Chocolate Covered Teenage Drama (With A Cherry On Top)

Log Info

Title: Chocolate Covered Teenage Drama
Characters: Ian, Sunday, Claire, Sasha, Jerry, and Linus.
Place: Student Center First Floor - Steranko Institute
Time: May 23rd, 2010
Summary: A typical day in the lives of super-powered high schoolers.

Sundays were the best and worse day of the week. Best because it was the second day without school, and a chance to do thinks fully relaxed. Worst because… well… Monday was looming around the corner. It also happened to be the busiest day at the Student Center. Some are perusing the bookstore, hastily trying to catch up on homework, while others shoot pool. Stoker is one of the later in this case, once again in his weekend wear - namely sweatpants rolled to the knee, high socks, a doublethick wife beater and his glasses. His partner? No one it seemed, with him just taking each shot, a bit oblivious to the world.

The day to do everything you'd procrastinated on, quite frankly. Sasha's had to make a stop on the bookstore for something she needs to power-read tonight. History of something or other. Sasha saunters past the game room, where Ian shoots pool, and she pauses. "Don't you have last minute work to do?" she asks.

Sunday, on Sunday, almost every Sunday, likes to stay in her room and try to clean up the wreck she makes of it throughout the week. It also tends to lower the possibility of people making stupid jokes at her expense. Not that she really minds! It's just.. on Sunday's.. it gets old. By about noon. However, Sunny's had some real downer moments the last couple of days, and last night provided a real red-letter craptastical event. So, like so many girls, she turns to ice cream smothered in various toppings for comfort. It's what brought her here to the student center this fine late afternoon, wearing a pair of fuzzy slippers, plaid PJ pants that are too baggy to stay on her hips properly, and a double layer of tank tops. Take not, folks - this could be the only time you see the future Superstar dressing like she's just one of the little people! Slippers flopping on the low-pile carpet, Sunday meanders towards some familiar faces near the pool table, a spoon in one hand and a dish of ice cream topped with various delicious things in the other. It's Sunday, on the first day of the calendar week, with an ice cream-based dessert. Happy? "Hey guys." Nom ice cream. "Whassup?"

Claire finally managed to venture forth from her room after a marathon day and a half of studying for tests in classes he's barely begun to take. Frazzled and mentally beat, she's decided to spend time with the other kids to try and recharge her batteries. Which of course means, she's taken the exactly opposite approach to Ian and dressed to impress. A loose, flowing, dark red peasant blouse covers her chest, shoulders and arms. That is, in turn covered by a tightly laced waist-cincer in black. Below that is a black and red pleated skirt, the skirt itself if black, the color between the pleats red. It falls to just above her knees, where her long stockings begin. Red and black stripes alternate down her stockings and vanish into her 3" platform heeled patent leather buckle shoes. She's got her little round 'Nightmare Before Christmas' purse slung over her shoulder, eschewing her usual bookbag for confort as she enters the Student Center, nodding her head to whatever beat pumps into her ears from her black iPod hanging from the black belt wrapped about her waist.

"I don't believe in last minute." What? Was Ian one of those Type A types who gets their work done within 20 minutes after school's out? Hell no. He did what he felt like, and wasn't about to stress over the rest! He had enough without stressing out over grades. Nope, Straight C students! "Why, wanted to take over the table?" He nods his head to the pool sticks hanging from the wall. Challenge? Perhaps! Before he can go on however, a certain Sunday slips in holding a Sundae! Yes, pun intended. "Yo Blondie," he offers, throwing up the peace sign as she approaches, pausing slightly and looking over the blonde's shoulder as Claire enters the room. It would seem that his day of public solitude was coming quickly to an end! He turns back to the table to take another shot, before looking up again, regarding Sasha with a look. "Don't think I've met you, on the by. I'm Stoker." Pause. "Ian Stoker."

He sure doesn't look like that type. Not that she's never been wrong before, but it's rare. In her estimation, at least. Sasha's dressed simply, it should be noted, jeans over her hard-edged legs, a red halter top and her mechanical arms covered with silver plating. She strides in towards Ian, "Thinking about it. Don't really wanna read 'History of European Integration' tonight. Gotta, but don't wanna. Make me a better offer," she says with a faint smile. "Hey Claire," she says. Then Sasha clears her throat and calls, "HEY! CLAIRE!" Sasha makes a face at Ian. "Shaken, not stirred?" she asks. "Yeah…." she trails off. She's met a bunch of guys like these.

Ian gets a spoon waved at him, before Sunday notices he's looking over her shoulder a moment later and turns to do the same. Oh, Claire! "Claaaaire!" she calls, waving that spoon again.. only to hear Sasha shout to wake the dead. It makes Sunday jump just a little, then peer over her shoulder at Sasha. After motioning the goth closer, Sunday turns back to the pool table and wanders in, glancing over the lay-out of the balls before looking up to Sasha and Ian. "Hey. If you guys are procrastinating, can I join in?" A hopefull little smile crosses her (OMG BARE!) lips, head tilting to the side just to drive home that 'pwease' look.

Claire looks over at the sudden shout, her pigtails not wobbling since she has left them out, leaving her dye-damaged hair to hang to her shoulders in limp fashion. Pushing the round front of her music player, she shuts it off and yanks on the cord, popping the earbuds from her ears. Grinning a bit at who is gathered around the pool table, she does a little spin in her new outfit and then looks to Sasha, then Sunday and finally to Ian who she asks directly, "What do you think?" It may be directed at the other two girls as well, but it's clear who's opinion she really wants, even if her gaze at Sundae's Sunday lingers a bit.

"I'm more of a Jack straight type, actually." Really, the only reason Ian even added his first name was to prevent looking like a dweeb. Instead, it comes out like the masculine wannabe type. Go him. As for a Better Offer? "Solids vee Stripes, European rules." He pauses again, hiding a slight bent to his features as the other two girls arrive. "Pair play?" He offers as Sunday gives her pouty look (and for the record, he does not the lack of makeup. Scandelous!). "If you're up to it Su-" Whatever's mentioned next is lost when Sasha shouts with some zeal. With his hearing as it is, it's a wonder that he doesn't wince. Instead he opens his mouth and closes it several times, deciding in the end not to say something sly. Of course that's about when Claire does the spin. Reb looks at her a moment, head actually tilting to the side. "Very Rose Red," he murmurs. "Definately a new look for you Gothling." Which is probably Stoker for approval. "Care to join Sunday, me and… " He pauses realizing he had yet to catch a name from the metallic girl. Then again, that alone should be a hint. "For some Pool. And if we're playin', why not a wager to make it just a bit more interesting?"

"Kinda colorful for you, huh?" Sasha asks Claire. "Yeah, no limit on procrastinating. Don't even think we need to play a game," she says. Sasha wraps her fingers about one of the pool balls and spins it around so it rapidly progresses across the table. "You got anything worthwhile?" she asks Ian. She's still sising him up. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wonders what Claire's thinking.

Sunday's response to Claire - deeply desired or not - is a little faux-applause with her plastic spoon tapped repeatedly on the side of her plastic ice cream dish. Approval, approval! "It looks really nice! I love that blouse." To Ian, Sunday nods, willing to humiliate herself with her horrible pool skillz any day. When he pauses at the third girls name, however, she grins and softly adds, "Sasha." They've met. Another bite of her dessert is savored as, just for fun, Sunday rapid-chills the surface of the pool table to put a tiny layer of ice on it, sending that ball Sasha pushed flying a little more erraticly. "Don't really have any money, except the stuff I need for food. Could, um…" She smirks. "Could make losers do winners homework, but I don't trust you to keep my exacting academic standards."

Addressing Ian first, Claire smiles a bit. "Thanks, decided to throw in the red for accent." Looking to Sasha now, "I can't alays goes with the monochrome look, sometimes you have to colorize the classics to get people to pay attention." She's grinning a bit more widely now and when Sunday does her little applause, Claire curtsies. Easy to do in that skirt. "Thank you Sunday, I have lots more where this came from." The offer of playing pool perks her attention and she gets a slightly more devious smile. "Sure, let's play pairs. Just one thing. We won't play for money. That's boring. Let's raise the stakes to something more… interesting?" As she says this, she twirls a lock of her hair around her fore and middle fingers, leaning against the pool table.

