Green Pizza and Werewolves

Log Info

Title: Green Pizza and Werewolves
Emitter: None
Characters: Sunday, Claire Hastings, Ian, and Alia.
NPCs: None
Place: Rider commons
Time: May 11, 2010
Summary: Claire brings environmentally conscious pizza to Rider, Alia gets an education in the dirty ways of humanity, and Ian gets oogled.

( Common Area - Rider Hall - Steranko Institute )

This is the common area of Rider Hall. The floor is a neutral beige carpet with a very short pile, and the walls are painted off-white. There are a pair of beige couches with red throw pillows clustered around a large screen TV with DVD player. There is a kitchentte off to the east, opposite the entrance, the floor there tiled in off white. A white board attached to the fridge lets people post notes to each other, usually warnings to keep their hands off other students food. A wooden table with mis-matched kitchen chairs is used for meals and studying. The men's bathroom is to the North, while the women's bathroom is to the south.

Night falls over the campus of the Institute, bringing with the end of normal classes and time for the student body to take care of their other needs like food, laundry, exercise and studying. Inside of Rider Hall, the main door opens up and Claire wanders in, carrying a small stack of pizza boxes, a plastic bag loaded down with three two litre bottles emblazoned with the name 'Giordano's Pizza' slung over her shoulder. She places the boxes down on the table in the center and slides the bag off her shoulder to join the pizza. "Hey guys," She calls out, "Dinnertime. I went and got pizza." She just really hopes the three she picked out make everyone happy. One is Three Cheese for the boring folks, one is Pineapple and Canadian Bacon for the weirdos and the last one is a Supreme. All are on hand-tossed crust. She clomps to one of the cupboard in her platform heels and grabs a stack of plastic cups.

Seated on the couch near the TV, watching whatever brain-rot happens to be on at the moment, Sunday Knight was just relaxing with some mindless entertainment as reward for getting her homework done early, when the sirens call of pizza is heard. The bleached-blonde blue-eyed and befreckled teen arches a brow and stretches to look over the back of the couch, neck craning to see… holy crap. It's true! Some kid brought /pizza/! It doesn't matter that she's an organics farm-fresh health-food nut - it's PIZZA! And as a teen, she must love it. So Sunny pulls herself up off the couch and patters over, converse sneakers clapping on the short-pile carpet. ".. Did you say pizza? … You just got pizza for the hall?" A pause is followed by her fushcia lips curling into a grin. "Hi, I'm Sunday, and I like you already."

Alia walks in shortly after Claire arrives, glancing back and forth with a curious expression. She then smiles a little when she sees Claire with the p'isa, waving to her, "I wasn't sure when you wanted me here. I guess I timed that just about perfectly." She walks in, giving a curious look to Sunday but not saying anything else before glancing over at Claire, "What flavors?"

"o/~ I've drowned my conscience and cast another stone. I took to preaching while dancing on the coals. I can't say where I've been, and god knows where I'll be. But there must be a place for a wretch like me… o/~" Laundry was Stoker's poison tonight, as evidenced by his attire of merely a wifebeater, rarely seen black eye glasses, sweat pants rolled up just under knee, a black sock and a white sock. Oh, and dollar store flip flops. Apparently the entirety of his clothings were being balanced about his arms, precariously overflowing from a jumbo sized hamper. His voice preceeds him on the evening, and it is moments later that his visage can be seen, equal parts walking and stumbling down the hall. A pair of oversized studio headphones deaden sound, and Stoker seemed to feel comfortable enough in his masculinity to sing to his hearts content as he walked to the laundry room. Well part way there, before he pauses, doing three fourths of an about face, and walking towards the lingering smells of Pizza. Oh sure, being Emo and a resident Wolf, he probably should be feasting upon the sorrow that is his blackened soul, but he's found that pizza tended to be an equal substitute. He also seems to be the last to arrive, meaning that somewhere along his own Wanderlust, he forgot the power of the dough to youths his age. "Say that this is a free for all," Ian begins, laundry hamper being set down haphazardly. "And I can have a slice or three, and I'll marry you. All three."
And yes, that's his way of greeting.

