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The Roof - Wednesday Evening

Chuck had liked Antarctica. The weather was nice and he could wear his scarf. However, there was something to be said about Tortuga. It was warm enough so that the girls would be out in bikinis and while he wasn't a beach guy he was capable of appreciating the scenery. The roof was a good place to do said appreciating of nature. It also happened to be a nice place to light up. He had been avoiding smoking in his room anyways. He had the feeling it'd piss Susan off and he wanted to stay on her good side until after he slept with her. Which would happen eventually; he had no doubt about that.

Chuck exhaled a cloud of smoke and wished that Nathaniel was here. He always liked getting high with other people. Chuck got talky when he was stoned and it sure as hell wasn't fun talking to yourself. There were those freaky ass rats dressed up like pirates but you couldn't pay Chuck to talk to those things. They made him feel like he was in a Disney movie.

[It's a roof so the post is open]

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Liir needed a break from the singing. He liked the Rats well enough, after all, Animals were both familiar and something of a comfort…

But enough was enough.

That was why he had his broom and his satchel and his jacket with him as he came onto the roof.

“…this place has certainly been busier than usual lately.”

Chuck raised an eyebrow both at the broom and the statement. He immediately thought this guy was a janitor or something. He looked awfully young to be a janitor...

"I'm the only one on the roof," Chuck said, exhaling smoke as he spoke. "I wouldn't exactly call it busy."

"That would be what I meant," he said with a faint smirk. "Generally, there's no one up here. Not that I was planning to stick around for very long. Not really the point, and it's not as if the Rats can't make their way up here."

"There were some here earlier but I think I glared them all away," Chuck said. They wouldn't come back unless they wanted to be boxed up and sold to a Chinese restaurant.

"What's with the broom?" he asked before moving to hit the joint again.

"I fly on it. I thought everyone'd heard at this point, radio as it is. Then again, I haven't seen you around, well, other than 'Bitch' class, so I suppose you're rather new. Or newer than I am, at any rate."

Chuck was a little thrown by the whole flying thing but, being Chuck, there was little indication of his surprise. You'd think he'd be used to the weird stuff by now but a part of him hoped that Liir was on LSD or something and was tripping balls right now.

"I've only been here for about two weeks," he said. "Not long enough to get the info on who in this school can or can't fly."

"I've been here since Win--January. Sorry. The months are called differently where I'm from."

He leaned against a familiar something or other, one of those things that are on a roof that most people don't know the exact purpose for.

"And there's not too many of us, though if all goes well, the number will go up by one this Sunday."

He was grinning rather cheerfully at that.

"And why will the number go up?" he asked. Now that the weed had kicked in Chuck was feeling more relaxed and therefore was more inclined to speak in a language other than jackass.

"Because I've been working on a staff that will do the same thing as my broom for my sister and it's just about finished. I'll be giving it to her before our self-defense lesson."

Edited 2008-07-17 00:44 (UTC)

"How cute," Chuck said, not sounding like he meant it at all. "I'm curious; how does one make a flying staff or broom?"

Liir was naturally skittish of offending people, but he had a very well-honed sense of sarcasm and he knew when someone was being, well, difficult. This boy didn't hold a candle to the Witch, but it was enough.

"I wouldn't call months of research, development, and design 'cute'," he said with a snort of distaste. "And as for your question, it's not something I could answer in anything less than an hour of explanation, especially as the answer is different concerning my own broom and the staff."

"Suit yourself," Chuck said, shrugging. He was amused by the fact that he got a rise out of this guy but, again, he didn't show it. Apathy was a big thing with Chuck.

He took another hit off his joint. "You being nice to your sister was the cute thing I was referring to, by the way. Not the flying staff itself."

Chuck ignored the fact that the previous cute statement had been dripping with sarcasm.

"Good for you," he said with a brief Gillikin smile. Politic and pleasant with a faint edge of mocking.

He ignored him for the next moment before slinging one leg over the broom. It said something that he hadn't even offered this one a brownie. He had several in his bag, after all.

"Enjoy your smoke," he said with a brief wave before pushing off from the roof and floating up a few feet.

