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Animal Magnetism; Open once Fen posts
Topic Started: Apr 11 2018, 02:48 PM (607 Views)
Deamon
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((Bret Carter: Pregame Start))

It had always been Bret's experience that people talked too much. That was his main thought whenever he ended up walking down 34th Street. The number of conversations going on around him would have been overwhelming if not for their sheer lack of purpose. Luckily, he was able to tune out all of the inane bullshit that was all around him and focus on the things that were actually important. Most important among those things being his girlfriend, Ivy Langley. They had been dating for a period of roughly six months—around the end of junior year—and in that time Bret liked to think he had become close to her. Of course, he was always tempering those feelings. He did care for her, there was no denying that fact but there were always stories and rumors that floated around regarding her. There was also the issue of Gaelan, her ex-boyfriend. In the social situation that he found himself in at George Hunter, this wasn't a big deal, but it was an irritant. He didn't need to do anything about it personally, but he needed to be there for Ivy whenever something went wrong and eight times out of ten it linked back to Gaelan. There were also some other rumors that hit closer to home, but he refused to engage with them.

The reason they had come to be on 34th Street was that Bret had been cooped up studying for the last week and a half only venturing out of the house outside of school hours to go to practice. As such he'd thought the best thing to do, upon seeing the good weather they had been given for that particular Saturday was to go and pick Ivy up in his car so he could take her shopping. The decision was informed in part by the upbringing his mother had given him and Wyatt and combined with his own desire to finally get out of the house and see Ivy. As much as he disliked everything that went with shopping fashion was something Ivy enjoyed and he was aware that 34th Street had some options for that. How many options it possessed was information he didn't specifically know and didn't care enough to find out.

Stopping in front of some store Bret bent down to take a look at what was on display in the window, taking his sunglasses off and tucking them into the collar of his v-neck as he did so. After some quick analysis of the items and their prices, he turned his gaze over to Ivy. As always she was dressed in a way Bret didn't completely understand, her style had a tendency to shift and change over a short period of time. This latest look had been explained to him once before and was "fairy kei". It seemed to roughly mean you wore a load of layers in paler colors. He didn't get it. Still, she looked hot in it, so it wasn't a big deal.

"What do you reckon? Anything you like?"
Forrest Quin - At the Zoo
Bret Carter - On a date
Aliya Kimia Nemati - In Training
Arizona - Practicing
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With Bret’s hand wrapped around hers, Ivy felt, for once, at peace.

>> Ivy Langley continued from on a quick sick rampage

Maybe “at peace” wasn’t the exact word choice. There were still those nagging fears and insecurities, the constant fleeting thoughts of whether she’d chosen the right outfit, or whether she should stop and check her makeup, or whether Bret was actually paying attention to her, and admittedly, she’d had a lot on her mind the last few days. But the smile on Ivy’s face was genuine for once. It had been a while since she and Bret had been on a proper date; he’d been so busy lately, and his inattention had been draining her way more than she’d like to admit. She admittedly knew that shopping wasn’t his idea of an ideal afternoon, but he had suggested it, and besides, after this long, he fucking owed her.

Oh, she forgave him. She did. Absolutely. She wasn’t unreasonable.

Ivy dragged him between store windows by the hand (her mind wandered, sometimes, god his hands were big), mostly scanning the contents on display, scoffing and moving on. She didn’t shop much offline anymore, as her particular fashion proclivities required a whole lot of Japanese imports and Etsy shops. But occasionally she did need to wear something more normal, and occasionally she found something wearable or at least modifiable into something wearable, so it was worth a trip down 34th every once and a while. But today nothing was sticking out to her. There were a whole lot of trendy shops around here, and Ivy hated trends. Okay, pastels were on trend right now, which gave her some options, but god, all the denim and loud prints were horrifying. And the chartreuse! They were trying so hard to make chartreuse happen, and sadly, it seemed to be happening. Ivy blamed Madison, but she found a lot of ways to blame a lot of things on Madison, honestly.

None of this really warranted her full attention. Her mind flitted between distractions. The hand holding hers counted as a distraction, in particular. Her hand felt so small in Bret’s, a thought that was inevitably followed by others. They’d have time to do something else after the shopping trip, right? Like, she’d worn fewer layers than usual for reasons. (She couldn’t pretend some part of her brain wasn’t comparing his hand to Wyatt’s, but that didn’t really matter, did it?)

