ArchivedLogs:Responsible Adults

Responsible Adults
Dramatis Personae Hive, Jim, Sebastian, Shane, Shelby	2013-02-01 Or. Not.
Location <NYC> 303 {Holland} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. Friday night and here's Shane. BORED. Lying draped over his bed with his legs dangling off the edge, staring up at the ceiling, sometimes. Sometimes over at Sebastian. "We should go out." "What?" Sebastian is at his desk, carefully -- veeeery carefully -- fitting a slim bone into another slim bone. He's building a willow tree, notching these things together with delicate touches of his long sharp claws. "It's snowing out. It's /gross/ out." "Yeah, but," Shane sits up -- stands up! -- wanders over to wait until this delicate operation is through and then claps his hands heavily onto Sebastian's shoulders. He shakes his brother firmly. "We'll go from /this/ warm place to /another/ warm place. With warm subway in between." He frowns. "Kind of warm subway. Less-chilly subway." "/Snow/," Sebastian points out, just as firmly. "Come /on/, dude, it's Friday /night/. We could go dance. You could actually have fun for once. I've got fresh bud. I've got," Shane says, shaking Sebastian again, "E, you could actually /pretend/ like you enjoy life." "I enjoy life a lot," Sebastian insists grimly. He picks up a new bone, starting to file away at its end. "I can tell. Look. Here." Shane's picking up Sebastian's phone, absently rifling through the numbers in it. "It's not like you don't have friends, you have a million friends. Which one of your friends isn't totally /lame/?" He stops on Shelby. Looks down at Sebastian. Looks up at the phone. He grins as he types a message, and hits enter. Then tosses the phone into Sebastian's lap. "What the -- who did you just text?" Sebastian blinks at his phone, and then his eyes widen. "/Shane/." "Hey, she's not gonna freak if we smoke up before we go dancing." Shane shrugs. "Plus you know you want to spend your Friday night with her." "Nrgh." Sebastian makes a strangled noise. "/Shane/." "You do." Shane's writing a text of his own, flopped out onto his bed again. Sebastian sighs, putting his bone down and curling his legs up towards his chest. "You're the worst --" "-- /best/. You'd never have fun without me." Taptaptap. Shane's still texting. So is Sebastian, now. "I have fun," he says, quieter. "Uh, is Shelby hanging out with /pa/?" "You say that like he's, you know, a /dad/." Shane snorts. "C'mon, he's totally the kind of guy you'd spend a Friday night with. They're seancing or some shits. Upstairs." "Seancing?" Sebastian is saying this a little puzzled, while also looking, a little puzzled, at his phone. "Uhhhh ---" Frown. FROWN. "For -- real?" Deeper frown. "For real? No, not for real. For real would be, like, /real/ ghosts, dude, there's no real ghosts. Just for fake." Shane snorts, though, reading his own messages, and revises, "-- maaaaybe for real, they're actually doing it." He frowns up at the ceiling. He's probably mentally YELLING. "Ian says he'll show us." "That's -- so terrible." Sebastian says this only belatedly, also looking up to the ceiling. At the mention of Ian, or maybe at Ian's voice in his head, he glances down, searching the floor. "Have you seen Alanna? Sprite didn't /eat/ her, right?" "Sprite doesn't /eat/ her, she just sort of bats her around. But Alanna bats her right back, s'all good." Even so, Shane is sliding onto the floor, scrounging around beneath the bed. Looking behind the desk. In the closet. Eventually he unearths a ferret from inside the leg of a pair of jeans, and holds her up, triumphant, towards Sebastian. She licks at Sebastian's nose. "Someone's gotta teach Spence about kidnapping pets." Sebastian grins, though, bright and broad and toothy and amused, scrubbing a hand against the Alanna's head while his other continues texting. "Uh-huh." Shane drops the ferret into Sebastian's lap and resumes texting. "You're coming out with us. And smoking up." "Nnn --- wha." Sebastian doesn't seem like he's doing either of those things. He's turning the ferret over and rubbing at her belly. "I mean," he hedges, uncertainly, "maaaybe the dancing." "Shelby wants to come dancing," Shane offers, like a TRUMP CARD. Of doom. Sebastian blushes deeply. "Yeah." He fidgets in his chair. "I mean, yeah. But. Just dancing." "Uh-/huh/." Shane doesn't sound like he believes this much. He's alternating between texting and just kind of -- boggling. "Dude, you seeing this?" "This is so bad." Sebastian says that, but he's stifling a laugh. And then grimacing. "/So bad/." "So /awesome/. Fucking hell. See, now you need to smoke. To get that out of your head." "/I'm/ going to have nightmares," Sebastian admits. "Uh Shane are you hitting on