dudley, still fuming from having had such a scene made – regardless of the fact that she’d contributed with her spiteful response.
ooc: so, did she completely ignore marcus, then?

ic:

Marcus hadn't expected much of a positive response, and simply nodded as she left, as if accepting some fate he seemed to deserve. Now, in hindsight, he saw how badly he'd overreacted, but his awkwardness didn't tell Marcus how to redeem himself, or apologize properly aside from words and gestures. He simply stood there, undoing the clasp to his rapier and holding the sword in his hands. Marcus draped it against a nearby chair, and similarly undid the clasp of his cloak, placing it over the chair back and concealing the sword.

Now Marcus looked more normal, his suit more akin to what the other teens were wearing. He sighed and looked around, resigned to simply being one of the crowd. His eyes wandered to look at the people dancing.

"Dylan Bernardo?" Electrochemical signals in the brain travel at over one thousand kilometers per hour, and neural architecture has relatively good random read capacity. As Professor Blackwell spoke the name of the one to be on cleaning duty, Sarah Allendale repeated it in a questioning form, with a flash of recognition in her eyes. A lower-in-capacity but better-indexed solid-state drive would have retrieved the source of this recognition for her more quickly, but she was stuck with memory engrams that were a little awkward to search in. They did the job, though, in many better ways than SSDs, and after some misfired neurons and a lot of mental headscratching, she saw it.

----brainconsole(tm) v2.51 build 1024
>input isolate_mem param="dylan bernardo"
//note: isolate_mem cannot be used properly under duress, use fastSearch instead
>set search searchClassParametricSearchList
//outputs a list after this operation is complete

"Hot guy! Fresh outta NH, too."

"Judy says he's nobility. Didn't matter in the sack, though; she said it was some mind-blowing stuff."

"Fuckin' chauvinist. Fuckin' asshole. Thinks he's all fuckin' that."

"Check this guy out. Walks up to ya, says hi, asks for a fuck, gets it, and walks out. Easiest game in the world."

"His family won't accept you, but your family won't accept him either."

"Dylan Bernardo." She furrowed her brow. "Yes. I know him. By name. I am definitely not part of his fanclub." Her upper lip curled to a certain marginal extent. "First time I've ever actually seen him, though."

Martin raised an eyebrow at that. "I'm surprised, he seems quite interested in making the acquaintance of every beautiful girl on the campus. That he hasn't introduced himself to you yet is odd."

He lowered the eyebrow and smiled, "Of course he may just realize how far out of his league he's in."

Sarah would have looked like she had stopped herself from vomiting as she ineffectively suppressed a really, really big guffaw. "Flatter flatter, sir," she expressed, proceeding with the dance. "I don't sleep around. It isn't my thing."

"Quite..." Martin hadn't actually been thinking in that direction. And the fact it appeared she almost vomited from his flattery threw him for a moment.

He chuckled to himself, "Obviously conversationally I should ask what is your kind of thing...but somehow saying it in my head it sounds like a line from a 1930's movie..." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "So what kind of activities are you into...I'm usually only over here for my one class and I'm not an advisor to any of the school programs." He looked around, "And considering I'm called 'Attila the Prof', I doubt any of the students want me to be either."

His smile was wide and eyes bright at that joke about himself.

I know that nickname. I think it was Jacinto who started calling him that. "What am I into?" She looked around idly. "Well. Video games, hardware design, network security...most things related to computers are my thing. But don't tell anyone that."

The four shotgunners lowered their weapons and, after a brief set of staring contests, retreated to their seats. Lauren, watching from afar, sighed and sat back. "Central, situation resolved. I hope. Damn it."

I keep trying to make jokes, and I'm as funny as a Hilter comic at a meeting of the Mossad


"You know most girls like to talk about themselves, which makes life quite easy for me most times. But in this situation if I were a self absorbed date, I would proceed to babble about cars and if I were a completely clueless date I would attempt to prattle on about network systems. But then perhaps I was just as bad as Dylan was at his...a rake and a rouge...or maybe I was just like poor Hawk over there striking out with every women he talks to."

Elly could only blink dumbly and watch as Natti fended off first Dylan, then that bishy boy she'd been dancing with earlier. She hated confrontation, so had remained silent as the much more witty girl had quite handily dealt with the situation. Or so she thought, until the blades appeared.

'Of course, leave it to stupid boys to make things go flying out of control,' she thought, frowning as she slipped away from Miri and Dudley, trying to follow Natti through the crowd. They were friends, and she wanted to make sure that the girl was alright.

She thought she'd recognized the second boy who'd drawn a knife from the earlier altercation with her sister, and wondered if that guy was insane or just looking for a bullet with his name on it. After two altercations that he'd jumped into the middle of for no real reason, she was puzzled why security hadn't dealt with him yet...

"Or maybe you're a professor who should be looking for girls his age, hmm?" Sarah ventured. "I don't know. We're all a young lot."

Blackwell tilted his head slightly and laughed..."My god woman, you invite a poor man to dance and then cut him to the quick." He just shook his head, "Really Sara I'm not looking for a romantic attachment with anyone at the moment." His eyes clouded over for a moment but the smile remained on his face

"The damage Liz did to my heart was quite painful and it wouldn't be fair to anyone for me to date them on the rebound, hell it drove me out of England all together" His eyes seemed to brighten, "But I would like to make some completely platonic freindships."

