ArchivedLogs:Hive Against Humanity

Hive Against Humanity
Combustion from blushing...at what point does this become a thing?
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Kay, Jim, Melinda, Shelby, Hive, Micah, Flicker, Dusk, Ian	30 March 2013 Cards Against Humanity is for Horrible People. Apparently...the Hivees are a good fit.
Location <NYC> 403 {Geekhaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, though some of its occupants have left college behind. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the perpetually messy living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here, split between the four people; the fold-out couch in the living room (often folded out!) suggests that at least one of them does not actually claim a room as their own. This apartment looks much like it usually does. Dishes piled in the sink, a range of clutter scattered on the kitchen table, empty cans and day-old pizza box in the living room. The string of white lights over the kitchen doorway is down a few bulbs. Dusk is, currently, in the process of cleaning off the wide living room table, though, to make room on it for GAMES. He looks much as /he/ usually does. Pretty bony. Ridiculously pale. Shirtless, in faded bluejeans and no shoes. Flicker has moved! He is not in bed anymore. He's curled up in an armchair, laptop on his lap and a linguistics textbook on the arm of the chair, because he is being /good/ and /studying/. Shelby is not a nerd. She's here because there are voices in her head and those voices are fucking /bossy/. What she does know about nerddom has led her to take a slight detour on the way to the apartment, where the last of her Parley-donated funds have been used to purchase several bags of Cheetos and a couple of cubes of Mountain Dew. What? Her idea of financial planning is keeping a twenty pinned to her bra. The supplies are being pushed on a skateboard up the hallway, steered with shoves from her foot and the occasional guiding nudge until BAM, it connects with the door. BUZZ BUUZZZ BUUUZZZZZZ. There is activity at the doorway. There's a Mel. She has snacks and a slightly confused look on her face. She is dressed in a red polo and jeans with a jacket over the top, a hooded sweatshirt underneath. Buuuuzzzz. Wait. Swarming in with the rest of the hive is Jim, stalking past Shelby at a rapid stride and reaching right past Melinda without a glance from his goal, "Doin' it wrong." He grasps the knob and throws a shoulder against the door like he intends to RAID the place. Except that instead of raiding it, he's carrying a few boxes of pizza balanced up at shoulder level. The fact that he's walking with the pizza held the /farthest/ from the room and its people makes it appear as though he's going to keep it all for himself, and they thunk against the side of his head when the door DOES NOT open, "Whaaaaat the fuck!" He yowls like a cat that WANTS IN. Jax is also not a nerd, although between his friends and his kids he is being proselytized to hard. Maybe he will be a convert. /He's/ here shortly behind Shelby, emerging from the stairwell with a tray of brownies under one arm. "Hi!" He sounds /chipper/. Though he looks remarkably uncolourful in black jeans (liberally adorned with zippers and straps dangling from silver D-rings), black sneakers, a black fishnet shirt over a black tank top. Black hair, too! But it's streaked with bright red and his nails glitter in a similar colour. He slips a key out of his pocket, reaching around Shelby and Jim to unlock it. "Man, don't you got a key yet? I'd pretty much figured you an' Hive was picking out curtains together by now." Micah clomps up the stairs with a large paper bag in hand, wearing patched jeans and a chocolate brown T-shirt on which a stegosaurus is cursing a T-rex for its 'sudden but inevitable betrayal' via speech-bubble. He offers a huge, lopsided grin to the group gathering outside the door. "I've heard of...um.../experienced/ gaming compulsions before, but this is a little ridiculous." A giggle bubbles through the statement. "Also, hi. I have claimed most of a Last Night's Bagels bin." He shakes the bag a bit by way of illustration. "Oh, Hi, Jax, Micah. Jim." Melinda