pa? Weirdo." "/So/ not," Shane scowls. "He just needs to lighten /up/. This might turn into a real party, though." He's flopped back again, knees dangling over the edge of the bed. "I didn't even say I was /coming/," Sebastian protests. "You're coming," Shane answers. "/Everyone's/ coming. I'm texting Ryan. No, shit, he's out of town. Fuckit. You're coming." Sebastian winces. Taptaptap. And then he winces again, and frowns at Shane. "Hey, come here." "What?" Shane gets to his feet, wandering closer. Sebastian shoots a hand out, grabbing Shane's and leaning in to fasten his teeth onto Shane's arm. CHOMP. "JESUS SHITTING FUCKSTICKS," Shane drops his phone with a yelp and shoves Sebastian's chair back with his free hand. Then stoops to reclaim his phone because, priorities. Sebastian laughs, bracing his hand against the side of the desk. "I can't help it she said to! What did you do?" "Asshole," Shane says, while texting. "Uh, I was talking about Jim's moobs." "What's a moobs?" Sebastian just looks confused. "Tits. Manboobs. Old-man-flab." Shane's hand is still holding his phone, but he holds it in front of his chest, hefting a healthy handful of invisible tits. "-- What why were you talking about /that/ do you want to bone Jim /too/?" Sebastian sounds more worried than disapproving. Shane hits him. Hand thudding into Sebastian's shoulder. Sebastian bares his teeth in a GRIN -- grimace -- snarl? He's laughing, though, as he lifts his hand to grab Shane's wrist. Tugging it closer to try and BITE again. Shane does not wish to be bitten again. He tugs back, trying to pull Sebastian out of the chair. Sebastian's free hand is CLINGING to his chair firmly. He is not going anywhere. Well, maybe. Shane's a fierce fighter. But. Sebastian bites. Apartment 303 is quiet. Except there's muffled thumping coming from the boys' room. Shane has a faint trace of blood stippled in prickled half-circle teethmarks on one arm. He's wrestling Sebastian out of his desk chair and onto the floor. A floor on which there is a dark-masked ferret apparently attempting to get in on the wrestling, TOO. She's so excited about it she's just tripped over her own feet and fallen down backwards. Shane is gnashing teeth towards his brother while on his bed his phone buzzes. Bzzz. The front door is kicked but with bare feet, it doesn't make much noise. Just a whumph. Then Shelby thinks to try the handle and when it swings open, in she comes. Her own phone ends up shoved in the rear pocket of her jeans--which are sagging over the layers of other pants they cover. She opens her mouth to call out--then remembers something about a little brother sleeping, leaving her to proceed silently to the shared bedroom. Blood? That gives her pause but she steps over them--carefully, where the ferret is concerned--and reaches for the buzzing phone to play snoop. "I said light up, not eat your brother. Jesus. Fucking sharks in this place..." Sebastian seems steadfastly determined to keep his seat. Also, to bite Shane AGAIN. At least his teeth are chompchompchomping towards Shane's FACE. His own phone is on the edge of his desk, beside a collection of -- bones? Many bones. They're neat and cleaned white and some of them have been notched together into some sort of sculpture; it looks very much like a weeping willow. Made out of bones. Sebastian's wrestling seems primarily concerned with making sure this tree does NOT get knocked over. "Look, I can't help it. There's blood," Which, admittedly, he /drew/, "and you know how sharks get about blood." Wherever the blood has been drawn from, it does not seem to be bleeding /more/. In fact it does not even look broken at all, anymore, though it looks faintly dimpled like recently-healed cuts. Shane's phone holds a text message from Shelby herself, saying that she's coming down, and another from Jax: 'I'll bake foods. JEEZ, MOOBS??' Shane finally gives up on unseating Sebastian with a rough SHAKE of his brother's shoulders. "Haaaaah you see the end of that shit? Poor -- whateverhisnamewas. Holy /crap/." "I figured. Anyone bites me though and you're gonna wake up with a permanent drawing of a penis on your face. Like, your -whole- face." Shelby doesn't look over while she says this because it's a promise, not a threat. Also because she's reading a text that isn't for her. After, she tosses the phone back on the bed and then hops herself onto the mattress, bouncing on her knees. "Doug," she supplies the name, giving them both a crooked grin. "It was seriously fucked up, remember me not to ever piss those guys off. I didn't think it'd be so...ghosty--oh, fuck, that's amazing!" She's zeroed in on the bone sculpture. She reaches out, fingers wiggling. Want. "Oh man you /wouldn't/?" Sebastian's black