Blackwell noticed the music was ending and led her into a small twirl. "In my home nation, it is perfectly acceptable for freinds to dance and enjoy an evening together." As the music ended, "Of course I think there's a young man over there who wanted to cut in since I started dancing with you."

"A platonic friendship sounds good," Sarah said as she broke the dance with Blackwell along with the music's closing. "Nice to meet you, friend Blackwell." She shook his hand. "Now who is this young man? Do you know him?" She surveyed the general direction of where Blackwell pointed.

Up onstage, diminutive little Christie, Co-Rep of the batch, was futilely attempting to work the microphone, whose thin and fragile wire had been cut by a dancer's stiletto heel - something no one had actually seen. There was a lot of irritated fiddling, argument and bureaucracy (who knew that requisitioning a new mike could take so much work, considering that the suppliers were also students!) before Christie got herself something else to talk into. When at last the problem had been solved, she fixed her ruffled-up dress, sighed out her frustration, and assumed her default perky, bright-eyed, smiley appearance.

"Hi again, everyone! If you'll have a look at your watches, it's already 7:30pm. In fifteen minutes, it'll be time for our student bands to take the stage for a while! We're going to have some epic groups here such as 3-B's Black Symphony, 3-J's Restored Comanches, 4-A's Westinghouse Reactor, and much, much more! Student bands will be playing until 9:30, so there'll be plenty to go about. Have fun, and remember: No firearms while dancing!"

"A platonic friendship sounds good," Sarah said as she broke the dance with Blackwell along with the music's closing. "Nice to meet you, friend Blackwell." She shook his hand. "Now who is this young man? Do you know him?" She surveyed the general direction of where Blackwell pointed.

Up onstage, diminutive little Christie, Co-Rep of the batch, was futilely attempting to work the microphone, whose thin and fragile wire had been cut by a dancer's stiletto heel - something no one had actually seen. There was a lot of irritated fiddling, argument and bureaucracy (who knew that requisitioning a new mike could take so much work, considering that the suppliers were also students!) before Christie got herself something else to talk into. When at last the problem had been solved, she fixed her ruffled-up dress, sighed out her frustration, and assumed her default perky, bright-eyed, smiley appearance.

"Hi again, everyone! If you'll have a look at your watches, it's already 7:30pm. In fifteen minutes, it'll be time for our student bands to take the stage for a while! We're going to have some epic groups here such as 3-B's Black Symphony, 3-J's Restored Comanches, 4-A's Westinghouse Reactor, and much, much more! Student bands will be playing until 9:30, so there'll be plenty to go about. Have fun, and remember: No firearms while dancing!"
Marcus looked on with mild interest. He wasn't really into music, and his former school-Trenton Academy-didn't allow for such things to exist on campus. He wondered what type of music each band played; and as to their talent. Thought Marcus was out of touch with the music scene, his family's dealing taught him enough that some bands were comprised of faily young individuals, some even younger than he was. Looking at his watch (http://oakley.com/pd/5691/19141), Marcus counted down until the bands performed.

Miri smiled at Dudley. “Actually, I feel a lot happier now. Something that I was thinking wouldn't work just actually did work, so I'm happy that something that was supposed to work actually worked for once. Though...eh, I really don't actually know how to dance like... that either.” She stared around at the people gyrating wildly around her. “Actually, yes, I would like that drink, considering exactly how tactically unsound this position is. Come on!” She poked Dudley's wrist, then grabbed it, and yanked him through the crowd again.

As she skated past the excessively idiotic fencing match that nearly broke out, she stopped dead in her tracks. “See, Dudley. Over there?” She waved a hand in that direction. “That is why I kinda hate people. It's just.. absolutely ridiculous for no good reason. I mean, what kind of PSYCHOTIC FREAAaa...” She stared at Dudley, who looked as if he wanted to get out, and fast. “Whoops. Sorry. I... ahhahaha. Anyways. Psychotic freaks that want to start some sort of a major someone-will-get-stabbed fight in the middle of a prom?” She sighed. “Usually it's supposed to be a time of having fun and stuff like that. I think I'm having enough fun myself; I'm getting to talk to people I ordinarily don't get to talk to, and I'm wearing something absolutely hilarious and comfortable at the same time. So, ah.” She witnessed Natti and Elly walking away from the situation, with Natti looking flustered and Elly running past.

“And those look like two people who seem to be having their nights ruined by bad people.” She looked apologetically at Dudley before closing her eyes and bowing her head for a moment, almost apologetically. “I'm going to want to follow them to see how they're doing; care to come with? We'll get that drink you wanted on the way over?”

Dudley follows along like a half-trained puppy, knowing he's supposed to follow but having no idea about pacing or where they're about to go next... which is usually half the handler's fault. Even if the shouting makes him cringe, he agrees with the sentiment and says as much: "Well, when you've got a culture as armed as ours, we seem to draw out the armed freaks from other countries." Before he can blanch, he covers with the sort of finesse one would expect from Dylan--after all, running around is not dancing and he's glad for that. "You know, the shoot-first-ask-questions-later types. Gives all us armed societies a bad name."

One bullet hopefully dodged, and following Miri's eyes to their friends, he nods. "Yeah. Looks like they're enjoying the whole dancing thing about as much as I do, which is sad." This time he does blanch a bit, but looks over to Miri meekly and shrugs a little. "Sorry. I have a sort of grinding fear of dancing in public, but I'm also far too... uh... polite?" He grins weakly. "Chasing friends isn't dancing, so let's have at it."

