<////< Shushers, man! >////> *Tues*

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

OUTFIT OF PIG-NESS. BEING ALL NESSY.

It was a Saturday, and Pig was in the library.

Please listen closely, as this statement was repeated.

It was a Saturday, and Pig was in the library. By choice.

Now, in some sense, this was surprising. She was a sixteen year old girl, moderately attractive in her own opinion. The sun was shining, the birds were tweeting almost as much as the students, and she could very well have been having an adventure of some sort. But in another respect, especially taking into account the type that Pig was, the library made perfect sense. She was a loner, and the library was quite vacant. She enjoyed quiet, which library's notoriously were. And she enjoyed thinking, which library's were quite useful for encouraging.

She was, as usual, brightly dress, contrasting to her quiet and monochromatic personality. Red converse, orange tights, yellow skit. A green belt sat on her hips, despite not having belt loops on her skirt. A purple long sleeve shirt that snugged her slim frame, with a bright blue tank shirt, with a slight ruffling-like thing at the hem. A black hat hugged her head, her auburn crimps falling just past her shoulders, pushed behind her ears. The ears themselves had small white earrings, that upon close inspection could be noted as little porcelain fried eggs. Pepper's dog collar was wrapped around her neck, as always, and a vivid lime green bracelet with the word ZOMBIE hung from her wrist. Her penguin back pack was in her room, and instead she had her Beatles lunchbox, which she used as a purse. Pig had a strange sense of style, and often got curious glances about her clothing. She wasn't sure why she liked it so much... Certainly nothing about her demeanor matched the cloths... But she did. And she thought it looked nice.

Those who didn't, could bugger off, couldn't they?

Sitting at a reclusive table in the corner, near the history section, she drew aimlessly in her notebook. She was not a particular good artist, nor really bad. Cartoony, most certainly. The art had no direction... A couple flowers, a frog, a face with pouted lips and crimped hair that could very well be her. The script she would apply was far more artful, in truth. She had a tight, loopy, delicate way of writing. Sighing, with a little boredom in her eyes which had almost liquid looking irises, Pig tore out a page and began cutting the paper. All in matching little squares, four inches by four inches. Taking these squares, Pig walked up to the librarians desk, and stapled these pieces together.

She would make a flip book.

It was something her Father had showed her how to do, in a rare moment of bonding the two had. Going back to her table, she let her fingers start the drawing...

Two boys. Same height, same hair, same cloths. They could have been reflections of the other.

One held a ball.

The other wanted the ball.

They fought over the ball.

An owl flew over, watching with big, round eyes, and poorly detailed feathers. Followed by a pig with a bow.

The boys stopped fighting and looked at the audience.

One grabbed the owl, and hugged it. The other grabbed the pig, and hugged it the same.

Large peace sign.

Fin.

Flipping the little book, she smiles a little, wishing she had color pencils with her. Pig wasn't quite sure what she'd do with the little book... maybe give it to Oz... It seemed like the sort of thing he would enjoy.

A pink touched her cheeks, just barely, as Pig thought of Oz. Not that she would recognize why. No, best leave that a mystery. But she enjoyed working with him on their project, and liked how he talked. The day they skipped... it had been nice. Really nice. Maybe too nice.

Hrm.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

THANK YOU MOLLY FOR THE GORGEOUS OUTFIT!


So why was he here, again? A question for the ages. Tuesday Davenport wandered aimlessly through the shelves of books, glancing at the tables on either side of him jam-packed with students pouring over learning material. He could totally see Thursday plopping down between the twitching redhead with glasses the size of Montana and the tall businessman dude scribbling on some business paper, and just pouring over Alice in Wonderland or whatever that book was that he was always giggling about. But the younger Davenport twin being within even five miles of a library was the equivalent of an artichoke applying early decision to an all-women’s college. It just didn’t make sense. And wouldn’t normally be something that normal, non-hallucinating people would consider humanly possible.

Although, come on. A sentient artichoke? How awesome would that be? He’d have to write that one down. For a spray-paint mural. Or something.

Book. He needed a book. For some history project. And he couldn’t remember what book it was. Or what it was about. But it was definitely a book and he definitely needed it. Wow, that was a shit ton to go on. Thursday would remember what the book was called. He might even like, just happen to have the book in his pants or something. But…no, no, right, he wasn’t going to bother Thursday right now. His brother had enough on his plate.

Someone was drawing up on his right. Tuesday craned his neck to see as he wandered past. Not bad drawings, actually. A flower, a frog, a face-ish thing, a…whoa. Hold the phone. Was that him? Was someone drawing him? Tuesday stopped in his tracks. Who…a single glance at the flowery girl-script on the page told him everything he needed to know.

Ah. This was that girl.

Tuesday knew all about that girl.

Well, this could be fun.

Tuesday pulled up the chair next to her, glancing at the picture before her and grinning broadly. “A valiant effort, but I think my nose is a bit sharper than that. Also, I'd say eyes are a tad further apart than that. Like, if you take two pencils, and line them up, and then just…” an idea struck him. “Alternatively, I could totally just model for you. Right here, right now.” He adopted a totally sleazy model position, stretching his arms above his head. "Alright, go. Draw. Shoot."

