ArchivedLogs:Different Strokes

Different Strokes
The one in which Aloke goes intentionally deaf
Dramatis Personae Shelby, Sebastian, Shane, Rasa, Kris, Peter, Ivan, Aloke,	2013-05-30 Aloke takes Shelby and her friends to the art show Shelby was invited to compete in.
Location Manhattan Art Gallery
It's 6 pm and the Art Friends were served an early dinner before they were all rushed upstairs to get dressed for the gala. The affair is strictly black tie formal, even white tie will not be out of place. NOT because this gallery is all that important, or well known, nor the artists. Its just because the people running it can type whatever the hell they want on their invitations. This gig is actually relatively low-rent, for those in the know. Speaking of invites, extra cards have been acquired. Both Aloke's and Shelby's cards have the additional text: *COMPETITOR* on them. The rest are standard looking, postcard sized invitations, red lettering on a glossy dark background printing of the NYC skyline at night. Aloke is at the car first because, CHEATS, leaning against the outside of the car, waiting for everyone. His hair is under control without looking greasy, and apparently he just said F-it with hiding his eyes, because his drownable brown eyes are glowing yellow right out in the open of the dusk light. Additionally, he is wearing a very well made tuxedo, with stark white shirt and silk handkerchief (the real thing, not some cheapo pocket square). It is almost certainly the professor's most expensive piece of clothing in his wardrobe, and damn, anyone can see why. The cut, the lines, everything is perfect. One might guess, when it comes to making a presentation, Aloke knows his way around making a great impression. He's Shelby's co-competitor after all. He can't let their side down. Speaking of competitors, here comes Shelby! Thanks to the generosity of Kris and her credit cards, the girls are destined to make a strong showing this evening. Bergdorf's did not disappoint: the ginger teen is in a silk confection of sparkly gold and black tiger-striped dress cut in ballerina style, sans sleeves and with a slightly belled skirt, with black stiletto booties bringing her to slightly above average in height. She's opted to show her personality with heavily black-lined eyes and red harlot lips, this dramatic makeup job framed by professionally done ringlets. More black streaks her hair because tiger, helloooo! As she descends the stairs in the company of her friends, she's fussing with the filmy black shawl draped over her shoulders. It's caught in her gold bangle bracelet clasp. "Son of a /bitch/," she's muttering, proving that while you can take the girl off the street... Rasa trails after Shelby, having come from the same room, after all. Ze is wearing an azure cocktail dress, with one shoulder that cascades pleats down hir front and around hir body. Legs are showing and natural colored, with blue pumps, stilletto heels and a gold tip on the toe. Ze has a darker blue wrap, but given the heat of the day, it mostly hangs around hir elbows, a dark blue clutch in hir hands. Ze trots quickly, finding the heels very strange indeed to walk in, despite having practiced since ze got them. There is also no tail! That may be affecting hir balance. Hir hair is wavy, curly black and pinned on the side opposite hir shoulder. Make up? Well, right now, it is pretty simple: black eyeliner, peacock colored eyeshadow, and a soft pink lip. Kris is attired in something more sheathy and leg-emphasizing. Normally, she de-emphasizes her height... but today she's working the calves with a pair of high heels and a clutch purse. Her own dress is a black, sheathy number with gauzy venting near the upper chest and less noticeable glittery bits (by far) than that of her companions. She even has a tasteful gold anklet dangling from her left leg. Her own hair, long as it is, has been washed, shined, and pulled up in a high ponytail to clear her face, with a more subtle makeup designed to give the mocha tint of her skin a paler look and emphasize the gentle cant of her eyes. Lips and eyeliner are also black to match Shelby's darker look. Even her nails are painted black. Over all this, she's wearing an open black and gold zigzag coat (zebra to Shelby's tiger), which she is in the process of fussing with as she follows Shelby. She reaches out to fuss with the clasp,"Here let me help you! Also, I think now you are only supposed to swear when it is ironic. When you win, make sure you do not be excited for the money. In fact, treat it as if it is the most boring development all day. Use the word 'gauche' and 'trite' a lot to insult things." The twins are -- making less of a strong showing this evening! Not having much by way of /money/ at their disposal they are not really /prepared/ for short-notice black-tie