We own the N I G H T (Wes and 2)

[ANGEL DIHANIE]

(It's starting in the Baum Dorms, but could end up anywhere.)

OUTFIT OF ANGEL IS ACTUALLY WEARING TROUSERS GUYS!

Angel was sitting in her dorm like a good girl, when the black out struck. There she was, playing Super Smash Brother's, smoking her joint, when BAM, no lights. Which was lame, because she was totally kicking Mario and Princess Peach's buttocks. Oh yes, Yoshi so owned the road. But, alas, now it would seem such distractions for the night were not an availability. Grabbing a flashlight from under her bed, Angel went to her window, finding only darkness.

Shoot, did the block get a black out or something?

A conspiring grin washed over Angel's face, as she went to her closet. A chance for mischief? In DARKNESS? That sounded utterly bonifide! Her mind instantly went to Wes, and the curiosity that stars could possibly be seen. In NEW YORK CITY!

She changed into a pair of black leggings, as certainly some chaos was happening outside. She didn't want her legs to get scrapped up too bad. A long tank shirt fell over her torso, and a sweatshirt over that. What time was it? She didn't even know. Wes was more inclined to wear silly things like watches, after all. Her concern lied in making sure she had her cigarettes, and her lighter, and her camera. The earrings and make up she wore were from earlier that day. Slipping on a pair of leather, fingerless, gloves, the idea of safety was coming over her mind. A rareness. It was not so much so that she would decide to stay in, but enough to prepare herself for an encounter. Slipping on her patchwork hightops and cat beanie, Angel headed out, her flashlight illuminating the hallway.

Students, their eyes wide with confusion, some mingled with fear and others with excitement, filled the hallway. Carrying her skateboard, Angel headed for the boys dorms, in search for Wes's dorm. Beyond the walls of Baum, she could hear car horns blaring, and sirens going off. It sounded like excitement, and amazing, and awesome. All wrapped up like a burrito of epicness.

Whistling the tune to Green Acres for no apparent reason, she slipped past the teachers, who were attempting to restore order. Aw, that was cute, bless them. But if they thought that a simple: 'Okay, people, calm down and return to your dorms please' was going to have any effect on Angel, they had another thing coming.

For.

Real.

Though.

Reaching Wes's door, Angel knocked on it firmly, as he had an annoying habit of locking his dorm. Angel couldn't help but snicker, as she thought of why his room would need to be locked. Porn came first and foremost in mind, as he was a teen age boys. Pressing her ear to the door, she tried to listen for the tell tale 'fap' noise.

Silence.

"Jack! Pull up your pants and lemme in!" She laughed through the door, fingers drumming on the wood impatiently. "Seriously, it looks like ninth plague out there, and we got stuff to do."

This was going to be so awesome.

[WESTON BRODERICK]

All things considered, there wasn't anything extraordinary about Wes's night up until the lights went out. A bit of wishing his roommate would leave already (or at least get off the goddamn phone with his girlfriend, because as "cute" as it was, Wes couldn't help but think he didn't mean three quarters of the "I love you"s), some guitar playing he'd contemplated taking to the roof, and the almost overwhelming feeling of boredom that seemed to accompany any and all moments not spent with his Angel.

And then, just as he was beginning to debate whether it would be worth it to light up in front of his roommate after last week's incident with Angel, the lights flickered. They dimmed in and out for a second. Then the entire city went black. It was obvious enough that it was at least this section of the city anyway--the sky outside the dorm window, usually so peppered with artificial light, was now entirely black save for a few measley stars feebly attempting to poke their way through the murky smog floating about the sky. It was sort of beautiful, he supposed, in the same sort of way as a bird with a broken wing. Not that he had too long to dwell on the thought; in fact, almost the second it crossed his mind, the reverie was interrupted by a rather long, loud swearing fit from the direction of his roommate.

"Holy fuck, man! Did you see that shit? The way it was all fsssshhh--" he made a rather imbicilic imitation of a bomb exploding with his hands, which warranted no more than several long, slow blinks from Wes. "And then it just...went out. The whole fuckin' city's black as shit!"