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

Pig was so immersed in her little flip book, she did not see the fellow approach until he was plopped in the chair next to her, creeping over her shoulder. Looking him over, her first assumption that it was Thursday. He had Thursday's eyes, and his hair, and his cheeks, and nose, and... lips. But.. the lips were off slightly. Not the shape or the color, but the smile itself. Of course, one had to realize, that in order for Pig to realize this, she had to of studied Thursday's lips quite a bit. Which she had. “A valiant effort, but I think my nose is a bit sharper than that. Also, I'd say eyes are a tad further apart than that. Like, if you take two pencils, and line them up, and then just…” Pig looked at him, her face stoic, but strange blue eyes twinging with a bit of confusion.

"But.. it wasn't suppose to be-" Pig's southern uk accented voice cut short, deciding not to bother. He was just doing what he was doing, honestly.

This wasn't anybody. Just a random drawing. As she opened her mouth to protest, the Thursday Doppelganger stood. He was cocky, less shy than Thursday. That was a bit more obvious than the lip thing. Though, Tuesday had no reason to be shy around Pig, as Thursday did. Not that Pig was at all aware of this, or even aware that Thursday was aware that she had breasts. “Alternatively, I could totally just model for you. Right here, right now.” Pig blinked, perplexed. "Alright, go. Draw. Shoot."

Narrowing her eyes a bit, she looked over the situation. "You're not Thursday..." Her voice was confident, despite the fact that she could find little difference with this one than the other. But this was definitely not Thursday. Pig could tell from his... hisness. It was not Thursday's ness. It was a ness belonging souly to this ones nessness. And this meant that Thursday was a twin. Pig had very little good experiences with twins, given her tyrannical sister Mary Anne and simple sister Elizabeth were twins. But one must not be to quick to judge. Thursday was alright. More than alright. He was... quite alright. So, his brother probably was too.

Grabbing her pencil and a piece of paper, Pig set to work on a drawing, as Not-Thursday set his pose. Not that she drew him, though her eyes flitted up to him often, to give the indication that she was. Instead she drew a cartoonized horse's backside, with a trough in front of it, and the tail slightly raised. Adding a few daisies and blades of grass in for detail, she slid it in his direction, her expression utterly serious. "If you're particularly keen on this, Not-Thursday, I could sign it for you." A small threat of a grin twitched at her lips, as she waited for his reaction.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

So. Tuesday’s eyes scanned her up and down. Thursday interested in a girl. A real, actual girl, with mammary glands and long hair and makeup and a skirt and green eyes, and everything. This was a first. Tuesday felt a small, pathetic swell of pride simmering in his chest. I’ve converted him at last. Maybe. Or maybe this girl…had Thursday told him her name? Some animal. Kangaroo…cat…porpoise…hog…PIG. Pig. That was it. Maybe Pig was just as wacked-up as Thursday was. That’d be nice. He’d have someone else to explain his books to, so Tuesday could stop having to pretend to be mildly interested. Maybe he could share umbrellas with her and stuff, if she was into that. Maybe they’d grow up and get married and have really weird kids, like Arrested Development except with book-reading and umbrellas, and without the guy from the Social Network because that guy really pissed Tuesday off.

"But.. it wasn't suppose to be-"

Whoa. Hello. Accent. In his head, Tuesday added British accents to the umbrella-book-Arrested Development family in his head. Alright. Maybe Thursday just had a thing for British girls. Maybe he’d been born into the wrong country, and would become a total ladies’ man if Tuesday shipped him over to England. It would be like the Parent Trap, except that the twins totally already knew each other, and neither had the awesome Dennis Quaid Dad guy. He almost smirked, but realized that would probably look creepy to…Pig? Pig.

You're not Thursday..."

Tuesday made a show of rolling his eyes. “And whatever gave you that impression? I’m actually socializing aren’t I? Not hiding in one of those cubicles over there with that Alison Wonderland book and an umbrella. First clue right there.” Alright, she was totally drawing him. Tuesday returned to his model pose, grinning broadly again.

…Except that that totally wasn’t him. “What, is that a horse’s butt? And a trough?” He drummed his fingers on the table, shaking his head regrettably. “Drawing derogatory caricatures of innocent students. Thursday’s going to hear about this.”

"If you're particularly keen on this, Not-Thursday, I could sign it for you."

Tuesday feigned an almost Shakespearean expression of incredulity. “’Not-Thursday’? I’m flattered. We’re off to a great start already, Pig.” He stuck out a hand. “Bob Davenport. Thursday’s younger, funnier, and more attractive twin.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Nah, just kidding, but wouldn’t that be weird? I’m Tuesday.” He shrugged. "I answer to 'Thursday' too, of course. I mean, I get called that enough. But I'm not sure that 'not-Thursday''s going to cut it. I mean, you're not Thursday either, so I could totally call you that. And that'd just be confusing."