events. Neither owns a tuxedo, for sure. And Bastian's dress, while nice enough, is definitely not up to the other standards, a sheer light-green floral patterning draped over a shimmery darker metallic green backdrop. Shane has a suit, dark grey, faint pinstripes, vest, bowtie. He stops to help detangle the shawl from Shelby's bracelet, but even once this is done he does not keep going -- just /stares/ at Aloke. "Fuck," he says, "uh. I don't. Think I should. Maybe be here." Bastian slices a sidelong glance to his brother. "... yeah. One /really obvious/ mutant in drag, one not even in a tux, this is kind of a fancy -- Dennis and Taylor and Hope are betting on /how/ quickly we'll be kicked out." His cheeks are kind of flushed, slightly, and he glances at the other girls and then down at the ground. "You all look -- kind of stunning." He fidgets a little self-consciously with a silver bracelet at his wrist and hangs back behind Shane. "Fuck 'em," Shane says, "swear whenever the fuck you want to, it's your art they're judging." Not to be undone by all of of these LADIES, Peter Parker has prepared himself aptly for the event: WHITE COLLARED SHIRT, BLACK TIE, BLACK DRESS-SLACKS. Also, a belt. And some actual /shoes/ for once. Black, scuffed, and unpolished. They look like they've been snagged out of his uncle's closet for the first time in decades. He actually looks -- /crisp/, for once, even if he isn't wearing anything /besides/ the shirt, tie, and pants; actually, he looks exactly like you'd expect a student to look. /Except/ for the chitin. Deep glossy black, shining -- sleeves rolled up to his elbows -- ceaselessly adjusting his clip-on. "...this is. Are we going to have to stare at paintings?" Peter asks, trailing after /everyone/ else, clearly the most reluctant to descend toward the car. "Like, I'm not gonna -- they aren't gonna ask me my opinion on a painting, right? Actually do you think they might not let us in?" He actually sounds a little hopeful about this possibility. Aloke smiles at the gathered group. "You all look terrific, handsome and beautiful in turn." And he just smiles more, proud? Could be. He holds the door open for everyone and glances inside to see what space is left for him. There's room to sit four across on the forward-facing bench seat, and four on the rear-facing. The 'bar' inside has been specially stocked with ginger ale, martinelli's, and root beer, as well as water bottles and ice. Sorry kids, no liquor. Shelby holds still for all of the primping and preening her fellows subject her to. It leaves her free to shoot admiring looks at the other girls. Damn, they look smart. The boys are not left unadmired either--though Bastian gets the brunt of her attention, as she reaches out to snare him by the arm to pull him forward. "It's /my/ show...I mean, our show, but fuck, /I/ want you guys there. Just remember to say whatever the hell it was Kris said we should say, right? Gouge and trout or whatever. Hey, lookin' good, dude!" This is for Aloke; she has yet to call any of their teachers by their proper title and she's not about to start now on the eve of her triumph. Naturally, she piles into the limo first. "We're kids. I'm um... kind of hoping they just don't pay attention to us." Rasa is already starting to leak some vibrant pink into hir cheeks as ze steps toward the limo, looking to slide in. "I'm going. I gotta go see Shelby's thing. If they ... kick me out, I would rather I not have to wait outside alone." This is hir way of being persuasive. Is it helping? Ze peeks at the other obvious mutants and blushes more, before climbing into the car. "We really should just call everything 'trout.' It'll be our term for whatever. We'll assign value to it as we go." Kris points at one side of Shane, and then the other,"Shane... mind if I claim one of those arms for escort-age? Peter, you get the other? We're totally going to make Shane look pimp and I aim to be arm-candy tonight. Also, everyone is think he is dapper, and going for irony, which makes him extra-hard in the art-fart world." She's been watching TV for social cues again. She grins at Aloke and leans down close to Shane to whisper in his ear as she does so,"Oh. My. God. Do you see him in that suit? Totally worth the entire evening. Also, I've been practicing my disinterested clapping and my disdainful look to show my distaste for the art of anyone not Shelby or Professor Suresh." As she climbs into the limo, she wonders of Rasa,"Maybe we should arrange arm candy differently. Otherwise you have none and with that dress, you deserve some." "-- I know right?" This is to the comment about Aloke, presumably, because Shane is /ogling/; Shane only answers the first half of Kris's question by offering his arm. He holds his other out to Peter! PIMPING. "He's always dapper," Sebastian says with a