Tyrell Lahti was a secondary complication, and a significantly less entertaining one. She’d mentioned the matter to Bret at the time, and he’d assured her that he’d mention it to Wyatt—he was the one liable to do something about it, after all—but she’d heard nothing since, and she got the nagging sense that Bret hadn’t been entirely honest with her. Honestly? She kind of wanted to let it go. She wanted this to just be a date, sans drama, and the easiest way to do that was to let her daydreams of revenge go by the wayside. But of all the things you could accuse Ivy of, lacking in follow-through could never be one of them. When she wanted something, she got it. Always.

She had to say something. The question was, what?

She held that thought.

The particular window they’d stopped at merited a longer moment of contemplation. They had clearly taken that whole pastel trend thing to heart; everything in this particular window was some shade of pale pink or blue or lavender. Most of it was boring, though, nothing that was anything more than redundant with her current wardrobe.

Nothing, that was, except for one thing. A baby pink sweater, intentionally oversized, with a print of cat faces in lavender. The cat faces had three eyes. She loved it immediately.

“That one,” she said, her eyes sparkling, “is perfect.”
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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Here's a common thought: That one, Ivy? Really?

Well, no accounting for taste, et cetera. Myles was far enough away that he could comfortably indulge himself a put-upon sigh at his best friend's impaired judgment when it came to accessories. For crying out loud, he was wearing a v-neck.

The sweater Ivy was cooing over was cute, though.

((Myles Roux continued from The Slippery Slope Fallacy))

To be completely fair, Myles was also indulging in a little bit of tackiness today, courtesy of the jacket Tristan had picked out for him from their thrift shop haul a while back. It was cozy, the kind of fabric that he would refer to as windbreaker material on the outside but lined on the inside, plain matte black. It was also completely covered in kitschy patches in such designs as a hamsa hand, peace sign, and the planet Saturn, to say nothing of the words "SPACE BOY" spread across the back of the shoulders.

The whole thing was lowkey kind of awful, and Myles highkey kind of loved it. Even a blind pig could find a truffle once in a while. He'd have to think of a nicer way to phrase that when Tristan inevitably asked him about it.

Anyway, back to the point: Myles had just been window shopping around, minding his own business (for once), when who should pass by but Ivy and Bret The Regret. Specifically, Myles's regret that he hadn't tried harder to keep Ivy in check when she started getting all starry-eyed about the Carter twins.The fact that she had latched onto the lesser of two evils was little comfort considering the kind of texts Myles kept getting when Bret wasn't around to make sure his brother kept his hands to himself.

There were no signs of trouble in paradise so far, but hey, that could change at the drop of a hat. So that was why Myles was... observing. Not stalking. It was only stalking if you had ill intent, and if you got caught.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Bret took in the details of the item Ivy had pointed out. It was interesting looking that was for sure although he wasn't sure if the fact it looked interesting was a good or bad thing. It was eye-catching. That was what he settled on. In that respect, it suited Ivy's personality. Bret didn't understand fashion, it interested him sure, but he was only interested insomuch that in order to keep himself looking good and appealing he needed to stay on trend. How those trends were decided or why was something Bret didn't get. It was unfortunate to admit but fashion was one of those rare things where he was a follower. As such he just nodded in response to Ivy.

"It would suit you."

Jumper notwithstanding Bret took the time to straighten up to his full height, putting Ivy over a head below him. His size, while not on the level of his younger brother was still nothing to scoff at. Bret was tall and muscular. His frame purpose built for hitting people hard on the football field. That kind of aggressive and physical play was his trademark. He had a reputation among his teammates and the other schools they played against. Everyone knew that when he took the field someone was going to take a big hit. Ironically despite his feeling that people talked too much, he enjoyed trash-talking people on the field. He felt it gave him another edge. When you put everything together, his play, skill and ability to get people off their game it all combined to make him the player he was. Sure, there were some good players on the other teams that his approach didn't work on, but he respected them as peers that were on the same level he himself was.

As for the shopping trip, Ivy being enamored with the cat jumper gave him something to work with. She could be quite picky about what items got to make it into her wardrobe so her finding something she liked so quickly was a good thing. After all, the shopping trip was for her.

"Do you want to go in and try it on?"
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((Gaelan Meloy continued from Don't Go Stretching Your Wallet))

Saturday was when Keeley needed help at the shop. At least, it was until the guy Gaelan had been covering shifts for came back from the hospital, but nobody had actually told Gaelan about this little factoid. So there was a weird sense of relief and disappointment when Keeley remembered too late that Nelson was back and Gaelan didn't have to work today. Of course, he'd already sworn off all plans for the weekend because of said work which no longer existed for him, but now Gaelan had an entire day to burn.

