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Topic Started: Aug 1 2016, 02:05 PM (542 Views)
Cicada Days
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keep running yoshi
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((Irene Djezari continued from I didn't know what I was supposed to say about that, so I just said Wow))

Irene blustered her way out of the notoriously cramped Diamondback bathroom with a spring in her step and a wallet in her jeans pocket. The wallet was pretty damn fat. Swole. Eating like it was on a Food Network special. She had that cash. Those greenbacks. That pork hollow, stuffed with wads of zeroes. Dinero. Moolah. Notes. Bills.

Can you pay my bills,
Can you pay my telephone bills,
Can you pay my automo-bills

Irene wasn't entirely sure how that particular jingle had intruded it's way into her thoughts. It had to have come from somewhere. Maybe she'd read it out of some François de La Rochefoucauld. Or as she liked to alternatively call him, François de La Rochambeau. At other times she pulled out the quality moniker François de La Rochefoulalalalalalala.

Anyways, she had money. She'd spent some of it on ice cream, at least she assumed that had probably happened at some point while she'd been busily gallivanting around an ice cream parlor. She scanned over the room, sniffed at the artificial scent of kinda-strawberry. Yep, her half melting cup was still on the table where she'd abandoned it. There was also a net increase of bodies in the shop from when she'd last taken stock. Took a moment to process that they were all familiar faces, bridged by that gloriously awkward pause where one just stared intently at someone else trying to assign a name to the aggregate population of dyed hair and beanies.

She realized that she did indeed recognize all of those faces!

And one of them had suddenly sidled up to the others and put out the call for small bills. Wait, wait, hold up. 'Bills'. Irene realized with a start that she had those, not two seconds after she'd last been idly mulling over them in verse.

"Maria, I gotcha." The money, as Irene had already been sure to remind herself, was in her pants pocket and that's where her hand went to dredge and wrestle. It was a literal hop skip and a jump's worth of effort to wop out the paper, with chains of all sorts creating a localized ruckus of keys and links, but Irene was willing to put in the effort. Even if she didn't know the girl too well. Just another one of those passing faces Irene could eagerly wave at before they melted back into the background, though Maria's face at least had a reputation that preceded it like a particularly oblong and unskippable YouTube advert. "Here." From her very colorfully sticker-decorated wallet she produced an accordion mass of tens, far more than necessary for the job. "I don't have anything smaller, just grab one and give me the change."

Even while she attended to Maria, Irene completely blew past the girl, leaving only an arm extending financial stimulus hanging in her wake. She had another girl to bear arms at. It all sort of happened at once, a violent mass of simultaneous mouth and hand action, which at least kept Irene from shoving one onto the other. Had to have at least been quad core, the way she was multitasking.

<Hey Kimiko [it's] been forever! Who's [your] friend here?>

Irene was way too close- saying Kimiko still had her personal space at the moment of impact was a generous claim- to sign the 'hey' the way she did it. Rudeness, albeit one served with a smile as obliviously thick as the cashier's over there. The 'forever' was too loose on the joints, she sort of wrist flopped around the word instead of tightly circling the elbow as was standard ASL. And she poorly angled the crossed fingers on 'friend', so Caleb was promptly Kimiko's 'boyfriend'. When Irene had learned how to sign- specifically because of the immigrant Taiwanese girl she was presently making an ass of herself at- her skills had grown... Hardly. It was messy, the transitions were only fluid if they could be called molasses.

She rapidly, repeatedly bounced glances between the familiar face and the not so familiar one half buried under the hat. Her arm continued to present Maria with the cash. In all of barely a second of exited flurry Irene had happily stretched herself along a triple axis, of the non-historical variety.

<If you want [a] larger I'll cover for both [of you].> She barely missed a beat on a conversation she'd only just hurled herself bodily into. Near miss on some of the words though.

V6 - Like you imagined when you... were young...
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Cicada Days
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keep running yoshi
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Blah blah blah words... "That was a fifty, and there was change to spare.... Are you insane?!"

"Hey you're the one who saunters off to Vegas to do... Whatever it is you do, hang with Jamie Oliver or some famous food dude." Irene at least thought she'd made an ironclad point with that rebuttal. The back of her head remained stubbornly inclined Maria's way. "I'm not insane, I'm just rich or some such." Two states that weren't mutually exclusive. Irene's prepubescent disaster of a wallet returned to the abyss from whence it came. Pockets fattened up, with some indeterminate amount of cash and a definitely determinate amount of hands. Two hands, to be precise. Wait no, she needed those hands to speak to Kimiko. Put 'em where we can see 'em, missy.

So... Hold on, that was how you signed 'friend'? What had Irene actually said, then?

Kimiko looked a bit off, kinda frostbitten around the face. Maybe it was the wind shear from the zealous A/C they had running in here. Sure it was the bastion of ice cream, but emphasis wasn't that much on the 'ice' part. Kimiko and her boyfriend pushed past Irene, advanced onto the counter. She finally turned heel. Saw the dude was going to pay for it. Alrighty. She got it when people didn't want to accept charity. She solidly empathized, it was the same sorta bubbly pride in the chest feels she often entertained herself. The idea of making transactions on her own dime. Given to her by her parents. Anyways, everyone was over there and she was over here. How to counteract that, hm?

She joined the others and trotted up to the counter, or at leas-

No, no wait. She had forgotten something. Ice cream, the one that she'd already fussed over with small bills a few minutes earlier. Just pivot her ass right over to that table over there patiently waiting with the half melted cup of mint. Get that down the gullet. Reduce it to acidic suspension, save the colloidal elements which would have to wait for bile to properly emulsify. Shit as homo(geneous) as she liked to rep herself. Mmm. Tasted good going down. Her fingers twiddled and twirled with plastic spoon.

She joined the others and trotted up to the counter, or at least to the general vicinity thereof. The sort of amorphous space-time coordinates where everyone kind of existed at once. As an aside to Maria:

"Yo, give me the change back fam." That was a thing she'd probably want back, or some such.

Irene Djezari
V6 Pregame Concluded

((Irene Djezari continued in I Say You Kill Your Heroes And Fly, Fly, Baby Don't Cry))
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