slight flush, slipping into the car to take a seat beside Shelby. "-- Trout?" He squints at this. Uncertainly. "Ohshit," Shane is climbing in to take a seat opposite the others with his /entourage/. "I forgot the /pom-poms/." "You're not cheering her on with pom-poms," Bastian answers with a wrinkle of his nose. "Polite claps. Or -- oh gosh is it /snaps/?" "That's poetry," Shane answers. "I'm going to wolf-whistle. /At/ your painting. If they kick anyone out," he adds to Rasa, "we'll bite them and then go get drunk on Shelby's /prize money/." He's already decided that she's winning, duh. Peter slinks on down the stairs, eyeing the entourage that's entering the car. Shelby, Rasa, Kris -- he just /peers/ at them and their dresses. A faint trace of violet as he saddles down and takes Shane's arm. Glancing over to Kris, then back at Shane, and: "You aren't biting anyone, right?" Then, as if he just heard this comment: "I'm not arm-ca--what?" A little deeper violet. At the mention of applause, Peter /glares/ at the car as they approach it and get in. "I'm not -- they're /paintings/. Do we actually have to -- like, applaud them? Wouldn't you applaud them /while/ they were being painted? Art shows make no sense," Peter decides. Once everyone is in the limo Aloke smiles and shakes his head. "No, no one is biting anyone, Shane. And if someone gets kicked out, we ALL go, because..." Aloke closes the car door and glances out, apparently to see if some other teacher hovering RIGHT THERE before adding, "Because /F/ them." He nods, satisfied with his rebel language. The car gets under way, and once they're on the street, Aloke breaks out champaign glasses and pours martinelli's for everyone. "Also, there will be no drinking tonight. If I catch anyone with a glass of something they shouldn't have, we're ALL leaving. Whether they've announced the winner or not." He gives everyone the /eye/, and then starts handing out ciders. "To Shelby's success!" "Seriously, fuck 'em all. If you guys aren't in, /I'm/ not there." And everyone knows this is all about Shelby, right? She's got a look on her face that says the event planners won't know what hit them if it comes to that. "I'm not wearing these shoes so people can be assholes at me, they goddamn hurt," she adds, lifting one foot to show off the ridiculously tall heel. Then she crosses her legs all prissy like and accepts both glass and toast as if they were her due--because they are. "And to that other dude who painted /most/ of the picture before I got my hands on it," she adds before sliding a grin at Peter. "I don't think you applaud paintings, man. Or maybe like...golf clap." "I think you just press a couple knuckles to your chin and nod thoughtfully, to be honest." Rasa demonstrates this for a moment, resting hir other arm across hir chest, fingers touching hir elbow. Ze even Hmms and hrrms quietly, nodding. "Like that." Then ze reaches out for a glass of cider and repeats the gesture with the flute pressed to hir lip instead. "Hmmmm." The thoughtful art critic then eyes Sebastian. "I got you something. It's back in my room. I'll give it to you when we get back. It's for tomorrow." Kris seems to think very hard on it this time. Something about Shane encourages her to act badly behaved. "Well... if you don't like art... you can just applaud when Shelby wins and spend the rest of the time making out. I can't really help you there. No experience. But I bet Shane would be willing to keep you entertained. Anyway, I said gauche and trite... but trout sounds like more fun. And tastier. Do you think they will have fish-snacks there?" Never takes her long to think about food. She immediately goes rooting around for some root beer (she loves the stuff). She is saved when she has cider pressed into her hand, which she raises. Doesn't stop her from asking, though, "Shane, Peter, you got a bottle opener?" Then she's chiming in,"Shelby! Propesor Suresh! Mabuhay!" Yeah. Tagalog. It's basically elvish. Glugglugglug. "To Shelby," Shane agrees, lifting his glass, "kicking the ass of /all/ the swanky motherfuckers there." Bastian blushes at this toast but lifts his glass, too. "... I don't think they'd like it if you made out there," he muses. But he's /eying/ Shelby kind of /thoughtfully/ as he says this? "You two could test," Shane says lightly, and, "Yeahsure." Cuz there's one on his keyring; he pulls his keys from his pocket to offer it to Kris. "-- /Or/ just make out in the limo till we get there, that's what limos are /for/." His arm is snaking around Peter's waist as he says this. "You got me a thing?" Bastian looks /intrigued/. "Really/ It's not. My birthday or anything. -- Wait can we really." He looks between Shane and Shelby, but then promptly just blushes deeper. "I'm still wolf-whistling," Shane adds. On the subject of applause. "Just take the