As tempted as Wes was to point out the fact that shit was, in fact, brown, he remained silent. Blinking a few more times, Wes merely nodded, scratching the back of his head as he internally debated the pros and cons of just once telling the kid to, as Angel might put it, "Shut the front door." Of course, he didn't. He didn't do much of anything for the next three minutes as good old Joe-Schmo gaped like an oafish fish at what could be seen of the city before them. Finally, however, once he'd quite tired of the constant stream of "So fuckin' cool"s and "I hafta tell Mandy"s, Wes cleared his throat.

"I don't know...I mean, I could be completely wrong about this, but it sure seems to me if we can see the power outage, so can she. But that's only if you're planning on taking a logical approach to the whole thing and all," he shrugged. More than a bit delighted at the look of shock on his roommate's face at the realization that Wes could in fact piece together more than one word in a sentence, he smiled slightly. The other boy nodded. "Right, man...well, I'mma go tell her anyway. Ya know? She might be uh--scared, or somethin',"

Wes nodded in agreement, raising his hands palms up so as to better convey the fact that this was entirely between Stanly and his girlfriend. Wes wanted no part of it. He hadn't for the past year. In fact, he couldn't help but give a little pitch-black fist pump of joy at the sound of the dorm room clicking shut behind its other occupant. At last, freedom was his (and probably would be for the next two days or so, as Stan could vanish for unnatural amounts of time over on Macy's side of campus).

He was just about ready to sit down and consider what exactly to do with all this tar-colored time on his hands when a firm knock sounded on the door. Hearing her voice, Wes couldn't help but smile. And he couldn't even see himself in the mirror to feel foolish about it. He got up relatively slowly, unhooking his belt buckle and loosening the near-busted button and trick zipper as he made his way to the door. Angel would probably get a kick out of that. By the time he'd unlocked the thing and pulled it open wide enough to stick half his body outside the frame, he was already fit for venturing wherever it was Angel had in mind. Minus the pants falling down bit, of course--Wes's hands were fairly occupied between the two tasks of keeping the door open and hiking up his trousers from what had evidently been an incredibly private moment. He shook his hair out of his eyes and did a little jump, yanking the jeans up as he did so.

"The plague, huh?" he zipped the zipper. "I don't know I'd go that far..." four notches later and the belt was back on properly. He shrugged. "But if you say we've got things to do...I'll trust you this time. Hang on." closing the door gently in her face, Wes groped around for a pair of shoes that felt as though they might sort of go together. High tops--thank God he only had a black pair of those. Shoving them on his feet with two awkward, sockless hops, Wes was back on the other side of the door as fast as he could, closing it with a soft thud behind him. "So," he grinned, giving Angel his "your call" look. "What exactly do you mean by 'stuff to do'?"

[ANGEL DIHANIE]

Angel grinned at Wes, her flashlight illuminating his face. He had one of those face, the kind people remembered. Angel was remembered for her antics, but when people got a good look at Wes (much harder than one would really think, actually) that's what he was remembered for. Or for whatever bout of wisdom Wes happened to share, if one got him to talk.

As the door closed again, Angel spoke through it, voice raised a bit to go through the wood. "Not just any plague, Jack. The ninth plauge. You know, Egypt did that whole bit... Darkness." Angel leaned against his door frame, waiting for him to finish getting ready. It was a silly thing, to be annoyed that Wes didn't read her mind from her room, and know that he needed to be ready to go and adventure. But, alas, Angel was not oppose to silly things.

When he came out, Angel's annoyance instantly melted. "Aw, shucks Jack, you didn't need to get all gussied up for little ol me." She grinned, eyes bright even in the darkness. Starting down the hall, her voice carried some weight. "And I've got something fun planned, most definitely. I think you'll like it." The enigma in her voice would cause a little halting in anyone who had known Angel for any period of time. Some people's idea of surprises consisted of a card for no reason or a song dedication on the radio. Not Angel. She was the surprise-you-with-a-family-of-raccoons sort.

Though, thankfully, Angel's plan was raccoon free.

Well, for now.

"Care to guess? I'll give you hints!" She truly was the worst sort of secret keeper. Angel loved surprises, truly and deeply. But she preferred the anticipation. Like riding a roller coaster, when it creeps up the highest point, and then rushes down. There was nothing in the world that felt quite like that. "Tea cups. And weed. And you and me! Annnnd... an Island that's not really an Island." She looked at him seriously, her flashlights gaze hitting his chest. "But those are the only hints you'll get, Jackie Boy." That was probably not true.