realizes she didn't greet Jim when he approached, but the first words out of his mouth were criticism, so she doesn't feel all that compelled. Instead, she suffers from the compulsion to game. "Thanks, guys. I appreciate it." She looks Jackson over and considers before asking, "Did you go... goth for Easter?" She steps inside and heads for the stairs with the group. There is a swirl of darkness in front of the door as the others unlock it, because Ian is there, half-coalescing in order to let them in. But they're on /top/ of this. He is vaguely-sort-of personshaped, though not enough so to tell where he might be looking as he slips back a bit to let the crowd inside. The room is a little bit darker, with him around, light sort of /gravitating/ to him in a steady stream of absorption. << Whoa. /All/ the food. Sweet. We're playing Smallworld. >> "Too many people for Smallworld," Flicker says, from the armchair. "Too many people for lots of things," Dusk answers, "we can play Cards Against Humanity and watch Jax blush to death." << Micah might, too, >> comes, not from anyone present but Hive's chorusing voice in all their minds. "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat," this voice is not from the elevator, but the stairs - from a long way DOWN the stairs, too, and ends its "-t!" when Kay erupts into the hall wearing garage coveralls in a dark blue, "-exactly is /tabletop/ exactly? Sounds like what you get at a stripjoint." He's saying this while also STRIPPING; or well, he's unzipping his coveralls and shrugging his shoulders out of them, tying the sleeves around his waist. He has a black t-shirt on underneath with the sleeves cut off. He swats Shelby's hair while striding past her, long legs /devouring/ distance and casts an arm around the back of Jackson and Melinda at the doorway. Partways in camaraderie. Partways just to fortify their forward MARCH into the apartment. "Yo, batman! The /shadow/. Treebeard." (Jim says: "Bite me, beanpole.") Shelby, who has gone all Street Grrl today in baggy khakis, sneakers and a pink and black t-shirt cropped mid-belly, promptly elbows Jim in the ribs. Who cares if he's carrying pizzas? He's /whining/. "You're such an ass sometimes, Mel should've kicked you in the balls instead of kissed you," she opines, before craning a look over her shoulder at the others arriving. "Hi Jax! Hi Jax's fuck buddy!" And then she's ducking into the apartment, under Kay's arm, and pushing the skateboard ahead of her. "Okay, can someone tell me why the hell I'm having nerd cravings? This is total bullshit and I don't even...ooh, dibs on the couch!" Whooooooosh, there she goes, cutting through the periphery of Ian's fuzziness. "/She/ kissed /me/?" Jim protests, pizza boxes piled up at the edge of the table, "What the hell kind of story is all," he darts a glance at Melinda, grimace-frown-goes /slightly/ red, "-this then? JESUS you people." He's dropping onto the couch as well. If Shelby doesn't scoot he's /sitting/ on her. "What's Cards Against Humanity?" Between mental suggestions that he should be blushing and Shelby’s choice of…greeting…Micah is, in fact, suffering the redhead curse already. He’s still managing a soft shade of pink for now, at least. “Goth is appropriate for Easter. I mean…rising from the dead and all. Makes more sense than all the spring festival fertility symbols, at least.” He bustles into the apartment, depositing his bag of baked goods on a countertop. "Easter's not till tomorrow!" Jackson says, with a laugh and a crinkle of his nose. A ripple of tension cords itself through his shoulders at Kay's exuberance, but he hooks a smile up at the taller man as he is propelled inside. "I got a /lot/ of black in my wardrobe actually maybe I just been goth on the /inside/ all this while. Or maybe I'm in /mourning/. For /Jesus/." His breath actually catches, when he passes close to Ian, and this time the tension that tightens his muscles stays. Still, he squirms out from under Kay to loop an arm around SHADOW in a squishy semblance of hug. "-- What /is/ Cards Against Humanity?" "Don't ask me, I haven't been talking about it." Mel retorts to Jim quietly. She chooses to kneel on the floor and open up her bag of