shoes /off/ you look great without 'em. Or you can get a foot massage when we get back." He's probably offering up his BROTHER for this job. "Uh to... Shelby? Shelbs," Peter agrees, a little meekly, lifting his own glass up into the air. "I hope you win all of the arts, Shelby. /All/ of them." This sounds, actually, pretty sincere! Even if Peter cannot imagine /why/ you would want to win an art. When Shane's arm encircles his wrist, Peter plunges deep into violet territory; he clears his throat and sets the glass down. And then very /carefully/ observes Rasa's 'HMMM' expression. Briefly trying to mimic it. "Hm," he says, before adding, very /diplomatically/: "I don't think -- I think you two should wait till /after/," he tells Sebastian and Shelby, still tinted violet. "...uh are you two --...? I heard -- I mean it's awesome if you are I just..." AHEM. Peter just, drinks whatever is in this glass. Oh hey it's. Cider? Okay. Aloke sighs at the language and just gives up for tonight. It'll have to get worse than that for him to speak up at this point. "For the record, the show should be taken in quietly. Conversation volumes should be kept low. There will be minimal clapping when they announce the winners," he turns a pointed eye on Shelby, "/Even/ if we don't win." When the limo pulls up and the valet opens the limo door, the gallery is lighting up the Manhattan street. Floor to ceiling front windows, in a space that is at least 15 feet high, stream light out onto passersby. Inside, 2D pieces adorn starkly white walls in a space that goes about a 100 feet back from the street. It is essentially one big open space, with paintings lining the walls, and little backless, padded benches set lengthwise in intervals down the middle of the space. Aloke leads the way into the show, moving confidently through the people who are becoming increasingly surprised by the people piling out of the car. Conversations cease for a full minute while the group assembles inside, but nothing fully comes of it. Eventually, hushed whispers turn back into uneasy conversation, and the group just finds itself with PLENTY of room for moving around. No blending it tonight it seems. Also, none of the students are issued an 'I'm old enough to drink a glass of wine' plastic bracelet, of course Aloke just goes without because he won't be /drinking/ on a /school outing/. Towards the back of the room at the 10 or so finalists, including the piece Aloke and Shelby worked on. It's a landscape painting of the lakeside at the mansion, but turned horror movie dark. /Scary/ dark. It looks like there must be a monster in the lake, and something terrible could pop out of the woods at any moment. Enjoy! "Totally not a thing," Shelby assures Peter--even as she settles more than comfortably against Bastian's side, playing at the hem of his dress with the toe of her shoe. "To keepin' it low! And maybe making out in front of the snobs!" she says to finish off the toasting and for once she doesn't even mind that the drinks aren't alcoholic. Once they've arrived, she's less bluster and more snooty bitchface. Those who direct shocked looks their way are given the sharpest of looks down her own considerable nose--wut? They got a problem? She's an /artiste/ and they can chew on her attitude. Shelby keeps her arm through Bastian's as they trail in Aloke's wake. Plenty o' peeks are stolen at their competition--but it isn't in her to express any sort of anxiety over potentially being schooled. "...yeah, we got this. Right?" Once at the gallery, Rasa sticks mostly to Ivan's side, slipping hir hand in his as they walk quietly. This keeps hir a little more pale colored, and him slightly more comfortable with the people around them. They hang in the back of the group, almost protectively, not letting people get too close to the more physical mutants, Rasa's eyes on the twins and Ivan, mostly looking out for Peter. For the most part, they are pleasant to everyone around them and looking at the Art. In the end, they are quiet. Kris is quick to stick to Shane's side for the most part. Because the dress is useless if she is not proper arm candy. Otherwise, she spends most of her time gawking at paintings and making hushed conversation,"I do not understand 'perspective'. Is this like when they say 'it is a matter of perspective'?" She studies for a while longer, then says,"I like these arts. How much do arts sell for? Can I afford an art?" Pause. She has to ask Shelby,"How many arts did you make for the mansion? Will you make some arts for me? How does one win at arts?" Okay. So maybe she's not getting the whole 'quiet' thing. "Arts sell for different depending on the artist -- I mean, my pa sells --" Bastian trails off, stopping to frown at a kind of surreal painting of an office space with bleeding walls. He stays with his arm looped