Role Playing - New York University: A Role Playing Game for Original (and New!) characters - Page 11

Captivating · 08-14-2015, 01:37 PM

Spencer
Mallorie twisted in his arms, wide-eyed with wonderment. She stared at Spencer’s face as if he were God. If only. Cassadines had pristine genes and brimful wallets, but they bled all the same. Spencer’s good fortune would place him above no man in the end. Which furthered his enjoyment of this moment. Mallorie was not the first woman to idolize him, ‘nor would she be the last. Her moans of pleasure caused his grip to tighten. Oh, yes, he was enjoying her too. The mood shifted with talk of food. He should’ve saved that tidbit of information for after exercise. But her joy was contagious, and Spencer beamed as she ran toward the snack bar. Nachos and jalapeno peppers were beckoning her.

“You’d be correct. They’ve got your name all over them. I made sure they stocked the place with your favorites.” Mallorie sifted through the loot like a starving child. It amazed him how much of a chameleon she was. She talked of literature and art one moment and stomach-rotting treats the next. A rubik’s cube, indeed. It worked in her favor. Spencer generally grew bored of his conquests after week two. Mallorie was fast approaching a month in his company. “You could eat all of that now, orrrr,” he crooned suggestively. “We could skip ahead to dessert.” Spencer lifted her onto the bar, head bent low. His lips pressed between the slit of her dress, finding familiar curves. Curves he’d traced repeatedly since their meeting at the ballet. “Drop the chip,” he half joked, half demanded. “This will be better.”

degausser · 08-14-2015, 04:52 PM

Mallorie
Spencer had not been kidding. She found herself staring at a buffet tailor made for the likes of Mallorie Gates. All of her favorites were here. Nachos, jalapeno poppers, chili cheese fries, southwestern eggrolls, hamburger sliders, bacon … yes, an entire plate just of heart-attack inducing bacon was even included in this magnum opus of a feast. Mallorie wasn’t sure where to begin. Did she dive into the cheese fries or did she try one of the southwestern eggrolls? Or would she be truly decadent and run off with the entire plate of bacon, forgetting Spencer Cassadine altogether to run away with her one true love in life? The answer was simple. She didn’t need to limit herself to just one. She could mix and match. Mallorie gingerly lifted a cheese covered chip from the nacho plate and dipped it into the chili cheese fry plate, her eyes fluttering closed in near euphoria as the grease covered delicacy breached her painted lips.

“Mmmm …” she muttered out loud, just as Spencer moved in between her and the bar, effectively cutting her off from her food. “Mmm?” What was this now? Why was he keeping her from the food? What sort of tomfoolery was this? Her silent questions were answered as he slowly backed her into the bar, lifting her effortlessly onto the counter. And then he was on his knees before her. Mallorie could feel her pulse quickening, throbbing in her thigh where his lips had breached the long slit in her dress. She struggled to keep from gasping out loud, not wanting to give Spencer the satisfaction of winning her over so soon.

Drop the chip.

Her gaze flitted to the chip suspended in air by her hand as she licked her lower lips in anticipation, grinning a wickedly defiant smile down at him. This will be better. “Will it? I don’t know …” she purred breathlessly, the hitch in her tone betraying the confidence she boasted. Mallorie could feel her control weaning as warmth enveloped her body. “I might need some convin …” Spencer countered her would-be protest by moving his lips further up the slit and pushing the skirt of the dress higher up her thighs. “… convince … ing ….” The last syllable out her lips came out in an appreciative hum and she suddenly found herself using the wall at her back for support as she finally did as he bade and dropped the chip, the nachos completely forgotten in that moment.

Jack
I bet you do just enough to make a girl feel like she really owes you something. Jack made at face at her. Where the fuck did that come from? He was beginning to think Lily was on something herself, or else why bother assaulting him with all her stupid accusations. Were he in a more sober state of mind, he might have been able to analyze all the psychobabble coming from her mouth as being a projection of her own personal baggage. As it so happened, Jack lacked the emotional stamina and empathy to psychoanalyze one such as Lily Falco.

Also, he plain just did not give a fuck. See. Look at all the fucks he could give! Absolutely zero, that’s how many!