treats, pulling out salt and vinegar chips and a veggie tray with hummus. These are actually slid under the table to maximize the space on the table for game doing. "I guess I'm just used to all the pastel stuff. Black does indeed make sense." "I dig the black," Kay contributes, rolling his eyes and raising up his arm for Jackson's roll of tension long before he has to make with the squirming. He NEEDS that arm, to dive after CHIPS with, dropping down beside Melinda to stretch out his long legs under the table. "Now we just gotta get him on a Harley." He says this MID-face stuffing. "Dirty it all up to a /finish/." Beside Melinda, he can be felt giving off a subtle /heat/, smelling of grease and iron and a thin tang of brimstone. "It's a game," Flicker answers, not very helpfully. "For terrible people." << So don't worry, Shelby, >> comes from Ian with quiet amusement, << you'll love it. >> Dusk is frowning at all the food arrivals; not in displeasure but in thought. He slips off to the kitchen to retrieve a roll of paper towels. Some plates. He doesn't really count them, /hopefully/ it's just /enough/ plates (though probably not) because the rest are in the sink. Dirty. "I heard," he says quietly to Jim, "that there was all /kinds/ of kissing going on. Also that we need to save a date for the wedding? Though I don't think New York allows polyamorous marriages." << He just went with black cuz he's hanging out with a ghost and a vampire. He needed to feel gothier to fit in, >> Hive says. Shelby digs her heels in to push her out of the way of Jim's descending ass, taking shelter on the /other/ end of the couch. And sprawling, because she did call dibs. << Who needs to talk? >> she concentrates to think loudly--that also helping with PANGS when hugs start going around. She will not mope. At all. She is /determined/. << Saw it plain as...hey, I heard that! >> She whips a finger out to point it at the thickest clump of shadow. "You love me, admit it," the teen insists. "Someone throw me one of those sodas?" Micah unpacks bagels and a couple tubs of cream cheese onto the counter for people to help themselves. “Sorry, I kind of fail at vegan,” he offers with an apologetic shrug as he finishes the task and heads toward the rest of the group. His gaze settles on Kay for a moment, developing into recognition. “Oh, hey! You…I’ve got a thing for you. From a person who was trying to contact you.” A hand digs around in a pocket to retrieve what looks like a metallic disc with a phone number etched into it. He holds this out to Kay. “It’s from a guy called Munch? Kinda grey looking. Plays with metal. Crazy bike.” "-- Terrible people?" Jackson frowns, a little confused. "Um, okay. Are we terrible people?" He's setting his brownies down in the under-table food-stash, settling in beside Kay with a slight bump of shoulder before he starts looking through FOOD. "S'true, I didn't want to be out-gothed by those guys." He's still Kind Of Tense, breathing in slow through his teeth; the mental /connection/ gives clear enough reason for this where he does not, Ian's constant stream of light-sucking slowly /tearing/ stored energy out of Jax. It is not the most comfortable of sensations. "Me? On a Harley?" This at least makes him grin. "Y'know, I ain't never ridden one. Be nice to try." "-bike?" Kay has been side-eye looking at Micah with his eyes popped open like he's /crazy/ until he gets to this magic word. And he reaches for the metal disk, "Huuuuuuh - uh, thanks." He looks a little puzzled, eyeing the phone number with his brows furrowed. He glances to Jackson when he's bumped with an instant grin that just as instantly promises /trouble/. He has to drop back for a moment to fish a soda out for Shelby, tossing it over hand (for how chaotic the room has grown, things flying through the air seem practically at home) and when he returns to upright, he leans back against Jackson wordlessly - radiant with heat. "Oh, when my boys get here we'll be takin' you /all/ for a few rounds through the city." He considers the metal disk once more... and then crams it in a pocket. "Yeah, uh, we've all seen a /lot/ of each other lately." This is kind of pointed, from Dusk. He glances to