Something worthwhile? Now that brings a slight smirk from Stoker. He doesn't answer right away, however, opting instead to walk to the wall for additional pool stick. Each lady recieved one - the right length to boot. It seemed that along his Wanderlust, Reb had been to a pool hall or two. When Sunday so graciously suplies the machine girl's name, sudden enlightenment comes to his eyes. "Oh! You're Jerry's girl, right?" Oh, snap. He didn't even know it, but he was already getting his bandmate in trouble already. He is about to add something else in, perhaps to the bet, when that… look comes upon Claire's features. Fear? "What do you got in mind, Voyeur? Or should I be afraid?"

Sasha takes the pool cue from Ian. "So you're Ted Turner's bitch? Ouch," she says with a wince. "Hey Sunday," she says to the blonde. "So we…." she stops and swivels just her head, glaring hard at Ian. "Jerry's *what*?"

The ice cream dish is placed down on the edge of the pool table as Sunday accepts her stick. "I call Claire's team!" DIBS! Dibs! Picking on the little blue cube to chalk the end of her stick, something Ian says makes her pause and nearly chuck it at him. Instead, she hisses as her brow furrows, then frowns to Sasha's reaction. "He's just being stupid." Glaring back at Ian, Sunday corrects him. "It was /Amber/ he was getting the phone number from, remember?" …. Poor Jerry. Sunday doesn't even know what she's just done. Blue eyes roll. "Their names don't even sound alike. Dork." Turning her attention to Claire and that devious look, Sunday actually /does/ look a little worried, quickly glancing over to Ian before back to Claire… "Uh, yeah.. What are you thinking?"

Claire winces hard, knowing Ian has just stuck his foot in his mouth after first stepping in a live mountain of fire ants. She backs away from Sasha just a bit and gives Ian a look somewhat akin to, "Nice knowing you." She's got her own cue now and reaches for the chalk to try and avoid the coming slaughter. Chalking the end, she smiles over to Sunday and then winces again before changing back to the original subject. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the losing team has to cook the winning team dinner or treat them to dinner at a nice place. Just an idea though, with just Ian I'd wager something else but since it's teams, it's gotta be something both parties would enjoy."

Brown eyes slink from Sasha to Sunday, and then Claire back to Sunday. Oops? If he's particularly peturbed, he hides it well, shaking his head. "My bad. My memory? Ain't what it used to be since the bite." A lie, but hey, perhaps he could somehow get out of this with his limbs. Or, y'know, without Jerry losing too many of his own. "Seriously though, Sasha. Good meetin' ya. And a fair bit of warning that you shouldn't take anything I say seriously." Wow, this probably is the most backtreading he's done in awhile. Though all in a good cause. Really! "Sure, sounds good," the bet that was. Then again, with his mind where it was, he probably would have agreed to anything. It's only after he's taken the time to set up the balls at the dot and chalk his stick does he notice the last little bit of Claire's statement. "…Huhwhat?" Something else. "How come I have a sinking feeling that wouldn't be something like - I dunno. Baking cookies. I fear what's in your mind sometimes, Gothling."

Sasha leans in on her stick, gripping it tightly. "Amber?" she asks, looking sidelong to Sunday. "You confused me with *Amber*?" she demands of Ian. "You think I'm an idiot?" she asks. There's the faint sound of splintering wood. "So what, you're pushing Amber on him? I bet she doesn't need pushing, the skank." A louder splintering sound and the cue stick breaks in half, a shower of wood bursting out.

The little half-flirtatious exchange between Claire and Ian is followed by Sunday's eyes, and something said draws her mouth into a line as her gaze fixes on Ian. Full of meaning, but all of it secret. The look back to Claire is fleeting before Sunday fixes on her pool stick, chalking the end excessively. .. Maybe she should talk to Claire.. But damnit, it's none of her business. And if Ian hasn't stopped her yet, maybe it's not as unwelcomed as she'd thought? …. Thoughts on one subject drift to another, and suddenly Sunday doesn't really look all that happy..
And then Sasha starts in on Ian, and everything changes. At first, Sunday blinks in surprise at the suddenness of the verbal attack, perhaps ready to jump to Ian's defense verbally.. and then Sasha calls Amber a skank. Amber, who has been one of the nicest people Sunday has met here. Who is always friendly, and welcoming, and kind, and.. Yeah. The young blonde's whole expression changes, all humor and worry dropping away to a stone mask of determination laced with anger - anger that's amplified in her eyes. In a minute, she's around the table and between Ian and Sasha, facing the cyborn girl. "/What/ did you just say about Amber?! Back the hell off!" The air between them heats in an instant as Sunday's shield goes up. "/Now/."

Jerry enters from the outside.
Jerry has arrived.

"Everyone should fear what's in mind mind sometimes." Claire winks to Ian before checking the tip of her cue, then resting the length against her shoulder and waiting. Then, of course, Sasha begins to lose it and Claire finds herself interposing between her friend and the guy she's got the hots for. "Hey, hang on a minute Sasha. Enhance your calm and let's talk this out before you go destroying equipment. No one meant anything by that. Jerry and Ian are friends, maybe Jerry said something. Guys can be dumb and take things the wrong way or misread signals or even just brag to their friends about things they never did." And then Sunday goes off and it's up to Claire to be the voice of reason… the world is doomed. "Oh everyone CHILL THE FUCK OUT!?" She raises her voice as loud as she can and anyone with even a hint of psychic ability can sense a wave of tension building. Sunday is addressed first. "Hey, don't make things worse." Then Sasha, "Please chill," and lastly to Ian, "And don't talk. Your boy tongue is just making things worse. Ok? I know you didn't mean anything and were just making smalltalk but some people are kind of sensitive about things." She almost wises she had worn black and white today, then she'd be perfect for the referee role.

Jerry, possibly gasoline on the fire, changes his path when he hears familiar yelling and walks over, slurping on a Coke. "Wassup here, dudes?" he says, one eyebrow raised at the tension in the air, the shimmering shield, and heated words.

"Woah there, haus. I just met you. Ain't calling you nothing. Just slipped a…" Whatever Stoker was to say next is lost when the pool stick is shattered. And then Sunday's all fired up and… yeah. Apparently when not talking about Music, the Occult, or traveling, Reb should just shut up. His arms lift marginally, the hand without the stick opening as if to display an openess to them. Defensive pose to say he wasn't here to fight. And really he wasn't - He was more surprised than anything else. Wasn't he supposed to be the hot head in here. About to say something sly - And let's be frank - very Boy-Tonguish, he forstalls it when Claire tells him to unequivically shut up. Probably sage words in this situation. Instead he shifts a bit, to ensure that there's a body between the two girls. And then he sees…. HIM. Helpless eyes shift over to Jerry, and the young man mouths: "RUN AWAY". Hopefully he could take a hint and…. Nope. Jerry just goes and says hello like nothing was wrong. "Uh… Hi. There.. uh… Jerry." Pause. And two steps as Stoker, takes the other man's hand in a quick firm shake. "It's been a priviledge, my friend. When we burn in the afterlife, please remember it was accidental. And uh. Might wanna stand behind me for the next 5 seconds." Cause he had a feeling - things might get painful.

Yup, Sasha's hair trigger has been hit, she's off, and then Sunday's landing in front of her. "Like I can't take you, girl?" she snorts in derision at Sunday. Her right arm morphs rapidly, something Claire, at least, has seem before, turning itself into a rather nasty looking cannon. A lazor cannon, in fact. Sasha's all ready to start some serious shit when Jerry arrives. She stops, mid motion. "You fucker!" she snaps at Jerry. She wheels on her heel and starts a high quality storming out.