“I’ve yet to have any complaints,” Jack said less defensively this time, stating it more as a fact. “You seem awfully concerned about my sex life, Lily. Should I be concerned?” As in concerned enough to take out a restraining on her. How many not-so-subtle hints did he have to drop about her going far, far away from his home? Jack was only one of 1.6+ million people living in Manhattan. Surely there were other parties she and her friend could have gone to. The more he thought about it, the more her excuses began to fall apart in his head. “And are you sure it was your friend who wanted to come to my party?” Jack asked, regarding her with open suspicion. “I’ve yet to see this magical friend of yours. Are you sure this person actually exists in our plane of existence?” He asked doubtfully. “Do you even have any friends?”

Against_all_odds · 08-14-2015, 08:35 PM

Changing my PB to Kaya Scodelario. Also, who's open?

Wayward Melody · 08-15-2015, 10:27 PM

Dalton
Tyler laid out his type of caring, plainly. In point of fact Dalton had only ever seen that well constructed façade of his falter once. It had been years ago, but in the time it had hardly faltered but rather crumbled down to nothing, crushed to dust and scattered to the desert winds. He’d been smaller then, confessional and frightened. He’d not have wished for a return of that Tyler, not in a million years, but sometimes he wished his friend was a little more emotionally open than perfectly arranged. “You’ve never seen me cry,” he reminded, words harkening back to the time in his life where Ty had been his most open. “And you never will.”

The café was busier than he’d expected, but no one bothered with them. The anonymity of this city was something that simultaneously enthused and depressed Dalton. No one noticed or cared for the business of unfamiliar persons, but then, no one dared to ingratiate themselves to such men or women, either. The result was a city of strangers; each terribly concerned only the myriad of their purposes. They sweat out their devotion, to their jobs, culture, to food, art in the summer and gathered their coats about them in winter; battle armor with buttons. While thinking on New York and her miseries and mysteries he chose to answer Tyler’s questions. “Nothing’s eating me, we can’t all be as adorably flippant as you are. Also, we don’t all live in neat little lofts. ” With a shrug, he admitted to the hot water being diverted from his renovated brownstone. Again. “Nothing is eating me.”

Truthfully, Ty did perhaps have a point. Nothing was eating him and as crass as the very notion was, his lack of a sex life was disconcerting even to the traveling tabloids who had concocted a story of his eternal bachelorhood being a result of a disastrous breaking of his heart from which he’d never truly recovered. “I draw that line at letting you pimp your students out to me. Or pimping me out to your students. Or really, any pimping at all seeing as it would be being done by you.”

Raising his cup to his mouth, he took a long sip of the blonde brew, savoring the rich honeyed tones before continuing towards the subject that had brought up his suggestion of this meeting in the first place. “I got a call from Paramount the other day. And then a call from the pro-chancellor at USC, offering me a place on their board of directors because of my artistic contributions.” He made quotey fingers around 'artistic contributions' because it felt too surreal to consider he was actually worthy of such accolade. “And the deanship of the cinema department, as well. “ He paused to take another sip. “I’m considering it. Seriously.”

sumiregusa · 08-16-2015, 08:19 PM

Noelle
Noelle could see his apprehension and silently willed him to disregard that he hated her and didn't trust her, to just come along anyway, barely able to hide the sigh of relief when he did. As aforementioned, she didn't have a plan and didn't see herself formulating one any time soon but that didn't mean she wanted Lucas to get away just yet. Having him look her dead in the eye and not look away and immediately throw up was a huge step in the right direction for her prospects of being able to somehow live out the rest of her life in moderate discomfort instead of wretched torment. Maybe that was her only actual plan - to keep him around. She wasn't deserving of his company or attention but she wanted it. After all this time, she would daresay she needed it.

They didn't speak much as they made quick work of heading back to the lounge and snatching up Lucas' bag, which thankfully nobody had stolen before they got there. The real uphill battle started when he was back in the cab and telling their driver where to go. A whole taxi ride with the irresistible Lucas Hughes for an undisclosed amount of time. She was starting to think that her only plan wasn't really much of a sensible one after all. Choosing her words carefully from now on was paramount.

"I'm sorry about your face," she interjected timidly into a long pause, though thinking better of that apology since she seemed to be sympathizing with how his face felt and not repenting for what she had done to it. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. Or maybe I should have. I don't even know anymore..." Shaking her head at herself seemed to be the one thing she was good at around him. It wasn't talking or behaving, and it definitely wasn't thinking. In a different scenario, or a different life, he might be understanding or even tolerant of her floundering and awkwardness. Meanwhile, they were stuck in this one, and that wasn't required of him at all.