Claire spreads the three extra large boxes over the surface of the table and pops the tops on each open, revealing the lovely pies inside. "Yes, I bought Pizza. Figured I'd do something for my new Dorm-mates." Smiling to Sunday, she offers a mesh-gloved hand, "I'm Claire. Nice to meet you. Feel free to take as much as you want." Then Alia arrives, making Claire grin a bit more, "Hey Sporty Space," yeah she's making a really dated reference, "I got Cheese, three cheese that is, some Hawaiian special for those in a more tropical mood and the old standby, Supreme. I love this pizza place because it only uses locally grown veggies and uses free-range, grass fed beef to make it's meats… well, aside from the ham. That's pig and I have no idea if you can raise pigs in a green way. Huh… if you can I guess that makes it Green Ham." Of course, then there is the sound of Ian and a tiny bit of color rises in the pale girl's cheeks. When he wanders in and makes his offer, Claire chuckles and shoves a cup towards him. "Good, I hope you don't mind a bride in black." Grabbing the bag of drinks, she adds, "Oh and I got drinks. We have Coke Zero for people like me who hate calories, Dr. Pepper and Regular Coke."

Aaahhh Alia. Sunday spots her a little after speaking to Claire, and when she's fully ignored by the teen, it sets in her mind the idea that she screwed up in their earlier conversation. She may not understand why, but at least she knows what she said. "Alia, hey," she starts sheepishly, head tilting slightly to the side. "Um.. Can I just say how sorry I am for how things went the last time we talked? I really am, the last thing I meant to do was insult you." She looks quite sincere, mostly because she /is/. She hates making people feel bad, and didn't mean to upset the resident alien with her joking. "I apologize very much for disrespecting your culture. I swear, it won't happen again." Not quite knowing what else to say about it, Sunday offers a smile - still somewhat embarassed - to Claire, and shakes her hand. "Nice to meet you too. .. Wait, did you say.. free-range, grass-fed beef?" Sunday perks up at that, suddenly feeling MUCH better about her impending rapid pizza consumption. She excitedly pipes up, "You totally can!! Pasture-raised pigs are /so/ easy!" When Ian shows up, Sunday is so excited about the organic pizza that she /almost/ misses Claire's reaction.. but only almost. The girls blue-eyes blink once in surprise, then shift over to Ian.. and slowly, that look of eco-friendly joy melts into something a little more amused. "You dog. You only want Claire for her pizza, me for my impending super-stardom, and Alia for her-" she pauses, then shifts her gaze to Alia. ".. It's okay to say you have exotic good looks, isn't it?" God she hopes so.

Alia blinks, "Well, thank you… you did not realize that it is a bit, well, personal of a thing." She smiles over at Sunday, relaxing a bit more now at the apology, "And it is forgiven, tch… it just is hard to realize some…" She then pauses, looking over at Ian, then her cheeks get particularly dusky as Sunday complements her looks, and her smile grows a little, as she looks down a bit, "Well, yes, I suppose that's alright. But your food, it is not all this way?" She looks curiously over at Claire, "Truthfully, how is your food prepared otherwise?"

"Pizza, amoung other attributes. The Goth thing helps too." Ever one to remain dry regardless of the situation, Ian slips further in, offering a brief nod to each lady in turn before slipping up on the couch. And he seems oblivious to any looks one way or another. Like a guy. "And let's be honest, Blondie. I'd make a fabulous Show-Husband. Like Jay-Z. Except, y'know." Pause. "Whiter. And without the suave factor. Or the money. Or talent. Or…" He trails, after a moment, wry smirk slipping from his features. Why? He's listening to the appology and reply, suddenly aware that he was perhaps being a bit too cheeky in a serious moment. But that's soon alleviated, and he's standing. He allows the girls to get their food first before staking his claim, in principle a good hunk of cheese, and an equal share of the Hawaii'an. He was eating for two after all. The growing boy, and the growing monster. Straightening his glasses with forefinger, Ian returns to the spot at the rim of the couch before speaking up. "Let me count the ways, Ms. Alia. Chemically canned, chemically vacuum sealed, genetically altered, High fructosedly enhanced. And of course all naturally artificially flavored. Just nothing but the most wholesome stuff for us 'mericans. Our food companies are devoted to making sure we're eating the healthiest food they can possibly give us." The first bite of pizza is given, and after a few chews later, Stoker finishes up. "That they can scrunge at pennies-at-the-dollar to ensured a padded wallet."

"Well, duh blondie," Claire teases Sunday a little, "You expect me to eat that feed lot crap? I don't ever touch the products of massive aggrobiz if I can avoid it. I want to live as long as I can which is why I'm such a picky eater." Alia's question makes her smile. "Ah, Alia my friend. Allow me to cast a light on the dark nature of human food consumption and production. There are organic foods and non-organic foods. Organic foods are raised in sustainable, environmentally friendly ways that promote good business and local growers. The other kinds are raised by massive corporations more beholden to their stockholders than their consumers who don't care how many deadly pesitcides and fertilizers they use, how little they pay their farmers or how badly they treat their workers across the world. We're heroes to be y'know so the best thing to do is eat organic and promote businesses that use organics. Unless you really want to accept the tender embrace of the Reaper and dance his danse macabre to the eternal quiet of the grave." Of course, there is still Ian and he gets a great deal of her attention. "You're a bazillion times more talented than Jay-Z, God, the way you play that guitar is frankly unnerving. And yeah, I think he summed it better than I did… Americans just don't give two shits about where their food comes from for the most part, so we just eat what's presented to us like happy little livestock being lead to the sacrifice on the Altar of Manon." She grabs a slice of Supreme and shoves it into her mouth.