through Shelby's, looking very much at the paintings and not very much at the people around them. "Shelby put art on our wall at home," he adds. Shane stays close to the others. Kris on one arm. Maybe Peter on another? He wants to keep his arm candies, anyway. "Are we talking perspective like I think this painting's a piece of shit, or perspective like holy fuck, dude, that window at the /back/ of the room relative to the door at the /front/ is fucked the hell up?" Bastian winces. "Shane what happened to /trout/." "... m'just saying," Shane says. "Shelb, you got this. This painting is full of trout." He's been kind of slow in his drifting, looking at the other paintings, not yet making it all the way back. "-- Which one's yours?" If people are avoiding Peter, Peter does not seem to notice it; he's actually very /used/ to having no one pay attention to him -- so to have people actively avoiding him is something of, uh, well. It actually doesn't feel much /different/. The chitin-clad boy is soon saddling up in front of a portrait of a horse running through a field, mimicking the expression Rasa taught him -- chin, caught in hand, scratching. Scratch, scratch. HMMMM. Scratch. He soon states, after about -- ten seconds of thought (ten seconds is good, right? He doesn't want to over-do it): "I liked the movie better." Then, he is OFF, following Kris and Shane and Sebastian. "Perspective," Peter informs Kris as he catches up to her, along with Shane, Sebastian, and Shelby, "is the craft of presenting dimensions. Projecting a three dimensional image on a two dimensional surface, for example. Also why are those cubicles bleeding? Cubicles don't bleed," Peter says, wrinkling his nose. "I don't get it." Peter MIGHT just sound a little snobby as he gives this description of perspective. Like, HEY LOOK AT ME, I studied this in PHOTOGRAPHY class. "/Boys/," Aloke says in a harsh whisper. "Please get your language under control." Aloke sighs. Its not like anyone is standing ANYwhere near the little group anyway. But still. Teacher. Student. One harsh snort of laughter from a far corner of the room precedes some douchey looking people glancing quickly the other way. Their little group is so tight, it's hard to tell exactly who might have been the butt of the joke, but Aloke puts a hand each on the shoulder of the two closest students and includes the whole group in his reminder, "Keep it together, guys. We're here for Shelby." He nods, and points out their entry, and some people gathering at the far end of the room, looking at some paperwork. "There lets move down. It looks like they're getting close to announcing a winner." "And Shelby," Aloke adds, a little trepidation for her reaction, "Let's keep /realistic/ expectations. Being invited was awesome. And there will be MANY more shows, ok? Congrats on getting this far." He grins, steals a side-hug, and leads the way closer in. "I think the weirder it is, the more you can charge? So like, I draw a dog, you pay me five bucks. I draw a dog with a robot head sitting in a pizza joint and you pay me ten thousand. You're not supposed to get it, really." Shelby's theory might explain why she has not advanced very far in the art world. Applying chalk to sidewalks is /so much simpler/. "I totally owe you some arts for this get up though, Kris, just say the...uh..." She trails off. Narrowed blue-green eyes swivel in the direction of the corner. Glare on. Only the side-hug jostling and blocking her view keeps the girl from causing a scene--she ends up blinking at Aloke before giving him a tight smile and tensing the arm she has wound around Bastian. "Right. Sure. Our shi--painting's at the back, I think. There, the creepy one. Let's hear our trout score, huh?" Kris digs deep into her cultural repertoire. Months of TV watching and soaking up pop culture has prepared her for the moment where she actually needs to respond to Peter's explanation of Perspective, "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willis?" Wut? Well, maybe not QUITE so prepared as she thinks. "Is there anything your father doesn't do?" She lowers her voice and says to Shane and Peter,"Have we decided what we're going to call the losers once Shelby wins?" "Which ones are scratch and sniff?" She then does one of the things she DOES do well. She looks over at the group chuckling at them, leaving behind her friends as they move along, and gives them her thousand-yard stare. The: 'I've done things you can't imagine and I'll do them to you, maybe.' look. Nice non-aggressive, and uber-creepy. Then she turns to follow the others back,"Shelby, you owe me nothing. But if you make me arts, you will sign it so I can brag to people about my famous friend?" Peter responds, rather weakly, as Kris breaks off to give the other group her stare: "...bu... my name's not... Willis." Shane