eyes widen huge at this threatpromise. "-- Is there any way to get your stuff /off/?" He looks at Shane's face curiously. Maybe envisioning it with a penis. "Preeeetty ghosty," he agrees, absently, but then smiles quick and a little shy when Shelby notes the sculpture. "It's not done," he says, apologetically, twirling his chair around to face her. "I mean it's just bones." "She /so would/. I'm only biting /you/." Shane doesn't, though. He wanders over to snag his phone. He's reading the messages on it as he wanders over to HIS desk, opening a drawer to get out a small star-shaped plastic box and some rolling papers. The box is unsurprisingly full of weed when he opens it. "Just bones turned into awesome. Bastian doesn't like to /waste/ when we eat. You think Jim'll really grow this into more shit?" Since Shane does the confirming for her, Shelby just grins at Sebastian. "Not unless I want it to come off. Can I see? I promise to be careful, honest! I won't like...break it. Or, uh. Nibble on it. Or anything." Clearly she is not vegan. Or shy with making the pleading eyes at the shyer twin. Too bad the pleading effect jives oddly with her remark of, "No fucking clue, I took off before he said yes or no because -someone- made me think about his moobs. Jesus. I bet Hive's gonna tell him, too." "Moobs?" Sebastian echoes this with a wrinkle of his nose. "Why are we thinking about those? That's terrible." He is tucking one silvery-shimmery-jean-clad leg up onto his chair, pushing it closer to the desk to pick the sculpture up, carefully. He rolls the chair over towards Shelby, holding it out on a palm. The bones have been carved to fit together, notched into each other to hold without any sort of glue. "All the tasty parts are gone, anyway. The marrow's dried out and the meat's all eaten off." It... prooobably goes without saying that the twins are not vegan /either/. "Hive tattles on lots of things," Shane agrees with a snort. "But never when it'll get you in trouble. You should see the things he uses to clean those," he adds, with a bright not-at-all-shy flash of teeth. He's rolling a joint carefully, less out of unfamiliarity with the practice and more out of not wanting to tear the paper with his very sharp claws. "I bet Hive likes thinking about his moobs, don't they totally have a bromance happening? Hive's /cheating/ on Flicker. He's found a /new/ person to be fake-gay with." "Three guesses," Shelby sighs at Bastian, with an exaggerated eye-roll at his brother. She has her hands cupped in an equally careful fashion to cradle the bones as if they were glass. It takes her a moment to realize the lack of glue, and when she does, the inspection gets even closer. "Jesus, Bastian, this is like...magic. What'd you clean 'em with? Man, this'd look sweet with a fade on it. Like dark to light, y'know?" The sculpture is carefully offered back. "Nah, I asked him if he was gay for Jim and he said no." "/Tell/ me you're not thinking about /Jim's/ moobs," Sebastian narrows his eyes suspiciously at Shane. He reclaims the statue carefully, setting it back down on the table. "I clean them with, um, beetles," he says, flushing a little darker. "I've -- never tried coloring them, that'd be a whole -- it could be interesting." He looks at the statue critically. Then looks at Shane rolling the joint just as critically. "-- You /asked/ him?" This briefly distracts him from the DRUGS, turning wide eyes on Shelby. "Did you think he really /was/?" "Flesh-eating beetles. Whole /colony/ of them." Shane says this with a note of /glee/. It's sharply contrasted by his next note of /deep/ regret: "Hive isn't gay." This comes with a longsuffering sigh. "Everyone up there is just /cuddly/. It's totally unfair, they can't /act/ that gay and then never put out." He grabs a lighter from his desk and moves to the bed, scowling at the snow outside before cracking opening the window /anyway/. He offers the joint and the lighter to Shelby, first. Okay, bones she can handle without blinking, even bones that the twins have admitted they've eaten off of. She's also a dumpster-diver, and not shy with the swearing. But -bugs-? Oh hell no. Shelby dramatically gets the heebie jeebies and retreats up the bed where she settles, rubbing her arms to make the goosebumps go away. "You don't keep 'em here, do you? Oh god, if you do, don't tell me. I -slept- here, shit." She neeeeds that joint and prompts scoots over to accept the oh so courteous offer to light up. "Mel told me he was, so yeah I asked him. I wanted to ask him -out- but he like, totally shot me down too." Now 'scuse her while she snaps the lighter on and blazes, eyes slitted and lungs pulling deep. "Nu-uh. They're from the natural history museum. It's kind of