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

Well, wasn't he just a puffed up poppin jay?As the term went through Pig's mind, she couldn't help the slight bitterness at Not-Thursday, as it was one of those annoyingly old timey phrases her Mother would say. Why did it have to apply so well in this case? It was quite irritating to say the least. But, there it was. Not-Thursday, probably the Tuesday that real Thursday had referred to on the day of the carnival, stood bearing a motionless strut to him. “And whatever gave you that impression? I’m actually socializing aren’t I? Not hiding in one of those cubicles over there with that Alison Wonderland book and an umbrella. First clue right there.” Pig's curiously pale blue eyes narrowed a bit. Perhaps that was an attempt at humor? However, Pig did not find it very amusing at all.

"Quite. It must make you quite wizard, eh? Not having to deal with all that pesky thinking all the time. Why... I bet you people want to be just like you." Her voice sounded sincere, it sounded deadly serious. Was he joking about the Allison in Wonderland thing? Certainly, if nothing else, he had seen the damn Disney movie.

Watching him closely, Pig didn't flinch or attempt to retract her little drawing. “What, is that a horse’s butt? And a trough?”

"Very perceptive." Pig replied, putting the pencils back in her lunch box.

“Drawing derogatory caricatures of innocent students. Thursday’s going to hear about this.” There was something... charming, Pig supposed it could be called about Not-Thursday. A natural joker quality about him. He seemed to have an easier time gliding through life than Real-Thursday did. Though, perhaps the quiet quality that Pig found... endearing... about Thursday was not so apparent when Tuesday was around. She would have to make a note to herself to watch them in a group.

Still, Pig was never one to back down. Always quick with a comeback, she returned the verbal ball back to Tuesday's court. "Oh, I think I'll be quite alright. Art is rather subjective." She stood, gathering her things neatly. "For instance, when I draw a person, I draw what I see, as oppose to what's in front of me. Though... I have to say, I couldn't draw my actual first impression, as that would have been quite inappropriate. If you are curious, I suggest you looking into the term 'Wanker'." She looked up, offering her quiet little smile, which only curled ever so slightly on her cheeks.

Verbal banter was always something she enjoyed. “’Not-Thursday’? I’m flattered. We’re off to a great start already, Pig.” Her eyes widened a little, but she gave no other impression that she was surprised he knew her name. Did... did that mean that Thursday had talked about her? The well trained composure was her only saving grace, as her mind began to swirl at the idea. Offering his hand, Tuesday invested in some manners. “Bob Davenport. Thursday’s younger, funnier, and more attractive twin.” She needn't say a word, as he was already correcting himself. “Nah, just kidding, but wouldn’t that be weird? I’m Tuesday. I answer to 'Thursday' too, of course. I mean, I get called that enough. But I'm not sure that 'not-Thursday''s going to cut it. I mean, you're not Thursday either, so I could totally call you that. And that'd just be confusing."

Pig stared for a moment, taking her hand back slowly, before a short laugh escaped her. Well. That was almost clever. Perhaps he was not as much of a dolt as he given himself the impression to be. "That is a fair statement, I suppose." Pig said, voice light as spring rain. Walking over to the row of nearby books, her eyes scanned the titles. "Though, I highly doubt that anyone is going to mistake me for Thursday. You seem to be closer in appearance than I am." Her nail trailed along the spines of the books, though she looked for nothing in particular. "But I don't think I could ever mistake you for Thursday. You're both far to different, if one was to pay the mind to notice, aren't you. Not simply that Thursday is not ashamed of being literate or that he might carry an umbrella from time to time. It's a matter of your... je ne sais pas."

Turning on heel, Pig offered Tuesday a mildly curious look. "Maybe it's the humility. You know... hu-mil-it-tee." She enunciated, though her little grin was in place, giving it a certain amount of jest. "Thursday has a certain amount of humbleness to him, where as you... Though, I suppose it must work out for you quite well, as it is how you carry on. So, I suppose there is nothing wrong in that." Smirking, Pig would almost say she was enjoying herself.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

So he was being a little obnoxious at the moment. Fair enough. But he’d been waiting like, a million years to meet this British girl who called herself an animal’s name and all that other cool stuff. And unlike his other half, Tuesday was a naturally social person. And he was going to take Thursday’s word for it that she was all adorable and perfect and stuff. But seriously? She still needed to lighten up.

"Quite. It must make you quite wizard, eh? Not having to deal with all that pesky thinking all the time. Why... I bet you people want to be just like you."

He would’ve rolled his eyes if that was something he did, which it totally wasn’t, because having someone roll their eyes at you was totally not cool. But you had to admit, that accent escalated the degree of awesome of everything that she was saying to about sixty thousand. “I never said thinking was pesky.” He laughed dryly to himself. ”Just not something I do. Like, there are so many more important things to worry about than like…things that don’t exist. I’d rather just take shit as it comes, you know? I think on my feet.” He tossed his pencil into the air, allowing it to flip three times before snatching it back in his fist.

Of course, he’d had to do a ridiculous boatload of thinking lately. But that was in the past now. It was over. Done. The nightmare had come and gone quickly last night, and he’d only cried for about three minutes this morning before pulling his rear in gear. No more thinking. Everything was back to the way it had always been now.

…right?