slips his arm through Peter's when Peter returns. "Can we call you Willis anyway?" He answers laughter with a /grin/. It is /very/ toothy. Bastian just ignores it. Focuses on the paintings. Also on Aloke's teacher-reprimand: he frowns, ducking his head sheepishly. "But /I/ didn't --" His shoulders sag. He leans a little more against Shelby. "... even in a dress people treat me like Shane," he says with a crooked smile. "S'cuz I'm fucking awesome," Shane answers lightly. "There was no 'boys' about it, /Bastian/'s got a vocabulary like a fucking nun. I think a lot of them are creepy." But he's heading back /anyway/ to look at the finalists. Bastian stops when he gets to Shelby's; the lake is easy enough to recognize, even creepified. "... huh." His brows furrow. "You'd think a monster lived in it." "Monsters do live in it," Shane says lightly. "You know, I can't stroke my chin thoughtfully with people on each arm." He PROFFERS his chin to Shelby. Like outsourcing chinstroking? Maybe? "You /have/ to sign arts, it's a rule. And then in ten years you'll be telling everyone you had a bona fide Shelby Wilson, from her --" Sebastian squints, looking Shelby over. "-- Golden Period," Shane finishes. "...so without further ado, in third place, we have..." The long winded welcome speech is ended and everyone is clustered around the little podium and dais they trundled out for the announcement. The school group has a pretty distinct donut of absent people around them, but the moment is not to be ruined. Aloke holds his breath as the announcer says, "Wendel Wingenbaum and Alan Albany, for Light on a Leaf." A smattering of quiet applause as a pair of mousy looking white men step up, shake hands and accept the prize envelope of a measly $1000 dollars. Aloke breathes out quietly. Probably no one noticed, right? Nervous Teacher is nervous! "In Second place..." Aloke's hand, of its own accord probably reaches out and takes Shelby's hand - this is it! From his tension, everything about him, he really thinks we're winning second place. "...Callastasia Carhart and Sarah Soder." The smattering of applause again, and Aloke's hand drops, and instead he makes it a comforting hand on her shoulder. He's /about/ to say something stupid like 'We'll get 'em next time' but Callastasia and Sarah have already accept their award and they're moving on. "And for first place, in the Contemporary Art Collaborative Entries section, for the piece entitled Darkness," Aloke twitches, looking up again. "Shelby Wilson and Aloke Suresh! Congratulations!" This smattering of applause cuts off abruptly when everyone realizes who that is. It's too late to take it back now. But Aloke has another heart beat of just /standing/ there. His student won. SHE WON! But his shout is nothing articulate. It's a from-the-gut whoop of '/YEAH!/' which comes across as /very/ loud in the suddenly quiet room. His smile just beams all over the place, and then he's motioning for Shelby to lead the way to the dais. "That's the trick," Shelby explains, "it looks creepy as hell but you know Shane's just gonna jump out've the water and offer you a blowjob." Her grin is not /quite/ as toothy, since she lacks shark teeth, but it comes close. "Or maybe B, to offer a kiss," she adds, dipping in--careless of their audience--to land a peck on the cheek of the boy in question. It's not making out! Totally PG, as if the way she obliges Shane's desire for chin-stroking, though it's more a tickle than a stroke. And then comes the announcer's voice. She stiffens. That hand Aloke grabs onto might be a /little/ sweaty. "Who the fuck names their kid Callastasia?" she whispers, sotto voce, to her companions. She's /expecting/ snickers, not for Aloke to whoop like he's on the war path and people to turn around staring. Did someone miss her own name? Oh yes she did! Whoosh, pale skin turns read and she stares back. "...wait, what?" "HELL yeah!" That's Kris shouting when Aloke and Shelby win at art,"You won all the arts! The victor gets to take all the spoils, yes?" Apparently she thinks the art-winner gets to take all the paintings. Cue Kris hugging everyone her long, lanky arms can reach! "You won, you won, you won!" She points at the group that chuckled at them, then gives Shelby a little push,"You won! Hurry up!" She informs Shane, as if he weren't right there,"They won! They wo- Wait. Why would Shane leave the lake to blowdry peoples' hair. Isn't that backward?" When the announcements come, all Peter manages to Shane is a mumbled "but my name /isn't/ Willis". Then they're giving out the names and -- Peter's /frowning/. 'Light on a Leaf'? 'Callastasia Carhart and Sarah Soder'? When the announcer produces /SHELBY'S/ name, though, Peter's frown evaporates; he looks -- a little surprised? Confused? Eyebrows shooting /way/ up. And then Kris is HUGGING him and Peter's even /more/ confused. "...wait, Shelby -- what? She /won/?" Peter seems -- flabbergasted by this. He just looks at Shelby, as if waiting for her to explain. EXPLAIN, SHELBY. