i'll make a canvas of yo rank face (jack!)

[NOELLE ARGENT]

Just recently, Elle Argent had discovered her artistic abilities. Sure,with her synesthesia, Elle was able to see colors and words in a way no one else ever could; it made her unique and special, and people seemed to think that made you an artist. Because she saw colors for sounds, a lot of people had told Elle she should start painting songs. In fact, she could probably make money off of them. So a few weeks ago, Elle had made her way to an art supply shop and picked up brushes, paints, and a few canvases. When Elle made her first painting (to What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction, because those idiotic British heartthrobs were way too catchy for their own good), it had turned out...well, sloppy. Elle had frowned at the canvas for three whole cycles of the song, easily picturing the colors but not being sure how to paint them. During the fourth first chorus, Elle made a harsh purple line across the top half of the canvas. It was a good start, but Elle was still stumped. Finally, by the sixth time the song came on, (and this point Elle had listened to "YOU DON'T KNOW YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL" so many times that she was standing up and boogying around the canvas) Elle had found her rhythm. All she needed to do was dip the brush in the right pot, close her eyes, and feel the colors. A dash of purple there, a burst of red here. In the end, it was a runny jumble of color. It left Elle feeling accomplished, though, and wanting more. So Elle had signed up for art class, and guess who happened to be there? Jackson Hirsch.

Oh, Jackson. Elle had many things to say about her compadre. First of all, he was a goober. Elle had no friend that she liked to troll more than Jackson; maybe it was because he dealt it back, she didn't know. They were both upbeat people, though, and got on pretty well. That whole "time-before-Graceson" period had her at wits end with the boy, though. Because Elle was a dirty hypocrite, she was always pushing him around about "grow a damn pair Hirsch!". Really, she shouldn't have been saying anything at all. Elle herself needed to grow a pair and dammit Jackson had beat her to it. It was only a matter of time till he started bugging her about the Mikey situation, and Elle was biting her nails in anxiety (though not really, Elle's nails were always pretty and polished. Biting that would taste yucktastic). Oh, she could take it, but she definitely did not want to. It was...it was different for her! Yeah, totally. That was always a good excuse. Now that she was thinking about it, Elle was beginning to feel less and less afraid of loving someone. If she gave herself a little more time, Elle believed she might be ready for Mikey.

Wow, that made her blush. Plopping down in her seat in the back of the room (front row was for squares), Elle pulled out her paints and brushes, getting ready for class. Where was Jack--her thought wasn't even finished when the curly haired boy rushed through the door just before the late bell rang. Elle smirked. "Busy practicing your French with a certain Grace?" Oooh, she was gonna pay for that comment. Elle could already tell Jackson would greatly reciprocate and boy was she excited.

notes;; omg freinds 4evar
outfit;; okay here's the outfit yay!

[JACKSON HIRSCH]

Jackson wasn't really an artist, persay. Once, the Hanukkah before that twister, his dad asked him to repaint the symbols onto their old family driedel, and he did okay, but that was just painting over something and he got a little outside the lines. After he was done rebuilding the part of his house swept away by that twister, he had to paint it so it would look better, and he found a color that mostly matched the rest of the house, but even then, the paint on the rest of the house was cracked and worn so it stood out a bit (he should have had Aura help him, but he wasn't in the best of places at the time). Other than that, he kind of enjoyed art class in elementary and middle school back in Fairfield though he wasn't anything special. Mainly he just took the art class because it was something fun he could do for his art credit that wasn't ceramics, because lol ceramics.

But when he got there, he didn't expect his archnemesis to be there.

By 'archnemesis', he meant 'rival in all things trolling'. And in no way did it stop him from snagging the seat right next to Elle Argent, which the teacher turned into their assigned seats. He loved Elle, though she could be annoying at times, though that was kind of their thing. Of course she was one of the ones to push him to ask Grace out before he did; he didn't expect any less from her. It was a bit hypocritcal, honestly, as she wouldn't buck up and get with Mikey, but then again, it was also hypocritical of him to make fun of her for not doing it. He made fun of Mikey too, but that was a bit different as he was his bro. The beginning stages of the art class had just consisted of them drawing on each other's doodles with pencil and somethings along the lines of "look at this ugly swirl of chaos, it looks like your face", but today they were moving on to painting, so he figured he had to step up his game.

That didn't mean he wouldn't walk Hollie to her class as he always did, though this time, he was a bit late, as he forgot to go to his locker and get his brushes out when it wasn't out of the way, so he had to basically run to not be late. The teacher gave him a look to say 'cutting it kind of close ther, aren't we' and he grinned sheepishly and shrugged, then made his way to his seat next to Elle. Wow, that was exhausting. He set his brushes on the desk and slumped, until he heard Elle speak.