She spent the remainder of their travels in silence, on the verge of saying a great many things to him but never quite committing to them in the end. It was probably her job to be the more transparent one seeing as she had started them on this hellacious shame spiral so long ago, and she was failing at it. Before too long, they had pulled up to his indicated destination and she felt all her emotions well up at once, crowding into the back of her throat. "So this is you." Voiced more for lack of anything more substantial. She allowed herself a curious glance out the window at the place he called home now, knowing this was probably as much as she would ever see of it.

degausser · 08-16-2015, 09:40 PM

Lucas
Riding in a cab alongside Noelle had a sobering affect for Lucas. Like a true burgeoning alcoholic, he felt the urge to reach for yet another bottle of wine (that conveniently did not exist at the present moment) with the intent of dulling all the sensations that throbbed in both his head and heart. At the same time, sobering up might have been the more sound option here as Lucas veered more along the angry, bitter drunk spectrum of things kind of like he did in every other spectrum that existed in life. Only about 100 times more amplified. The book bag containing all his personal items retrieved from the bar served as a physical barrier between him and Noelle, cradled as it was under his arm. The address he gave the cab driver was to his current place of residence. Why? Only the Gods, capricious as only they could be, knew.

“Don’t do that,” was all he had said after she apologized. Shame filled him at the memory of all the horrible things he said to her, deserved or not though they may have been, and he found it difficult to look her in the eye at that moment. “You sound like the victim of a domestic abuse dispute internalizing the blame. That’s not you … and that’s not me either.” Or maybe it was. Was that really what he had become? The emotional equivalent of the abusive husband that manipulated his wife into believing she deserved her beatings? Lucas honestly did not know anymore.

When they finally arrived at their intended destination, he found himself staring at the back of the driver’s head for an uncomfortable amount of time. As awkward as the cab ride had been, he knew anything that occurred outside the cab would be about a hundred times more awkward and unbearable. In the end it was the driver who got things moving, curt in his efforts to get paid for his service and send them on their way so he could do it all over again with the next emotionally unadjusted non-couple he picked up off the street. Lucas found himself waiting for Noelle on the curb in front of his building after paying their driver, staring at the red neon lights that lit up the Smiths Bar & Restaurant just down the street. He did not move even after she joined him on the sidewalk, not for some time anyway. He was still contemplating whether or not he was ready to open this next can of worms and if he was willing to do it while reasonably sober.

Finally, he found his voice again. “You can come up. You will tell me everything. You will leave nothing out. There will be no touching. You will not judge the size or the feng shui of my apartment. You will not ask how it is I have come to know what ‘feng shui’ is. If Jean-Paul does not like you, there is nothing I can do about it and you will have to leave, no questions asked. This is for your own safety. Jean-Paul is my dog. You will not ask how it is I have come to have a dog. These are my terms.” Lucas managed all in one breath, his tone stiff and detached, before looking at Noelle expectantly. “Do you accept?”

Wayward Melody · 08-16-2015, 10:36 PM

Aurora
Aurora wasn’t impressed with CJ’s proof of sobriety, but she said nothing. Having known the appeal of being functionally alcoholic, she knew a multitude of ways to fool both cops and peers when it came to appearing upstanding. There was the contact lens solution to clear the eyes of red, and the rise and repeat procedure before the mints to clear the breath, the hyperventilation to sober up quickly while refusing to be tested by the cops until they hauled you into the station, she knew a lot. In fact Aurora knew a lot about appearances in general much to her ever changing glee and chagrin. Her mouth twisted in a considering expression.

“I could help you, you know,” she said, finally. “I mean it really is putting me out,” she continued with feigned annoyance. “But I’m nothing if not the best friend any semi-closeted gay man could ever have. I mean, I’ll take one for the team in procuring you some help in the romantic department. “She shrugged, grasping his wrist and pulling him through a throng of people without adding any more about the situation she’d inadvertently brought to conversation. The sentiment of helpfulness sat oddly upon Aurora’s thin shoulders, and so as not to become overwhelmed she’d not speak about it again unless the topic was broached by CJ himself. “You’re lagging again, kitten. Try to keep up!”