cool," Sebastian says, though he says it quieter and a little more blushy as he notices Shelby's shivering. He glances down at his sculpture, and refrains from going into /detail/ about colonies of flesh-eating beetles. "But, um, no. No bugs here." He twists absently back and forth in his chair and then turns back to his desk as Shelby lights up, picking up a slim wedge of bone and extending a claw to start scraping away at one end. "Museums keep 'em for the same thing. Cleaning off bones for their collections. But they gotta /feed/ the things, right? Cuz, uh, colony of flesh-eating beetles! If you ask nice they'll let people use 'em, too." Shane has no problem speaking about BUGS. Maybe even MORE so when he sees Shelby's response; at least, his smile gets toothier. "Shot you down? You asked him out?" He shoots Sebastian a look. "See, some people actually do that. S'the only way to actually, you know, go /out/ with someone." His teeth bare further. "Or I guess the only way to get shot down." He extends a hand, fingers beckoning. With a little puffy cough, Shelby hands the joint back. Lighter comes second and she's still holding that inhalation in her lungs. Thank god for pot--it means Shane can't get to her with the BUG TALK because she's trying not to choke and die. When the exhalation finally does come, she blows the remnants of smoke into the cold snowy night and then flops back onto the bed. Waiting. Also looking back at Bastian upside down. "Don't get too into that, dude, s'your turn next. Man...you oughta let me color one," she says, so she doesn't have to continue discussing being shot down by Hive. "My turn --?" Sebastian blushes deeper like he's totally already forgotten his PEER PRESSURING. Or maybe like he's ignoring Shane's pointed look. "Jeez, you're /almost/ encouraging." His nose wrinkles. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck, and then returns to carving into the end of the bone. "You can color one. Um. I have a -- a few. Lots are buildings. I did Dusk," he adds, brighter, "but that's up at their place." "I'm so encouraging. Here. Have a thing. You'll get braver." Shane waves the join towards Sebastian, but then takes a hit himself, a long pull as his gills close flat and tight against his neck. It takes a while before he turns to blow the smoke out the window, too. Shelby flips onto her stomach and kicks her heels up, grinning. At the blush? At the brotherly heckling? Maybe that's just some good weed. It's nice to be oblivious. "Freaking awesome, you pick one and I'll color it. I won't even cheat, it'll be -totally- by hand. But you gotta toke up first. You don't even -know- what it does if you're into creative shit, it's like...whoa," she says, making with the peer pressure. "Oh man, that's what we should do! Get high and arts!" "Does that make your art /better/ or just more like -- uh. I dunno Andy Warhol." Sebastian is still very intently focused on his slim wedge of bone. His claw makes little scritchy noises against it. His art is not a /quick/ kind. "You art? I didn't know you -- arted. That's really cool." His smile returns, small and quick. "Tooootally makes it better, I think Ryan's written, like, /every/ fucking song of his high. /See/ that's why Pa needs to try it." Shane is getting off the bed, to move over and drag Sebastian's spinny chair towards it. Peer pressure with /force/. "I don't have any arts to art, though. Only music, does that count? Cuz we totally should." He's putting the lighter in Sebastian's hand. Taking the bone to trade it for the joint. "C'mon. S'easy. You gotta remember which part to breathe with though it'll fuck /up/ your gills like /woah/." "Sure I art. I'm what they call a triple threat." Music, art and cracking herself up. Shelby drops her head to muffle a sudden fit of snickers against crossed forearms. "I could show y'all but we're not -nearly- high enough up in here. C'mon, Bastian." She gets up and knee-walks to the edge of the bed, to provide moral support and a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Just a little hit and then hold your breath. In, uh. Yeah...please don't fuck up your gills. The man knows what he's talkin' about." "Triple? Music and art and --" Sebastian eyes Shelby a long moment, considering this with a slightly deeper flush of blue cheeks. His gills flatten against the sides of his neck; along his sides, too, unlike Shane's button-down /his/ pink t-shirt (it has a monarch butterfly spread huge against it) is tight enough to see the ripple of motion. He eyes the joint with trepidation like maybe it is a flesh-eating beetle. "Why hold your breath? That's like. Smokey." "Making you blush," Shane fills in, for Shelby's third talent. He nudges Sebastian's hand up towards his