Jim and Melinda, but then to Jax and Micah, as well. He is ignoring soda in favor of getting two six-packs of beer out of the fridge. One IPA, one porter. "You don't /have/ to watch," Flicker says, lips twitching upwards. "You can change the channel." He sets his laptop aside, getting stiffly out of his chair to reach for the soda, though he settles back down onto the /floor/ when Kay gives one to Shelby instead. His eyes widen at the pyrokinetic. "-- Do you have a Harley? Can I /ride/ it?" He seems suddenly excited, as he collapses back into his chair. "-- Oh bagel!" He might just be excited about everything. But the bagels are on the /other/ side of the room and he just sort of pouts at them. And makes sad puppy-eyes at Micah. “’Welcome.” Comments about channel-watching have Micah deepening through shades of pink again. “Ugh…no motorcycles for me, please. I /work/ in rehab. Seen what happens to you guys when things go wrong, and I /started out/ minus-one limb, thanks.” Flicker’s puppy-eyes send Micah back to the counter, seeing as he hasn’t managed to sit down yet. “Whatcha want?” His hands hover over the assorted bagel options, looking at Flicker expectantly. "Rmh," Jim grunts, crossing his arms. Glancing at Melinda and then at her CHIPS. "They watch /because/ they're terrible. Y'know, none of you people are even /comin'/ t'the wedding." He looks like he could go for a smoke. And then lurches forward to take a chip. "Boy, s'been a while since I been on a motorcycle. Zoop, up goes Shelby's hand to catch the soda. She almost doesn't because reflexes, leading to a fumble that is /sure/ to spray everyone with Mountain Dew should she crack the can open right then. Fortunately, she opts not to. Yet. "Sweet, I could totally use a drink," she says with a quick side eye at the beers being set out. But she will let the adults indulge first. Then wait. For them to become inattentive. School /is/ having an effect--she's learning to be sneakier. "Who'd /want/ to change the channel? I mean, seriously. It's better than algebra. Can I be godmother when you start popping out babies?" << Oh god, beer, yes please. >> Mel spies the beer as it is opened, but doesn't say anything because her chips have been stolen. She exhales and wets her lips. "So. Cards Against Humanity entails having cards, right? Cards are good. Where are the cards?" She fishes out the veggie plate and sticks a carrot in some hummus. Ain't nobody going to steal that from her. She glances at Kay as he speaks, but sort of echoes some of what Micah feels through the mental link. She's been around too many homeless people without limbs. "Sweetheart," Jim informs Shelby with a dry smoker-voice, "the day Hive bears our firstborn children, you can be /all/ their godmothers." Mental comparison is to such phrases as: 'when there's a snowstorm in hell'. "Anyway, fuck that guy, I'm done with his bullshit." Says the... Hivee. He then has to all but climb over Shelby to get at the beer, collecting... /two/. He'd noted Melinda's /spying out/ the beer. Without looking at her face, he sets a can by her elbow. Clump. "Uhhh," Kay's grin doesn't /falter/ exactly, but something spark-crackles in his eyes that makes his bared teeth seem more /gritted/, "Not anymore, guess my old bike's a mass of scrap metal in the fuckin' Nevada desert. But the club's got their own, and I'll be back on two wheels soon enough. Guess they started a kitty up for me, savin' up for it." Not said but /bluntly/ livid in his heated mind: << And god help me, I'll /match/ 'em. >> There's no offense taken at the reluctance from Micah or Melinda. If anything, he's seen some Ugly results of bad rides as well. << Probably smart. >> Merrily added. Jackson is very busily just turning brilliantly red at the reminder from Dusk. He cringes, head ducking and his knees tucking up against his chest. He hides his face against his knees. "Mngh," he says, and that is all. He reaches out to nab a carrot for to hummus with. And then focuses very hard on not blushing to /death/. "I'd ride a motorcycle. Though you'd have to go out, like, away from civilization to be able to properly /zoom/." "Is there garlic?" Flicker asks Micah, hopefully. His nose wrinkles at