"Yeah, but otherwise, /exactly/ like Jay-Z." Sunday grins at Ian, shaking her head for a moment before she snags a piece of the supreme pizza for herself. Mmmm. Made more delicious by being environmentally conscious! Oh Sunny, you're SO Portland. She looks quite greatful to Alia for the forgiveness, smile a little brighter and eyes sparkling. Aahhh, happiness. "Thank you." The story of the human food system, however, she leaves to Claire and Ian. It just makes Sunday mad to think about it, and she has no desire to be mad. Oh, gracious, so it seems Blondie might be a 'thing' now. But Claire's repetition of Ian's little nick-name just makes Sunday giggle a little, happy to be a step away from the Weekend references for a change. "Forget Ian, Claire. Marry /me/! .. But you know, most organic foods these days /are/ made by the big food companies. It's amazing what you can get away with and still be called organic by the government. Best to just shop local. Oh! I found this /amazing/ farmers market in town - we should definitely go this weekend!" Ahh, new friends!! It is kind of funny how easily Sunday is opening to the concept lately. SHe felt so shy at first here, but the more she realizes the people here - here included - are really just as normal as anyone else, just with a little something extra.. it makes it easier. It's also nice to not talk about powers for a change, and the blissful simpleness of it is making her positively /bubbly/. As she follows the conversation between Claire and Ian, though, her grin becomes a tad more knowing. A /bazillion/, huh? Her eyes shift over to Ian, but Sunday says nothing, instead taking a bite of her pizza.

Alia blinks, "But that's… that's terrible! I mean, I still am waiting for the capital trial for the villains that polluted your Gulf of Meks'co!" She is really naive, at least on certain things, "Then someone said that there might be just a fine. Which just is woefully inadequate to say the very least!" She is indignant enough that she forgets the fact that Ian is rather cute, at least to her, as she grabs one slice of the Supreme, as well as a regular Coke, "It just seems very backwards, at least to me, insofar as the treatment of real crimes is concerned." She tches again, clucking her tongue as she shakes her head, suddenly looking very very sad, "Of course, those were hard lessons we had to learn, but it would be good to spare you the same, I think." Unlike the other two, she doesn't really offer any marriage proposals to Ian, but she does give him a bit of a shy grin now and again.

Once again straight faced. The man had a better Poker Face than Lady Gaga and Jesus Ferguson combined. "I wouldn't say even a half on a good day. Anyway, Claire, you should hear Sunday here play. She's got the whole star thing down." The only thing he might have on her is on the keyboard, or perhaps the fact he had a bit more of an ear for the Southern Rock. And perhaps the whole Werewolf motif, but that was neither here nor there. "Which reminds me, Sunday - Talked to a kid named Jerry earlier. Apparently he's into the strings too and is jonesning for a right and proper band. Something not the typical marching sort. He seemed cool." Pause. "And don't make me pull out the dueling pistols - or dueling banjos by tryin' to steal my brides from right under me." He puts up a warning finger and waggles it, expression neutral the entire time as if he were deathly serious. There's another bite of the food - And seemingly an entire slice is gone without him looking at all sloven. At least any more so than another teen his age. Eyeglasses are adjusted for a second time that night before Reb turns his attention to Alia, and her expression. "Fine's if there's any luck with the world. A Pittance will be best. Something that will be a normal outing to the golf course for them. But that's the way of here. Man likes a few things here. He likes to feel himself safe, and likes to feel himself superior. And likes not to do a lot while gaining as much of the later is possible. So." He shrugs, frowning. "Ain't gonna fix a system that people dun want fixed. It makes people's lives easier to not think about things. Not that I blame folks. It kinda sucks to have to think about the bad things." His eyes go distant a moment before he shakes out of it, light grin planting on his features. "There isn't half bad parts about it though. 'merican," And yes, he said 'Merican with a deep gravelly southern accent to emphasize the point. "Ingenuity brings us this wonderful piece of orgasm called the pizza." And for once, he is being honest. He finds the American version way better than it's Italian counter part.