"Lieutenant Blackwell at your service m'lady" He took her hand and shook it but at the same time gave a little head bow. He then raised his head and chuckled, "Sorry about that...but I just had to do the full Alconian deal on you once."

Martin looked about in the crowd for the young man. "Alright...now he's done a disappearing act. I suppose we could look for him, and Kenji...although I should see if Westinghouse Reactor's base player knows that she got that summer internship."

He smiled and shook his head as he walked in the direction he last saw the young man "You know I had to get her to rewrite her paper for my class because she sounded like she was cribbing off Alexander Duphane who just happened to be on the committee this year. I couldn't tell her who was on the committee of course, but Duphane has been battling paper cribbing at M.I.T. for years...And really she deserved that internship...I'd have hated to see her chance spoiled by Duphane having a hissy fit about plagiarism."

Dylan sighed and drank the spiked punch at his table. He had been doing nothing but dancing for most of the past hour, and once again had wound up with a single woman next to him. Not the girl he would have chosen, he reflected, as he watched Scarlett, Eden and Sarah dancing, but a girl nonetheless. He yawned and waved aimlessly at a few people he knew walking by, listening to the rather poor music, but still feeling amiably pleased about everything, possibly from the alcohol, possibly from the average woman next to him.

“Sorry, El,” Natti said glumly, once they’d gotten somewhat away from the crowd. “It all just … really pissed me off, that. You ok?”

She was quickly cooling back down – on the outside, anyway – assuming more of her usual aloof attitude and stance as she got her emotions back under control.

“Sorry, El,” Natti said glumly, once they’d gotten somewhat away from the crowd. “It all just … really pissed me off, that. You ok?”

She was quickly cooling back down – on the outside, anyway – assuming more of her usual aloof attitude and stance as she got her emotions back under control.
Marcus stole a glance in Natti's direction. She looked calmer, but looks could be decieving. Besides, he had no idea how to apologize properly; even he knew her acceptance had been more of a dismissal. For some reason Marcus couldn't quite grasp, the idea of that girl not liking him disturbed him deeply. He sighed, slouching in his seat.

She sighed softly once they were outside the crowd, and shook her head. "Yeah, I'm okay..." she sighed, trailing off as she looked around, almost depressed.

"I still don't know why I even came... I think I can count how many people I know on one hand. Suppose it was Scarlett insisting I buy a dress and come with."

Her shoulders slumped, and she yawned a little. "Well... I've put a few hours in. Think I'm gonna head back to res. I've got a bottle of Dominion cab sauv I've been meaning to open. Want to come with? I'm sure an old movie would be more entertaining then this lot..."

There was much to be said about prom night, 2134 hours, Hibernia Standard Time.

For one, the buffet table was now pastafied. Every inch of white-tablecloth real estate had carbohydrate-heavy wheat extrusions or potato-based noodles, with every kind of sauce possible arranged beside these. Tomato paste, salsa, pre-made commercial sauce, carbonara, seafood sauce...you name it, the Foods Department had it. Each platter of pasta had a refill order attached to it that was replenished every ten minutes, because people were unaccountably hungry today. Or maybe they loved the pasta and its accompanying sauces, all of which having been reciped by the legendary third-year chef Mako Elevazo, famous for single-handedly stuffing the thirty persons who attended his birthday party when his household helper had suffered an asthma attack.

Another was that Westinghouse Reactor's bassist had been enthusing over her summer internship at MIT onstage when she fell off and hit her head on a corner of the stage, getting knocked out in the process. She was rushed to the infirmary; later reports said that she'd sustained no serious injuries but would be out for the day. The dancing had stopped for all of a few minutes.

Sarah Allendale was sitting at a table with her classmates, chatting endlessly about the night's affairs, the nightly news which contained rumor-retardants on some theoretical upcoming invasion, and hot expatriates and professors. She looked idly about the dance floor, which was mostly empty for some reason, while everyone was seated and the disco ball was casting glittery flecks of light across the gym.

2IC-Prom Lauren Penryn was apparently making out backstage with a member of the football club, but with him being part of the security force and her having "no time for romance," there was more likely an exchange of information going on in some unusual format.

Lorenzo Cartugio had been released back into the wild, and aimlessly roamed the outside of the gym with his friends, who continued to scold him for not having kept his escape with the blond man a secret. He'd been too arrogant, and underestimated just how many people Sarah Allendale knew.

CINC-Prom James Yorkfield was sitting at a table next to Scarlett Colthique. He drank a glass of grape juice as he reclined in his chair, not a care in the world. Mostly. After all, his little wireless headset still chirped in every few minutes.

The world turned on its axis, equatorially measuring in at about a thousand miles per hour, the sun long ago having dipped below the horizon and darkness having filled the sky completely. The gym was noisy, but outside it was quiet.

Professor Blackwell was standing at the end of the bed in the infirmary. He shook his head as he watched his student gulp down Hassen Mac. Mako had discovered the rather unique list of creatures eaten in the Klatch. As such the third year student had actually tracked down Professor Blackwell and demanded 'Home Recipies.' He had then somehow contacted Key Blackwell who sent Hassen Mac. It was a baked pasta dish with peppers, mushrooms, three kinds of cheese, crumbled bacon, and slices of marinated Hassen...though Mako had used regular rabbit.