Shelby. "Because it's not /polite/! I mean, people should have their privacy when they're --" He blushes, too, gesturing between Jax and Micah. << When they're being freaking adorable? >> Ian is, slowly, coalescing further into actual people-shape! Pretty much human-looking. Kind of skinny-reedy-nerdy looking. He's wearing black, /too/, though this might be more out of the fact that his clothing is made out of shadows. "Seriously," continues out loud, "between the lot of you /someone/ better be having a wedding soon. We could use a good party." "When Bastian gets back, I'll totally ask him to marry me," Shelby says, snuggling back into the corner of the couch and idly taptaptapping on the top of the soda can to help diffuse the fuzz. Her grin is broad, her chest is a little achy. "But yeah, c'mon, dudes. I thought we were gaming here," she adds with a snap-snap of her fingers and a point at the table. "I am not seeing cards here." Dusk is cracking open a beer. And getting a black box off the games shelf. He dumps it in the middle of the table. And flips off Shelby. "/Jeez/ have a beer everyone's so impatient." “There’s an Everything that definitely has garlic in it. And I think the Garden Veggie cream cheese has garlic, too?” Micah is prepared to set this /up/ as soon as he gets a go-ahead from Flicker. << Ohgosh… >> Between the looks and the verbal commentary and the /mental/ commentary… Micah’s face has moved on from pinks to reds. He’s rather grateful for the bagel distraction. “I actually haven’t played that one before, but I’ve heard of it. It sounds sort of like a less PG-rated ‘Apples to Apples’, if I’m recalling correctly?” Melinda continues to be as inconspicuous as possible in the discussions of love, kisses, and baby producing that seems to have the group all very excited. She accepts her beer and drinks a bit of it down, nudging the veggie platter between herself and Jackson a little better, hoping Kay won't mind it sitting right in front of him. << Beer is good. You okay, Dusk? >> << Hive? >> a concerned thought is tossed in his direction. Jackson is leaning over to open the box and look through the instructions, because this is /also/ better than blushing to death. "Yeah," he says, absently, "s'what it sounds like. -- You are /not/ marrying Bastian!" This is sort of startled out of him; he looks over to Shelby with a /rather/ concerned frown. "I mean he's sixteen, ain't nobody -- wait, that wasn't serious, was it." His nose wrinkles. "Nobody needs to actually get married to have a wedding party, anyhow. We can just decorate the roof-garden real pretty an' make everyone dress up fancy and have lots of champagne and fancy food and have a party and /no/ marriages." He actually sounds kind of excited at the prospect. Like this is totally a thing he would do. "I'll wear the priest outfit." << Oh man, the look on your face. >> Shelby is distracted from cheerfully returning the one finger salute to Dusk by Jax's D: face. << You scared he'd say /yes/? >> She's bad. So bad. "We'd make pretty babies," she adds aloud, to get just the right note of innocence in her voice--the sort of innocence that her brain is incapable of projecting. Tap tap, krck, fizz! She finally does pop the can open, immediately pressing it to her mouth to suck in the fizz that starts to bubble out. << Oh, god, you fucking /would/. >> Hive is snipping this grumpily in response to Jax's wedding-party idea. << We're fine, >> he answers Melinda, though this carries with it a vague tugging ache, too. He's sort of brushing his way from mind to mind, almost as though reminding himself that they are there. << You'd make weird-ass babies, all frecklefaced and slanty-eyed. >> "Yeah, it's pretty much Apples to Apples but /horrible/," Flicker answers. "Oh! Can there be veggie cream cheese on an everything bagel, that sounds aweseome, you're the best!" << Yeah, >> Dusk is absently thinking, << can see why Jax -- I'm fine. >> comes a moment before he actually /says/, "M'fine," settling down onto the floor and gulping at his beer thirstily, though it does nothing to quench the thirst he is still /feeling/. Micah busies himself with setting up Flicker's Everything-and-Garden Veggie bagel, then