She walked backwards, facing Wes as she trotted along, holding the flashlight under her chin. Grinning at Wes, her oldest friend, she mused aloud. "So, do you think all the first born children are getting snuffed tonight? Unlikely I suppose... Maybe someone spilled coffee on a super computer or something?" Science. It wasn't Angel's exact forte, to be honest. She was more of a doer than a thinker. "It's going to be anarchy out there tonight. We might even see some fires..." She did like fires.

Turning on heel, Angel flashed the light down the hall, seeing a few students scamper off. Some in rooms, some out of rooms. Her fingers wrapped around Wes's, though her eyes stayed forward. Not because she was embarrassed to hold his hand, at all. But her prerogative was to not lose him, in this chaos. They had plans, afterall.

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

Again, Tramp had been up to no good--but she had been living up to her namesake. Because just a few moments before the blackout, she was having a romp in the sack with some random boy from the boy's side of the dorm. Did she know his name? Not at all. How did she meet him? She could not, for the life of her, remember. But she did know she liked him enough to drag him back to the dorm.

But then the lights shut off, sending the two high schoolers into absolute darkness. It was enough to make Tramp stop, for just a moment. "What the fuck was that?" She whispered, searching for the stranger's face in the darkness.

"No idea, even better though, I think." The boy whispered back, and attempted to get back into the swing of things. Until Tramp shoved him off, and stumbled over to the window curiously, and peeked out. She used one of her curtains to cover herself, just incase anyone peeked up. But the school's grounds were littered with people, and even more bizzare. Not a single light was on, anywhere. There were flashlights, and staff trying to usher the students back inside. Even the sparkling lights of the city in the distance were out.

"It's a blackout--" Tramp began, only to feel the boy's hands try and tug her back onto the bed. That annoyed her--she made the decisions, she made the choices. She was not something to be grabbed, or tugged around. People were her toys, not the other way around. With a loud crack, she slapped the hand that grabbed for her, while she wandered over to her closer, and started to get dressed. "It's a blackout, which means there's more of a party out there, than it is in here with your small ass dick. So take a hike, yeah?" She kicked out her legs, squeezing her way into the skinniest, tightest black jeans she owned. They were a doozy to get in to, but completely worth it, because they were the only jeans of her that fit the inside of her combat boots.

The boy on her bed looked completely dazed for a moment, and utterly confused. Even as Tramp pulled on a lacy black bra, and a black crop-top. Normally, the bra would have been less decorative, but the top fell just above her stomach, and if something was going to be seen--make it good right? She turned, putting her bracelets on, and frowning while the boy clumsily scrambled to get his pants back on, "God, you're fucking slow. Come on, out, out." She trailed behind the confused guy, quite literally shoving him out of the door. When she closed, and locked her own door, he turned back to her, mouth opening to ask, or say something. To which, Tramp just simply put one of her heavily ringed hands up, and turned on her heel, and wandered down the hallway.

This was so fucking cool. Her hands lowered, making sure that the anchors in her hips hadn't come unscrewed in the...mess that had been in the bedroom, and once confident they wouldn't get snagged, she started to jog down the hall, until someone flashed the lights right in her eyes. "Jesus fucking christ--" It was just not her night, "What the fuck is your prob--Angel?" Tramp squinted in the light, and stepped to the side, her face pulling while she blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the spots in her eyes. "Wes? Dude, blackout, right? It just happened. Shit is gonna hit the fan in like. Twenty minutes. Are you guys bustin' out before the administrators get their crap together?" She'd go if she was invited with them, but either way--she was getting the hell out of the school before the staff figured out how to get everyone back where they were supposed to be. This was far too awesome to just sit in a dorm, and watch from a window.

Tags: Molly / Angel / Scout / Wes / Olley / Tramp / Hedgie / Xander
Notes: Hilar!
Outfit: Awesome ruffian gear!
Song: Supermassive Black Hole by Muse
Credits: Template Credit-Olley @ OUAC

[WESTON BRODERICK]

Wes shrugged as the smile came across her face, unable as ever to hide his own when she was around. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sal.” Even if there’d been anything to do but shrug and say those few words, he wouldn’t have had time—Angel was already off and talking a mile a minute. Of course she already had a plan. She always did. And they were, although typically of a questioning sort of legality, usually fun. Usually. There were more than a few ideas Wes could easily label as bad, not that he’d never said anything against them; after all, it was the being with Angel bit that he cared about most.