mouth, absently patting at his brother's knee. "Yeah smokey's the /point/. You need to give it -- time. To sink in. Whatever." "Noooo, that's not it. Music, art and I'm not tellin' unless you smokey." Shelby means it too, but maybe only because she's easily distracted--she leans back a little to check out the ripple action, her eyes slightly wider. "...although you do kinda blush a lot. Hey, can you guys like...Waterworld someone? That'd be fucking -amazing-." Somewhere outside, the door is opening. First the outside door, then their room. Jax pokes a very colourful head in, peering at the others. "Y'aright?" is his first question, and second, "M'gonna bake. Brownies, probably, 'less you'd like something else." Sebastian finally lifts the joint, taking a very tentative puff that he immediately lets back out again. At least until he is listenign to what Shane says, and then he tries again, longer -- though his eyes widen BIG when Jax appears, his expression instantly guilty. He coughs, spluttering, and passes the joint to Shelby. "Browniesaregood," is a little bit of a squeaky-breathless-coughing answer. "Pfff dude it's /Jax/, chill the fuck out." Shane pats Sebastian on the back when he starts coughing. "Brownies'd be /awesome/. Waterworld someone, the fuck do you mean?" He frowns uncertainly at Shelby, darting over to squeeze Jax in a quick tight hug. "You want a hit? You should totally. Is Jim coming, he's gonna be our pot farmer." It's habit around any sort of parental figure--Shelby takes the joint and hides it behind her back and she makes the Ohhaaaai face. Sebastian is patted on the back to help with the concept of breathing. "I fucking love brownies. And, uh..." She glances at Shane before gingerly extending the joint towards the door. "Want some? Did Jim say he'd go halfsies?" "Noooo," Jax is declining the joint with a shake of his head, though he does at least return the hug. "I don't know anything about what Jim's doing, I think he's kinda involved with Hive at the moment. I'll be in the kitchen." His gaze tracks around the room once more, and then he ducks back out. Eventually there will be brownies. Sebastian is still coughing. Now with a little more of a grimace, his gills fluttering wildly. He rubs at them with one hand. "Involved --" he manages, at length, tucking his other leg up onto the chair too and hugging his knees against his chest. "No wonder everyone thinks they're gay." In that case, Shelby will scoot towards the open window again--coooold!--to take another hit. Even though it's kind of weird because a dad but it's Jax but a -dad- so she sideeyes him while inhaling. "Fuckin' Jim," she squeaks out with breath still held. Shane is offered the next hit. "Whatever, /gay/ involves a lot more sucking cock and a lot less /hitting/ each other. If you were gay you'd know. Eeeesh, man, I /told/ you." Shane frowns at Sebastian's coughing, and looks around the room. Drops to his knees to scrounge under a bed, which turns up a duffel bag (with a curled-up ferret on top), a pair of jeans, and a sneaker before it turns up a water bottle. "No, /not/ fucking Jim, that's the whole point. What's your deal with him anyway do you have some like hate thing going on?" Sebastian just blushes again. "No, um. I mean. I totally know what gay -- um." He buries his face against his knees. But lifts it up again to claim the water bottle. He doesn't drink from it. He pours some into his hand and splashes it against his neck, one side and then the other. "-- Did we steal Dusk's ferret?" He slides off his chair, moving over to poke a finger at the ferret. The ferret flops onto his hand. He shoves the duffle bag, ferret still on top, back under the bed. Shelby breathes out slowly and waves the joint for whichever brother is feeling brave enough to take it. "I don't -hate- him," she coughs, "I just think he was. Kind of. An ass. Mostly. I mean, he's been -okay- since he was an ass. But." Hell hath no fury like a seventeen year old girl embarrassed. She swings her feet over the edge of the bed now that the ferret threat has been removed--he looked pretty sleepy. "So, are we arting or what?" "Spencer stole their ferret. We'll give her /back/. Tomorrow." Shane takes the joint. "Totally arting, uh. Wait. What do you art again? Jax has lots of -- art. Stuff. Anyway, everyone we /know/ is an ass, how's he different?" He takes a looong hit. Passes it and the lighter to Sebastian, still holding in the smoke. The door better not be locked, because Jim is just coming on in - BAM. The door doesn't hit the /wall/, that's just the sound of his shoulder hitting the door to open it. He's used to doors that stick. "I have donuts," he announces, presumably leading a small entourage of other mooching apartment