an Oatmeal-and-Honey Walnut one for his own noshing purposes. He waiters the two plates across the room, handing Flicker's off before settling down on the floor next to Jax and Kay. "I could never even /fake/-officiate a wedding. It'd go all 'Princess Bride' faster'n y'can say 'as you wish'." He chuckles at himself before taking a bite of bagel deliciousness. Kay isn't offended by the veggies, just /baffled/, eyeing them like some strange exotic food that is exploited for its nutrients only by the creative, or the /perverse/. Which probably explains why he GOES for it, actually. "Hey, I'm sold. Bring it on." It's a NIGHT for perversity. That he has no idea exactly what brought him here but there's people, horrible things, strange food, and it's all revving up a grin like a CHAINSAW. Just a second, though, he's going for a piece of pizza. Melinda starts pulling out the black on white cards, and then pulls out a couple white on black cards and considers. "Okay, how many does each person get, Jax?" << I'd say you can play with me, Hive, but it'd be cheating. You can see /everyone's/ cards. >> She's trying to make him feel more like he's there too. "And why are we against marriages again?" And then, "Kay, can I have a slice?" "You can have TWO," Kay says. With FAR more glee than a man rummaging through pizza boxes to see what flavors they have. Cheese and broccoli. Pepperoni. And one weird-ass one with beef and green peppers. He lied, Melinda gets ONE OF EACH. That, or Kay just put all their pieces on the same plate, returning to nest amongst Micah, Jax and Melinda with his long legs folded up like crane lifts. Jim isn't playing the part of the Old Guy nearly as well as he is the Dude. He's draped back and soaking it all in with his arms draped over either side of the couch back. "Shut up, freckles are fucking cute, asshole." Shelby is driven into a brief frowny fit--Hive has hit a sore spot--before she puts him on /ignore/. None of the food is indulged in, but she sucks at the can of Mountain Dew as if sugar were an endangered species. The production of the cards is observed with the intensity of a tourist. A competitive tourist. The teenager means to play to /win/...someone just needs to fill her in on how to do that. "Is this like, a good game for making bets on?" she inquires. Without really thinking about it, she shifts and stretches until she can pop her crossed feet up on Jim's leg. “Freckles are /adorable/, Shelbs. Ginger pride.” Micah holds up a hand in an air-high-five, since she’s not within arm’s reach. The sentiment is there, if not the contact, however. He’s immediately back to making bagel disappear. "Um --" Jackson is flipping through the rules uncertainly. "We get white cards. Seven? And --" He's plucking some of the cards out of the box and eying them. Wide-eyed. "Uh --" << terrible people. >> He starts to shuffle, though he's looking at the cards now like wtf, as he starts to deal them out. "So one black card gets played each round and you gotta pick a white card from your hand to fit it? And each round one of us judges who made the best combination? Except these look pretty terrible, guys. I don't know about bets, I don't have any money." He's sort of nesting, too, gravitating closer to Kay because WARM. << Freckles are adorable, >> Hive agrees, << but freckles on the twins? >> "There've been freckles on the twins," Dusk says, quietly amused. It might come with a brief -- << oh god /no/. >> He clamps down on the Shelby-Bastian mental image with a twinge of /horror/ almost as soon as it is surfacing because << oh god teenagers augh. >> There's a distinct /twinge/ from Hive. And Flicker. Like a mental shudder. Flicker leans forward for his hand, but he's /glaring/ at Dusk. << Hive you gotta come home, man, I can't have all this in my /head/. >> Micah almost /chokes/ on his last bite of bagel, because it is timed exactly with Dusk’s mental image…brief though the projection is. << Ohgosh ohgosh can we /not/ kiddie porn the Borgnet? >> He scrambles for a can of soda to help clear his throat. Air high-five! Shelby returns Micah's gesture, following it with a thumbs up and a grin. << /Fucking/ adorable >> is her only correction. << Hey, it