Which is why he sent a quick message to the group chat, seeing if anyone wanted to hang out, and Nick was on his way here. The others could pop in if they wanted but Gaelan wasn't fussed - Nick was one of his oldest friends, and it'd been a bit of a while since they'd had some mano e mano hangout time, so why not on an okay Saturday?

They were going to meet up at SunnySide Cup, the cafe truck near the store. He'd ordered a chai tea latte with coconut milk, and it was taking his sweet time getting to Gaelan's hands, probably because of the line. As he waited by the pick-up area, he began people watching. He could have just checked his phone for however many minutes, but the battery was low and he only checked it just in case someone else from the group chat was showing up. So instead, people were watched.

Families, singles, boring pencil-pushers adjusting to no longer being in a working week, 34th Street had all types on a Saturday. And nobody really caught Gaelan's eye, save a few couples from the junior year at his school, awkwardly holding hands but looking half embarassed as they did so. Amateurs.

He did see Myles Roux, though, in his always gaudy outfit put together by a bohemian having a stroke, and Myles someone he had a bit of a past with. Namely, he was someone he used to be really good friends with when they were younger, but then Ivy happened and Myles chose the wrong side. Which was a shame, because up until that point he actually really liked Myles, but now he was a boring sycophant. Now he just existed to churn the wheels of the rumour mill and help Ivy on her cause to slander his friends and anyone beneath her, because that was what Ivy did because Ivy was nothing if not a malicious cunt.

Unlike a lot of the people here, though, Myles didn't seem concerned with walking from Shop A to Food Truck B or from Wherever To Who Cares. Instead, he seemed to be caught somewhat in place, his gaze fixtured towards something or someone off in the middle distance.

"Chai Latte for...Ga-ee-lan!"

Gaelan whipped around and almost immediately took his drink from the clearly underpaid barista.

"Gaelan. Thanks."

There was a bench nearby, and Gaelan planted himself there. The part of him that constantly denied he had anything in common with the people in his life he left behind wanted to tail Myles and see what he saw, because his interest was nothing if not piqued. On the other hand, friends took priority over idle curiosity and it'd be a bitch move to leave Nick to an empty greeting space.

So as he waited for Nick, he watched Myles from a distance, wondering what the day would bring.
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I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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((Nick Ogilvie pregame start))

Technically the polite thing to do was to greet Gaelan first. But, as he wondered into earshot and heard the beleaguered barista agonisingly phonate a cacophony of syllables that could only be a poor attempt to enunciate his friend's name, Nick concocted a far more amusing way of making his presence known.

Required standing in line for a few minutes, vigilantly avoiding catching Gaelan's eye. But it'd be worth it.

And when Nick reached the front of the queue...fuck, he'd realised he'd forgotten a joke name. He could give his name as Gaelan too, see what happened, but that'd border on torturing the poor guy. And so, for a second, he looked like an idiot who'd forgotten his own name. And when he finally did produce an answer, one that would doubtlessly be mutilated by a poor understanding of the thick Scottish brogue, the barista visibly resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Okay. Whoops. He'd accidentally tortured the guy after all.

Well, sometimes ends justify the means, clearly, for it was all worth it to hear the barista, within a minute, announce "a cappuccino for Ashaba...Assab...Ashburnip...the guy with the beard." Nick strode towards the truck, and claimed his coffee, now walking towards Gaelan with no effort to hide his presence.

"Thank God for me, am I right?" Nick announced, once he was in hugging distance of Gaelan. But no actual hugs, because that'd risk spilling the coffee. "Using the privilege of a simple monosyllabic name to fight against the bullshit system of writing names on coffee cups!"

"Ashurbanipal would make a good stage name," Nick mused, as he took a sip. "So, my friend, what is up in the land of Gaelan?"
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"Naturally."

Ivy's response was automatic, because obviously, she needed that sweater. She probably didn't need to try it on, a small would fit her fine and she'd just have her tailor fix it up for her later anyway. But her mind, having skipped through all of the coordination opportunities a new piece would bring, had settled back into mulling on The Drama. Which was usually her comfort zone, but at the moment it was just... draining. She loved the social scene, she loved the ebb and flow, the rapid shifts in power, but that was because she sat comfortably above it all. This particular thing was far too close for comfort, even setting aside that nagging feeling that her boyfriend might be lying to her.