"Oh, I think I'll be quite alright. Art is rather subjective." She stood, gathering her things neatly. "For instance, when I draw a person, I draw what I see, as oppose to what's in front of me. Though... I have to say, I couldn't draw my actual first impression, as that would have been quite inappropriate. If you are curious, I suggest you looking into the term 'Wanker'."

“Well then. Harsh.” Tuesday chided her to distract himself from the sour thoughts that were beginning to float through his head again. ”I sure hope my brother isn’t hearing snide remarks like that, because I’ll be kind of, like, not impressed at all with his taste in women.” Wanker. Okay, he’d have to look that one up. ”Remind me later about that, or I’ll probably forget,” he added as an afterthought. Wanker. It sounded like a kind of robot, like those giant ones in Avatar that Sam Worthington had totally wasted like, 70 billion arrows on.

"That is a fair statement, I suppose." Pig said, voice light as spring rain. Walking over to the row of nearby books, her eyes scanned the titles. "Though, I highly doubt that anyone is going to mistake me for Thursday. You seem to be closer in appearance than I am." Her nail trailed along the spines of the books, though she looked for nothing in particular. "But I don't think I could ever mistake you for Thursday. You're both far to different, if one was to pay the mind to notice, aren't you. Not simply that Thursday is not ashamed of being literate or that he might carry an umbrella from time to time. It's a matter of your... je ne sais pas."

”Fair enough.” He grinned slightly, having to admit that he was enjoying this little banter –ish thing. She processed and countered his remarks more quickly than your average Bieber-Believer girl or whatever. And the accent. Totally something about it. ”Well we’re not the same person, are we?” He brushed a lock of hair from his face. He’d had no idea what she’d said at the end, but resolved to ask Thursday about it after this, along with “wagner” or whatever it had been. “No need to get defensive, Miss Not-Thursday, just making conversation. My brother can do whatever he wants to do.” Something occurred to him. ”Except read those Twilight books. Because I’d rather not have Taylor Pattinson or whoever infecting our house. So that might cause problems. Ugh.” He shivered.

"Maybe it's the humility. You know... hu-mil-it-tee." She enunciated, though her little grin was in place, giving it a certain amount of jest."Thursday has a certain amount of humbleness to him, where as you... Though, I suppose it must work out for you quite well, as it is how you carry on. So, I suppose there is nothing wrong in that."

Humility. She had no fucking idea. “I’m not stupid, I can spell,” he snapped, his demeanor slipping for an instant before he quickly regained control of himself. ”I mean, good,” he added hastily, sidling back into his usual composure. He wasn’t really sure she’d just said there either, but he guessed these were all like, weird British ways of talking. ”I’m glad you, uh, approve of me. Does this mean you can” date the shit out of my brother “draw me a nice picture now?” He fluttered his eyelids and smiled charmingly because hey, why the hell not?

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

Pig really hadn't meant to be cross with him. Well, not quite so cross. Despite her stoic temperament, Pig was a sensitive creature. She had few friends, and had felt young Tuesday was teasing one she had deemed to be a rather favorite in her minds eye. So, she got a little protective.At first she did not feel so bad- he carried on with her, bantering back and forth. It was a verbal chess match, going back and forth between the two.

But then he snapped. He lost his temper. Pig had gone to far. “I’m not stupid, I can spell!” Pig looked at him, her eyes a little wide. There was something else. What she said wouldn't normally offend someone, but it offended him. But it was gone as quickly as it came. ”I mean, good, I’m glad you, uh, approve of me. Does this mean you can draw me a nice picture now?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking over her options. They had hardly gotten off on the right foot, had they? Awkward conversation may pursue, and that did sound terribly unpleasant. On the other hand, this was Thursday's brother. Which meant that she would be seeing him again. And Thursday was also quite sensitive. And had mentioned Tuesday before. So that meant that they were rather close. It would make him unhappy if there was bad blood between Tuesday and herself.

Sitting back down, she opened her book to pull out a fresh piece of paper, and a pencil. "I'm sorry." She said after a moment, pale blue eyes watching as the lead of her pencil came upon the paper. "I hadn't meant to... to make you think I found you daft. Sometimes I tease, I suppose, and go too far." She continued to chew her cheek a little, as she apologized, her cheeks a little pink in embarrassment. No wonder she wasn't Miss Popularity. Hell, she shouldn't even be allowed to be around people.

Still, apart of her wanted to let Tuesday hear her side of things. "I don't find you dim though, honest. If you're anything like Oz- I mean Thursday, you're probably rather clever. But you seem more... sure, you know?" Pig couldn't look at him, while she explained. It was rather inexplicable, after all, that she was so protective of Thursday. Well, not totally. They were friends. He was her really cute, really sweet, really smart, really fun friend. Thursday was just... really. As these thoughts crossed her, Pig's face pinkened, though her face was placid as always. "I suppose I had thought you to be taking a jib jab at him. I shouldn't have decided offense was the best route to take, but it wasn't really thought on, you know?"

The picture was of a cartoonish version of Tuesday/Thursday's likeness. It was a little startling that there was quite the visible similarity to the boys in her flip book. Ah, well. The boy in the latest picture had a sideways and mischievous smirk, with large eyes that were innocent and contrary to the grin. He sat, cross legged, his chin resting in his hand, while his elbow sat upon his knee. It was rather well done, given the haste.