Against_all_odds · 08-16-2015, 10:53 PM

Rukmini

Rukmini hadn't been to a decent party in months. She had been busy with work and when she wasn't working, she was working on her idea. a college party was the perfect place to unwind. No one would find her, she wouldn't answer calls from her agent and she could get wasted like a normal girl. She was grateful that the host had the good stuff-Beer wouldn't cut it. She had a fight with her agent and never wanted to hear the words "family-friendly" ever again. She felt like a teenager, but wearing the opposite of what people had always insisted she wear made her feel free. Being in New York had given her the chance to grow up, but she still got yelled at if she wore a vulgar t-shirt, dyed her hair or wanted to get anything pierced. Part of her considered being a Suicide Girl, just to change her image. She chugged her scotch and decided to see if she could get whiskey or even rum. She'd pay him if need be-She wasn't drunk enough yet.

Open

DingosAteYurBaby · 08-16-2015, 11:20 PM

Nolan
Nolan recognized his brother’s worrying gaze. Flashbacks to their touring days flooded his memories. It was somewhat annoying, but at least Ned cared enough to be worried…or disappointed…or both. Nolan was too faded to care at this moment. Nolan was the middle brother of the trio and that went with a little bit of neglect. Nolan was happy to oblige. He was fine being the one that took care of everyone. He truly was. He liked to feel needed. Plus, it usually kept them from prying into his personal life…or lack there off. “So…you’re here for good?” Nolan smiled. “That’s great. New York is so much better than L.A. The Brothers Grimsby together again.” He laughed as he down the rest of his drink.

“I’m good. You know me…I always figure it out eventually.” Vague was always the way to go. Can’t tell him he got denied for admissions to NYU. Can’t tell him that he bombed his last two auditions. Can’t tell him he almost gave it up to his drug dealer in a drunken stuper. “Been working a local bar. Tips are good. Nick is doing great in school. He’s got this band. They are actually playing here tonight.” Deflection was another way to go.
Tag Ned

Captivating · 08-17-2015, 06:42 AM

OOC: Pssst. Deacon tagged Aurora/CJ, Mandy.

sumiregusa · 08-17-2015, 12:24 PM

OOC: To anyone besides Letty reading this monstrosity of a post -- no I don't know how it happened.

Noelle
She had no idea what to expect when Lucas paid the driver for their ride, meaning they both were going somewhere together and not just him. Following suit, she slowly got out of the car and waited for the cab to leave before joining him on the walkway, not wanting to say anything or make any sudden movements in case she spooked him somehow. Once he finally faced her and laid out the spiel of his expectations (see: demands), she tried desperately to keep the anticipation off her face. Out of all the things he rattled off she almost grinned at one in particular. There will be no touching. The fact that he felt the need to mention that specifically meant that he still knew her all too well, her eyes glinting with hopeful amusement at the poignant reminder of how adorable he could be before smarting instantly over how much she had missed him. Even the idea of being forced into a marathon honest discussion couldn't change that. It was a complicated set of emotions juxtaposed to each other and she figured she might as well settle in and get used to the feeling. Squaring her shoulders, she did her best not to let her eyes linger over him too long before responding. "Alright. Lead the way."

Noelle Stratford was nothing if not the paradigm for keeping up appearances and she did all she was directed to do upon riding the elevator with him and entering his apartment. Admittedly she had tried before not to envision what his life without her looked like but seeing where he lived fit perfectly into what that image might have been. The flat was characteristically Manhattan as far as affordable space went, small and compact and tidy; the tidy part came from Lucas' closeted perfectionism but it still had the air of whimsical hipster that somehow made him unique. Also, as he had warned, they were immediately greeted by what looked to be a bulldog mix that she assumed was Jean-Paul, not able to keep from finally grinning as the dog waddled up to her curiously and sniffed her extended hand instead of biting it off. He decided that she was allowed to give his head and ears a good rub while she glanced at Lucas, no doubt feeling betrayed by his own guard dog. "He smells my cat on me, I think," she justified easily.

Rising from her stooped position made her wince again and she concluded it was time to get rid of her demonic shoes for a while, tugging them off and setting them on a nearby chair with her small clutch before continuing to have a look around in bare feet. "I assume your no touching rule only applies to you, so..." She didn't catch his reaction, too busy with examining his shelf space filled with books and a myriad of wine bottles. A common vice they both shared, little did he know.