"You know your wolfing that down like your a Hassan?"

Natti pondered that for a moment, her eyes narrowing, then giving certain persons across the room a sidelong glance.

“Yeah, we could …” She paused for effect, nodding towards the buffet table.

“Or … we could fake some nibblings and make off with some of the more fragrant goods for say, a little ‘night deposit’ in a locker or two? If I can’t pop ‘em, I can sure as hell force some through the vents. Then we’d actually have something to celebrate with that bottle, neh?”

She looked positively impish at the suggestion.

Marcus wasn't sure, but he could swear that Natti had caught him looking at her a few seconds ago. Her mood towards him didn't seem to have changed all that much, and he was still as much at a loss as he had been.

Natti's fiendish suggestion did just what it was supposed to do. It made be finally crack a smile.

"Hmm... day old sushi in air vents? Sounds positively nefarious!" she giggled, huddling a little closer to avoid any of the random security around, though she wasn't sure if they were crazy enough to have lip-readers on staff. "We just have to make sure that your new shadow doesn't follow us... and, should we bring Miri or not? I'd feel kinda bad leaving her to fend for herself here..."

"hey that suck hope she be okay"said Kat when she heard the news of Westinghouse Reactor's from Fall after returning for the girls bathroom

"rushed her off to the infirmary,seeing she knocked out her own lights"answers Fall as he follow her

"Hey Sarah got someone you not met before" Kat say to Sarah Allendale when she and Fall got to her table at last

“Right then. You, me... Jesu, do you think Mirri could keep it quiet enough?” She said, stopping mid thought at the mention of Mirri. “I doubt Duds would go for it – he seems way too upti---straight-laced.”

“Anyways, one way or another, with whoever, we load some plates, and if anyone asks, say we’re gonna go eat outside on the lawn – have a picnic or what not under the sky. We haul ass down to the lockers, hit Dylweed, Fall, some of those other jock dicks, fricking Hawk for being such a macho git, call it good? Whaddya say, Elly?”

Natti was almost looking excited – well, about as ‘excited’ as she ever allowed herself to look. Which usually wasn’t at all. Now, she had a mischievous little twist to her mocking smile, and one brow was cocked up conspiratorially.

“Right then. You, me... Jesu, do you think Mirri could keep it quiet enough?” She said, stopping mid thought at the mention of Mirri. “I doubt Duds would go for it – he seems way too upti---straight-laced.”

“Anyways, one way or another, with whoever, we load some plates, and if anyone asks, say we’re gonna go eat outside on the lawn – have a picnic or what not under the sky. We haul ass down to the lockers, hit Dylweed, Fall, some of those other jock dicks, fricking Hawk for being such a macho git, call it good? Whaddya say, Elly?”

Natti was almost looking excited – well, about as ‘excited’ as she ever allowed herself to look. Which usually wasn’t at all. Now, she had a mischievous little twist to her mocking smile, and one brow was cocked up conspiratorially.
A change in Natti's expression perturbed and intrigued Marcus. She was up to something, no doubt, and it didn't seem like he'd want to be on the recieving end. Taking her conversation as a cue, Marcus slipped out of his seat and out of the gymnasium. He kept by the doors leading to the restrooms, hoping to intercept her.

Miri grinned at Dudley. “Well, I guess armed freaks tend to come around so often. I guess I'm a bit away from that, though; I shoot often enough to qualify in the classes but don't do it otherwise. Aralonia's pretty lax on guns too, I guess? What I remember back in the day was that people were sure that other people had concealed carry, but nobody really raised a major stink about it. Crimes happened, but they ended fast because when some armed robbery tried to occur, the guy behind the counter could afford to have a bigger gun with him.” She shrugged. “I guess that's how that worked, from the news reports I read...” Shrugging her way into a sincere grin, she poked Dudley in the shoulder. “Pfft, at least your fears aren't absolutely horrendously odd and not actually caused by fears at all...” She gingerly un-poked Dudley and pointed her finger upwards, the raised hand's elbow resting on her other palm. “Let's go!”

As she neared Natti and Elly, however, one of Miri's ears twitched visibly, quickly shaking some of her hair before stopping cold. _Ah? Mischevious happeningses?_ She looked once at Dudley, nodded, and held up a finger. “I shall return later, I believe! Seriously, I will.” Flitting over to Natti and Elly, bumping shoulders with a few unsavory people on the way, she managed to catch the tail end of something along the lines of “Miri could keep it quiet enough?” when she arrived.

She waited for a moment for Natti to finish before she interjected with “Silence is one of the few things I could easily manage, I think... I wouldn't mind pissing off a few people.” She grinned widely before cracking her knuckles. “Oww... They have it coming back to them, anyways.” Was that a hint of a triumphant gleam in her eyes? “I'll grab some food, but... as long as I can keep some pasta for myself, I love the stuff.” The triumphant gleam disappeared to the closest possible approximation of a “.____.” face that a normal human could pull off.