"Don't make things /worse/?" Sunday looks incredulously at Claire, as if the gothling grew another head. "She's been nothing but an ass to Ian and now she's attacking him for /nothing/, she called Amber a /skank/, and I'M making things worse by defending my friends??" The girl shakes her head firmly. Sunday doesn't have a lot of lines, but this is most definitely one of them. It's big, bold, red, and often times very well lit. And Sasha has just tap-danced over it. You don't screw with her friends, and yes, she's ready to throw-down over Amber's honor and Ian's.. uh.. right to use his boytongue? .. God that sounds bad. Whipping her glare back to Sasha, the girls fists ball tight as she shifts her footing in her.. slippers.. for maximum bracing. "Keep talking, hot-headed bitch." Yeah. This is Sunny, pissed the hell off. There's not even a HINT on her face that, as Sasha shifts that laser into play, she's even moderately considering backing off, or thinking this was a bad idea. A Decision has been Made. And then Jerry shows up. He's given only a quick flickering gaze, Sunday not wanting to take her eyes off Sasha and get sucker-punched, except that seems to be enough to send the girl huffing off towards the exit. So, Blondie says nothing more, just standing her ground, tensed, ready for a fight that's apparently not gonna happen. Probably for the better, for both their sakes and those of the innocent bystandards.

Jerry eye-widens at Ian, his hand shook, then he peers over Ian's shoulder at the girls and pushes his shades up into his hair as Sasha hauls out the laser cannon and then… he gets snapped at and storms out. "Babe, I.." He blinks, /looks/ at Sunday, and the others. "OK, did I miss my cue and come in on the wrong page, 'cause I'm sure I missed something here.." He looks to Ian. "Bud, /what/ is up?" SLuuuurp.

Claire kind of deflates as she is berated and Sasha storms off. She sets her pool cue on the table and looks at her feet. She's apparently, maybe, accomplished her goal and kept things from coming to an actual physical fight. "Sorry Sunday," she admits, her voice rather low. "Sasha's a friend of mine and she can be a bit abrasive. Well, ok, she can by number 2 sandpaper on a sunburn but she's a friend and… I don't have enough of those to go losing them, you and Ian included. I hate seeing my friends fight, especially over something as stupid as a guy." She looks over to Jerry, "No offense." Returning to Ian and Sunday, leaving Sasha to stalk off and making a mental note to go after her later. "And yeah what she said about Amber was bad, beyond the pale. I've met Amber, she's about as skanky as… well, something totally not skanky at all. She's sweet. So are you for sticking up for her Sunday. So, please, calm down. We're all under a lot of pressure lately and some of us get REALLY defensive when certain things get brought up. So, can we all just calm down, take a moment to really think about things and stop before someone does something else really dumb and we end up getting charged for blowing up the Student Center?"

What's up. Well there was the long story, that involved misplaced words, and escalation in terms of angry words given back and forth. There were threats, and there were counter threats. And a cold war that got near nuclear in the blink of an eye. In short: "High school," Reb mutters under his breath, letting go of Jerry's hand before shaking his head. What happened? Well, he focuses on that for a moment, trying to deal with Jerry fall out as Sasha stormed out. "I sorta called her 'your' girl. Probably not the wisest of phrases. Serious judgement lapse." For a moment, Ian's expression darkens as he looks at the retreating Sasha and then to Claire and finally at Sunday, letting out a long breath. "I dont suppose 'oops' is a proper appology for inciting this is it?" Ever flat. Though, his eyes refused to make eye contact with anyone's.

"Duuude," Jerry says as he pats Ian on the shoulder a couple of times. "I better go.. get her," he says. My girl? Is she? I mean.. he thinks, mind racing. Ian.. he.. they.. ohooo. "Lemme see if.. well.." he stammers and walks swiftly through the wake Sasha is leaving through the Student Union. "Sasha, wait up.." he calls. "Just..wait.."

Sasha grinds her teeth, not listening to Jerry as she pushes her way out to the grounds.

Jerry hesitates..then hurries after.

Sasha/Jerry Log Link Will Go Here - When there is one

"I'm not mad at you, Claire," Sunday says, despite both looking and sounding mad. And she's being honest! She's just.. mad. And when her eyes shift to her gothling friend, she adds, "But I'd do the same thing if it was you she was talking about. I don't care /whose/ friend she is - she's not /mine/." The pool stick is tossed down on the table and Sunday really looks at Jerry for the first time since his arrival, maybe only now fully, consciously registering he's even here. Her arms cross at her chest, and for the moment, Sunday isn't fully aware that she's still surrounded by a shield of super-heated air that vaguely distorts her image to those looking through it. Luckily for anyone nearby, however, it's not that hot if you're not banging yourself up against it. Ian speaks, and when Sunday looks at him she tries very, very hard not to glare - it's just that she's having some difficulty getting rid of her extremely surly expression. "You don't have anything to apologize for! She can't be pissed off at being called somebody's girlfriend, then get pissed off at the idea that she's /not/. /Normal/ people do not get angry over a simple honest mistake." FUME fume fume! It's a wonder steam isn't coming out of her ears or off the top of her head. That ice cream she had, that was kept at a lovely freezing tempature, by the way? It's a bubbling hot vanilla and chocolate fudge soup at this point.

Claire sighs again and offers a very weak smile to Sunday. "Um… your ice cream's melted. Let's all go get some more. My treat." She tries to sound upbeat but it's hard. "Sasha is… a very touchy girl. She considers her private life just that, private. She doesn't like people prying and for some reason, Jerry just sets her on edge. I think she's really confused about how she feels about him." She begins to look around for where Sunday got the ice cream. "I'll talk to her later. For now though, I'd rather be with you guys." Her choice made, she leaves Jerry to go after Sasha. He can calm her down, she's seen him do it before. "And thanks Sunday, glad to know you'd defend my honor if it came to it. I'd do the same for you."

"Probably. And Definately," is Ian's initial reaction to Sunday's points made. He watches Jerry chase after Sasha, expression unreadable for a long moment. When he speaks again: "Still, could have prevented the situation without speaking up. Might have saved a little bit of angry feelings. Uh… Sunday, you're kinda glowing still." When Claire offers ice cream, Ian nods. Anything to get them out of this building and get some cooler heads to prevail. "I think that girl should probably decide what she wants sooner than later. You can't not-claim a guy, and then get huffy when someone else stakes claim." Who knew though Jerry's side of thing. Complications. There was a reason why Ian was trying to keep things very simple for awhile. "I suppose that the whole clubbing thing ain't gonna go like normal, is it?"

It's only when Claire points out the melted ice cream - boiling, almost! - and Ian mentions glowing that Sunday realizes what she's doing, and she finally reigns in her powers. "Sorry, I don't really feel like ice cream anymore." Tightening her arms around her, Sunday's shoulders hunch up as she mutters bitterly, "I've had enough of this relationship bullshit to last me a lifetime." Still, if the pair she's thrown her own lot in with begin to move towards the stand Sunday got her ice cream from, she does pick up her dish, discard it appropriately, and follow along. Hands in pockets. Still looking grumpy. Then Ian mentions clubbing, and the noise that comes out of Sunday can only be described as a full-on /whine/. "Damnit, clubbing!" Whiiiine. "I so wanna just go dancing.." Whiiiiiiiiiiiine.

Claire is heading over to the stand when she hears Sunday speak about dancing. She spins around in place and folds her hands behind her back. "Well, I might be able to help you there Sunny." She has that smile again, the one that promises trouble. "I just happen to know where there is a VERY hot party. It moves around from place to place so it's hard to find. Well, for anyone but me. I also know how to get in. So, we have three options here. One. We get Ice Cream and chat. 2. We go clubbing at the secret party. 3. Both 1 & 2. So, which option do you take?"

"I'll leave the decisions on where or what to do to you ladies. I think I've veto'd my input for at least the next ten minutes or so." Ian follows the others, hand now rubbing the back of his head. He could only imagine what Jerry might be going through right now. But look on the bright side! No injuries and only one destroyed item!

Sunday wrinkles up her nose at the choices given her, despite the fact that two seconds ago she was bemoaning not being able to dance. But.. glancing between Ian and Claire, she's just feeling surly enough not to mince words. "I really like the idea, Claire, I just.." Her footfalls stop as she crosses her arms again. ".. I don't really want to be a third wheel, y'know?" What Ian feels, Sunday has almost no clue at this point. But Claire has always been /very/ open with her big crush, and Sunday would rather not be left to dance alone while Claire tries to gyrate on the object of her teenage lusts. If Sunday was feeling less tactful, that's exactly how she'd say it, too. Fortunately, her mood has not soured that badly. "Maybe if there was more than just the three of us." After glancing to Ian as her opts to be Switzerland, she sighs, knowing she's just being a downer at this point. "Sorry. You two go if you want, I'm jus.. not up for that."

Jerry enters from the outside.

