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Violent-Medic
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((Danny Brooks continued from Ice Cream Truck Beat.))

“Ughhh, Jacob, where are you? Answer my texts, you jerk!”

Danny glared at his phone like it had personally slapped him. It was after school. He was meant to meet Jacob near the Green Belt before they went off to do things—bro things, which were usually pretty awesome things unless Jacob was being weird, and admittedly he was weird a lot because, y'know, that was just Jacob—but Jacob hadn't turned up yet and he wasn't answering his phone. Had Danny muddled up the days? He'd done that before.

He let out a huff and put his phone back into his pocket, retrieving his mp3 player instead. He could wait a little longer. He stuck his earbuds in and started cycling through music. No, no, no, god, why was finding the right tune always such a pain? Theoretically, every song on here was picked by him and thus awesome, but—

He finally stopped cycling when he came across a jazzy tune that blasted out for a moment before mellowing into a fast but comparatively quiet strummy kind of thing, building up to the full-on music.

“I think it's time to blow this scene. Get everybody and their stuff together.”

“Nice,” Danny muttered, putting his mp3 player back into his pocket and adjusting his earbuds. Nothing was quite as much of a buzzkill as accidentally yanking them out halfway through an awesome song.

“Okay. Three, two, one, let's jam.”

All the more trumpety/saxaphoney/whatever stuff kicked back in and Danny launched into a dance. There wasn't enough room to do anything too drastic, not without yanking his earbuds out, but he had moves. He had so many moves.

Nothing was as awesome as dancing. Nothing. If Danny could just dance forever to some never-ending but super catchy song he'd probably… eventually die of exhaustion, okay, but it would be the best death ever.

He was so into it that he didn't notice someone sneaking up on him.
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