Looking between Ian and Sunday, Claire grins lopsidedly. "Sorry, I'll marry Ian but if you want, you can be my Mistress. I'll keep you in a nice little comdo on Palm Beach and visit you when I am on business trips. Deal?" Then there's the things Alia doesn't understand about human society. "Hey Alia, according to the way things work here, what happened was an accident. It was a stupid accident but these things sometimes happen. There was a really moronic law passed… um, sometime back I don't know, that said that they could only have to pay damages up to 75 million for oil spills. They still have to pay for all the cleanup but for the most part, this isn't, according to the laws of this country, an actual crime. Sure it might be a crime against the Earth and all but it's not like we can just go punch BP in the face, haul it off to jail and call it a day. Though, it would be kind of fun… It boils down to the basic unfairness of the way humans operate. The rich get rich and do shitty things and the poor have to live with them." Still, she has other things to worry about as she pours some Coke Zero into a cup to wash down her pizza slice. "God, I totally forgot you mentioned the band thing the other day. So this is your Frontlady." She looks Sunday over in a new light, "Yeah, she seems to fit the type. I can see her as a much younger Debbie Harry or Belinda Carlyle. She's got the look." She takes another bite of her own pizza and her attention shifts over to Ian again, as it always seems to do when not directly speaking to someone else.

"Awesome! Let's get the band back together!" Sunday's grin goes wide and tooth-ridden at the very idea of it, then vanishes just as quickly. "Oh, crap. We need a drummer!" Can't have a band with just three guitars, after all. When Ian accuses her of stealing, Sunday's expression becomes the picture of innocense - fake innocense, that is. Exaggerated for your comedic pleasure! "Moi? Never, Ian! Wouldn't /dream/ of deminishing your harem." She giggles at Claire and bounces in place excitedly. "Oh! Oh! Will you get me expensive jewelry too??" Sunday's further laughter is muffled by the pizza she munches on a moment later, eyes glittering. "Mmm. Environmentally responsible pizza.." Yeah, still saying out of all the other talk. Sunday is the kind of girl who cries at footage of large dairy farms with cows standing three-feet in sewage. It's really for the best that she not engage in this conversation of attempting to explain to an outsider how her kin are wrecking their planet. Then the conversation goes back to music, and Sunday's eyes get a litter wider at the idea of being a Front-woman. "Huh?? Oh, no! I mean, we're not /actually/ in a band. And anyways, Ian's only ever heard me play lame stuff and /never/ sing. He has no idea what he's talking about. I'm really not that good." A pause, and then she adds, "Also, no disrepect to Go-Go's or Blondie, but.. not exactly my style." Munchamunchamuncha chewchewchew.

Alia looks at the other three, then shrugs a bit, "It makes me wish I had some musical talent, honestly. Aside from my dance lessons here…" She smiles a little, "Oh, I should try to avoid getting on the soapcrate. It really isn't something people are used to hearing, I suppose." A slight pause, "Drums? You mean, percussion?"

"Not even to the nuptial's yet and you're already arranging a mistress? I see how it is, Gothling." Yes, if Sunday has Blondie, Claire is now dubbed Gothling. "I'm running away with 'lia right here. We'll honeymoon on the Rings of Saturn. I heard they're nice this time of year." He waggles his fingers too, before shaking his head at the continued talk of the environment. He was fair weather at best. And probably just as guilty of having bad practices when it came to the environment and food than most other Americans. He also happened to be a cynic. That gave him a right to be slightly hypocritical right? So he is content to let the talks of such trail away, instead focusing on talks of the band. As for singing? "I've heard you hum once or twice. I got good ears. And you really expect me to Front? Talk about a walking stereotype. Next thing you'll say is I should…" And with his non-pizza-greased hand, he shakes his hair in front of him, and parts it just enough to do a quick replica of the Emo band look that was so popular these days. It really only reminded him that he was in dire need of a new haircut. "Or are we talking Rocky Horro guyliner and black nail polish? Nah, I figure if we do the band thing, I'll stick to rhythm guits - or bass, and just do the occasion dirty vocals." Oh yeah, he never got the chance to scream in front of a crowd before. As to Alia, Ian nods his head lightly. "Percussion, yeah. Corner stone of any good band. They're the time keeper after all."

Claire just kind of hangs back as the talk shifts to band stuff. She's not able to contribute there at all being about as musically talented as Ringo Starr's second cousin's roommate. She loves the music, she just can't play it. Of course, she pictures Ian in black nails polish and just smirks, it so wouldn't fit him, even if her own nails are black as fresh oil and just as shiny to boot. Biting her bottom lip a little, she does something Sasha suggested the other night and while Ian talks, she concentrates and takes the tiniest, littlest, peak inside his mind. She's going to hate herself for it later but she's just so damned curious.