Claire frowns deeply, shaking her head. "No." She doesn't sound like she's going to brook any disagreement here. "If you're not going, no one's going." She struts over to the ice cream stands and gets three, two hot fudge sundaes with whipped cream and cherries and her own, butterscotch in place of the hot fudge. She heads back and thrusts one of them out to Sunday. "Eat. Smile. It's good for you." The second one, she gives to Ian. "And here, this is for you." She pulls the cherry off of her own and sticks it on top of Ian's, "Have my cherry, I don't like them." She then stomps back over to find a seat and sits down, kicking out two chairs in front of her. "Now stop being so damned grumpy and let's just relax. We've got finals coming up, we can stress out then!"

"We'll raincheck then," Ian says when Sunday decides that it's not what she wants tonight. What was on his mind aside, he wasn't about to compromise anyone's good times. Especially not friends because of personal wants. "We'll just pick a different time, get the gang back together. Jerry - maybe. Amb." He pauses, and decides beteer on that one. "Maybe linus, though with that many people we'd need to get him a body condom or something." He takes the sundae offered from Claire with a nod of thanks. Only for her to say… Cough. Yes, the inflabble Ian Reb Stoker actually eye twitches at the words, lids widening for a second as he coughs. No he didn't hear things wrong did he? Bravo, Claire, Bravo. "Relaxing works well. Something… chill.." And with that he takes a big spoonful of ice cream and stuffs it into his mouth, before that boy tongue can get him into any more trouble.

The show of solidarity brings a soft smile to Sunday's face, though she does look a little guilty, knowing the two of them would probably rather just go party. It is Sunday, after all. Stupid Monday is just around the corner. But Sunday does take a seat, leaning on her elbows as she watches Claire busy herself with trying to make everyone happy again.. and then gives Ian her cherry. Sunny snorts with a bit of laughter, soft though it may be. There's a bit of nodding while she pokes at the sundae with her spoon and listens to Ian. Yeah, get Jerry, maybe invite that alien chick too, and.. Sunday's stomach drops out again the second Linus is mentioned. Eyes fixed on her ice cream, the smile dissolves in seconds, and her spoon stops moving. After a moment of silence, she says "Y'know, I still haven't finished my math homework. I really do need to get to that." And with that, Sun puts her hands on the table top and pushes herself to her feet, leaning over the small table to kiss the top of Claire's head. A big-sisterly kind of notion. "Thanks anyway, really. Lemme know about the next party, huh?" She's not going to take any arguments about her leaving, and as she turns, a hand brushes Ian's arm as she murmurs, "No checking up tonight. I'm okay. I just think maybe it's a ballad night." With that, the teen pushes her hands in the pockets of those flannel PJ pants and flip-flops her slippers towards the exit.

Jerry comes in from the outside, wiping a bit of lipstick from his mouth and smoothing his rumpled shirt. "Well.. I'm not exactly sure what happened, there, but I think it went well..I live, at the least," he says quietly as he comes up to the table and crosses paths with Sunday as she heads out; he smiles and waves to her as he flops into her vacated chair; he reaches to Ian and claps a hand on the bandmate's shoulder a couple times. "Thanks for the warning, bud. Too bad teleporting ain't what I do," he sighs. He hangs and shakes his head. "I will never understand anything, ever," he bemoans.
Then he takes a bite of the vacated sundae and mmms. "Good," he says.

Claire looks as Sunday leaves and nods, sadly, leaving her alone with Ian. Then Jerry shows up. "Wow… suddenly it's gone from all girls and you to you and me and Jerry." She doesn't seem exactly thrilled by that but she does offer Jerry a smile and doesn't seem upset that he's eating Sunday's Sundae. She eats her own in silence, just listening to the two boys talk after she speaks her observation.

Ian looks as Sunday goes, taking her words in with a frown. Code? Sort of, but he doesn't seemed so inclined to share at the moment. Whatever he mentioned did that. He would reflect on it later. For now: "A fifth of jack doesn't sound that bad right now." Pause. He considers again with his demon physiology. "An entire of Jack wouldn't be remiss right now." But before he can get through that thought, Jerry stumbles back in with… lipstick? Ian merely quirks a brow, sharing a look with Claire before letting out a breath. His next thought probably sums up the thoughts of all men around the world: "Women make no sense at all."

Linus enters from the outside.
Linus has arrived.

So for those of you newcommers, Sunday has just pushed up from the table she was sharing with Claire and Ian and a trio of ice cream sundaes, and for whatever reason, is now mopy-facing towards the exit, hands in her pockets. Dressed in a double-layer of wifebeaters, green flannel PJ pants, and fuzzy pink slippers, she trudges past the incoming Jerry and nods her head as he waves while incoming. Guess he and Sasha made up. That's nice. Exit-bound.

Enter Super Linus, strange boy from Cleveland, Ohio with the power to… yeah. The jury's still out, but the only mutant on campus he's no longer afraid to touch is walking out as he's walking in, and she looks less than happy. Linus is actually stepping in with a three ring binder under one arm. It reads 'Steranko Institute. New Student Orientation, Fall of 2009' and bears a picture of the institute, in case one is so disoriented as to not know where they are yet. Hey. They had surplus and the 2010s aren't printed yet. He's coincidentally got his thumb in the 'student center' section of the orientation booklet, and he's walking with his guard up. Way up. When he spots Sunday, he blinks, swallows, and changes course. "Hey. Are you alright??" calls he. Exit: Denied. Maybe.

Jerry, who has no idea yet just what Ian's power is, quirks an eyebrow at the other boy's words, and puts it down to all the rumors he's ever heard about musicians. For now, at least. He takes another bite of the sundae. "You said it," he says to Ian. "You said it." He looks up as Sunday is intercepted. "Who's the new guy?" he says.

Claire looks over as Jerry mentions the new guy and blinks, her cheeks going a bit more pale. "His name is Linus. He's… ok. Just don't let him touch you." She shoves another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, dragging the spoon out clean before plopping it back down inside the ice cream. "He copies the powers of people he touches. Beware." She says all of this low enough under her breath that she hopes Linus doesn't hear. Her voice gives the feeling that she knows this from more than just anecdotes.

"So, what's the story with the lipstick. I was having half a mind of calling the morgue to find your ripped up parts. Not that I particularly wanted you dead. But y'know." Pause. "Women." Ian flashes teeth for a moment. He was curious, though had a feeling that Sasha was a … unique individual of passion. Intense for everything good and bad. With the mention of the 'new guy', Ian turns his head and nods towards Linus, noting his entrance right when Sunday leaves. Interesting. He turns to Claire and her suddenly pale face. Leaning forward, he places his hand on her shoulder for a moment. "Lifetime ago Gothling," as in, Stoker's vague attempts at calming the telepath down. A second later, "And you might want to slow down on that ice cream or give yourself an ice spike to your head."

Sunday finds her exit narrowly thwarted a few feet from the doors and stops in her tracks, wincing unseen at the familiar voice. Crap. It's not that she doesn't want to see Linus! It's that.. she's not exactly sure what horrible things he thinks of her right now. But, since he's come up to her and asked if she's okay, she does not run and instead turns to look up at the taller, younger boy. A little smile is mustered on her unpainted lips - mark the day, by the way! It's so rare she's caught without lipstick. The eyeliner and mascara, however, are firmly in place. "Hey Linus. Yeah, I'm okay, I was just, uh.." Running away because Ian mentioned you and I feel like crap after our last encounter. Yeah. That'd go over well. ".. Have you met Jerry?" she asks, pointing over to the table a number of feet away which she has recently abandoned. "He's in the band." And apparently a very handy segue!

Linus, to his credit, does not turn bright red like he's done nearly every time he's encountered Sunday. How one takes that is, of course, open for wide and potentially unflattering interpretation. "You sure? Should I back off?" He turns his head towards the table and waves a confused hand at Jerry. "The band. Gotcha. I'm… still okay to be in that, right?" Ouch. Mega ouch. He doesn't sound annoyed so much as awkward and unsure. But at least he starts to blush again. He doesn't seem like he's ready to drop Sunday's obvious discomfort, either, faint concern on his features, much like the last time he heard about someone being injured.

