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Don't cast aspersions on my asparagus.
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Georgia Lee was right on one thing, and that was that, when it came to his "humour", he was something of a vulture. He had an acute sense for determining where opportunities might flourish, where his talents might see the most maximal use, where he could shatter the most taboos and burst the most bubbles of pretension and prudishness. But, yes, starved enough, he would drift away, to play on his phone and shitpost on Facebook, or go hang out with one of his friends who (from the point of view of many) inexplicably appreciated his idiosyncratic behaviours.

But he was also patient.

And even the most perfunctory, the most fleeting, the most transient hints that his presence was noticed? That was enough to sustain him. The tangible rigidness that had formed in the conversation, the palpable disdain for his presence, the occasional glance, almost fearful (but not quite fearful - Bradley knew it was folly for someone to be fearful of little old him), was enough to keep his attention secured.

And hell. Georgia Lee made a big mistake, when she insulted Bradley without saying his name. He knew she was referring to him, her pointed refusal to look at him only reinforcing that impression. Bradley had settled on his target. Alice seemed relatively meek, coy, not that fun to harass. Cruel, even. Her reaffirmation of Georgia Lee's insult wasn't exactly the most bold, after all. But Georgia Lee? She could give as good as she took, and Bradley appreciated that. Made her an all the more appealing target.

He felt good though. Giving the two girls something to bond over. And people said he never did anything for the world.

Straightening up in the chair, the only sign he intended to open his mouth, Bradley finally spoke.

"Well, Georgia, if we head over to New Mexico now, we don't need to wait until then."
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Swipe Rite · After the Dance