Alia hmms, "Well, I might be willing to at least give it a try. I believe it wouldn't be too different from keeping time with the music when I dance, once I learn the particulars." She shrugs a bit, another blush lightly touching her cheeks as she says, as an aside, "Actually, the rings of Saturn are rather dull and static… a close orbit around Io, by Jupiter… now there is some good scenery. Tempestuous." She gives Ian a smile at that, then blushes, "But, actually, right now I just realized, I need to go do a few things before bed." A quick glance is giving to Claire, "Thank you so much for the p'isa!" With that, she waves and hustles out, moving at a surprisingly brisk pace.

"OH! Oh! /Guyliner/!" Sunday squeels, bouncing a few more times in place like a child in anticipation of a new toy. "And.. and.." Oh, don't do it, Sunday! Don't do it!! …. Okaygoahead. "GLITTER!" Through her mad cackling laughter, Sunday manages to get out "We'll have you sparkling yet!" Trying to compose herself from the thought of poor Ian, all decked out in Jared Leto-esque gear and covered in sparkly shiny glitter, nods her head a few times at Alia's question. "Right, what he said. Drums are /essential/. And the one thing I can't play." Oh, bliss! What if they COULD find a drummer? They could have a real band! Sunday resolves then to put ads up around the school looking for someone who can play. Even if they can just keep time! Drums may be essential, but a really GOOD drummer is not. Certainly not for a pass-the-time band. She does calm down and just smile a bit, looking the tiniest bit embarassed, as Ian compliments the singing he has not yet fully heard. "Well, we'll see. I've only ever done back-up before, so.. Maybe this Jerry guy can sing?" Yeah, she's not at all one to toot her own horn. Probably to the point that some might find it a bit annoying, but hey, none of them know she /can/ actually sing very well. Sunday has just had it too well ground into her head that she's not that good. A pleasant left-over from her former boyfriend. A side-long glance is given to Alia as the girl starts to blush and run away, and Sun can't help but grin a bit as she waves. "Bye Alia!" And then she's looking at Ian, smirking just a little. Lady-killer.

Glitter? GLITTER?! Oh you're such a dead woman, Sunday Insertname-Ian-Hasn't-Heard-Yet Knight! Stoker even faux growls at the prospect, though it's a fleeting one quickly followed by an eyeroll. The departing Alia gets a salute and a ghost of a smile - probably the closest to the real thing Ian ever gave out- before focusing again on the other two girls. "Don't know about Jerry honestly. It was a passing thing. He has the 'tude though, so who knows." He shrugs. Unlike Sunday, the prospect of a new band wasn't met with super enthusiasm. Oh, he was curious, but the last time he had been part of the real thing was when his sister was alive. And somehow, a new band felt slightly like a tarnish to her legacy. She would have liked this school, he realized. Though he knew that had she been about, life would have gone a very, very different way. Possibly not even being in this situation at all. He shook his head though. He wasn't going to think such thoughts. The bad things weren't worth dwelling on. They only brought well… bad things. "We should seek him out though and corner him. See if we can get anything approaching legitimacy as opposed to just vicious rumors and talks about what might be."
Give in why don't you little boy They all look at you with hunger in their eyes and it wouldn't hurt merely to indulge in it show them a good time is that such a bad thing to have? You try so hard to restrain just give in a little The words are gossemer, threadbare to the point that Claire might later convince herself that it hadn't been heard at all. They were of Ian's voice, but very differen't. Hollow and mocking and gone before it was rightly there. What was left was surface thoughts well guarded. The Boy was at guard. And we're not talking standard guard around a telepath. No, if Claire had done this before she might see that - the minds eye that was constantly shifting, as if anticipating entry from all around. No, Stoker's guard was turned inward, like a Beefeater standing a silent vigil in front of a prison gate - muscles taut for an inevitable escape. It was the forefront, in even the briefest of glimpses. That, and the words 'Sister'. And 'Maggie'. The later was a dark cloud, sending little lightning pricks on the guard every time there was any emphasis on it.
And then there were some juicy bits. The parts that couldn't be hidden by someone as untrained as he. Pizza, and guitars and drummers. And crazy talented blondie girls and their knowing looks, and disconcerting environmentalist blushing aliens, and cute little gothlings who were just a bit too enthusiastic in their support to be subtle. And little hints of something else. He noticed the little looks and blushes. But the poker face remained. Why? It was how he was. Plus, he couldn't prove anything yet.
"..So does anyone mind me stealing another piece?" Yeah, he was talking. And about food nonetheless. "Gotta fill the inner wolf, or he complains." Nah, he's given up hiding the Werewolf part of him. Not around those that knew anyway.