She wanted it settled. Especially if she wanted to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Rather than pulling Bret into the shop, she stopped, idly taking her phone out of her purse with one hand, barely looking at it as she tapped the buttons. Instead she looked up at Bret with wide, innocent eyes.

"Bret, love? I just wanted to make sure, it was on my mind and all... you did talk to Wyatt about the Tyrell problem, yes?"

She sent a series of messages rapid fire without breaking eye contact. Things certainly would be settled. One way or another.

🏈💦
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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Myles wasn't close enough to catch every word that passed between Ivy and Bret, but he could certainly catch tone.

He'd heard about the Tyrell Lahti thing, of course. It was rare and far more concerning for Myles to not get an excruciatingly detailed report of every last thing that Ivy deemed attention-worthy, positive or negative. Myles had gotten a pretty good sense of Ivy's intent in regards to making herself feel better about the whole thing.

He... couldn't say he was thrilled. Or even really approved at all. Not that some kind of altercation between the Carters and Tyrell wouldn't be entertaining. Tyrell was a boxer or something, and Myles would have figured that anyone who tried roughing him up unprepared might catch a surprise.

Just. Myles loved Ivy like a sister, had since they were little kids, and really loving someone meant living with even the uglier parts of them. Which was a major factor in why Myles didn't bother to get to the loving stage with anybody for the most part, because who even had that kind of time, but that was beside the point.

The point was, though incidents where Myles really, wholly couldn't be on Ivy's side were few and far between, this was one of them. He didn't think Tyrell had done anything wrong. Tyrell had jabbed at a break in the armor that he hadn't even fully realized was there, probably, and now Ivy had her fuckboy hit squad on the prowl - or was trying to get them there, at any rate.

Myles didn't like reminders of how easily Ivy could destroy someone else's world just because of the random chance that had let her be born rich and beautiful, and how a lot of people on the other end of that were, uh... closer to Myles's economic bracket. This whole situation got more uncomfortable every time he thought about it, and it was starting to get annoying because just telling everyone involved to shut up and move along to some new feud wasn't an option.

...Bleh, now he was in a bad mood from thinking about it again. This was all Bret and Wyatt's fault for existing in the first place without any better purpose in life than being the previously-mentioned fuckboy hit squad. Myles needed a coffee or something to cheer himself up. He deserved one, in fact, for being the only rational person involved in this whole mess. It was hard being the pinnacle of reason, and the pinnacle of reason should get a caramel macchiato for his troubles. He was pretty sure he'd seen the cafe truck around here somewhere...

Myles turned away from Ivy and Bret, both to give himself a break from his thoughts and to search out his new objective among the crowd of shoppers and vendors.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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And here we go.

Bret had to consciously stop himself from reacting to the question in any noticeable way. This was the downside of being in a relationship with Ivy; when someone was so plugged into the interpersonal dynamics of the school as she was it invariably led to things coming back to him. These issues were sometimes things that he had no interest in dealing with and that was the case with Tyrell Lahti who in the kindes assessment Bret could give him was a nobody. Tyrell was more likely to flame out or go and join the army to die in some other country than ever been seen by anyone in George Hunter High after they graduated. The fact he had upset Ivy was troubling, but the fact Ivy had wanted him to involve Wyatt in the whole issue implied something of greater importance had happened. Bret for his part couldn't see it.

He had established his position by not involving himself in dramas like the one currently unfolding. Sure he would sometimes have to go up to people in parties and tell them in polite but clear terms that there were ways they should talk to Ivy but that was the general extent of how involved he got. He did not physically involve himself. His position within George Hunter was entirely based on being the Carter brother that could be approached and talked to. He took great effort to be polite and friendly to people, even people who quite frankly were an effort to bother with. Tyrell counted as one of those people and he was low enough on the social ladder that he could be needled without anyone taking any real issue with it. It was hard to have defenders when you lacked friends.

There was an issue to what Ivy was asking however and it was that Tyrell was perfectly capable of defending himself, possessing both the size and actual fighting ability to maybe be a challenge to Wyatt. Bret was hardly about to send his younger brother into a fight he had a chance of getting hurt in; regardless of what Ivy wanted. He had, of course, toyed with other solutions but he had put the entire thing on the backburner and had been content to let it eventually die out like the embers of a fire. It appeared that option was now being taken off the table by Ivy herself.

He didn't want to deal with any of this when he was supposed to taking his girlfriend out on a nice date.

"Yeah, I mentioned it."