They weren't getting any younger, however, and she knew he expected her to cough up the truth sooner rather than later, a tired sigh escaping as she took up residence on top of one of his stair-like shelves closer to the floor. She watched him for a moment, feet dangling, wondering how to even broach the subject but figuring it was best to jump first and think later. "Well apparently I'm supposed to tell you everything. You deserved to know before now, I just never knew how to say it. I still don't really but...I can only try I guess." Swallowing hard, she brushed her hair away from her face and pressed on.

"My parents are fairly horrible and selfish people, and it never bothered me when they were easy enough to ignore. I was getting what I wanted. Then it became obvious all those years of convenience had a price tag they never mentioned, which included telling me how to live my adult life after high school and threatening to cut me off if I didn't play along. I was supposed to go to Harvard Law and start dating someone in their social circle that they 'knew'...just a different way of saying someone they could control. They knew I loved you and they didn't care. No one tells you that being an heiress means you don't always get your way." It was starting to sound a lot like a monologue about rich people problems and yet Lucas had wanted the straight from her. No one was more annoyed than she was that this had actually been her existence. "Having my life dictated to me wasn't really the issue. It was more that I was young and stupid and scared of having no safety net...they might have preyed on a known weakness but I didn't have to let them. Once I finally figured that out for myself and told them to go to hell, it was too late. I had ruined things with us and I didn't think you would've believed me even if I tried to find you and tell you the truth. Probably an unfair assumption but just more proof of why I didn't blame you for hating me. I still don't." Her tone had remained low and even, though unarguably tinged with a heavy sadness. She hadn't expected to get through all that without the waterworks interrupting everything but she wouldn't speak too soon about that. The breakdown was still pending. "That's honestly how it all happened. And now here we are."

degausser · 08-17-2015, 02:38 PM

OOC: Why, yes. Yes, I am indeed the type to cast my character's loft space. Do not judge me. But here it is.

Lucas
The last thing in all the world Lucas would have ever expected was to watch Noelle Stratford move around his tiny studio loft, and yet here she was, stiletto shoes carelessly abandoned to a chair near the entrance and exploring his home barefoot. It left him feeling strangely vulnerable, as few people were ever allowed into his inner sanctum. He could not begin to imagine what must have been going through her head in that moment and the idea that she might be scrutinizing his taste, his books, his choice in wine … cataloging and mentally compartmentalizing everything around her did not exactly sit well with him. Worst of all was the betrayal of Jean-Paul (Sarte). Man’s best friend turned out to be nothing more than a traitor, elsewise he would have sensed his lesser half’s discomfort and barked the evil she-wench into oblivion. She is the enemy, Jean-Paul (Sarte). The e-n-e-m-y! Either the imagined telepathic link Lucas believed them to share was entirely all in his head (the most likely scenario) or his dog was simply a sucker for a pretty girl and an ear rub.

Lucas supposed he could not exactly blame Jean-Paul (Sarte). He was a sucker for both those things as well.

I assume your no touching rule only applies to you, so … Her words offered a glimpse into the Noelle Stratford of old and startled him out of his thoughts, though fortunately her back had been turned to his pathetic full-body shudder. Lucas frowned, deciding to put some distance between the two of them for both their sakes as he moved into his tiny kitchenette in search of some much needed wine. Fortunately, there was plenty of that and not much else to find and he immediately moved to pour himself a glass, not bothering to ask if she wanted any.

It required every ounce of restraint left to Lucas to listen to Noelle’s monologue with all the diligence a better person could have mustered up and by the time she had finished, so had the wine he had poured in his glass. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel after all that. It was easy to hate her when he believed her to simply have been a cheater – there was no doubt as to where the finger of blame deserved to be pointed in that scenario. This made things considerably more difficult. Lucas remembered her parents quite clearly from the few occasions they had permitted themselves to be seen with him. They did not exactly make their disdain for him unknown. He supposed from a purely objective point of view he could understand the impossible circumstance she found herself to be in – money was but a philosophical thing we all liked to believe we could live without until we actually had it to lose. He understood that, empathized with the concept to some degree …

Yet the romantic in him also wanted to believe she was better than that – their love was better than that and could survive anything. And so Lucas no longer resented her for being a lying cheat but instead for being a coward – for not standing up to her parents … for not standing up for him. “And here we are, indeed …” he repeated after her at long last, lifting his empty wine glass in the air for a pathetic, imaginary toast. He could feel sobriety slipping away from him again, though not nearly as quickly as he would have liked.