Earlier

Once Dudley realizes that he is neither going to suffer the onslaught of an offended Miri nor dance, it's amazing how quickly his tension and, to be honest, fear get lost. It changes things entirely, really. "Oh, well, that's great then, although if you don't mind my--"

Suddenly distracted by Miri's distraction due to the plotting Dominioner and her druuchi friend, he never gets to ask what fears are actually caused by fears, because he finds it pretty damned scary (plus, it seems tantamount to a sort of admission on her part...). "Ah, okay," he replies when Miri excuses herself, "have fun." He smiles sheepishly, but sincerely enough... which leaves him alone and half-off the dance floor, thoroughly confused as to what's going on but relieved compared to earlier and glad for it. He decides that it's time to sit back down and think about what just happened, but not overmuch...

...maybe with punch?

Nah.

* - * - *

Now-ish

The corners of a room are strategic locations. If you're security-conscious, from a windowless corner of a room you can observe the entire room rather easily and not be surprised by someone attempting to sneak up on you. If your job consists of recording what other people do, it's the easiest place to see everything that happens and respond accordingly while remaining out of the limelight yourself.

Hence, Dudley sits in the corner, occasionally taking pictures as appropriate. He doesn't eat very much, three-quarters out of habit and one-quarter out of previous stress. No one ever taught him to clean his plate (kind of silly, that; the biological factor of feeling full exists for a reason) and, this being a buffet and all, there's no point on stocking up too much anyway. No matter how tasty the fuel is.

"Whutt?" the girl had said indistinctly through a mouthful of the unusual pasta. "Mmrph ninturn-shoop..hissan muck gewd." While there had been much to say about prom night, she had little to say herself. At least, little that was distinct and comprehensible.

Kat? Haven't seen her in a while. "Hey, Kat. Someone new? Who is this, then?"

"been busy Sarah,an this is Fall from Imperial " answer Kat as she elbowed him to get his
attention

"hi just call me Fall"said Fall as he looked from his phone to face Sarah as he talked to her

"he been sent here by his government to lean news thing" Kat added pushed back some hair that fallen over her eyes

"Oh." Sarah wondered why Kat and Fall shared an accent. "Hi, Fall. Nice phone you got there," she expressed. "So, how do you find Perimeter Defense so far?"

Blackwell shook his head. "I'll tell my aunt you like her recipe. Now then I'd best be getting back to the dance. Remember your stuck here until tomorrow morning at the earliest." He turned, gave a short wave good-bye and exited the infirmary.

As he pushed outside the doors to cross between the buildings a youth, likely in his early twenties sat on the steps. He was wearing some sort of delivery uniform and was obviously being joshed by the students still swirling around the outside of the dance. As Martin attempted to step by him, he looked up. "Ah Doctor Blackwell?"
"Yes..."

"I have a delivery for you to sign for sir..." He held out an electronic signing pad.

"Now, on a Friday evening?"

"Yes sir..."

Blackwell shook his head and signed the pad. A colorful cardboard envelope was produced and handed to him.

Blackwell continued to walk over to the gym, idly opening the package. He stopped dead when another, manila envelope was produced.

Secret - Authorized Recipient Only -
Blackwell, Martin, Commander ARNR, 344th Wing, Perimeter Defense

Martin paused for a second and looked down at the envelope in his hands. He just shook his head and placed both envelopes under his arm before heading to the men's locker room and some privacy.

' it's different to the one i have at home,has no coding or sat hook up" answer Fall as he out it into a pocket

"find Perimeter Defense Sarah different alot different male dress is one thing i'm use to seeing BUD on duty and off,weather all so lesss cold and hot" Falled added as Kat answer her phone in German which Fall all so know how to speak

"any how is do feek for that hit?" Fall asked as he looked at the mark

“Right then. Onward, ladies,” Natti said, leading the way over to the table, and taking up a plate. She began filling it overfull with bits of this and that, sampling a little along the way as she selected some of the more messy and potentially fragrant-over-time bits. Upon catching some odd looks, she responds challengingly.

“So I’m hungry. You got a problem with that?” and gives one of those looks that clearly states ‘you want some, yer gonna catch it, hot’. She could be right prickly when she wanted to be.

She waits for the others to gather their ammunition, making it all seem nonchalant while she occasionally scans the exits, and crowd. The Prof had headed out, and so had Bishy, out another door. Potential trouble, or hitting the bathrooms? All the targets seemed to be present – even that Fall character was over harassing Sarah, poor girl.

Eh. A plan was already forming, and once Elly and Mirri were ready, she’d put it into action.

“Right then. Onward, ladies,” Natti said, leading the way over to the table, and taking up a plate. She began filling it overfull with bits of this and that, sampling a little along the way as she selected some of the more messy and potentially fragrant-over-time bits. Upon catching some odd looks, she responds challengingly.

“So I’m hungry. You got a problem with that?” and gives one of those looks that clearly states ‘you want some, yer gonna catch it, hot’. She could be right prickly when she wanted to be.

She waits for the others to gather their ammunition, making it all seem nonchalant while she occasionally scans the exits, and crowd. The Prof had headed out, and so had Bishy, out another door. Potential trouble, or hitting the bathrooms? All the targets seemed to be present – even that Fall character was over harassing Sarah, poor girl.

Eh. A plan was already forming, and once Elly and Mirri were ready, she’d put it into action.
He hadn't been skipped several grades for being an idiot. In fact, Marcus seemed to pride himself in his deductive skills. He stole a peak into the room, noticing Natti was severely overfilling a plate with...select foods. Even with his genius intellect, it doesn't take Marcus long to figure out what's happening.