"Well, there it is. Quite less subjective than the last, but a much better likeness I think." She looked at Tuesday, a tiny smile calling for a mutual truce from their tennis match of words. "There you go... Tuesday." Her apology was sealed with the use of his name.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Tuesday sat, drumming his fingers agitatedly on the tabletop and trying to slow his heart rate. Breathe slowly. Slowly. Slow is key. Slow breathing. It was what he always told himself. It never worked.

He’d covered up the slip quickly, as he always did. And whatever had caused it, he couldn’t even remember now, should not have been that big of a deal. People said shit. People always said shit. Tuesday had never been normal. So what was going on? It had been a while since the…not-good thing had happened. A while since he’d done that…bad-ish thing.

So why are you still all hormonal? he wanted to scream at his emotions, and probably would, the next time he was alone in front of a mirror with a few hours of crying to spare. Why can’t you just…I dunno, be all dull and hidden and stuff like you’re supposed to? That was what happened in all the movies, when people did bad things they didn’t mean to. They cried, they wrote sad poems in their journals, there was a sad montage thing with a slow song by Mariah Carey or some other blonde country singer playing in the background, it rained, and then it was fine. They got over it. The world came back together, the person’s shit got back in order, everyone kissed, and everything was fine.

So why wasn’t Tuesday fine? Why had nothing, absolutely fucking nothing, gotten better? He was totally not believing all that bullshit about how crying made you feel better because of chemical reactions or whatever, because Tuesday had literally been crying every minute that he was alone since the…thing, and the chemical reactions were doing diddly squat. He barely even noticed when it was happing anymore: he’d do his homework, brush his teeth, and just like, feel that stupid bridge pressing down on his mind like a…weight…type thing…he didn’t feel like coming up with a metaphor for that.

But he knew he’d reached a wall. The world wasn’t going to come back together. The final credits were never going to roll. He’d be like this for the rest of his life, moving through his days in a haze, spending his nights immersed in nightmares and waking up and sobbing into his pillow for the rest of the night. It was practically routine, ad this point.

"I'm sorry." She said after a moment, pale blue eyes watching as the lead of her pencil came upon the paper. "I hadn't meant to... to make you think I found you daft. Sometimes I tease, I suppose, and go too far."

Oh. Right. She thought that was what Tuesday was upset about. “Oh. I…yeah. S’alright. I don’t really…” He shrugged. ”I’m not book smart. Well, not as much as my brother, anyway. But I…” Another shrug. ”I guess I…I guess I just get things, y’know? Like, uh, I’ve always been awesome at chess and riddles and puzzles and uh, those Rubik’s cube things. I just never really…” Whatever. Tuesday really wasn’t finishing his sentences today, was he?

"I suppose I had thought you to be taking a jib jab at him. I shouldn't have decided offense was the best route to take, but it wasn't really thought on, you know?"

”Jab? At my brother?” Dear dear, was that the impression he’d been making? God, he’d been so freakin’ out of it lately. ”No biggie.” He grinned, rolling his shoulders backwards and clearing his throat. ”I’m a big boy.” He rocked his chair back onto two legs again, trying to thrust himself back into his usual suave demeanor. ”We’re different, anyways. We’re guys, you know? We rip on each other.” He shrugged. ”But we’re bros. We got each other’s backs, you know? I’d never ever…what’d you say? Jab? Jab. Nope. Wouldn’t do that. No jabbing here.” He crossed his arms conclusively.

"Well, there it is. Quite less subjective than the last, but a much better likeness I think." She looked at Tuesday, a tiny smile calling for a mutual truce from their tennis match of words. "There you go... Tuesday."

Tuesday craned his neck to see what she’d drawn, then laughed. ”Hey, you’re not half bad,” he commented, wanting to reach out and touch the pencil lines. But knowing his luck, he’d probably end up contaminating the picture with fingerprints or whatever. Like, damn, that was a really good picture. It could have been a photograph. No joke. Really. Oh man.

He straightened, adjusting his collar and adopting a businesslike demeanor. ”A marked improvement, but I’d say my eyes are about five eights of an inch smaller than those. That’s in diameter. And then, of course, there’s my-“ He shook his head, giggling again. ”Nah, really, just messing with you. It’s really hella good…Pig.” So did this mean they were on real-name terms now? Because that would be nice. "Miss Not-Thursday" was kind of a mouthful.

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

Hrm, it would seem with out the assistance of being a snarky little wenchling, Pig's social skills have once again climbed tragically low. In their attempts to make sure she would one day be a proper and old fashion young lady, Pig's parents had effectively made her a social cripple. Here she was, with the brother of a friend (a friend she acquired, and was still unsure of how that happened), who had the possibility of also becoming her friend. And what was she doing? Staring at him, pale eyes full of emotions that the rest of her face refused to exhibit. Forcing her lips to lilt upwards, even if it was a slight gesture, she nodded at his praise. Yes, it felt nice, but a lady always reacted with modesty.

Fucking. Hell.