Jerry shakes his head at Ian. "Hell if /I/ know. We were yelling at each other, then she grabs me and kisses me. Never, never gonna understand.." he mutters. "Intense is a good word, yeah," he says with a sudden distant smile.
At Claire's explanation, he huhs as he gives Linus the once-over, then gives a curious look to Claire. "And why would that be bad, unless he takes them as long as he's copying them?" he says. He waves his long spoon at Linus when he's introduced. "Dude," he says by way of greeting.

Claire seems to relax more when Iam touches her, offering him and very soft, gentle smile. "I'll be ok Ian. Thanks. You're sweet." She goes back to slowly eating her ice cream, letting the others talk as she just listens and observes. She's done her part tonight and she just wants to enjoy being around Ian. It's very nice to know he cares and she just keeps her thoughts to herself and leaves everyone elses' the same way, theirs.

Sweet. And apparently terrible with sharing info at the wrong time. He squeezes Claire's shoulder once more before turning to Jerry with a bit of a wolfish grin. "Must be your animal magnetism. Good thing you were out in public or she might have taken you right then." Was he serious? *Shrug* One never knew, but he would say it either way. His next words trail as he looks at the interaction between Linus and Sunday, taking note of expressions. After a few seconds he scoops a bit more ice ream into his mouth. "I suppose this day couldn't get any weirder, could it?"

Back off? Sunday shakes her head quite promptly in response to the question, wanting to make it clear as crystal that he doesn't need to avoid her now. "You're fine. On both counts." Band included. She does notice how he seems initially.. less flustered around her than before, but it's not seem as a bad sign. Maybe he just.. got over it all? Probably already drawing little hearts around some other girls name. Which is pretty much what she suggested he do anyway, so.. Glancing over her shoulder to the group out of earshot, then back to Linus, Sunday inwardly resigns herself to taking back her earlier exit. It'd be rude to just leave now. "C'mon, lemme introduce you." So she turns back towards the table and leads Linus there. "Claire and Ian you know," obviously, "Linus, this is Jerry. Jerry, Linus. Linus wants to drum for us." Once he learns how. Beggers can't be choosers, Jerry!!

"Oh, okay." Linus is captured by security and brought to the holding cell so the overlord can gloat and… no, wait. That's some time after graduation. Linus follows along with Sunday and nods to the people there. He carefully avoids anything even resembling eye contact with CLaire. "Hey, Jerry. Ian. …….. Claire." Yeah. THis isn't uncomfortable at ALL. "Taking a closer look around. I was at the Thunderdome earlier. I can't believe the stuff I read about it." He taptaps the three ring binder. "So, uh… yeah. What kind of music is it?"

Claire nods towards Ian and slowly devours her ice cream. "Good to see you again Linus. Sorry about my freakout, for someone who pokes around in other people's heads I am kind of terrified of people doing the same to me." She licks the back of her spoon as a large dollop of butterscotch slides down it."Oh, Welcome back, Sunday." She grins widely and snags two more chairs from the table nearby, sliding them over to her friend and Linus. "I was feeling lost amid the sausagefest."

"Linus," Ian offers to the young man, a low dip of a head adding a bit of emphasis to the gesture. When Claire says her piece, the young man gives a light roll of the eye. "Such vulgar language, young lady," he intones psuedo-seriously before taking another bite of the ice cream. Since Jerry was so busy snarfing down sundae, Ian takes it upon himself to answer the questions about music. Mainly: "Undecided, as of yet. We're gonna start with rock and see how it goes from there. Have some fun with it before deciding whether or not to get serious with things." As for the drums? "We'd love to have you. As long as you can keep a half count, I'm sure we'll get along famously." His eyes slide over to Sunday's for a moment, checking to see if she was ready to flee or was acting better, but gets little to go with. Instead he plays it cool, gesturing to the chairs nearby.

Jerry gives Sunday a lopsided smile as she returns. "Sorry; thought you were gone," he says, gesturing to the half-eaten sundae. He does pick up something from the napkin to one side, something he doesn't normally eat. "If it's any consolation, your cherry is still intact," he says, unable to resist, twirling the little bit of fruit by the stem.

"You almost through that orientation book yet?" Sunday asks Linus, tapping a finger on his binder before she turns a light smirk to Claire. Yeah yeah yeah. Hush. She can't get away from you people!! As she takes a seat, there's a soft smile turned Ian's way, so the boy won't be so concerned in that.. stoic, hard-faced kind of way he does. "Dashboard Confessional seems to be on hold. Again. FML, right?" Not really, but being overly dramatic about it brightens her smile a little more, which she's sure will give him ease. And then there's Jerry. "No worries, I was being forced to eat it under duress any… way…" The cherry, dangled in Jerry's fingers, may not be anywhere near Sunday.. but she still nearly chokes on it. He caught her off guard! Peering at Jerry, smirking softly, Sunday resolves to not let that happen again. Leaning forward with elbows on the table, Sunday snatches her aforementioned cherry from the vile creature across the way, and announces that "Since she gaves hers to Ian," A big goofy fake smile is given to Claire as Sunday offers up the atomic red berry. "Claire can have mine. If you gimme the stem back, I'll show you a trick I learned on the road." Brow waggled abound.

Jerry slowly. Hands. The. Stem. Over.

Ian currently had been eating Ice Cream. NOT SO NOW. No instead he CHOKES. That's right. CHOKES. Thakn you very much Sunday. Now you have to go to a FUNERAL. Only, not so as he finally manages to get it down, coughing loudly as he clears his wind pipe.

Linus almost jerks his binder away from Sunday by force of habit. One can read the flash of panic on his face, but it subsides -very- quickly. This, apparently, is okay. "Just about. They plunked me in here just before finals, so I guess that means I've got time to just walk around and get into trouble while everyone's busy." To Ian, he smiles gingerly, "Sure. Uh… Half count. I can do that." God, he has no idea what the hell that even means, but that's not going to stop him from trying. And then, of course, comes the cherry comment. He blinks when Ian mentions it. And when Sunday responds, he drops his binder. It flips open to the page on councelling services, perhaps prophetically. He sputters and laughs, grabbing the thing.

Watching Jerry pop the stem off Sunday's cherry she sighs and takes it from him, slowly pushing it between her lips before biting down hard and splitting it in two. She then goes back to eating her ice cream and watching the blonde do her stupid human trick. She's smiling a bit now though, getting comfortable among these people, despite what happened with Linus. Beneath the table, she moves her foot to tap her shoe against Ian's, making sure to get his by looking beneath the table with her powers. She offers him a warm smile and winks, writing something on the napkin for her ice cream and sliding it over to him.

The Napkin says "Can I claim you then? Since you hate it when girls get jealous after not doing so."

Grinning broadly as the boys spazz out, Sunday accepts the stem, pops it into her mouth.. and a few seconds later, plucks it from between her lips to hold up for observation. Knotted right in the middle. Hooray for cheap bar tricks! And doesn't she just look like a right puffin for it. Still obviously pleased with herself and the cherry stem dropped onto the middle of the table, Sunday giggles at Ian and reaches over to pat his back. "Gonna die?" Then Claire is pushing her 'secret' note over, and something within Sunday sparks the sudden desire to just snatch it up and be all juvenile.. But she doesn't. Instead, she winces as her cherry is crushed between Claire's teeth. Okay, okay. She gets it. Then, quite out of nowhere, the blonde comments blithely, "Guess I should have given it to Ian instead." and leans back in her chair, promptly changing the subject. "He doesn't know how to play yet, actually. But we're gonna teach him. He wants to, so I figured, why not?" She shrugs. "I'm gonna get what teaching stuff together I can, but if you guys have anything that'd help, you should put it up. Then we can actually /do/ stuff instead of talking about it."

Linus is okay until Sunday's comment, at which point Linus blinks, though comes back to earth pretty fast. Awkward, however, proves to be the name of the game for him, here. "Yeah. I… well, it's just a bunch of sticks on a drum. How hard could it be? I can play Guitar Hero and I used to beat my sister at Dance Dance Revolution all the time." That's his experience. Music games. He sounds like he thinks this is actually valid experience, too. Though on some level, it is: "So I guess it means I can at least keep a beat, right? Anyway, I've got a ton of free time, I think. They relocated me in here pretty fast because I made a lot of noise at home. So… I've got a month to myself."