Marcus slips into the shadows. He isn't sure exactly what Natti plans, but he'd much rather not be on the recieving end. But, even from his own secluded position, his eyes stay rooted on Natti.

"Jesu dolce El - I seem to have attracted Creepy Stalker Bishy," Natti muttered, catching a glimpse of Marcus trying to be all sly, and effectively spying on her. The next time she caught him staring, she waved demurely, and continued doing what she was doing, making sure her back was towards him when she next spoke.

"What I need, is a distraction."

Then…

Charles shivered when Eden’s tongue flicked out against his ear, and he turned his head to glare at her. “Minx,” he muttered, grinning, and completely ruining the affect of his glare. “Are you sure you’re the one who’s ready for another go?”

Responding to his glare with her best smile, Eden nodded. “I am always ready.” She looked over at the dance floor, watching the couples already there. She was a little surprised to see Sarah dancing with the professor and even more so when she spotted Natti dancing with the short kid. She squeezed Charles’ arm, indicating he could lead the way.

Guiding his girlfriend out into the throng of moving bodies, Charles used his height and presence to easily find a clear enough space on the floor to draw Eden around against him. His other arm moved up to join his first at her waist as yet another slow song floated out of the speakers, causing the couples on the floor to stand closer to each other. Pulling the cheerleader close, he allowed his fingers to wander over the thin fabric along her spine with a gentle pressure until Eden was fully pressed against him, her head tilted to lean against his shoulder.

The couple lost themselves in each other’s company, as often happens when slow music is playing and there is some kind of attraction between the people involved. So much so that they barely batted an eyelid at the ruckus being made by the group that seemed to consist of Dylan and Natti, as well as a few of the other students. It would not have been Prom Night without an altercation or ten, especially in Perimeter Defense.

They remained dancing until the end of the song, finishing with a kiss, before moving off the dance floor, greeting a few friends and acquaintances on their way back through the throng. They managed to catch the end of the scuffle, watching with amused interest as the final curtain came down over the performance, but other than that they did not involve themselves with other’s issues, they were too involved in themselves to worry.

* * * * *

Now…

Amy rushed across the room, barely managing to get to her destination without bashing into someone. Her tight dress made her look particularly strange as she practically waddled instead of walked. She had spotted the return to the gym of her friend, the Head Cheerleader on the arm of her boyfriend, Charles. As she neared, she saw them give each other a kiss, before heading off in their own directions.

“Where have you been?” Amy asked, as she finally stopped in front of Eden. Her gaze fell on the Swim Team captain, a slight blush on her cheeks as she anticipated the answer.

Eden smiled and looked over at the band, which had begun playing their session. “It became very hot in here, so I grabbed some air.” Her eyes finally met those of her friend, and they stood there for a moment in silence, as if waiting for the other to speak.

It was finally Eden who spoke. “Did I miss anything?”

The younger woman shook her head and laughed. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” she replied, wondering if that really told Eden anything.

Eden was pleased to discover that someone had not been killed during her absence. Getting blood on her shoes would really have spoilt her day. “And what about Gemma, is she in tears yet?” Her gaze flicked around the room, looking to see where the other cheerleader was. She had to admit she was expecting it before the end of the evening.

Amy pointed across the floor to a bunch of tables. “She’s with Dylan. He doesn’t look like he’s having much fun, but she seems to be.”

Following the general direction pointed out to her, Eden managed to spot the two seated together. “He does seem to be behaving himself tonight. How very unDylanish. Still, stranger things have happened, and the night is still young.”

The music stopped briefly as the current song came to an end. “Oh, I’ve got to find Jake, I promised him the next dance. He said I was being a wallflower just talking to everyone, and I don’t want to be talked about tomorrow.”

“Have fun,” Eden said, as she watched Amy battle her way towards her date, who was standing at the edge of the dance floor looking around for his dance partner. She then turned and looked to see where Charles was, before heading off towards the refreshments to get a glass of punch.

"Jesu dolce El - I seem to have attracted Creepy Stalker Bishy," Natti muttered, catching a glimpse of Marcus trying to be all sly, and effectively spying on her. The next time she caught him staring, she waved demurely, and continued doing what she was doing, making sure her back was towards him when she next spoke.

"What I need, is a distraction."
Geez, I must seem creepy... Marcus thought as Natti waved at him. Well, she knows anyway...

With a shrug and mustering his courage, Marcus walked back into the dance, making a beeline towards Natti. He caught the last bit about a distraction as he approached.

"Milady...there are many types of distractions; big, little, surprising and shocking," he said, softly enough to not be overheard, but loud enough for her to hear. "Let me be your distraction; if only as penance for my earlier indiscretion," he offered.

ooc: oh my, didn't realize i was making him that way, lol

Gods be damned, what is with this kid?

“Look, Bishy. I think we’ve covered this earlier. It’s a big dance. Lots of people to see and be seen with. Get to it, neh? Can’t have such a lady’s man be monopolizing just one girl’s time. Hell, go rescue Scarlett over there or something. Or better yet, Sarah. She’s got that creepy Fall guy trying to hit her up. Me, I got things to do.”

Gods be damned, what is with this kid?