He’d actually begun counting just how long it’d be before she burst when, well, she did. Ten seconds flat. About average, all things considered. The utter pathetic nature of it all pleased him, even so. It was Angel. He smiled, saying nothing as she drabbled on and on about with her “hints” that were really just one big paraphrasing of the plan itself with lots of pauses and a secret-keeping look about her face that he quite adored. Hands in his pockets, Wes strolled along behind her, somehow wishing he could take the flashlight and shine it on her face. Instead, he responded to the never-ending stream of questions with another small smile and a simple, “Well, here’s to hoping I’m not snuffed,” followed by a small chuckle at the idea of it all. Sometimes he wondered where she came up with the things she did. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

As Angel’s fingers laced with his, Wes couldn’t help but feel the same warm, itchy, somehow-still-comfortable feeling creep up from under his ears and on to his cheeks as they turned the inevitably shade of slightly-pinker-than-before. It was stupid, and he knew it, still feeling it in the pit of his stomach when they held hands. But it wasn’t something he could stop. And who knew, maybe it wasn’t something he wanted to, either.

Wes had, as usual, eyes only for Angel as they continued their path down the dorm’s hallway. Her flashlight bobbed with their steps, bathing periodically different sections of the walkway in its yellow light. Then he felt Angel stop just as suddenly as she’d started; he almost ran into her from behind. Whatever thoughts he’d been having about the girl gripping his hand vanished instantly with the sight and recognition of the hallway’s newest occupant: Tramp. He wasn’t sure whether he was glad she’d showed up because she was a friend, or slightly peeved she’d obviously ruined what was going to a night of just the two of them. Then again, Angel certainly wasn’t going to get worked up about it—she never did—so neither should he. He smiled warmly at the blonde, stepping forward to answer her question in as voice that wasn’t quiet for fear of being overheard, but naturally so. “‘Course we are,” he glanced back in Angel’s direction before continuing. “Angel’s got a surprise-plan. Something about tea cups and an island…oh, and weed,” he added absentmindedly. The response was open-ended. He wasn’t about to invite Tramp, but he wasn’t about to blatantly exclude her, either; they were still friends, after all. It was entirely up to Angel, in Wes’s opinion. This whole thing was her idea.

[DAN KAPLAN]

LE OUTFIT OF LE DOGGEH

Tommy wasn’t scared of the dark. Oh, no. Totally not. Not at all. In fact, the dark was probably the least scary thing around, right now. Sparky was scarier than the dark, and Sparky wasn’t even scary! Psh, what kind of baby would be scared of the dark? A scaredy-cat baby, that’s who! Tomas Torres wasn’t scared of the dark. Nope. Not one bit.

He ducked his head out from behind the door of his dorm, scanning the hallway, then pulled himself back into his room, teeth chattering. “Sparky?” he called nervously, peering through the folds of darkness stuffing themselves into the corners and crannies. A floorboard creeked as he crept forward and he froze, eyes wide, darting frantically back and forth. ”Sparky!” he called, listening intently into the silence. ”I know you’re in here!”

A bushy tail brushed his leg. Tommy sprang down and grasped Sparky by the collar, tumbling heavily to the ground as he squeezed the dog in his arms. ”There you are, Spark! I was worried about you!” His fingers scratched Sparky between the ears. God, Sparky was so great. Tommy loved Sparky almost as much as he loved caramel popcorn, which was really, really, really a lot. ”C’mon, Sparky, let’s go for a walk!” He stood up, brushing himself off and leading his puppy to the door.

Now, Tommy knew that he wasn’t supposed to be out of his dorm this late at night. But when Sparky had to go, Sparky had to go. And who was Big Mr. Meany-Pants Dorm Monitor to tell Sparky when he could and couldn’t go? Nobody, that’s who. Stinkin’ nobody.