Jerry listens to this and nods, giving a smile to Linus. "Dude, we all learn sometime. I think more drummers than most just happen to learn on the job. We'll give you any help you need, y'know?"

"I think the key to good druming is learning how to keep the beat. First lesson is to just…" Ian pauses, and begins to stomp and clap. "If you can keep to the same rhythm for a good half hour, then you have your base. Everything in drumming is about time keeping. You're the heartbeat of the band." Apparently, Stoker was pretty serious when it came to actual music. Not asshole intense, but still serious. "But yeah, I'm not much a drummer but we can get you started. And learnin' on the job is half of everything." Ian then feels the tap on his foot, and looks down as the note is passed. He reads it, and for a moment, he's expressionless. And then there's a frown, a bit deeper than one he's ever kept before. THe napkin is balled up, and he takes a long breath, eyes closing. When they open, he flicks his gaze to Sunday - An indication he in fact saw her expression when the note's passed, and then it focused on Claire. "Alright, maybe this is long past due. But it's gonna keep coming back to this if I don't get this cleared up."
He doesn't bother to hide his words because Jerry or Linus were there. Linus probably had an idea of what was going on, thanks to the mind read from the last night. Jerry was the closest thing Ian had to a male best friend. And if this whole… group thing was to work? There was a matter of trust. That seemed to be the thing everybody wanted to instill. "I'm not big on drama, you know that. S'why I try to stay low key on things. But Drama doesn't follow me - It rides on my back." Yes, he just gave lyrics. "I'm not going to be claimed. Not by anyone. Not right now." He lets out another breath, suddenly wishing for a clove, or that bottle of jacket mentioned earlier. "You've heard the story of the bite - Hell, you've seen my mind and know the Beast inside me. You guys don't exactly know what led up to that. I was… dating this girl. A witch. Her name was Maggie. She..she.."
There's a pause then, and his eyes glint red for just a second remembering. "I met her maybe a month and a half after my twin sister hung herself. I think she liked me - but I loved her. It's a heavy thing though, y'know to be a teen and to have someone that committed, so I don't think I blame her. Thing is that I don't think I was exactly the most interesting thing in the world at that point - Semi mopey thing, not quite up to the whole goth chic thing going up. She took…" There's another pause from Stoker, shaking his head. The implication enough. "Well among other things, she's the reason why I got bit. She was the one who found the artifact that held the Beast. Back then she thought it was an item to give people powers, not… a cursed thing. And after the bite… She tried. But she was a girl. Hell, I am just a boy as hard I try. It's the shit that's far to heavy for my age. And she wasn't ready yet to give up bein' young." The rest, they say was history. His voice is heavier when he speaks again, a touch of emotion on his voice - pain more than he's ever hinted at. "I've had way too much drama in my life since my sister Emily figured this whole world wasn't worth it. I can't deal with any more, not now. If anything, I'm going to do the moment. And that's not fair to you. Not to any one not ready yet. So I'm sorry. But that's where I am."
Yes Ian Stoker. You just done went from Horror to Drama section. Welcome aboard.

Claire looks like a perfect picture of defeat as she watches the note get crumbled up in Ian's hand. She swallows and her expression changes from defeat to shame as he basically announces what the note said. Worst of all, he's getting it out in the open in public. Her face begins to flush with color as he speaks. As he continues, her eyes get wider and wider as she he goes on about his life. She never went that deep into his head to see about these things and now, here they are. She's stuck between sympathy and total humiliation, just staring at Ian, her cheeks getting ever redder, showing off the little spots of concealer covering the remnants of her most recent bout of acne. If anything, her entire veneer of being cool, detached and in control slides off like and arctic ice shelf and her bottom lip starts to quiver a little. She does her damndest to not sniffle and those tears welling in the corners of her eyes will not fall, she will not let them. She takes a deep breath and looks down into her lap, her hands sliding from the table to rest there. "Oh." It's all she manages to say, the tone in her voice a good attempt at neutral though there's this undercurrent of shame mixed with heartbreak she cannot quite keep out of that one word. She doesn't make a move to run, she doesn't even move at all. She just sits there.

Jerry listens, then.. listens more intensely as he realizes Ian is saying some Heavy Shit instead of them just shooting the breeze as kids on the eve of exams will do, and he does him the courtesy of staying quiet and /listening/, food forgotten. When it's done, he reaches over and simply claps a hand on Ian's shoulder and gives him a gentle shake. "Well, that is just all fucked up, bro," he says sympathetically. He looks from Claire to Ian, to Claire, and some lights turn on. "Fucking /life/, dude."

There was a time, not all that long ago, when Sunday told Ian what she thought about the non-'thing' between him and Claire. She told him - be careful. If you care for her, then care for her and don't jerk her around. But if you don't.. She tried to stress that he should make it /extremely/ clear. He should let her know in absolutely certain terms that they would not be more than friends. Anything less, she said, was cruel. He said he'd remember. He'd think about it. She figured eventually he'd discover feelings for Claire and want to persue them, or he'd drop the hammer as softly as a person can. This, though… is not quite what Sunday has expected.
Sunday is stunned to silence as Ian begins, explaining things to the group of them, to Claire specifically, that she had no idea about. She figured his wounds seemed a bit familiar to her, probably some old girlfriend troubles, but this.. This is so much more. Her heart breaks for her friend as he pours out his own, laid bare on the table.. and then cracks a little more at Claire's pained reply. She wants to reach out and take Claire's hand, be sympathetic to her pain, but somehow thinks now is not the time. Now, it might break that fragile balance she knows the goth girl is keeping up, and she doesn't want to cause any more pain. Jerry speaks, and Sunday fixes her eyes on the young man.. "Yeah." … They should just pay somebody to buy them liquor.

Linus is relaxed until it's clear that Ian is bringing up something serious, and he listens. Throughout the explanation, the new guy doesn't say a word, but his face says volumes. He goes from piqued, head tilting confusion when Ian mentions being unclaimed, to head reclining identificaiton and dread over thoughts of a dead twin sister, and especially that mismatch of affection. As discussion turns to the rest, his eyes turn towards the room in general. He looks uncomfortable, like he wants to get out and do something, but doesn't know what. And then he turns towards Claire and turns pale. He frowns at her, perhaps having a view of both kids that he has no right to, given the time he's known them, but from what he's observed with Claire's powers, he seems to know enough to have some understanding of what's just happened, here. He frowns sympathetically, and says nothing at all.

There's a long heavy breath, and SToker leans his head back, feeling Jerry's hand on his shoulder. This was not how he had been planning this evening. Not the fight with Sasha, nor … this. He figured eventually, when it had to be known, he would let slip a bit more about the past. The real life part. The Beast? That was some horrible nightmare - a piece of fiction that just so happened to become real. The part before though? That was a waking nightmare that would never quite go away, only dull with time. He hoped. The last thing he possibly wanted to do was to hurt Claire, or anyone. He liked her genuinely, as a friend. And occasionally, especially with those goth outfits… But no, it wasn't right in many ways. He was used before, and hard. He wasn't going to use anyone ever.
"But you're so good at it, brother." Emily whispered into his ear, the whisp wrapping about his body. "You are something else, and the longer you cling, the more you will hurt. He who makes a Beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man."
Itwasn'treal.Itwasn'treal.ItWasn'tReal. Ian's eyes suddenly snap open and his lifts his head up, breath caught within his breath as he feels the barriers begin to crack again. That itching under the skin becomming more and more painful… burgeoning. Stretching. Threatening to consume him and leave nothing but Noir. Really though? Would that be so bad? To hide from the shame of the evening for a few hours … a few days… a few eternities as a monster. Yes. Ian decided. Because then he would be a thing that he could never stomach: A coward. If he was to break a girl's heart, he would stand there and watch every piece fall to the floor. Only then would he be marginally worthy to help pick them up. If she would dare.
So he sits up, and forces himself to look at each of these people - the first things he could call truly friends since his sister. Forcing himself to look each in the eye. "I suppose that's too much information. But I won't lie to you guys when it matters…. and I'll do my damndest not to hurt when it isn't impossible. Though god." Both hands come over face, before moving up to scalp to pull hair back. "I sound like a fucking asshole." He lets out one more breath. "So yeah, if anyone feels the need to nut-punch me or something. Feel free."