“Look, Bishy. I think we’ve covered this earlier. It’s a big dance. Lots of people to see and be seen with. Get to it, neh? Can’t have such a lady’s man be monopolizing just one girl’s time. Hell, go rescue Scarlett over there or something. Or better yet, Sarah. She’s got that creepy Fall guy trying to hit her up. Me, I got things to do.”
"Lady's man, me?" Marcus looked hurt. "Okay..." he nodded, walking away.

Miri grinned as she too took some food, focusing entirely on fettucini alfredo and other heavily cheese-laden dishes. _Molds, you see, are a perfectly proper form of biological warfare._ She smiled further and retrieved an amount of her favourite tortellini alla panna _mmmm pancetta_ for herself, and proceeded to walk towards Natti's location out the door.

On her way there, of course, she had to pass by Marcus. "Pass by," of course, is a relative term. In all reality, she put down the food containers she was carrying, proceeded to make an excessively garish and convoluted hand and arm motion for the purpose of merely pointing at his nose, yells out "ANATA GA ZERO" and starts laughing raucously for about 10 seconds, then picks up all her plates, and continues walking onwards.

"So, now what? Is Elly almost done yet?"

"Oh, this?" Sarah asked as she touched the mark on her face. "It's getting better. I hope the mark becomes a little less pronounced before I dance again later..." She smiled weakly.

Dylan sighed and stood up, and Gemma followed him. The Ohanite smiled at Gemma and took her hand, twirled her in his arm and kissed her again, then let her sit once more. "I shall return, charming lady. I must simply go and refill my punch glass." He left, on an intercept course for Sarah, who he had noticed hanging around earlier and deemed intriguing. He stopped, though, when he saw the preliterate submoron from earlier, whose name he had no interest in recalling, and who had evidently produced a clone of himself, speaking to her.

As he stood there watching, he noticed out of the corner of his eye Eden's approach, and smiled at her. "Ah, bonsoir, Madameoiselle Eden. Beautiful night, no? Far more beautiful now that I have met you once more. Are you, perchance, coming to accept my offer of a dance?" Behind her, he could see Scarlett, boredly talking with one of the... well, he didn't know who it was, but he was determined to get another dance with her before the end of the night. Nevertheless, Eden was here, very, very beautiful, and her boyfriend was no longer in evidence.

Elly was the last to fill up her plate, as she first quickly dashed across the dance floor to whisper something to her sister. Scarlett sighed, nodded, then watched as her twin scampered off again. Making sure to find as much raw fish as she could, skipping over other things like eel and prawns in the process, she made sure to have a good heaping plateful of sushi. Finally, she hurried to join her other conspirators near the door, and then looked around. Security was everywhere, but the distraction was in place.

"Are we all ready?" she looked at the other two, and grinned. "Should be ready any sec..."

"HEY, STOP TOUCHING MY ASS ALREADY!" suddenly reverberated across the dance floor, from a very angry looking Scarlett. Heads turned. She was yelling at one of the soccer goons she'd been dancing with. It would only take a minute for security to at least look that way...

"Go!"

“Go-go-go!”

Natti lead the way, ducking quickly out one of the doors that lead to the main locker hallways, away from the gym and closer locker rooms that were sure to be in use for those looking for a quickie or some such. She kept to the shadows as much as she could without trying to look completely obvious, taking advantage of the welcome distraction.

“Oh El, you absolutely rock,” she whispered, grinning wickedly. “Now, Dylweed’s locker should be down this hall, with a number of the other Jockstrap Johnnies we can give some locker redecoration to …”

Dylan scowled and held up his hand for Eden's benefit. "Do forgive me, Eden. It would appear that one of my colleagues is not respecting a woman as she would like to be respected." He crossed the room, looked at the other soccer player and shook his head meaningfully. "My dear sir, I suggest you leave the young lady alone, no?" Dylan was more than aware security was looking for a reason to shoot him down. "Perhaps you require many, many windsprints my friend? Yes, I believe that will be what you will do for an hour after practice next week. And then, perhaps, we will use your head as a kicking target."

"But... my captain! I did nothing!" The soccer player protested. "She is lying! All lies!"

"Then I am sure security will believe you, no? Make yourself available to them, my friend. Or you will find yourself, how do you say, 'benched'." The soccer player glared at Scarlett, but surrendered. If they were going to shoot Dylan, they would have done so over his accent long before, so there was nothing much to be done.

"I seem to keep rescuing you, Scarlett." Dylan told her reprovingly. "This is another one you owe me."

With a cruel and excited grin on her face, Elly kept close behind Natti as they fled down the halls, Miri close behind. "This is going to be great..." she whispered, afraid to speak much louder in case there's anyone around.

"Hopefully security doesn't nail Scarlett... I had to bribe her with doing laundry for a week to get her to play along..."

--

Scarlett winked at Dylan as she turned and made a quick departure from the scene, wanting to avoid interrogation by security would likely get the truth out of her, but not before she grabbed Dylan's arm and tugged him along.

"Sure, whatever. Go easy on the guy... You couldn't keep your hands off either, remember?" she smirked, not quite letting him in on the little ruse...

James Yorkfield was just a few meters away from Scarlett and Bernardo, watching the scene unfold. CINC-Prom was wondering whether this was Dylan's way of instigating some more conflict, and in fact whenever the sumbitch spoke, something terrible happened. This had earlier led him to the idea that duct-taping his mouth for the entirety of the event would be beneficial to all... but he then realized that it would have been a waste of duct tape.