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? "Pretentious douchebags who want their kid to be a pretentious douchebag," Shane answers cheerfully and then: "Oh holy /fuckshit/ yes!" He might interrupt the path to the dais with a huge hug. Bastian is joining in the hugging. "Ohmygoshyou/won/ you should go get your ohmygosh." OK so maybe he has to let her go before she can collect. That takes a moment longer for him to remember, though. But then he steps back so that Shelby can do her VICTORY MARCH. "Not blowdry," Shane adds -- quieter than his initial /cheer/ but still not, really, anywhere near a whisper, "blow/job/. With penises. In mouths." He's helpful! Bastian winces. And prods Shelby forward to get her prize before there is /dying of embarassment/. Shelby never doubted that she--they!--would win. Really! That's the truth! Which is why she's quick to wipe the look of surprise off of her face as she's danced around being hugged by everyone. It becomes a dance of mutual hugging! "Hell yeah!" Was that for the win or the definition of blow jobs? Who cares! She's stoked! Suck it, haters! Exclamation point! Let the procession begin: Shelby struts forward towards the dais, chin held high and visions of dollar signs dancing through her head. Kris blinks owlishly at Shane,"I... I don't get it. Why would you do THAT to Shelby? She doesn't have... well... actually, maybe I was wrong to assume she didn't- Wait. How does one... Why would you..." Apparently noone ever explained 'blowjobs' to her. "Isn't that dangerous? Explain more." She crosses her legs uncomfortably and then covers her mouth. Like she's not sure what she should be protecting. After overcoming her inner-wince, she fishes in her clutch purse for some homemade confetti and tosses it over Shelby and Aloke helpfully as the strutting begins. "Congratulations!" Beaming in a way that cultured adults can, to make one's smile say, 'Why yes, fuckyouverymuch, and fuckYOUverymuch, oh yes, very nice.' Aloke could not be prouder. He's standing tall and just enjoying the wake being left for them as they approach. He keeps Shelby in front of him so she doesn't forget to stop walking, shining his glowy eyes all over the place for everyone to see. It's then, that the foot sticks out, catching Shelby off guard in those ridic heels and everything else. But in a flash, /literally/ Aloke is next to her, hand around her upper arm, helping her steady herself, but he isn't looking at her. He's looking at the dipshit that thought it would be funny to trip his student. He glares at the man, taking a step towards him, the glow in his eyes swirling and focusing into two hard points of brightness. He lets out a breath that's half growl, and then seems to remember something. He glances back at his other students, reaches up to straighten the man's lapel, and forces a smile. "Congratulations on /your/ win." he says through clenched teeth, to the sour man who won nothing. Aloke turns on his heel to make sure Shelby gets to the stage this time, to accept on their behalf. Peter is /dark/ violet at Shane's mention of. Uh. "He will explain that to you /later/," Peter tells Kris, /quite/ firmly, eyes swinging over to watch as Shelby ascends toward the dais -- clapping his hands! Clap, clap! Good job, Shelby! He still looks /tremendously/ confused about these events, though. "...so, she won? The art show? Wait. What -- does she -- is there like, a /prize/?" Peter asks, glancing back at the others. Peter is /woefully/ uninformed concerning these matters. His eyes turn back to Shelby moving toward the dais, and -- when that foot snaps out to catch her -- Peter stiffens. Eyes wide. And /moves/. Not toward Shelby -- but behind the twins. Both his hands immediately attempting to /snap/ down atop of Sebastian's shoulders. And /clamp/. Wordlessly squeezing. Maybe comforting. Maybe /restraining/. "Oh /man/ you do it -- well I mean I could /show/ you but it's like, because --" This is thankfully as far as Shane gets before he glances at darkviolet!Peter and quiets at that tone. Rubbing at the side of his neck sheepishly. He returns to CHEERING: "Fuck yeah Shelby!" -- just about the same time as that foot stretches out to trip her. "Kssh --" His gills flare and he is reflexively shifting forward, but he stops when Aloke gets to Shelby's side at lightspeed. He rocks back on his heels with narrowed eyes, and glances over to Bastian. Whose gills /also/ are fluttering, only in him this comes timed with a baring of teeth and a lengthening of the tiny black needlepricks of his claws to be -- not so tiny. Long thin razors growing there instead. He barely has time to take a half-step