tenants, but he has the swagga' of a man that's made his journey Alone. SCANNING. For where the pot is at. And sniffing. Sebastian still looks a little uncertain about the joint, but he takes it. "He's been nice to me," he says, quiet. He doesn't pull quite as deep as the others. The pot is /in his hand/ when Jim /barges in/, and he stares wide-eyed at the man. Swallows heavily, which leads to another fit of coughing, given his current lungful of smoke. Still wide-eyed, he holds the lighter and joint out to Jim. Hive is trailling Jim, having left his less-moochy roommate in the kitchen with the Sober People. Person. Whatever. "Who's been nice to what?" He probably already knows. But he's asking /anyway/. Possibly to back up Shane's theory of everyone they know being an ass. He plops himself down on the bed, because it seems like the place to be, flopping out on its edge somewhere near Shelby. "I don't have any art to do, is that like a /thing/ here?" "Not to me. And I dunno, chalk, paint, charcoals--holy shit! Knock much?" Isn't pot supposed to mellow the nerves? Shelby jumps like a pinched cat. She's braced for a leap--god only knows where--and relaxes only when she's finished glaring at Jim. He owes her a donut for that, which she demands with outstretched hand after resettling herself in half-lotus. "If you aren't arting, you gonna get arted." "Jim's been nice," Shane answers, his grin even wider than his usual. "And you totally art. /Buildings/ is art. But you can't put one in our living room. That might /actually/ make Pa freak out. We're having an art party. Sebastian's making dead things." He sounds very cheerful about this. Maybe because Dead Things, maybe because pot. "Shelby's gonna penis everyone in the face." "Holy shit!" Jim mimics Shelby's scandalized tone with great wide-eyed sincerity, "Are you kids getting /stoned/?" The the wide-eyed face drops into hardboiled PI and he's yoinking the joint from Sebastian and tucking it into his mouth like it's just one more cigarette, wandering the rest of the way into the room to hand-delivery the entire box of donuts to Shelby. You can get anything delivered in New York. "Art what now - and that is a ferret - are we doing with dead things?" Hang on, he's taking a drag no-nonsense, and then pinning his lower lip to his upper lip like a soldier, holding it in deep-business while handing the joint to Hive. "I didn't bring my camera." << And I wouldn't show you people my shots even if I did. >> Even if this means he's randomly thinking of a few of his favorites, and mental-scrambling to NOT be thinking about them Fuck You Asshole. "She's a ferret," Sebastian agrees. He doesn't go back to his chair. He just flops out on the floor, tipping his head back to look towards the ferret, his current lungful of smoke not actually going out the window like the others. "Do you camera? We're --" He waves his hand towards Shane. "Art. Party. I art. Shelby arts." His next wave is towards his desk. Which is covered with dead things. Or at least the remnants of them, a plethora of bones scattered over its surface, some of which have been fashioned into a sculpture of a weeping willow. "Hey! Could you be a willow tree?" "I so don't want a penisface." Hive is pulling back his sleeve to look at the inside of his wrist. It has a daisy there, that definitely wasn't tattooed there a few days ago. "She's my /roommates'/ ferret and I dunno what the fuck she's doing here. Shiiit, those are some nice pics, man. S'like you could be a professional or something. What you got against sharing?" It's his turn for Pot Time, and like a responsible adult he takes a long hit. Like a responsible adult, he /does/ blow it out the window. He waves it vaguely towards the teenagers afterwards, for Whoever Wants It Next. Oh my god, she could totally penis Jim in the face. Shelby is considering this course of action as she takes the box of donuts and cranks it open. She giggles. Such sweet revenge. Sweet, sweet reven--ooh, honey dip. "Only if I get bit. -Then- I'll penis people," she says, taking a big ol' bite of doughy goodness. Her cheek sticks out with that bite as she continues talking, sliding the box Hive-wards. "You want the lamp too? Lamp...post. The thing. On my leg. Where's the art stuff? I wanna paint the tree Bastian made, did you see it? S'fuckin sweet." "Art stuffs -- /so far away/. All the way in Pa's -- place. Thing. Sleeping." Shane is leeeeaning over, sniffsniffsniffing at the donuts. "What's on your leg?" Now he's kind of peering that way, instead, donuts ignored as quickly as they'd gotten his attention. "If /I/ bite you can you penis /Jim/? Can I transfer my biting? What if Bastian bites you, I think he wants to. Two birds one stone -- haha. Stone." There's