“I don’t know which is worse: the fact that I’ve hated you all these years for all the wrong reasons … or the fact that you didn’t have enough faith in me to stand up for me all those years ago.” It was not a subject he intended as a topic of debate, but rather a rhetorical statement. “I had actually forgotten how much I had loathed your parents," he added after a beat, laughing bitterly to himself before raising his glass for a second solo toast, " ... thanks for the lovely reminder.” He moved back to his cupboard to retrieve a second wine glass and set it down next to his empty kindred before nodding at it. “Drink?” She looked like she needed one or ten about as much as he did.

sumiregusa · 08-17-2015, 07:11 PM

Noelle
It was too easy to match his bitter laugh with one of her own, since she knew good and well Lucas Hughes didn't need a lesson on the evils of her controlling father and vapid mother. He had plenty of front row treatment that he didn't deserve and she would probably never feel like she ever reached the end of her need to apologize to him. For so very many things. The reminder of how she had abandoned and betrayed him stung all too freshly, so much so that she almost missed the surprisingly kind gesture of him offering her a drink, her hands trying to work the tightness of such unfond memories out of her neck as she walked over. "Please, if you don't mind," she accepted gratefully, taking the full glass after he poured it. A series of long sips gave her the courage to keep the conversation going. Why stop now? They were already neck deep.

"Trust and believe, no one is more ashamed than I am that I didn't bank on us instead. When you hear about people having regrets...you never imagine it feeling like this." More of her talking out loud to herself than anything but it was something Lucas had the right to hear from her, to know that she knew. Besides, she was back to being a safe enough distance from him on her shelf seat that she didn't feel the need to revisit all her earlier oversharing about how much she still pined for him and how that would never change. If she sat on this nice little spot a nice span away across the nice tiny room, she would be just fine.

Of course a few beats later Noelle undid all her conditioning as the ever-present need to find out more about him flared up again and demanded attention. Clearly, he was still very much like the old Lucas she knew and loved but he was also very different. He had moved out of Nevada, he cut his hair, he obviously drank lots of wine, he stopped wearing glasses. Lucas Hughes in contacts might have been the most shocking revelation of all, though it seemed silly to bring it up. What was less shocking was that all the changes in his life just made her more fascinated with him than she'd originally been in high school, setting them both on the crash course of bantery bliss that started their relationship years before. Not to mention the wine was now doing more than its fair share, seeing as she had lost some of her filter and was just sitting there, sipping and staring at him like she had no fucks to give. Perhaps at this point she really didn't.

She set her glass down next to her but kept her fingers poised on the rim like she might pick it up again at any moment, caring less and less that she was making a study of him right then. "So I'm not allowed to ask about the apartment or the dog, but you didn't say anything about your life. What are you doing in New York? Aside from developing an interesting wine habit." That last part probably stuck to him good, both of them well aware that younger Lucas Hughes was definitely not a drinker.

winter soldier · 08-17-2015, 07:18 PM

Tyler Falco
Were it not for the rather enthusiastic and exclusive fucking of his own gender, Dalton could pass for an archetypal manly man in that moment, staring Tyler down somberly and insisting never, in a million years, would Tyler ever see him cry. Dalton Reeves’ tears cure cancer; too bad he never cries. “You haven’t seen Up, have you?” But that was all Tyler would remark upon that subject, privately amused at his friend’s odd episode of intensity though only because he hadn’t the slightest idea what memories had rolled to the forefront of Dalton’s mind. His time in the military—barring the events building up to it—undoubtedly topped his list of ‘Shit I’d Rather Not Relive, In Whole Or In Part’ and not just for the usual reasons, blood and explosions and sand in all the wrong places. Never had Tyler Falco been so thoroughly vulnerable and out of his element than he’d been in Kuwait, eighteen going on nineteen and largely convinced, from a lifetime of inundation of hippie propaganda from his folks, that he’d inevitably become some nameless casualty of an unjustifiable war and that was probably the sum of what he deserved. Given also that he’d enlisted of his own free will, after being fully informed of the risks and the rumblings of conflict in the middle east, with little to no concern for his own well-being and suffering from one hell of a bout of depression, it was probably a miracle that he didn’t just willingly step on the first land mine he saw and ended it all right there. Motivation to survive had been his issue, obviously. Until Dalton came along.

But that was a story for another internal digression.