Jerry's hand claps Ian on the shoulder one more time, the universal Dude It's OK In A Manly Way clap, and snorts at this pronouncement. "You're my bro, dude. No-one's gonna punch you." He slowly returns to his sundae which is now more properly a hot fudge milkshake, and he stirs it, then drinks it down. "It's cool."

Claire slides the pale plastic spoon into her rapidly melting ice cream and collects another dollop before slides it into her mouth, never bothering to lift her head. A little bit dribbles down the front of her top, not that she notices, before she slides the spoon back into the ice cream and takes a deep, slighty shuddering, breath. Pushing her chair out from the table, the dark-clad teen walks past Ian and reaches out to lay a hand on his other shoulder. She leans down and almost hisses, "Thank You," into his ear. Rising once more, she lets her hand slide off and hang limply at her side before she moves on, heading for the door with slow, deliberate, plodding steps, never bothering to look up. "I have to go study some more. I shouldn't waste time anymore." Her voice, aside from that sibilant whisper, never altering from a flat, lifeless monotone. Her hair hangs in her face, making her entire expression unreadable.

Sunday continues to watch in silence while Ian speaks again, and then Claire gets up looking as if she's just been hit by a train of emotion. Probably not far from the truth, really.. As Claire speaks, however briefly, to Ian, Sunday turns her eyes to Linus, offering a slight, apologetic smile. Didn't mean to pull you in for watching dramatic things go down. Still.. maybe it had to happen eventually. Turning to look at Claire's back as the girl walks away, Sunday feels the urge to go after her but thinks now is probably a bad time. Maybe Claire will seek out another friend, someone who can be really totally on her side. Call Ian a dick and everything! Sunday.. just can't do that. … And as the thought hits her that a guilty Ian might try to go fix what he's broken, she quiet secretly freezes his shoes to the floor. He'll only do more damage.

Linus gets a bizarre glint in his eyes as he observes all of this. He watches Ian as the others move to give him support. If anyone were watching Linus, they'd see something lonely in his face, especially in his eyes, but it's not his own loneliness. It's a projected sort of lonely. Like he's feeling for others. And then he does something incredibly, uncannily stupid. Sunday will probably recognize it as the very thing that got him into this school in the first place, which only makes it even dumber.
Linus Young, either because he thinks he's a hero or because he thinks he must, takes a confident step forward, extends his hand, and touches Ian Stoker on the forehead.
Linus' eyes widen. He chokes, stumbling backwards, falling onto a chair which he then clatters to the floor. For a second he looks incredibly, incredibly dangerous. His eyes turn towards Ian and they're hungry, murderous eyes. Eyes that kill because they want to. He looks horrified right after. Horrified and confused, as though his vision must be doubling over or tripling over. He turns towards Claire, and then to Jerry. And then towards Sunday. And then he closes his eyes and curls into a fetal ball. This, it seems, was a mistake.

Jerry starts to stop Linus, but he's just too late. What.. ? Then he watches Linus' reaction, looks to Ian, looks to Linus and shakes his head. "Goddamn, yeah, you're a drummer alright; never met one that wasn't half-damn crazy." He stands and moves to Ian's side, purple energy flickering around his hands, covering them like boxing gloves almost. "He tries anything at all.." he says to the others.

Ian looks up to Jerry as he offers his support, and a small smile creeps up on the young man's features. It's a bit forced, perhaps, but it was small things. "Tell you guys what. Next time, the ice cream is on me. And I'll include the drinks." Yeah, there was a bad need to consume alcohol, regardless of their ages. And with that scruff Ian called stubble, he might get away with a fake ID! The thought lasts only as long as it takes for Claire to whisper into his ears. Whatever it is, he'll never say. Though his pupil's dilate for a moment, his eyes glint again. And then his expression turns neutral. Forced into something else as he works on quelling inner demons that…
There's a tingle in Ian's spine that works his way into his body. And then he looks up, eyes wide as he realizes the implication of every nuance of that touch. "Linus," he murmurs, voice low. Soothing. Why? It was certainly partially to do with the voice chanting in his ear:
He's going to kill them! He's going to kill them!, in tiny sing song. "Listen to me and keep your cool. Think of a cell. No think of a box. A chest. Keep every negative emotion your feeling there. Don't listen to it, because all it wants to do is get free. And if it gets free, it'll hurt a lot of people."
To the others he murmurs, keeping his voice low. "If necissary, use a lot of force. A lot. He'll heal, and fast." And then his eyes are back on Linus, not trying to sound soothing. No, the Beast would only get angered by that. "You're in a test of wills with something very very bad. A good drummer can kick that thing's ass. I think you got the chops man."

Claire will never thank Linus for providing a distraction. She reaches the door and exists, leaning hard against them as she does so. Finally away from the gaze of her friends, she lets her tears fly and runs for her room.

Oh. Crap. Sunday see's Linus too late, even melts the seal she put on Ian's boots in the hope that he'll just jerk and fall back out of reach.. but it's too late. What is done is done, and Sunday is on her feet in a second. What the hell did he do that for?! She takes two quick steps towards Linus on the floor before hearing Ian's voice, trying to talk the boy through it, and pauses.. Right now, she is genuinely conflicted. She could just grab hold of Linus and end this all right now. He would be fine with her powers - he's had them twice now. But.. maybe he needs this. Maybe he needs to just get through it. In the end, Sunday splits the different - as Ian speaks, his warnings to her and Jerry are ignored by the blonde girl, who takes a few bold steps towards Linus.. but doesn't touch him. "I'm here, Linus," she tells him in a gentle tone, but doesn't touch him. It's up to Linus if he wants to take the quick exit. Is she afraid of what he'll do with Ian's powers..? .. Apparently not! The girl is the picture of calm, but watchfulness. Just because she trusts him doesn't mean she believes he can keep himself under control.

Jerry watches Linus like a hawk, fists at his sides, encased in zero-point energy that boils and seethes with restrained power, capable of pushing a loaded Semi right now. He keeps quiet, seeing how well Linus follows Ian's instructions, stepping slightly ahead of Ian and ready to move if needed.

Linus huddles on the ground like a dense lump of emotional trauma and suffering, distilled down to its barest components. Ian's words hardly fall on deaf ears, but he doesn't show much of a reaction to anything at all, hugging himself and rocking back and forth. He grits his teeth like what he really wants is to tear into something. Anything. Like he'd relish nothing more than the sensation of blood oozing through his fingers, hot and sticky sweet and reeking of iron. He opens his eyes very slowly, and the pupils are dilated, though they shoot directly for Ian's. He trembles in place and whispers, "It would be so…. easy."

Jerry shakes his head. "Nah, it really fuckin' wouldn't be…" he says to the Lump of Linus there on the ground.

Ian notes Sunday. Well, he notes everything, nostrils flairing, taking in what his eyes couldn't see. He keeps his stance easy - non -combative. It's for two reasons: 1) He didn't want to alert the others in the Student Center. Panic would only incite a further bloodlust. 2) Fighting might have been taken as a challenge, and the last thing he needed was for young Linus' new Beast to come out. Or simulcrum of the beast. "Yeah, it feels easy doesn't it? It ain't, it really ain't." Of course it's about then Jerry speaks up again. Ian gives his friend a look before turning back to Linus. "It wants you to think that. It wants you to give up the steering wheel so it can drive. And when it does, it's going to jump the curb onto the sidewalk, and mow down pedestrians until it runs facelong into the nearest wall. It doesn't care about you. It doesn't even care about itself. It's Niilhism in his purist form. It just wants to unmake. So make your walls - make your defenses. Find things worthy and quell the Beast. It cannot control you if you show it who's it's better. Stand firm and it will be quelled." For a time. It was an inevitibility and one day it would get out. For Ian. But with Linus… well. He only had to control it for awhile.

Wanting to be easier to access without being threatening or.. anything other than neutral, Sunday crouches down with feet on the floor, legs pulled up to her chest and arms around her knees, just watching.. She glances to Ian as he continues to speak and her concerned expression takes on a sort of thoughtful quality as she absorbs it.. Is this what he goes through every day? Or just at first? Or.. Who knows. Well.. Maybe Linus, now. She casts a weak smile to Jerry, greatful he's there to try and help if such help is needed, then turns her attention back to Linus. "You can do this, Linus. Just listen to Ian. I know you can handle this." Her voice is a murmur just loud enough for him to hear, calm and level, but she is trying to sound reassuring.. For all the good it may do.