another bed here, and Jim is shameless enough to drop onto it for the full mooching-off-teenager's-pot experience. What a weird little family, mutants make. "Willow? I dunno," he says after finally exhaling - also through the window, voice a little raw but no where near coughing. He has a moment of dirty-glaring at Hive and NOT responding to him, "I've been screwin' around, tryin' to see what I can do. Can't really mimic a plant unless I got one on hand to reference -- oh, hey, Shaney. Speaking of, gimme a bud. I wanna grab a seed out. -- Yeaaaaah, I'm gonna have to say No to cockface, too. Call it a preference." A preference to not have a cock on his face. It's like /he/ can read /Shelby's/ mind. He's very contemplatively considering the boneWillow, "You made that? 'Bastian? S'rad. No biting." All said in the same mild-grimacing tone. "I made it," Sebastian agrees, and he does duck his head a little shyly but for once doesn't blush. "Here, be a cactus." He has some of those. Kind of populating the periphery of the room, around the windows. "Then you'll be prickly like u -- /ohmygosh/, /stone/." For once, his grin is as toothy as Shane's, unabashed as he grins at this. << Stoooooned. >> "Stoooned -- I don't want to bite her." This makes him sit upright quickly, shaking his head emphatically. << I mean not /bite/-bite -- >> "I mean not /bite/-bite, just." Hive snorts. His palm scrubs at his eyes, before he drops it to nab a donut. "Hey, yeah. Lamp. Sweet." He's watching Sebastian with /fascination/. Amused fascination. But speaking to Jim, glance slanted sidelong, "Hey, man, all reports say we are /all about/ the cockface. Mel. Shelby. Everyone's saying." "Fuck. How come none of you can like, pick shit up with your brain. How come -I- can't pick shit up with my brain?" Because Shelby's not going -all of the way in there- to fetch art supplies. She crams the rest of the donut into her mouth and mumbles something through it. The tone sounds vaguely alarmed: no real biting, I don't heal. Clear as day, that and the movie of the twins snapping at each other's faces, if you can read minds. And then...then she's laughing. And spraying crumbs. And laughing, hands folded over her mouth to save the room. Stooooned. Prickly. Lamp poooost. Cockface. "Effryphin's a phennis," she says through donut and fingers. "Your mom's a penis," Shane retorts, automatic, "maybe you're not /trying/ hard enough. Like that book. Melinda? No. Uh. Miranda. And the girl practices really hard and bam. Telekinesis." He is finally nabbing another hit of the joint, though it's broken up now around laughter before he hands it off to Shelby. The rest of his small STASH is tucked into a small plastic star-shaped box, which he picks up to toss at Jim. His thoughts are mostly aimed REALLY HARD at Sebastian. He is attempting to employ this same method towards telepathy: THINK REALLY HARD MAYBE HE WILL BECOME A TELEPATH. He is thinking at Sebastian: JEEZ MAN GROW BALLS ASK ALREADY. "All the more for you, then," Jim magnanimously bestows all cockface upon those so inclined, "I don't judge." He does /toke/, however, regaining custody of the joint from Shane while reaching up over his head to work a small plump barrel cactus loose from the window, setting it on his stomach like an otter. To mess with. When he's tossed the rest of the stash, he picks through it, dissecting a bud to weedle loose some of the seeds. "You kids are high," He informs them, maturely. And internally: my /penis/ is your mom's... favorite. Toy. Shit, I fucked it up. He /snorts/ to himself abruptly, tucking the seeds into... the cactus pot. The crown of the cactus has broken up already into little fractal buds of fuchsia, that begin to bloom. "/Matilda/," Sebastian says, "and that only worked because she was really smart -- I mean not that you're not really smart -- I mean," << Shit >> "shoot. Oh wow my cactus has flowers. Hive why do /you/ have a flower? I'm not a penis." He eyes Shelby, then eyes the ceiling, his smile still in place. "/You/ kid is high." "Shane thinks you should ask Shelby out." Hive is So Helpful, in furthering Twin Telepathy. "I've got a flower cuz Shelby gave it to me. Hey. Lamppost. Hit me." He taps Shelby lightly with his knuckles. "Is it going to be all wonky if you're high?" It's probably for the best that Shelby misses out on the joint, she has messy hands. They're wiped off on her jeans because hey, they're already dirty. But one of the twins is going to have crumbs in their bed, poor thing. "Mel started whoah..." She'll try blame-shifting and telekinesis later. Right now she wants to stare in awed silence at the blooming cactus, her expression somewhere between reverent artist and full on dork. "Am not," she