wasn't like that at all. >> And because she's helpful, Dusk's here and there mental image is replaced with something a little more historically accurate. Only a snapshot, something taken in a cheap motel room, there and gone again like a single cell inserted into a film. What? It's not like everyone else hasn't been inflicting /their/ naughty on /her/. "So. Seven cards." Melinda keeps count as Jackson deals, so there's got to be an echo of inwardly voiced numbers, waiting until she has seven before pulling them back to look at them. But not too hard. Thinking about her cards would be bad. She instead focuses on her beer. Beeeeer. Yum yum yum. << no kidding. Being hived has killed my will to masturbate already. >> Oh, shit. Did she think that? Someone's face is /red/, but she is still playing it cool. << You kidding? >> This comes through from a voice /not/ in the room, young and female-sounding and kind of sharply amused. << It's made me want to be touching myself all the fucking /time/. >> "Uwagh," Jim slaps a hand down on Shelby's LEG for the image she provides. His other hand is clapped over his EYES. Because. Melinda. << - I don't think anyone here should have genitals until we get Hive back. >> He gives the sense of Hive a brief unconscious /tug/-yank when he gets inventoried by the disembodied mind. It’s like every additional contribution to the mindspeak is twisting up the redness dial for Micah’s /face/. Even from people who aren’t /physically/ here, yay! He hides behind the soda can. Just drinking things! Nothing to see here. << I'm not saying I don't want to... >> Melinda corrects quietly, her gaze quickly settling on Jim's form before looking back at her cards. << Just.. it's not masturbation if you're not really alone, is it? >> Yep. It's time for her to drink more beer. "Oh, you can totally masturbate with other people," Dusk says with a grin. "I mean, sex doesn't all /have/ to be penetration sometimes you just want to --" He shrugs a wing, and sips at his porter. Flicker /blushes/. He can maybe rival Micah and Jax for how red he is turning. He eyes Dusk's beer bottle like maybe he is thinking of having some. Actually, the mental connection means it is easy to hear that he /is/ thinking of having some. Except he won't. He chomps his bagel. << Jax could take care of the genitals problem, if you want, he's /good/ at that, >> Hive answers. And then, << Shit, didn't mean like how he takes care of Micah's. Just how he takes care of Eric's. >> "Who was that? 'Cause she's /awesome/." Shelby's impish remark--undeterred by Jim slapping at her--follows a slurp of soda. << Mutual masturbation >> whispers on the heles of Melinda's remarks, not even a conscious supplying of the phrase but just there. In the teen's head. Because it wasn't nearly tense enough for the grownups before she got all naughty. "So are we playing or what?" is what she's saying aloud, making demanding grabby hands at the card deck because it's out of reach and she wants to see just how terrible these things are. "Or are we gonna get Jax to start whipping out the reconstructive surgery?" << Guys you are terrible and the cards haven't even started. >> Jax doesn't seem to be about to play, he's slowly turning /everything/ around him red. "Which is AWESOME," Kay asserts around a long string of CHEESE connecting his face to a slice. OH Look! Melinda has pizza too. She's favoring the pepperoni right now and remaining red. It does not help that she is near Jax, who is turning everything around him red. Micah plunks his soda can down on the table, giving up on hiding behind it as it is /inadequate/. He puts both hands over his face and leans to obscure himself half behind Jax's shoulder. His face feels like it is ready to /burn off/...but maybe the red is just proximity to Jax's projecting? Seems legit. Mixed amidst all the /embarrassed/ is confusion at all the Eric and reconstructive surgery references. Flicker is also pretty much just unmitigated red. "/Okay/. We're playing, guys." He leans over to flip over the first card: 'Step 1: ____. Step 2: ____. Step 3: Profit!' "You gotta pick two for this. "/I'm/ judging." And so the terrible begins. Or, let's face it, just continues.