All the color drains from Claire's face as she nods. "Yeah, go ahead, have another piece. I bough it for everyone." She shudders involuntarily and swallows once, taking a big gulp from her cup and then refilling it. She grabs another slice and begins to eat, trying to keep up with the actual conversation as opposed to the things she's seen. "Um… Jerry? Yeah, he's pretty cool. He took me out on the town the other day, just to show me around. I had no idea he was musical though." She looks at Ian strangely, then shifts to Sunday and focuses on her. "And don't worry about the pizza, I bought three extra larges so wolf down…" she blanches, "I mean eat as much as you like. Gods know I'm not eating more than a couple slices."

Polishing off her own slice of pizza, Sunday continues to watch the exchange as she mulls over the details of what must be done to make the band a reality. Must corner Jerry, yes, this statement is met with a firm nod while she gnaws on the crust of her slice. Must find a drummer. Must converse and discover the tone of the music! Something everyone will be comfortable playing. Do they want to play for fun, or in public, or maybe try to get gigs in town, or or or.. Hey.. What's wrong with Claire? Swallowing the last bit of what was in her mouth, now done with her piece of pizza, Sunday momentarily looks to Ian and shakes her head with a little smile. No, she doesn't mind. Looking back to Claire, her brow furrows delicately, trying her best not to look concerned despite the fact that she /is/. She doesn't want to draw undue attention to Claire, if the girl doesn't want her moment of feint to be noticed. For Claire alone the room gets just a tiny bit warmer, Sunday's effort to steady the girl, and when Ian passes to grab another slice she mouths the words 'You okay?'

Eyes slide to Claire for just a moment, and Stoker's brow quirks at the 'wolf down' comment. Faux paus? Nah, but he wouldn't be Ian if he didn't at least acknowledge the statement as if it were. But it's soon forgotten as he turns about, back to the girls as he prepares himself another plate of food, this time with a glass of soda. It's more than enough to pass along a number of silent messages. "I met the dude over at the coffe shop. Actually it was on the same day I met Voyeur over here, and Alia. Not exactly an expert on brew, but it's a nice spot. Seems to be less popular than the burger joints or the mall. Might be trying to get more integrated within the Freak Show, but I'm not sure I'm up to being /that/ social." He shakes his hair out again, half doing the emo impersenation again, murmuring: "Did you see that My Chemical Romance show last night. It spoke to my soul." It's gone again a moment later, slicked back to the haphazard state it was in moments before. "Seems to be too much effort." He might have noticed the white-as-sheets look, but had chosen again not to notice it. If she wasn't wanting to speak about it, he wasn't going to push anyone out of there comfort zone. Little to know, he might have done just that. "Also made plans to sneak into a club sometime. You in, Sunday? I bet I can even scrounge you a fake ID with a good glamour shot. Or do you already have one. With that demeanor, I bet you're all sorts of trouble maker disguised as indie-chic."

Claire notices the sudden spike of warmth and looks over to Sunday, figuring this is her doing, just in time to catch the mouthed question. She nods jerkily and swallows, forcing a smile before mouthing, "I'll be fine." Of course, then Ian is back and she tries to ignore the comingling confusion and curiosity warring inside of her. Perhaps this time discretion is the better part of valor, even if it isn't as fun. "Um," she notes to Sunday, "Voyeur is my, you know, codename." She listens to Ian and then chuckles softly. "I snuck into one of those secret rave parties down in the warehouse district the other night with Sasha, who may or may not have or is dating Jerry… it's confusing. Anyway, it's really not hard to sneak into places around here, especially with, well, what all of us can do."

"Voyeur?" Sunday arches a brow in curiousity, not quite making the connection for a moment. Wait, is that Claire's .. what do they call them, 'code name'? Well, apprently so. …. Something begins to percolate in Sunday's head, as her gaze shifts from concern to a kind of.. study. As if looking at Claire might reveal the answer to whatever silent question Sun is asking herself. Whatever it is, she remains silent on the issue. Glancing at Ian, she remarks, "You so shouldn't do that anymore. It's really scary." The tempature returns to normal gradually for Claire, not wanting to chill the girl, and she musters up a smile at the idea of rule-breaking. "Mine was confiscated. And I assure you, I'm an angel. An angel who doesn't mind sneaking into clubs, anyway. So, count me in." Back to Claire, Sunday looks to be slowly regaining her ease, perhaps having abandoned whatever thought process she was going through earlier. "Isn't it always?" Confusing, that is. "We should all give it a shot some night. But uh, no alcohol for me. My parents think I'm delinquent enough as it is."