Even his joke could only cause the strange little smile, that began to sting her cheeks, as her face was not use to holding it. In the efforts of making Pig a child of society, Pig had been turned into a vegetable. A big, useless, lump that would someday be pushed from edge to edge of a plate, before fed to the dog. Oh, Bother, she was broccoli.

Standing suddenly, she nodded again. "Well, I'm quite sorry if I came across... overprotective." Her words were spoken with great care. As always, it was with a soft, gentle voice. Pig's voice never raised, but she could make herself heard if she had the mind to. "I'm... I'm rather fond of him, you see? But, obviously you meant nothing by it, and that leaves me looking quite foolish." Oh, wow. Pig was talking too much. A small knit came to her brow, as she internally questioned what THE HELL brought that on.

Sighing softly, she repacked her pencils. "At any rate, it was fun, Tuesday. Or, well, the bits that didn't offend you." In truth, the bits that had offended him were also quite amusing to her, though had she known he was becoming genuinely offended, she would not have thought so. Pig.... was complicated. Pushing the paper to him, she offered for him to keep it. There was something unnerving about it. On paper, Pig would find it exceedingly difficult to tell them apart. But, in life, she didn't think she'd have any sort of issue with it. "But I think I should be getting on. If you see Ozzie, tell him I say hello."

In most cases she would have offered her hand, but if Pig had learned anything, it was that the Davenports had a way of luring you in. Certainly she would shake Tuesday's hand, and he'd say something utterly fascinating and vague that Pig- who was ever so curious- would demand he clarify right there on the spot. And while this seemed partially quite amusing, and even fun (legasp), it also sounded quite terrifying and awkward. Not because of anything that Tuesday might do. No, any and all offenses, Pig was sure, dealt by the hand of Tuesday Davenport seemed like they'd be completely accidental. But because Pig would be able to do nothing to reciprocate any form of being a subject of interest.

So she got up and began to take her leave, fleeing instead of being for one moment unsure. For whatever reason Oz- Thursday- enjoyed Pig's company. But if she proved herself peculair, even by Davenport standards, to Tuesday, then he might tell Thursday. And if Lizzie and Mary Anne were any subjects of comparison, a twins opinion must be taken into account. With one word from Tuesday, Pig could possibly give cause to lose her only real friend in America. And she could not let this happen.

As she was not charming, fleeing was the only acceptable course of action.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Pig was standing, and then she seemed sad. Shit, shit, had he said something? He wouldn't have been surprised. He couldn't even count the times he'd lost control and snapped at someone since he'd started going back to school. God, he could barely remember going these days. Maybe he should just like, go work at McDonalds or something. At least he didn't have to make conversation doing something like that.

"I'm sorry if I came across as overprotective. I'm rather fond of him, you see."

"And he's fond of you too." Shitfuckdamnit. Well, there was that. Frick, well, there it was. "I mean...not like...you know...just...yeah." He'd dropped his usual arrogance: his voice was quiet and sullen. Besides, "fond"? Really? Who used that word?

"But I think I should be getting on. If you see Ozzie, tell him I say hello."

"Right-o." Tuesday reclined in his chair, kicking his feet onto the table before him and giving a mock salute. "Ey, thanks for that." He accepted the paper that was handed to him, making a mental note to stick it inside Thursday's boxers or something else equally brilliant.

"And hey, speaking of Ozzie," he called out, as she began to walk away. "If you see my dear brother, tell 'im Tuesday said to hurry things the heck up." He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Seriously. What has that kid been doing this whole time?"

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

And there it was.

There it was, indeed.

That vague and fascinating lure that Pig had known he could use on her. She hadn't fled quickly enough. He had her. Stopping midstep, Pig considered. What had he meant by that? What was Thursday taking so long on? Something important, by the tone of Tuesday's voice. Something big.

A part of her figured it was not her business. Just brothers being brothers, and Pig was a tool for nagging when they weren't together. That was the point, she was sure. But then there was that other little whisper, right in the back of her head. One that was just a constant string of questions: Was it something the brothers talked about before? Was it something concerning her? Was it something concerning another girl? Did Thursday talk to other girls? Oh, that was not a nice feeling bubbling in her gut. Would Thursday know what Tuesday is talking about? It seems like such a specific thing, after all. But also vague. How the hell could something be vague and specific at the same time?

Turning on heel, Pig walked back to the table, brows knitted in deep thought. He might as well of just said forty two, for how much he gave her. Could she ask? Did she have any right to ask? Yes! Of course she did! After all, it would be irresponsible to deliver a message and not know the meaning of said message. And, anyway, her and Thursday were friends. Why wouldn't he want her to know something about him? Not that she'd be butthurt, if he didn't. After all, they were both more than welcome to have any secrets they so wish. But, well, why would they want too?

What if Pig liked Thursday a little more than Thursday liked Pig.

Still... still platonic, certainly. Definitely. Right?

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, face held in concentration. "What is he need to hurry up to do?" Relaxing her face, she didn't want to appear too interested. Of course, this begged the question, why? Why didn't she want to be too interested.

Because, maybe, just maybe, she did like Thursday a bit more than he liked her.

Not so platonic.