forward, though, when there are hands on his shoulders. His black eyes fix on that other man hard, as Aloke straightens his lapel, and beneath Peter's hands Bastian's muscles are tensed. He doesn't fight the clamp, though; he leans back /into/ it, pushing slightly up like reminding himself that it is there. Slowly the claws retract. He lifts his hands to -- clap. Clap, clap clap. Shelby is not nearly as polite as Aloke. After that stumble and subsequent rescue, with her face still flushed beet red under her I'm so punk makeup, she hisses, "Eat shit and /die/, asshole." Yeah, this whole group is making the /best/ impression. But she's quick to recover, settling on Aloke's arm as if she'd intended to be there and reaching up to tidy her styled curls. With one quick glance over her shoulder--her eyes seek out Bastian's first--she ascends to accept the award. And of course, the monies. The art scene might host shitty parties but they're awful good at prizes. Kris is already taking a step forward, hand reaching inside her clutch purse for... Well... whatever she might've shoved in there when someone tries to trip Shelby. Her hand leaves the purse, though, whenever the girl is rescued. She nods approvingly at Aloke's handling. Then she points at the 'douchebag', then at her eyes: I'm watching you. "You will tell me more about it later, Shane. When we are less full of fight and more full of yay for Shelby winning. Though I think that man needs to apologize. Those are very new good quality shoes. He could've ruined them. Ruining good shoes is a crime." She nods emphatically. It's, like, practically illegal. Peter just. Well, he's holding his breath as he squeezes Sebastian's shoulders. When he feels Sebastian step back into his grip, he starts breathing again. His grip remains /firm/, but not /squeezing/. "Sorry," he whispers -- to Sebastian. "I just, um. Felt--um. Sorry." He shuts up and watches. Aloke is waiting for Shelby at the foot of the dais for when she turns back with the envelope in hand. "You did it!" he says, not worried about his volume, and scoops her off the dais in a spinning hug, before setting her back on the floor. When they rejoin the group, Aloke says at a perfectly normal volume, "How about we ditch these assholes and get some dessert?" Once everyone is outside, and the limo is refilled with angsty teenagers, he adds, "Anyone for Evolve hot chocolates before we head home?" When Shelby looks towards Sebastian he gives her a smile, quick and warm. "GO SHELBY." They might not be good at golfclaps but at least he didn't say fuck?" He still doesn't move away from Peter's squeezing, rocking slightly up into it. His head turns, just a little. "No," he answers Peter's apology. "Don't -- sorry. I -- /thank/ you." His cheeks flush with this. "Really. Thank you." "Can we eat /him/?" Shane sticks his /tongue/ out at the man, because he is so mature. "I mean what the fuck dude that was like some /high/ school bullshit aren't /we/ the teenagers?" Sebastian relaxes once the others are back off the dais, even offering Shelby his arm again -- together with a peck on the cheek and a whispered congratulations. "Evolve would rock," he says with a small smile. "Shelby, that was /awesome/." "Shelllllllllllb," Shane has at least attempted to collect his arm candies again for the trip outside, "-- are you treating? You're basically rolling in the fucking dough now after all." "I did!" Shelby squeals, though she does think to add, "And you did too!" once she's set back on her feet again. Her grin is of the giddiest, drunkest sort as she rushes back to throw herself at Bastian--who needs an arm when she can take the whole thing? The envelope has long since been pried open before they make it to the limo, so /everyone/ can see what five thousand dollars looks like. Sadly, it looks like a cheque. But! "It's totally on me, guys. Maybe some P-O-T too," she says, because spelling it out surely works as well on teachers as it does on little brothers. Kris asks out loud,"What does clay pottery have to do with celebrating? Is... is this one of those words like 'blowjob'?" Yes, she's asking that... out loud. She then squeals at Shelby,"It's very pretty paper!" Yes. She doesn't understand '5000 dollars'. But she is enthusiastic for her fellow student. "I have never been to this place, but hot chocolates are amazing!" Peter is /relieved/. Tremendously. When Sebastian thanks him. He's soon following Shane around again, once more on his arm, even offering Shelby a grin when she returns with that cheque (although the grin flickers a little at the mention of burning it all on P-O-T). As they head out and return to the limo for EVOLVE-ings, Peter turns /dark/ violet at Kris' question -- but soon, as they are walking out, a moment of realization settles over his face: "Oh. /OH/! Different Strokes!"