"Already? Now I feel completely behind on the times," Ian's statement get cut off at the end bit a bite of pizza, giving him ample time to muse the conversation. Sasha is committed to memory, as is her sorta-relationship with Jerry. Associations were a good thing to have anywhere. Even in high school, or perhaps especially in high school, knowing where one person stood with another meant a great deal to how to approach them. Scary though? Ian lets out a dry laugh before shaking his head. "I hung around way too many kids back in Tallahassee like that. I guess I memorized their mannerisms a bit too well." Or perhaps he was just a bit too kindred a spirit to them. That thought though was WAY scarier than the Beast. Okay, not even remotely close, but he was a teen! Elaboration was part of life. Right, right? "Ditto on the alcohol kick. Not that I don't induldge. Just that." He makes a vague gesture. "It takes a concerted effort to get anything approaching a buzz. And half the state of Utah to get good and truly drunk I surmise. Why go through the trouble? Plus, I might get taken advantage of if I got tipsy." Lowly, he begins to hum 'Blame it on the Booze' before letting slip another ghost of a grin. "But I haven't been in club in years. And I got the meanest white-boy shuffle this side of Ar-Kansas." Then there's another long pause and and a contented exhale after his last slice is consumed. Satisfaction. "Like I said earlier - orgasm on a plate. You start missing good pizza when you're on the road. Not knowing good spots in strange towns."

Nodding at the mention of no alcohol, Claire can't help but add. "Yeah, no booze. Last time I went out I decided to be all true to form and have a bit of Absinthe… the real stuff. Man, I have never felt so bad in my entire life." She doesn't mention what happened with Sasha, that's private. "But anyway, we really need to all go out sometime as a group. Just get everyone we can, that we know, and hit the town. I can even find out where the biggest, wildest party in town is going down that night." She waggles her eyebrows, "Plus, just went shopping tonight and I can't wait to have a reason to wear my new gear!" Listening to Ian, she flushes a bit at the mention of the 'O' word, even if just in the context of awesome pizza. "Well, you know what I said about being able to see anything? I don't lie about that. I'm like the yellow pages… if they came in human form and preferred the colors black and red. The NorthEastern Bell Necronomicon." She grins wickedly at that and sits up a bit more proudly.

Absinthe?? Crap. This kid is hard-core! The most Sunday's ever had are a couple beers, and then there was that one night the boys kept putting vodka in her glass until she was stupid. "That'd be fun," she responds to Claire's idea of going out, then looks up to Ian and offers an amused, but slightly sympathetic smile. "Oh the perks and downfalls of-" Crap. Her mouth snap shut, and she looks suddenly stricken with the need to apologize. The next words are fumbled out, "Being a Werewolf." No, not what she meant to say, but she's trying really hard to keep a promise she almost tossed to the wind. Do you hate her now? her eyes seem to ask. Looking back at Claire, she listens to the girl coo about her powers and, after a moment of consideration, asks "See everything? So.. you have, like, 'remote viewing'?"

"Green Fairies have a way about them." Before being bitten, Ian had tried it with Maggie. He only remembered waking up in the shower, fully clothed with a burger king crown on head. He had shied away from the stuff since. Even now, with all the powers and regeneration of the Beast, he was leary of the stuff. "Biggest and wildest, though? If it's anything like my old high school ,those either were beer fests, or an excused for over sexed boys to try to feel up girls on any excuse." Pause. "Not that there's any problem with that mind." Whether he was serious or not would forever remain a mystery. Perhaps. "New Gear? And remind me again to lead shield my shower. And triple shield my lock box from prying eyes." He shakes his head wryly before turning towards Sunday as she fumbles out her statement. He gives a wide frown, almost as if, indeed he had been horribly insulted by her little slip. Then it levels, and a half wink is given. "She knows about the wolf part," if not the details of it. "Something about willfull ladies and their insistance of trying to find out my secrets. And really, being an expensive drunk is not that much of a downfall. Just saves the world from me trying to do Michael Jackson impersonations, or trying to flow out my love poetry. Ain't pretty, gotta tell you." The plate's set aside again, and Ian focuses on picking up the pieces of laundry that have fallen off the hamper. "So when we going to try turning the town Rider Red?"

The littlest Goth begins to clean up a bit as the pizza party seems to be winding down and leaving plenty of leftovers. "Well, give me a few days to figure out when and where the party's going to be but I'd say maybe this weekend, if we can get the gang together and maybe snag a few others. I met Stephanie today, she seems pretty cool and so does her Brother so we should get them in on this little excursion if we can. We might want to invite a few folks from other dorms. Sasha's fun at a party, if a bit wild and Jerry would be a plus, as would Alia. I really wanna see Starchild get down on the dance floor to some earth tunes." She finally adds one little thing, getting her courage up just a bit. "Oh and Ian… um, if you have some time this week, before the field trip into party town, I'd like to talk to you… you know, just us."
Claire nods to Sunday. "Exactly like Remote Viewing! Plus a few other little tricks. I can see the future, or well, what might be the future because it can be changed pretty easy and I can, when I want to, listen in on people's thoughts. But mostly I see things. Anywhere on Earth I want and even to the Moon. That's not that great 'cause there really isn't much up there aside from dust, some old space vehicles and crap but I can see onto the Space Station and that's fun to do when sitting in class, bored out of my mind."