And if Tuesday picked up on this, Thursday would most certainly be the first to hear. That sounded utterly humiliating, and thus, Pig wasn't going to have it.

So she had to be like Fonzy. And what was Fonzy? Fonzy was cool. So, be cool. Pig had to be cool.

"Just so I can be specific, when I tell him to hurry. I mean, he could think you're telling him to hurry on something completely different." And top it off with a joke. "That's basically what high-school is, after all. Pizza, pimples, infidelity, and deadlines." A small smile appeared, the dimple on her left cheek touching her face gently. Resting in the chair, she clutched the lunchbox purse tightly, full of anticipation for whatever answer Tuesday would give.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Well. She was relaxing. That was good. Jeez, with the way some people acted, Tuesday had always wondered if they had like, certain passwords for certain emotions. Hopefully he’d used the right ones for Pig. Oh God, he hoped she didn’t think he was like, actually ripping on his brother. He wasn’t coming off as some like, twin-hating masochist dude, right? Would she like, not date Thursday because she was creeped out by his brother? Was that a thing girls did? He tried to put the thought out of his mind.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, face held in concentration. "What is he need to hurry up to do?"

Tuesday rolled his eyes. ”Taking his chicken pot pie out of the oven.” Frick, what had she thought he was talking about? ”Dating you, obviously.”

Her reaction made his stomach clench slightly. Really? It was a struggle to get the incredulity not to radiate from his features. Really, Thursday?[ ”Aaaand I see you weren’t aware of that yet.” He rolled his eyes again. ”He really is taking his time. Tell him to, uh, doubly hurry up.” He left it at that, hoping he hadn’t said too much. Thursday hadn’t even mentionedthe prospect of dating? He hadn’t even like, alluded to it? What was this kid on? Next time he saw his brother, Tuesday totally needed to give him a crash course in girl-getting.

"Just so I can be specific, when I tell him to hurry. I mean, he could think you're telling him to hurry on something completely different." And top it off with a joke. "That's basically what high-school is, after all. Pizza, pimples, infidelity, and deadlines."

Pizza, pimples, infidelity, and deadlines. Tuesday liked that. He’d totally have to spray paint that on the next mural they made. Murals! Would Pig be interested in painting a mural with them? She’d better be. Tuesday wasn’t sure how he could deal with his brother dating some girl who didn’t like spray painting. Because seriously? That would just be lame.

Though at the rate Thursday was apparently going, he would luckily if the dating thing even happened in this paleontological epoch. ”Don’t worry about that.” He shrugged. ”We’re twins, you know? Twin-telepathy?” He made a really cool telepathy gesture with his index finger. ”Seriously, you should watch us play charades sometime. We could be in a sci-fi movie.” Oh, especially that one movie with the really hot blonde girl who was always doing the control panel thing in the background while the aliens ran around and ate people. That would be pretty sick.

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

”Dating you, obviously.”

Pig stared at him, eyes round, a pink blush spreading on her cheeks. Wait. What? Tuesday stated it, like it was completely obvious. Her eyes looked a little far away as she reviewed the evidence. Thursday... Thursday had held her hand, when they had skipped together. Oh, that had been a wonderful day. Just the two of them, running around Coney Island. It had been worth the trouble she had gotten into. But... but they were just friends. He smiled at her, like a friend. That's all she was to him, because had she been more... Something would have happened.

Right?

"I think..." She said, a soft and thoughtful tone, though there was a small pitch of sadness. "I think you're a little confused, Tuesday." Yes, Thursday and Pig were only friends. Just friends. And that was okay with Pig. Because they were what each other needed. A friend.

With a deep breath, Pig continued. "Thursday and I, we're only friends. Really good friends, but that's all. Really." If Thursday had wanted more, he would have made a move. It wasn't like he didn't have opportunities too. So, it was sound reasoning that what Pig thought to be fact was indeed fact.

Even if Thursday had the prettiest eyes Pig had ever seen, and even though she knew they were so very different from Tuesday's.

Even if she felt all warm inside whenever she could make him smile. Like it was a great victory that she had accomplished herself.

Even if she knew Thursday was shy about being smart, but would show her.

Even she loved to hear him call her Ruby or Rubes or any version of it.

Okay, so she liked all of those things! A lot. Like, a lot a lot. But what could she do? It wasn't like she was about to ask him out. And.. But Tuesday was sure. They told each other everything, Pig was sure! If the Davenport Twins were anything like the Spencer twins! Why, Lizzie and Mary Anne knew absolutely everything about each other. But would it be a breach of twin confidence, if Pig was let in on this? "Has- I mean- he hasn't... he hasn't said anything otherwise... has he?" Her cheeks darkened even deeper at having to ask this.

It was so humiliating.

To talk about this with a boy! A boy who was twins with the boy... she may or may not like! A boy who was twins with the boy she may or may not like, who she had only just met half an hour before!

She sold have just kept walking.

Oh God! What if this was just a joke! A good old har har on Pig's head! What if the brothers had figured it out, and were just picking on her! No! Thursday wouldn't, and Tuesday seemed nice enough. How could she think such thing? They were... they were her friends. She was just being paranoid. Hell, Mary Anne's talk about boys being up to no good was starting to get to her.