"Good evening, Dylan," CINC-Prom Yorkfield said to him as he walked forward. Yorkfield would also have been known as the Vice Chairman of the student council. "I trust you're having fun with yourself tonight, considering how much less fun you're making it for everyone else?"

"it heal faster then then the scar on my face Sarah ,but a little makeup would hide it for you next dance"answer Fall

"oh yes i have some in my purse if you want to use it" Kat say as she place her phone into the purse

Miri nearly burst out laughing at the amazingly well-done escape plan, but managed to maintain her composure long enough to escape without falling over through giggle fits. Keeping in line behind Natti and Elly, she took advantage of her high Sneak score and managed to not be seen by anyone either. _Though, it's amazing. I'm not taking any penalties for sneaking around in these frills. FRILLLS D:_ "Now, let's see. I brought stuff that'll definitely mold over by the time they get back to their lockers; does anyone remember any numbers of anyone they hate?" Miri looked up to the ceiling. "And what about locker decorations for birthdays around now? Ah, hell. You lead the way, I've got no idea." While following behind, she sniggered again. "Laundry? That can't be too bad, can it? I mean... you just chuck your clothes and the detergent box in, right?"

"Oh, no thank you," Sarah said to Kat. "I'd like to think that this mark is proof of Cartugio's bastardry." She rubbed the spot where it still hurt, a little bit."

Dylan held his hand up in surprise. "Why, James. I am shocked at your insinuation, if by 'anyone else' you mean such louts as..." He held his hand out and indicated Fall. "I merely saw my colleague disturb my friend Scarlett, and came over here to remonstrate about the appropriate way to treat a lady. If you wish to find your perpetrator, I have sent him to speak to security. And I promise that he shall be doing running trials for the remainder of the season."

"you can do better then him any how Sarah "said Kat as Fall reached up to his face to scratch the small scar

"you better off with out him,there someone better for you out there somewhere " Fall added while lowering his hand back to his side as he finished scratching

"I assure you, James, I'm quite alright. Dylan is innocent..." she stopped, then laughed, "Well, innocent in this, at any rate. Merely a foolish boy who's hands couldn't tell where my back ends and my rear begins. No harm done..."

---

Elly just giggled as the dumped the various food in the lockers. The cheerleaders, the soccer team, the football team... none were spared. they left each locker appearing the way they'd found it, however, making sure that none were the wiser.

When they finished, and had ditched their plates, Elly laughed quite a bit. "Ahh... that was awesome girls. Back to my place for a celebratory toast?"

“Ugh, a week? You’ll have to let me help with that – my idea after all, can’t have you taking the brunt.”

She knew very well a number of the lockers and who they belonged to – she was an observer after all, and since Elly was having so much fun with it, she went right along. Prissy, snooty, uptight pricks for the most part anyways. Besides, was a joke – they’d find it over the weekend, and it’d be none too pleasant, but hey – shit happened, and it wasn’t like they were shooting anyone.

Natti had even had the foresight to bring napkins along, and bathrooms could be hit for the remainder of cleanup if any were needed.

“You know, I was thinking. We could bring some back here, really … as the night goes on and more people sample the punch, and tempers flare and all that, there’s bound to be more incidents and things we can amuse ourselves with. Maybe start there, then smuggle some hooch back with us for giggles? If nothing else, we can always blame it on some jock jerk for trying to get us drunk, neh?”

She was definitely on a roll now, feeling very rebellious indeed.

Screw The Man, free your mind, yaddayaddayadda lets have some bloody fun tonight.

Then a thought struck her, and she grinned wickedly.

"I um ... don't suppose you have any whipped cream or other such stuff-in-a-can laying about there, Elly? You know, pressurized bits that expand when let out via nozzles like hair mousse, squeezy cheese, all that?"

"I'm more concerned for the way by which you handle yourself, Dylan," James said very sweetly. "In Sandy Bridges University, if CINC-<event> decides that you're a problem, there will be no question as to your fate." He smiled. "I'm sure he's a wonderful fellow, though. You might not know who he is, but I do, and I can guarantee his reasonable nature."

He turned to Scarlett. "As you wish, Scarlett. Please do lower your voice next time, though; I saw security eyes look at you, and they might therefore be distracted from more pressing matters - an undesirable outcome, wouldn't you agree?"

----

"Oh, of course there is someone better," Sarah said. "We're not together. He was just my date, that's all. He used to be a nice guy..."

Miri grinned as she too took some food, focusing entirely on fettucini alfredo and other heavily cheese-laden dishes. _Molds, you see, are a perfectly proper form of biological warfare._ She smiled further and retrieved an amount of her favourite tortellini alla panna _mmmm pancetta_ for herself, and proceeded to walk towards Natti's location out the door.

On her way there, of course, she had to pass by Marcus. "Pass by," of course, is a relative term. In all reality, she puts down the food containers she was carrying, points directly at Marcus' nose, and starts laughing raucously for about 10 seconds, then picks up all her plates, and continues walking onwards.

"So, now what? Is Elly almost done yet?"
Marcus frowned. He didn't even know this girl, nor did he know what caused her to react to him so. With a shrug and a sigh, Marcus exited the gymnasium. He took his cellphone from his jacket pocket and spoke quickly, "Принесите автомобиль. Я - отсюда."

He only waited a moment until a black Maserati pulled up in front of him.

"привет," the driver said as the window rolled down.