Linus holds himself in place. When Jerry speaks to him, his eyes turn towards him. It's perhaps a worse sign that they turn slowly and gently, rather than sharp and suddenly. If looks could kill, we'd need an ambulance in here. Thankfully, they don't, and Linus simply stares straight ahead… not at Jerry, but through him. Through the energy coming from his body, a feat that Linus would have found shocking and amazing, well… probably about thirty seconds ago. "It's horrible." mutters he, almost choking on his own tongue. "It's just so horrible. How do you… how do you do it? The answer to everything is just pain and… death. So much pain. So much… blood."

How does he do it? "One step at a time. And lots of self medication - Music. Poetry…" Pause. "Friends. You get by, but you steel yourself. Cause giving up is just as bad as giving in. I think about the blood and how it tastes and how … excited that may make me. And I remember how horrible those things are. That I'm not that person. I have to go outside myself and see that I am not the monster." Ian leans forward a bit, letting another breath out, eyes never leaving Linus. "And when I think I can't take it anymore, I lock myself up somewhere tight. And then I let it out. And it relishes in that victory, until it realizes it can't hurt anyone, and that I've won - just by preventing him what it wants." There's another breath and then… How does he do it? "I do it any way I can. That's how you do it. You figure out what works, what keeps you marching. Because failure is not an option. Giving up is not an option. And I try to remember that I'm not the beast. You're not the beast. We're humans. Remind the beast that." And then there's a slightlly cruel smirk to Stoker's face as he murmurs the next words. "And then kick it in the nuts, and tell it to heel. As big and as bad as it is, nothing can stand up to that."

The pain in Linus's voice shoots straight to Sunday's center, and when he looks up at Jerry, she feels her body tensed and ready to pounce. As if she'd be able to do anything if Linus shifted.. But she'd try. Freeze his fur or something! Ian and he continue to talk, and Sunday may remain silent but inside her brain, it's deafening. Thoughts are racing, doubts, fears that every second delayed is a second too long.. until finally, she just can't take it anymore. She can't just sit here and not do anything when he doesn't seem to be getting it under wraps himself. So finally, Sunday rocks forward onto her knees and reaches out with her bare hand, intent on touching fingertips to Linus's cheek and passing on a powerset he's better equipped to deal with. At least until he can switch it all off again. "I'm sorry, I just don't think this is a good idea right now." She knows it's better if he does it himself, but.. but.. he's so distressed! She can't watch that anymore.

"I can…." Linus closes his eyes. "I can. It's so horrible. I couldn't…" His form is controlled and careful, as though he realized any sudden moves would be… not dangerous, but unpredictable. For him. When Sunday touches his cheek, she will not feel a tingle on her tailbone like last time. Linus doesn't appear any less conflicted and dangerous, either.

Sunday is initially a bit shocked when nothing happens, having expected the effect to be instantaneous. For a second she recoils, just a little, before her face becomes a mask of determination (ut oh) and she leans in to try and take hold of his face with both hands now, one at each cheek. "Linus!" she calls, wanting his attention, wanting him to /focus/. "Linus, come back! You /can/ do this!" Probably not the smartest thing she's ever done, if it doesn't work again…

The disturbance Sunday causes is… bad. He turns slowly towards her, in that dangerous, 'would-be-better-if-you-were-sudden' way. She has his attention… and someone else's attention, too. And then she touches his face. This time, there's joy. Sort of. Actually, a floor tile under Linus' hand freezes blue, and then cracks dangerously, spitting pieces out a few feet in each direction. The boy lays on the ground, emotionally drained, but alone in his head, once more. He exhales, not seeming to care about the exploded tile or much of anything else.

"You would be surprised what you're capable of. It feeds of your doubts, your weakness. But there is more to you than that. If it truly had the power, you'd be nothing but the husk. Think about that. The monster wants you to give control because it cannot take it itself. because you are stronger than it!" Ians voice remains strong, resolute, as his fist curls into balls. He can feel nails lengthen and dig into his palms, cutting them open before flesh reknits. He's about to say something else when Sunday touches him… and again. And for a moment, it doesn't seem like it will work. And then there's a moment's cold and a shatter and… Ian lets out a breath of relief, hands opening up again as Linus relaxed. He knew the inner turmoil of the Beast but seeing it on someone else? It brought a long pause to Stoker. Tonight, more than any other would mean reflection for the young man. Looking up, he murmurs: "You alright?" To Sunday. He then stands, walking to Linus to check on him. Mind, still far enough to prevent skin contact. He wasn't sure any of them were capable of that again.

Sunday lets Linus slip from her grasp as the poor boy collapses, then looks up to Ian and nods, heaving a great sigh. "Yeah. I'm okay. You?" She waits for his answer before looking back to Linus, then reaching out to put a hand on the boy's back, frowning softly. "That was really stupid, you know," she murmurs, but without the chastizing edge that she knows he doesn't need. It is doubtful that she's saying anything he isn't already thinking. She wants to ask why it didn't work at first.. That unnerved her greatly. But she doesn't suppose even Linus really knows, and will save her questions for when he's recovered. Instead, Sunday takes hold of the boy's arm and tries to help him to his feet, if he is at all steady enough for it. "How do you feel?"

Linus isn't looking at Ian, so he's free to assume he's the one Ian's asking about. "I've been better. I think I… had it. But I don't want it." When Sunday touches his neck, she'll find him cool to the touch. He slowly rises to his feet with Sunday's help. Every muscle is twitching, and there's bits of frozen floor tile embedded in his palm.. another 'not the smartest thing' activity for the day. He responds to her as honestly as he can: "Like an imbecile." He looks towards Ian with a certain understanding that probably wouldn't have been possible moments before.

Was Ian okay? "At some point in the future I'll be," Ian responds honestly, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. He was just tired after all that. The triple play of Sasha, Claire and now the Beast trying to jump bodies. It just brought home just how things could go from alright, to very much not within the blink of the eye. "I think it's probably best that I exist stage left for the moment. Before people get the wrong idea about this situation. You got this, right Blondie?" Upon confirmation, he pauses looking at Linus, before giving a nod. More respect. The boy was crazy, but there was something to him. "If it helps any, I don't want it either." And with that, Stoker begins to walk towards the exit, and his room in Rider. There were rumors, here at campus, that his room was padded. The honest answer? It was. He knew one thing. Either he'd make use of that tonight, or he would sleep like the dead well into, and possibly beyond first period.

It seems to be the night for gaining a higher understanding of the man known as Ian Stoker. Sunday certainly feels like she's learned a lot more about him tonight than she has in the total of the weeks they've known each other. Not the way she wanted to find it out, though.. But this is the way it is, and that can't be helped or taken back. Linus replies honestly to her question and Sunday offers a sympathetic smile, patting gently at his shoulder. "Gotta work on that impulse thing." When Ian speaks as if to leave, Sunday nods. "Yeah, I got this." She's about to give their traditional peace-sign/hand-wave goodbye, but… at the moment, it just seems inadequet. So instead, impulsively, Sunday steps forward to Ian and gives him a firm hug, just for a few seconds. Nothing.. long and weird or anything. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" As she steps back to Linus, Sunny does wave to the departing wolf-boy, then turns to the present former wolf-boy. Noting his temperature, she starts to heat him up gently. "Cool with me taking you back to your dorm?"

Linus is wobbly and would probably get there just fine on his own… after an hour or two. He nods back to Ian, and then turns towards Sunday. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm cool. I never really unpacked, though. I hope you like boxes." His teeth chatter, and it's not likely to be clear if it's a temperature thing or a nerves thing. He just went a few rounds with somethiung pretty nasty. "Remind me not to shake that man's hand unless he does something really, really, really cool."

Taking Linus's arm, Sunday actually giggles softly and nods her head. "Don't worry, I'll remind you. At least unless you've got gloves on." Or Ian does. Either way. Providing as much support as he needs, Sunday begins to lead Linus away from the table, the broken tile, and the general mess they've all made in the student center, to head for Taylor. "As it just so happens, I'm a huge fan of boxes of all kinds. Little known Sunday Knight fact. On a Sunday Night." You can groan now, it's okay.

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