Staring at her hands, Pig waited for Tuesday- her friend, no matter how much Mary Anne said not to trust the males- to answer her question.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Was Tuesday being an asshole? Okay, yep. Yeah, probably. If he were watching himself in a movie right now he'd definitely be the asshole character who like, yelled at everyone and never did anything anyone wanted him to. Tuesday always hated those dudes in movies. They were always played by Christopher Lee, and they were always dicks.

But Tuesday wasn't being a dick, right? He was just trying to help, right? Speed thugs along. Thursday liked Pig. Pig liked Thursday, presumably, because...okay, come on. Why not? Boy and girl. Point A to Point B. Simple. So why was literally nobody else involved in this affair understanding this? Tuesday felt like a kindergarten teacher, spoon-feeding the alphabet to five-year-old students.

"I think you're a little confused, Tuesday."

Doubtful, but Tuesday humored her. "Again with the doubting of the intelligence," he replied, chuckling in mock offense. "And even if I were dumber than most, there're some things so obvious that even a clinically insane person could figure out." He winked coyly across the table. "But yeah, I mean, I guess I could just be confused." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Thursday and I, we're only friends. Really good friends. But that's all. Really."

"Mhm. And my name's Bob, and I live behind a dumpster in Iowa." Tuesday could feel himself approaching a line, but he wasn't quite sure what or where it was. He could feel his confidence wavering as he and Pig countered each other's quick remarks, even as he shoved more of his trademark gives-no-shits arrogance into every word. Could he totally be wrong? Could he have misjudged this whole deal? Was he like the prince in that one pirate movie, following a false treasure map all the way to a humiliating dead end? Shit, he hoped he wasn't like that prince guy at all. He'd been super ugly.

"He hasn't said anything otherwise...has he?" Tuesday rolled his eyes. Had they totally not just been over this? Tuesday was trying not to let his frustration swallow him, but it had been a long day. "Nope. Course not. I mean, you're just friends, right? I mean, you seem pretty sure of that. Who'm I to contradict?"

Scratch that. He was totally being an asshole. But if being an asshole would stop this stupid circular romantic comedy gossip thing, then an asshole Tuesday would be.

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

He was totally being a dick here. But, under a pretty thick layer of irritated indignation, Pig respected his rather blase way of calling out what he seemed. she herself rather hated when subjects were tiptoed around, and he certainly made no bones about what he thought was going on.

Usually Pig wasn't one to be surprised with how different siblings could be. The Spencer sisters certainly bore nearly nothing in common. Mary Anne was abrasive and devout, Lizzie was simple and sweet, and Pig was... What was Pig? But the Davenport boys were as different as they were alike. Tuesday had the confidence to contradict, where it had taken her a moment to draw Thursday out a bit. Though, it would seem that Pig and Thursday's opinions were so similar there was no need to contradict.

And why was she contradicting? Well, namely, she certainly was not about to go on the road of an unrequited romance. She had always found those dreamy girls who fawned after boys to be quite cliche and dull. It simply wasn't Pig at all. Sure, she liked holding Thursday's hand, but that hardly meant she wanted to marry him or something. And, okay, she had wondered what it would be like to kiss him that day at Coney Island. Quite a bit. Pretty much every time he spoke and gave Pig a reason to look at his thin clever lips. Would they be clever kissing? But that was natural, wasn't it? He was an attractive guy friend. It would be normal for someone who's never kissed a boy before to be curious as to what it's like with a trusted friend.

Yeah.

Reason.

With a biting humor, she shot back at her opponent Tuesday. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Bob. You're certainly a long way from Iowa, aren't you? Maybe you're checking out New York's fabulous selection of homeless shelters?" The sarcasm was so light in her tone, one passing by might wonder if he truly was a homeless fellow from Iowa.

His response to her inquiring caused a faint blush to spread on her cheeks. Well, he was a quick on, wasn't he? Even if he was using the venom on her, it was appreciated none the less. Certainly if this was happening to someone else, she'd find it amusing. "Don't be fresh. It was just a quiz." Her fingernails tapped against the table, a little stumped. She just was not a good liar. When it doubt, in Pig's book, it was best simply to remain silent. She hadn't done that though, and thus she had lost. With a heavy breath, Pig looked at Tuesday squarely. "The truth of it? Yeah, Thursday is great. But if I fancy him isn't really the matter, because he doesn't fancy me. We went to Coney Island, and he had every opportunity to make some sort of pass, and he didn't." She shrugged, and though there was a fleeting tone of sadness, Pig gazed at her best friend's twin regally. "I like hanging out with him, Tuesday, and if it's only to be as friends, than that's alright with me. I'd rather not rock the boat."

With a narrowed, warning, eye, she looked far more like a Georgiana than a Pig for an instant. "Which is why I don't want you to say anything to him. Do you understand? If you tell him, and it gets awkward, I'd never forgive you and would really have the mind to kick your ass. So stay quiet." As an afterthought, her natural Pig appeal returned with a sheepish smile that she hoped would stir a certain compliant friendship. "Please."