"You've met her brother?" Sunday asks of Claire, about Stephanie. "I've only ever seen Stephanie. I know he goes here, she talked about him, I'm just never met him." Looking back to Ian, Sunday smiles a little as he covers up her mistake, reminding herself to do something to apologize later. Maybe he likes cookies. "You've seen my Jagger, someday you're gonna have to show me your Jackson. I won't make you expose the poetry, though." She giggles a bit at Claire and the idea of Alia gettin' her groove on. "That could be fun, yeah." She listens carefully as Claire explains her powers, noding once, twice, then pausing. Thoughts? .. More percolation, and when Claire gets her blush-on and asks for private time with wolf-boy, Sunday's eyes flicker over to Ian, then away, as if she was at once elsewhere, and also invading privacy.

"Only for Karaoke then," Ian offers Sunday. "And only then, Billie Jean. I think that's more than a fair exchange for the Jagger. If not, you have the number for my attorney." Ian considers adding some facitious little name like 'Harvey M. Wolfenstein' or something, but decides against it. Instead he listens quietly as Claire mentions her powers again, noting equal parts the parts he missed last time (Precognition? Now that was a dandy right there), and the expressions given to either. "Can't say I've rightly met this Stephanie and her brother. Then again I haven't met 90 of the people here so it ain't what one might consider a surprise." He's about to add something else when Claire picks her voice up a bit and asks a question. That actually brings pause, and a moment's surprise. He recovers quickly though, giving a nod. "You got it. Just let me know and I'll cut out some time." He does notice the blush again, and Sunday's quick in and out looks. And for a moment he wonders, aside from the obvious part, if there's a bit of girl body language he's completely and utterly missing. Oh, sure, the wolf gave him strength and speed, and a hundred new nuances to his since of hearing. Twice that his sense of smell, and yet he still had the same grip on the female persuasion as any other guy. Namely, well, none.

The smile that briefly alights on Claire's dark-stained lips can only be described as goofy and genuine, reaching all the way to her eyes and cheeks as they flush before she forces it all back down again. "Ok, um… how 'bou t'morrow night?" She's so flustered that she's forgotten to hide her accent once again, that former hint of the South coming out in force, "We could meet here in the Lounge or maybe over in the Student Center is ya don' mind somewhere public. We could find somewhere a li'l more private if ya wanted as well. Totally up t' you though." She swallows hard and gives Sunday a sideways glance and a tiny little hint of a nervous smile.

"I'll hold you to it," Sunday mentions of the karaoke Billie Jean, though she already looks like she's feeling a bit awkward. There's too much going on in her head suddenly, and coupled with the tone the conversation has taken, and Claire's very obvious - to Sunday anyway - interest in Ian.. as the two speak about meeting up, Sunday turns to the side, towards the table with the food, and picks up a can of regular coke as she takes a couple of steps away from the two of them. Claire will appreciate it, Sunny thinks, even if Ian is going to play obtuse.

Ian played at many things. It helped on times when he was truly on the real with something. Misdirection, right? "Lounge works fine, and we can take a walk if it's filled up with folks." The accent doesn't cause him any pause. He's heard it before, and aside - he spent a good deal of his life in the south. And one thing he wasn't about to do was hint at any privacy. He was playing (or perhaps really was) obstuse, but he could see her expression and knew better than that. He had a few years on her yet, and wasn't about to let even the most innocent seemings of talk become a rumor that could hurt the feelings of the girl. It would do fine there. Noticing the change in tenor, though, he stands reaching to the laundry and picking up. "I really need to get these in before light's out. Else I'm liable to go to first period in naught but my Watchmen boxers and Ron Simmons tee. I'll talk to you tomorrow Claire." He turns head, looking to Sunday before adding: "I'll IM you Jerry's info later. We'll see about setting something up. Get the makings of the superstardom to come, before the inevitable break up, band restructuring and attempts at solo careers all leading up to the special Vh1 Behind the music and Reunion tour." In short, maybe get a band together just mind. With that he begins to head to the door, pausing only at the end to look for a long moment at the two girls before leaving, shaking his head. He had a feeling things just got complicated.
The whisper in his head tended to agree.

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