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Cicada Days
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keep running yoshi
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Irene saw another fake on Jeremy’s finger. They could have been fighting there and then, making those triggers click hollow, if Irene had been any less intelligent. And Jeremy, obviously. He was also fairly good with the thing in his skull. Wrap the two of them up and call them smarties.

His face seemed to set into something firm, rigid around the bone. Weird. She had this picture already extant, of talking over crappy school lunches and textbooks split on the spine. The faces never looked so granite, stoically chiseled, as they did now. She paused, hesitated. Jeremy didn’t even seem to want to agree, which seemed totally illogical. Like, seriously? Too obvious for you, Mr. ‘I’m Smart Enough To Quote Dead People In Togas With Oppressive Societies’? It wasn’t quite the picturesque scene of genesis and eureka Irene had anticipated. Not enough ‘you’re right!” or ‘how could I have been so foolish?’, with hang wringing and facepalming being optional but welcome.

“Uh…” Had taken Irene a second to come up with that one. She followed up with a hesitant swivel of the eye towards the ocean. Great strides towards proving her thesis, indeed. FInally, she found her voice, somewhere buried under the slop of her own primordial drool. Her eyes rotated back to find his at discomforting speed:

“I didn’t see anything. I was looking around when I heard the gun, then Mr. Graham looked pretty dead but… you know. Pyrotechnics.” However she had actually meant that, whatever she had been envisioning that had made the erupted head wound of man fake, she failed to further elaborate. “I wasn’t even really paying attention to the guy talking.” She’d been glancing at the ponytail dude packing the ‘my penis isn’t big enough’ firepower.

Yawn, though. They really needed to work on their staging if they were going to convince anyone. Even Irene could have hazarded something better with a few minutes and the theater room. Of course, Jeremy didn’t believe, so Irene would have to explain, bear false witness.

True witness though. Irene was commanded, therefore she checked that out. Whose voice was that?

“See, this is totally lame! They can’t even get the setting right!” She exclaimed, loud enough for Danny to hear, too loud for Jeremy to hear comfortably. “Survival of the fittest didn’t have swamp monsters, real or Scooby Doo level villains in sushi wrap and stripey sneakers and…”

She trailed off, giggling. It really was like another school day. Jeremy was cute- not in the awkward sense- there was some dude she barely knew in the distance and everything somehow seemed fine. As it was supposed to be, and would be when Irene got everyone to stop assuming the world was going to end because of some dude with a gas mask and a gun.
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I Say You Kill Your Heroes And Fly, Fly, Baby Don't Cry · The Cove