Tommy took a deep breath and tiptoed out into the hallway, Sparky bounding cheerily behind him. ”Don’t be scared, Sparky,” he whispered hoarsely, running a nervous hand through his hair. ”The lights’ll be back on real soon, and then we’ll go up to our room and eat some pizza flavored goldfish! How’s that sound? Does that sound good? I think that sounds good.” Wow, all this talk about snacks was making Tommy hungry. Would there be enough pizza flavored goldfish left on his bookshelf for he and Sparky to share? He hoped there would be, because he was really, really hungry for pizza flavored goldfish, and he hated eating snacks without sharing them with Sparky. Sparky was his best friend, after all.

Wow, okay, not that Tommy was afraid of the dark, nope, not at all, but he could have sworn that he’d just heard a squeak in the corner. ”Did you hear that Sparky?” he whispered. He and the dog stood stalk still as Tommy felt the darkness creeping in around them. He totally couldn’t see anything, and for all he knew, there could be creepy-crawly things on the walls, and big scary monsters with lots of-

Tommy took off down the hall, Sparky galloping behind. He hurtled into the first group of people they came to, breathing heavily, sweat breaking off across his brow. ”Sorry!” he began, flustered, all terror momentarily forgotten. ”Sorry! Sorry! Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry! M-m-my dog's afraid of the dark! H-he's a little scardey-c-cat.” Because Tommy wasn’t scared of the dark. Nope. No way.

[ANGEL DIHANIE]

Angel's mischievous grin grew at the sight of Ripley Gwynn. Not that Weston wasn't her absolute greatest friend in the history of ever or nuthin, cause he totally was. But Ripley was one of the first girls EVER to get Angel and her weirdness. There was an instant attraction- platonically speaking of course- that Angel enjoyed. Grinning at Wes, who was right about Angel never minding anything thought to be an unexpected turn of action, but she released her hand from his to wave at Ripley. "I know right, Rip! We were just on our way out! I got something good in mind." She nodded for Ripley to follow, before starting to continue down the hall. Flashing the light back at her compadre's, the impish grin turned rather devilish. "I've had this in mind for awhile now, it's going to be-" Holy little person in the hallway, Batman.

He was a little tweaker too, the cute little guy. Hell, he had to be a freshman, given his height. And it would seem the awkward grasp of puberty was taking it's sweet time with him. Bummer. Though, oversped puberty wasn't good either. Almost over night Angel had gone from the most interesting thing she enjoyed doing was climbing trees for bugs, to having tots and asking Weston if he wanted to lose his virginity. Needless to say, given that he was a year older than her and already chawk full of hormones and teenage horny boyness, he was on board.

Oh, nostalgia.

Angel watched with mild interest as the boy delivered eight consecutive sorrys before, explaining something about a dog. She looked down, seeing the little furball. Angel loved people- well, no, she hated people. Angel loved socializing (loves socializing, hates people. Riddle me that.) and bug. But when you added critters that had fur, and she was not a fan. Still, the youngin looked really freaked out, and deep down, Angel was a tender heart. Not always responsible or safe, but her heart was always in the right place. "Woah, chillax there, little man. No need to tweak." She spoke gently, ruffling his hair with one hand, hand on his shoulder reassuringly with the next.

Oh, dude, this kid was cute. Not like 'oh-god-I-must-bang'. No, not in anyway like that. He had the look of the makings of a future hottie, but not for a bit yet. He was cute in a teddy bear back pack sort of way. Angel grinned at him.

"'Sides, wouldn't he be a scardy dog?" Putting her arm around him, she looked at the others. No way was Ripley going to be thrilled with this new addition. Wes would be alright with it, like he was with basically everything. Laid back dude, that Weston Broderick. But, like with most things, Angel really didn't take other people in consideration. She wasn't bad or even selfish. It just never occurred to her that people might have different opinions.

If she would stop and think about it, she'd probably blame it on Wes. He spoiled her.

"I'm Angel, that's Ripley and that's Wes." She explained to the kid, pointing to the appropriate people. She lowered her voice, reminding herself of how she would speak to Damien, back at home. He was older, but he was also scared past the point of functioning. Literally. "I gotta say, I'm a lot like the scardy dog there-" Flea bitten mutt. Still, it seemed harmless enough. Kinda cute, if you liked the stereotype for cute sort of thing. "I'm terrified. Petrified even. Can't even hold the flashlight straight. But we got places to go tonight, see? So, you mind doin me a solid, hangin out with me? I gotta good feelin 'bout you." Angel smiled at him, knowing better than to call out his own fear. Instead, she gave him an option, that didn't involve him feeling all embarrassed.