Dalton had segued with ease from manly man to font of denial. Nothing was wrong with him, he claimed. Absolutely nothing. Tyler didn’t have to make a conscious effort to school his face into something appropriately incredulous, his features just adopted the emotion on an unconscious level—trained effortlessly from years of defaulting to that state about 1 in 3 times Dalton opened his mouth and words came out. Fortunately for Dalton’s dignity, Tyler happened to be indulging his favorite rung on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs—consisting of chocolate and caffeine—with a mouthful of mochaccino and his emotive response was mostly obscured by his generic white porcelain cup. “Bluster all you want, either something’s digging at you that for whatever reason you won’t admit to or otherwise it’s something on a physiological level that you just haven’t become aware of yet. I’m gonna say… you’re either irregular, or slowly calling into question the very purpose of your existence in the overall scheme of God’s grand design.”

Next stop: heinous inaccuracy. Tyler propped his chin on his palm and eyed Dalton seriously, suddenly less interested in his hot beverage of choice and more in battling blatant untruths. “Students? God, no. Only if I wanted to set up a hidden camera in your bedroom and laugh hysterically. I’ve got a very wide circle of acquaintances, more than one who might suit your fancy. That’s all.” He was a pimp, apparently, to do the completely normal and acceptable thing of introducing one person to another with the mild suggestion that, eventually, somewhere, somehow, both parties could mutually get off. This was a distasteful notion to Dalton, evidently, because he moved on to yet another subject giving Ty barely enough time to be affronted.

Now, they’d gotten to the heart of it. Dalton desired a change in climate, sacrificing the beautiful anonymity and dissemination of pests both tiny and creepy-crawly and large and two-legged for palm trees and an overabundance of silicone. Tyler returned his attention to the remaining portion of chocolate and expresso lingering in his cup, finding the subject less interesting than he might’ve hoped. “So do it. What’s there to think about? You never seemed to like the city, anyway. And it’s not like the NYU admin wouldn’t fall all over themselves to take you back if you changed your mind down the road.”

degausser · 08-17-2015, 07:46 PM

Lucas
Lucas couldn’t even begin to imagine what this felt like, probably because his life was less a series of regrets and more a series of open-ended what-ifs. He was never the one to walk away, instead the one who was always left behind. It was an equally shitty feeling, to be sure. He imagined they could have sat their all night going back and forth, debating over who felt shittier of the two. Lucas was pretty sure he could win that debate if he really wanted to. He had mastered the art of self-deprecation. He could throw as good a pity party as the next person. Could the same be said of Noelle? He could not truly say, not knowing quite yet how the years had changed her. The Noelle of old could roll with the punches with the best of them but would eventually grow tired of the game in the end. He wondered if the girl poised on the edge of his bookshelf/staircase, legs swinging idly in the empty space below her, had the same fortitude.

There was definitely some of the Noelle Stratford of old left in her evidenced in the fact that she managed to find a loophole in his attempt to keep her as closed off from him as possible. Lucas took a generous sip of his wine before tipping his head in her direction as if to say touché. You will not ask me about my life post-high school or what I am presently doing in New York City had not been amongst the conditions he listed for her and thus it was time for him to fess up.

“I’m a grad student at NYU, studying the Classics.” Why he should emphasize his choice of study at that particular moment, he couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was the wine messing up his head. “And I have students to boot!” He could not help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. The teaching, the tailored blazer he presently wore which may or may not have been her influence all along, the wine. Oh, no, no, no … he hadn’t missed her quip regarding his new beverage of choice. He imagined it must have been quite surprising for her, seeing as how he had once abhorred alcohol. Probably because it made people do stupid things. Exhibit A: inviting Noelle Stratford up to his loft. Exhibit B: inviting Noelle Stratford to share in his booze. Those two things were a recipe for regret and disaster.

“I have all the wonderful women I have encountered in life to thank for the wine,” he offered as explanation to a question that was not technically posed to him. Lucas smiled bitterly at her, tipping the bottle in his hand to fill his quickly emptying glass back up to its rim. She was looking at him with a queer expression and it took him several more seconds to realize that she must still be stuck on the whole ‘grad student at NYU’ thing. Oh that’s right, probably because he forgot to mention that fact to her earlier when she had explained what it was she was doing in New York to begin with herself. “It would appear that avoiding one another might be more difficult that you originally assumed.”


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