There was a brief, brief moment where Chuck showed a look of shock when he saw Liir floating. Knowing that somebody could fly and actually seeing them do it were two very, very different things.

Chuck quickly regained his composure, shut his mouth and replaced it with his trademark smirk.

Ah, but Liir caught that moment, just around the edges. It was, however, also just enough.

He threw off a salute.

"Good night."

And with that, he leaned forward on the handle and gave the signal to zoom off into the night. The broom did as told.

He was going to quit. Really, eventually, one day. Probably when that damn story was finished. Clearly, though, as Cal sauntered up toward the roof, this was not that day. He drifted out, tucking his cigarette between his lips, digging his lighter out of his pocket. He hunched over out of pure habit, thinking that at least it could be worse. Out of all things he'd done that he could have chosen to get addicted to other than those of the XX-chromosome, nicotine wasn't so bad. Hell, even...

He got his flame, but then it disappeared before he even lit his cigarette, his head turning with a familiar scent in the air. His drive for a smoke had left him not even noticing the other guy guy at first, and he paused a moment, thinking of how that smell will always make him think of chlorine and degradation, before lifting his chin in a sort of greeting and then returning to light his cigarette.

"Hey," he said, after drawing in the first inhale.

"Hey," Chuck greeted. He took another hit off his joint, all the while watching Cal with a bored sort of interest. Like somebody who was only looking because there was absolutely nothing else to look at. Considering that there was a lovely view of the ocean behind him, this clearly wasn't the case.

Cal let out a slow cloud of smoke into the air, watching as the humidity seemed to hold it there longer than it should, and he waved his hand through it to disperse of it.

He knew he could really only smell the tobacco, but that fleeting whiff of pot seemed to stick in his brain.

"Quiet night, huh?"

It seemed quiet, anyway, from here.

"With exception of the singing rats I saw earlier, yeah," Chuck replied. "They were dressed like pirates."

There was a long pause.

"...I actually forgot about those," Cal admitted, blinking a little into the view. Somehow, miraculously, he'd been able to avoid them for the majority of his day.

"You forgot?" Chuck asked incredulously. "Are you high?"

Pot calling the kettle black, there.

~~Hah. Pot.~~

Cal's eyes rolled over toward the other guy with the sort of look that was definitely calling out hypocrisy in that comment, but only for a moment, before he just shrugged and took another drag.

"No. Just lucky."

~~Hah! Didn't catch that one.~~

"Fair enough," Chuck said, nodding. "I wasn't that lucky. They weren't too difficult to get rid of though. A couple well placed glares and they went on their way."

"Just a glare?" Cal asked, frowning doubtfully as he glanced out toward the ocean. "You'd expect rats dressing up like pirates would have more balls than that."

"In their defense, I have been glaring for many, many years," he said, smirking slightly. "It's scared off worse than swashbuckling rats."

"What?" Cal asked, faintly smirking back. "Renegade shrews?"

"Shrews of a sort, yeah," he said, his smirk getting wider. "I'm Chuck, by the way."

"Cal," he offered back, another lift of his chin as he took a moment to give Chuck a closer look. Something about him was striking a familiar chord with Cal, but, then again, that could just be the pot.

"You come up here and do...this," Cal gave a nod toward the joint, figuring that was all he needed to express that he didn't mean sitting on the roof, "often?"

"Here? On this roof? No, not really," Chuck said. "Then again I've only been here for about two weeks."

Cal nodded a little at that, tapping some ash toward his feet. "Explains why I haven't really seen you," he commented, because he'd been here so long himself and was just so social. "What do you think of it?"

"It's, ah, interesting, to say the least. We don't really have singing rats back home," he said. "I'm getting used to it though."

Cal nodded again. He realized he was doing more ashing than he was smoking. Being around the pot made him feel a little rigid about substances.

"Yeah," he said, "that's kind of how I deal with it, too. Just get used it."

Kind of how he dealt with everything, really. Kind of how he had to.

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The Roof - Wednesday Evening

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NFB, please!

Re: NFB, please!

Re: NFB, please!

Re: NFB, please!

Re: NFB, please!

Re: NFB, please!

Re: NFB, please!

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