He would just tell Wyatt about it when he got back. He inclined his head in the direction of the door to the shop.

"Shall we go in?"
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Of course Nick would order his drink like that. Of course.

Eventually, appearing from the hands of the barista like a piece of stage magic himself, the one person in the group chat who agreed to come hang out was here. Of course, that meant momentarily directing his attention away from Myles, whatever he was focusing on, and to his friend. God, how long had it been since all of them had hung out, let along just him and Nick? It was overdue, in any case.

"My man!"

Of course, Gaelan couldn't hug. Hot drinks weren't made for that, and neither of them were up for fronting laundry bills.

"Not too much, dude, just got a free day from work and felt like spreading the love. Social love, I mean. Can't keep myself all cooped up at home doing jack shit, can I? I'm a people for the people."

Rather than sit back down and do nothing on the bench, Gaelan's hand motioned towards the general shops, beginning their walk through the street. If it were a normal day he'd be for finding somewhere to shop at, spend an inordinate amount of money on something just for the hell of it, then either never wear it again or overwear it because it went with everything so good. But for some reason, Gaelan felt like stirring something up. The guy was up to something, something suspicious to only Gaelan, and a part of him wanted to find out. It would probably end badly for someone, not necessarily him, but hey, worth the try, right?

So while it looked like Gaelan was leading himself and Nick towards the shops, he was instead leading himself and Nick within plain eyesight of Myles.
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I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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Nick chuckled. That was a good attitude. Gaelan tended to have a good attitude to things. "Oh yeah. Can't keep your pretty face locked indoors all the time, the world deserves to see it. Social duty to share it."

Nick took a sip, and found himself following Gaelan without a second thought or hesitation. He was, implicitly, entrusting Gaelan with the choices they would make that day. That was fine. Gaelan tended to make good choices.

Gaelan probably had a plan - some piece of apparel he wanted to buy, some shop he wanted to visit, some other task that he wanted to do. Nick had no strong feelings about the shops they would visit, and had no desire to engage in any retail therapy. He quite disliked shopping, when he had to attend to it himself, but he had no quarrel to standing by as his friends scratched their shopping itches.

"So, you seen anyone else about?" Nick was thinking of if there were any friends or acquaintances in the area. He hadn't considered the possibility that there was drama on the street too. But he would totally have been down for that.
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Yes, of course. Naturally. Obviously he'd mentioned it. At the very least there was next to no chance Bret would say anything else. There were many ways Ivy would describe her boyfriend, but stupid was not one of them, and he would have to be a fucking idiot (or at least terminally incapable of reading the air) to have come up with any other answer. She let the hand holding her phone drop to her side as her mouth formed a sweet smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Sure, sure. Just wanted to check."

Ivy silently willed Wyatt to answer with reasonable speed as she ducked in the door of the small boutique, rapidly scanning the surroundings for anything interesting enough to accompany that adorable cat sweater. She was happily surprised to find it actually did; there was enough here that immediately caught her interest that she wondered if she'd stumbled into an import shop she'd somehow missed on her past sojourns to 34th. Pastels were on trend, of course, but there was a marked difference between the muted tones of current Western style and the bright aggressive coloring that she preferred.

Ivy could admit that her approach to fashion was more than a little self-indulgent; she simply found things she liked, things that were as different from the current sartorial zeitgeist as possible, and wore them, and then they were fashionable, because she was fashionable, and anyone who disagreed was wrong. So to find a store that appealed to her in the middle of Chattanooga almost felt like a negative. Maybe it was time for a style change? It was the wrong time of year for it, though. A subtle shift, maybe? Go from pastels to neons, from fairy kei to decora; she'd have to darken the pink in her hair for that, though, and the pink she had was perfect. God, being original was a pain sometimes. If trends shifted in her direction, perhaps it would be simpler to take credit for them. Her influence wasn't insubstantial, after all.

It didn't occur to her that she'd spent a solid minute staring at a divine rainbow dress (that was absolutely calling her name, by the way) until her phone vibrated in her hand. She had forgotten entirely who she was expecting a message from and was surprised for a moment to see that particular pair of emojis before she remembered exactly what she had said a few scarce minutes prior. She tapped out a quick response and was grateful to find Wyatt paying attention for once.

🏈💦


She glanced up at Bret as she slipped that dress off of a hanger; she spotted the cat sweater she'd loved so much from the display window and grabbed the smallest size along with the pale blue and pink skirt it had been styled with on the storefront mannequin. Her phone buzzed in her hand; she silently regretted having to split her attention between such incompatible passions. Fashion, romance and drama. Honestly. She was a busy girl.