protests with jaw still agape. "I'm...wait, what?" She blinks slowly at Hive, at Shane, at Sebastian...then she falls back against the pillow and starts pushing layers of pants down. "It'll be even...cooler. Who's what now?" is asked as she tries to undress. Fucking...why did she wear so many layers again? "Why are you /stripping/?" Shane's eyes are wide. Kind of baffled. "He didn't even ask you out yet damn girl you move fast." He's kind of protectively scooting down to position himself in between Shelby on the bed and Sebastian on the floor. << Also, >> is in kind of bemused undertone, << she can't fuck Hive on my bed YOU CAN'T FUCK HER ON MY BED OKAY? >> Jim is focusing on potted pot plant land, kind of mouth-breathing with knitted brows. The spines of the cactus have begun to tremble, and give out buds between them. "Hive," he says, distracted, "why is Shelby taking off her -- oh. Shit. I fucked it up." Some of the buds are still opening into bright merry fuchsia. Between these buds, are... different buds. Shaggier ones. Ones that drop open into five spikey-edged star-shaped leaves. Jim is fixed in a MANIC grin, snickering at it. "Why are you stripping?" Sebastian is echoing this as Shane does. He sounds a little nervous. His eyes are wide, too, watching Shelby with just as much nervousness, torn between /stripping Shelby/ and politeness. He is thankfully then distracted by his cactus, which tears his attention away. "Oh gosh what did you do to my -- oh. Oh. Did you is my cactus stoned?" "Lamppost," Hive says, like this is all the answer needed. "I'm not fucking anyone, dude." "Chill, dudes." Shelby sounds cross but it's probably because wearing four pairs of pants makes it hard to shed them. She settles for getting them to mid-thigh, exposing the top of an ink and color Victorian lamppost. "I'm -arting- -Hive-, Jesus. You act like you've never seen, uh..." Okay, so they probably haven't seen this--when she touches the lamppost, it flows up over her hand onto her arm and stays there until she reaches to touch the back of Hive's hand. Then the process happens in reverse, the image taking the daisy with it on a course to his forearm--a little compression is needed. "Can cactuseses get stoned? And who's asking me out? Hive said no." "/Holy shit/ wow uh that's awesome I'm glad you're not fucking him that's /way/ better." Shane leans in, poking a finger first towards Shelby's now de-arted thigh and then towards Hive's arm. "Holy awesome. He said no to me too," he adds. And then turns to /stare/ at Sebastian. Pointedly. "Oh my god," Jim is trying to fix the cactus. It's making it grow bigger. Shit shit shit. "You guys are all like twelve. Rob the fucking grave much?" Poit! A long shoot begins to spear upward. Pottily. Yikes-face! "I'm not twelve!" Sebastian frowns at Shane's stare. He is too busy looking at Shelby and then at Shane to remember his potcactus. << Shitshitshit >> "-- Doyouwanttogooutsometime?" He's... still staring at Shane. Maybe he's asking /Shane/ out. "OK, thirteen," Hive allows him, "But dude, c'mon, /grave/? It's not like anyone's asking /you/ -- Holy /shit/, man, what the fuck." He /is/ watching the cactus. "-- we can sell that, right?" Because with Shane's seeds and Sebastian's catcus and Jim's handiwork, he's totally in on this. His smile is crooking wider as he glances to Sebastian. Overload! Shelby is trying to keep up with everything but the effort is making her want to laugh--all the stuff! All the stuff is happening and oh god she doesn't even know what. It makes placing the drawing of lamppost and daisy yearning for each other difficult. There is ticklish twitching as the picture tries to settle. "Christ on a spike, dude, rein it in, Bastian's -asking me out-," she says. Giggling, of course, as leaves go sprouting everywhere. See, -this- is how you say yes. "Yes. Okay. Oh man, we should get like...um. I forget. Something." "/Finally/." Shane slumps back against the base of the bed after this final asking. He is sniffing at the air. "Brownies," he decides, at the smell of chocolate. "We should get /brownies/." "Jesus, it's about time," Jim has only been here like half an hour and he's already tired of watching the teenagers tiptoe around. Speaking of tiptoeing - he's trying to sneak the plant onto the windowstill, shh, it was always like that. It's a mutey household anyway, right? It'll fit right in. "You're not selling this. You're hiding it away for all time. Don't smoke it, I dunno what it'll do." Fuck, they're teens. They'll try smoking it. The instant Shane says brownies, he's instantly on his feet. All for leaving the scene of the crime. In fact. Jim doesn't want for the kiddie crowd. He stalks out. Straight backed. One thing on his mind. Brownie.