It took him a few seconds to grasp, then he sat up. And so it begins. "Oh, you would know all about French, wouldn't you, Elle?" It was lame, but he would gradually up the ante and save his best comebacks for last. Lower their expectations and wow them in the end, that was his strategy of trolling.

But then he noticed she was blushing, probably from thinking about Mikey. At least, that's what he was telling himself. He took a paintbrush and dipped it into the red paint and swirled it around a bit. "I didn't know we already started painting, Elle, but that shade of red really is a good color for your cheeks." Then, with quick movements, he painted a single little line on her cheek, said "But I think I like this one a bit better," then set the brush down and stared off like he started nothing.

Fuck strategy, this was trolling.

And so it begins, now.

[/justify]

[NOELLE ARGENT]

"Oh, you would know all about French, wouldn't you, Elle?"

Ever so slightly, Elle cringed in her seat as the blush that was just leaving crawled back into her cheeks, making her face burn. Was it that obvious? Babette had taught her quite a bit on hiding her feelings (mainly to, you know, seduce people, but it was all the same, right?) and Elle thought she was accomplished at it. Apparently not. Biting the inside of her cheek, Elle flicked her hair over her shoulder and gave Jackson a mock-withering look. "Well I am French, after all." Elle followed up her smartass remark with a cheeky grin, shrugging her delicate shoulders like it was the most obvious thing in the world. But really, though....Jackson was right. It's not like Elle was the most innocent girl in the world; she had had her fair share of flings in the past, for sure. Ignoring the literal side, Elle was well voiced in all things "French". She really wished Mikey could be included in that category. Oh, if only. But longing would never--

What the.

Elle's eyes turned to saucers, then shrunk into a sharp glare. She hadn't even really payed attention to what Jackson was saying, something cheeky about her blushing (yes, thank you, Elle was aware that she blushed frequently), but she was very aware of the slimey, cold paint being smeared across her cheek. Eyes still narrowed, Elle reached up and stuck her finger in the paint, checking to see if it was really there or if she was just crazy. Sure enough, there was a fire engine red streak sitting upon her face. Slowly shaking her head, Elle chuckled. Jackson was about to regret that. "You like this red, huh? What...about....this?" Elle swirled her brush around in the blue and purple, making a unique color that to her, represented the word "LOSER". As soon as she said the word "this", Elle struck out and painted a long line down Jackson's cheek, right by his nose.

Smirking, Elle set down her paintbrush. "I think that color fits your perfectly." Because Jackson was a LOSER! And a troll. Oh god was he a troll and Elle was on the edge of her seat, waiting for his next move. But first....Elle twisted around in her seat to grab her phone while the teacher wasn't looking and snapped a picture of Jackson. She knew Grace wouldn't get it until the damage was totally done (because there was no way he was leaving this classroom with only that much paint on his face), but a text was definitely in order. "givin ur bf a makeover in art. hope u like ;)" Elle tapped out the message , delicate thumbs flying across the touch screen. As a second thought, she sent the text to Mikey, too, not even bothering to change the "bf" part.

"Got any other colors you like?" Elle raised an eyebrow tauntingly, waving a paintbrush in front of Jackson's face like she was about to paint him up again. Let the games begin, bitches.

[JACKSON HIRSCH]

Shaking his head, Jackson grinned at her remark. "You know who else is French, Elle? Mikeeeeeey," he said, accenting the last word like a little kid bragging about something they had and the other didn't. Which, you know, was just the knowledge that Mikey and Elle were meant2B. He laughed at her flipping her hair, and totally did notice her blushing again. Maybe it was a low blow, but all was far in love and war, which this trollfest was basically a conglomeration of the two.

He didn't stop laughing when she glared; in fact, it increased as she reacted to it. He couldn't even stop giggling like an idiot long enough to notice she was retaliating until he felt the cold paint run from his hairline (which was basically the top of his nose) to the tip, and he shuddered from that gooey feeling and the chills he got from that simple move.

Jackson poked his nose, examining the color on his finger. It was a bluish purple that actually wasn't too bad, though he didn't know what Elle associated it with. He wondered who she was texting and what he was sending, though he thought he noticed her take a picture. Quickly, he took a paintbrush full of brown and flung it in her general direction, and he was pretty sure he got her hair. But he wasn't exactly paying attention, because in this troll battle, the pen was mighter than the sword, a phrase which here meant "the smartass comeback is way more important than the paintbrush."