🏈💦


"Bret~" she called to him in a sing-song voice. Her smile still didn't reach her eyes, but the light in them had shifted. "I think this is enough for now, no?" She immediately ignored her own words and grabbed a necklace from a rack near the cashier along with, after a moment of deliberation, a hat that she wouldn't be caught dead in but looked like something Myles would like. She made a point of updating his wardrobe for him every once and a while (if she didn't, who would?) and perhaps more importantly she could do with a peace offering. She sensed this whole Tyrell mess was wearing on him a touch. Not enough that it would actually cause any issues, mind you, but even still, it felt like an opportunity for a gift. Or a bribe, if you wanted to be uncharitable.

Ivy gathered her selections and handed them to the cashier as she flipped through her wallet for her shiny silver credit card. She glanced at Bret, almost offhandedly.

"Darling. I hate to ask, but. Are you lying to me?"
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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Oh.

Great.

Everything was turning up Myles today, wasn't it? (Was that how the saying went? Was this the proper context to use it in? Myles didn't know and he refused to look it up to check.) Turning away from one ongoing debacle to search out the treat that he obviously deserved, an entire other kind of debacle made itself known.

Which was to say that Gaelan Meloy and someone that Myles would have loved to assume was Gaelan's 35-year-old sugar daddy if he hadn't known it was Nick Ogilvie were sitting, like, right there as Myles weaved his way through the crowd on his way to the food truck.

Myles made eye contact with Gaelan before he could help it, and felt a little more of his soul escape his body.

Honestly, universe? Myles really enjoyed shopping, even just window shopping, and having all of these unpleasant reminders of drama turn up in the middle of that when he wasn't looking for them was rude.

He was tempted to take a picture of the two of them and send it to Ivy with some caption alluding to Nick being a 35-year-old creeping on Gaelan anyway, but that would immediately alert her that he was standing just outside of her relationship drama, and there was no way she'd chalk that up to coincidence. Instead, Myles just held the eye contact for a moment longer before turning away with more than a little contempt and taking his place in line for the cafe truck.

If Gaelan knew what was good for him, he'd parse that Myles wasn't in the mood and leave things alone, but Gaelan never did.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Deamon
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Humans...
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It looked like the Tyrell issue was not just going to go away. It also looked like that as much as he didn't want to have anything to do with it his hand was going to be forced. The tone Ivy was taking also betrayed the fact that she most likely knew he hadn't told Wyatt about it and was now looking to confirm that fact. Apparently going on a date had turned into a zero-sum game somewhere between picking Ivy up and getting out of the car. It left Bret with the only viable option being damage control.

Now that he was decided on damage control the issue became how to present the information in a way that Ivy would find acceptable. It was all about careful management of the words he used at the point they were at. He took his gaze off some weird purple-blue top thing that he had picked up off the rack and was analyzing and returned his attention to Ivy.

"Hmm? Oh right, Tyrell. I thought I had mentioned it, but I could have just been telling him about something else." He replaced the top on the rack to give a less obvious pause to what he was saying. "I'll talk to him about it tonight and we'll figure something out."

There was not much else he could say but Bret was fairly happy he had managed to deflect or absorb most of the obvious issues. Whether or not it would be enough of a concession for Ivy was yet to be seen.
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Brackie
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The look Myles gave Gaelan as they passed like ships in the night would have made a lesser man soil themselves, but Gaelan was not a lesser man. Especially with company and backup. If Myles tried anything, he wouldn't be alone.

But thankfully, he left well enough alone, and went to copy Gaelan, like he always did despite claiming how much he hated him, and got food from the same truck.

He wasn't sure if Nick noticed the hideously clothed oppressor shooting daggers for a brief moment, but if he did he'd bring it up. Regardless, he continued on anyway.

"I dunno man, I mean nobody was in the store for the, like, five minutes I was there, and I didn't see anybody in the groupchat around, so I guess you're the only one who played ball."

Gaelan took a sip from the paper mug.

"I guess if we see 'em we'll see 'em."

There was a stretch of stores that Myles seemed to be looking at before he went and binged (and from what Gaelan assumed, to purge later), so the two navigated through the light pedestrian traffic to the start of the row.

"Tell me if you see anything Ariana'd like man, I think we've got an anniversary coming up I've forgotten about? Think it's like the nine month mark already or something."



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I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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