"Perfectly, eh? What, is it the color of sexy?" With one pointer finger, he flicked his hair out of his eyes and struck a pose as best as he could on the stool without falling off (because that would totally ruin his swag, and Elle Argent would never let him live that down), and grinned. "Elle, baby," he attempted in a French accent, though he really sucked at French accents. He flipped his hair again, and continued. "Paint me like one of your French girls."

With that, he held the pose and examined the colors she had. "I dunno, can you PAINT WITH ALL THE COLOOORS OF THE WIIIND?" Yeah, he had seen Disney movies too. He looked like an idiot while posing and breaking out into song, but really didn't care. Besides, he was an alright singer.

[NOELLE ARGENT]

Setting her phone down, Elle jumped in shock and let out a little squeal as she felt the paint splatter over her face and...in her hair. Mouth formed into a little "o", Elle reached up and felt the goop sitting atop her blonde curls. If steam could rush out of her ears, now would be the time. As someone who also had curls, Jackson should have understood that Elle's hair was a pain in the ass that took way too long to look decent. "I cannot believe you got some nasty, poop brown paint in my hair, Hirsch." Of course, it didn't remind Elle of the word "poop", but...damn that color stuff could get confusing.

Synesthesia aside, Elle quickly stuffed her precious iPhone in her back pocket before it could be ruined by the flying paint. The color for sexy? Elle snorted. "No, that would be the color for loooooser." Grinning, Elle sang the last word like a six year old trying to say a serious burn. Because obviously, "loser" was a hardcore insult. As Jackson struck a pose on his stool, Elle was seriously tempted to push him off. All it would take was a little nudge by her toe, and BAM, his ass would be floor bound. Grace probably wouldn't be too happy if Elle broke her boyfriend, though, so Elle resisted. "Paint you like one of my French girls, eh?" Despite being a French girl herself, the phrase set Elle's toes curling in jealousy. There were tons of French girls in France. Where Mikey had stayed for a long time. Elle's ears went red in annoyance. It hadn't been the first time Elle had made that connection, though, so she sent the antagonizing thoughts scattering. "I'll paint you alright." Ignoring her paintbrush, Elle stuck her fingers in the paint pots and struck her hand out, smearing paint all over Jackson's cheek. Smirking, Elle wiped her hand clean on one of the rags sitting by her brushes.

As Jackson broke into song, Elle couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips. "You are so cheesy. I should call you Queso." Unfortunately, Jackson had brought up a good point. Her paint scheme was limited, and definitely was not suited for painting in a way Pocahontas would approve of. "You know, I can't do that. But I think I can paint with all the colors of Grace's lipstick." Sticking her finger in a peach color and mixing it with a soft rose, Elle layered the paint onto Jackson's lips, laughing her ass off. "Don't worry, I won't tell Grace that you stole her makeup." Elle said, her words punctuated by giggles. Even though her hair was now flecked with paint, and it would be a pain in the rear to scrub the stuff off her face, Elle was having a blast.

[JACKSON HIRSCH]

Jackson and flipped his hand like one of those stereotypical popular girls. "Honey, I improved it." Shit, this was getting real. He was probably gonna get slapped with more than just paint at this point. Hopefully she knew he was just joking, Elle's hair looked wonderful for curly hair being a giant bag of dicks most (all) of the time, and that wasn't a lie. "Quit sippin' on that haterade, Argent."

When Elle snorted, Jackson sat up with mock offense and horror. When she said loser, he gasped, hand flying to his mouth and everything. "Aw nah, you did not just call me loser, beyotch." No, he couldn't keep this up. He snickered afterwards, unable to keep up with the character. Flipping his hair, he grinned. He didn't notice that Elle's ears went red or that he was causing her to be jealous of anything. That would mean he was taking what he was saying and that was basically the exact opposite of what he was doing. Or ever did.

And then he felt cold, slimy paint on his cheek. Ooh, gurl. "Obviously that is NOT what I meant!" he exclaimed, resisting the urge to wipe it off. He would just smear it all over his arm and hand and it would dry faster on his cheek. He z-snapped and narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer. "This means war." It meant war like ten minutes ago, but he figured it needed to be said out loud.

Jackson's hand flew to his chest and he scoffed. "Queso?! Queso?!" Slipping into his Austin Powers voice and winking, he added, "Call me Velveeta, it's more spreadable, baby." What the fuck was he even saying anymore?

Wait - Grace's lipstick - wha-

And then he had paint all over his lips, and it was indeed the color of Grace's lipstick, except it looked a whole lot better on her. Tasting the gross paint, he grinned. "Well, you know, two can keep a secret..." he stuck his hand in the red again, "If one of them looks like a zombie!" And he spread the red all over her face, making her look like she had really bad zombie makeup on.

[/justify]