Good deed for the day.

Check and check.

[WESTON BRODERICK]

You know, when it came down to it, Wes wasn’t quite sure what the hell they were doing wrong. Honestly, how long did it take to get from one end of a building to another and out an exit? Or, more importantly, how many people did it take? It was a far stretch, for Wes to even think about getting angry, but he was coming awfully close. Well, maybe not angry. Annoyed. Peeved. Discontented. Those were all better words for what he was feeling. And maybe it would have made a bit more sense to be annoyed with Angel about it all, seeing as she was the one inviting Tramp along and all, but Wes had never been very good at that sort of thing. Being mad at Angel, that was.

Tramp, on the other hand…it was easy, being pissed at Tramp. She seemed to make Wes annoyed even easier than techno music, and that was no simple feat. He continued to follow Angel down the hall with a small shrug back in Tramp’s direction. Just as he’d turned around again to ask Angel something, the small group was hit by what appeared to be a smallish-human-sized torpedo. Or a freshman. One of the two. Same difference.

Caught somewhere between backing away very slowly and giving the runt of a kid a hug (odd, perhaps, as Wes wasn’t usually one for any of that), Wes simply blinked. For a good ten seconds he merely stood there, watching the strange, jittering child with the same sort of perplexed interest he typically gave a moderately good song made after the year 1980. It was a bizarre, yet comforting and entirely Wes-like sort of look.

And then there was the puppy. Never having owned a dog, he couldn’t exactly say that he loved the things, but he certainly didn’t hate them. They were nice enough. Nicer than some animals, anyway. He looked down at the thing, not at all surprised to see it wagging its tail in a decidedly un-scared manner. It figured. Smiling slightly to the new kid, he nodded as Angel introduced him, impulsively extending a hand for the squeaky little pup of a teenager to shake. “What’s his name?” he nodded once down to the dog, unable to resist the urge to bend over and scratch it lightly behind the ears. So maybe the thing was sort of cute…

When Angel spoke again, however, Wes stiffened slightly. Seriously? Now? Did she have to? Not that he didn’t know the answer. Of course she had to; Angel probably saw something interesting in the kid, or at least something decent enough to cure her boredom. And while Wes could agree that there was something almost refreshing about this little guy and his mutt, he didn’t quite understand why they had to expand their group quite yet. It was good enough that he was letting Tramp come along without a fuss. What did she expect him to do now, go along with it? They weren’t some sort of walking shelter for clique-less kids, after all; they were—truth be told, Wes was hard pressed to find a definition for exactly what he and Angel were, although there were plenty that popped into his head as to what he’d have liked them to be.

Pushing all that to the back of his mind, Wes nodded at the kid again, silently letting him know he was welcome to join them before speaking, voice serious. “You like tea, Mystery Man?

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

"Tea cups? Like the ones in Coney Island, or whatever it's called?" Tramp carefully rubbed at her eyes without messing up her makeup. God damn that was one vicious flashlight. She fell behind Angel following her out while finally adjusting to the light before Angel put it on them again. "Could you not point--" And then she completely froze, and choked on a scream. Luckily it hadn't actually spilled out of her mouth, because Wes would have never let her live that one down.

This kid was a total runt, and Tramp was prepared to walk right over--literally--the shaking apologizing mess. But of course, Angel and her good heart. Having to be all...sweet and junk. That's when she noticed they were talking about something. An ugly whiteish mass of fluff with a walking tail, and a tongue ready to drool. Tramp's nose scrunched and her lips curled, "Ughhh." She took a step back, putting a little more distance between herself and that mutt.

She hated dogs. She really, really fucking hated them. Especially the small yappy kind. They made her think of footballs, and how much she'd like to see if she could score a goal for the school's team. "Can the dog stay if he has to come? That thing is just going to piss on fucking everything, or start humping legs." Tramp was again, working herself up. She crossed her arms over her chest, and frowned at this kid, already deciding she didn't like him. "If it pisses on me, I'm gonna piss right back on it." And she mostly believed herself. Though she'd be more likely to kick the beast over a fence.

She really fucking hated dogs.

What the hell was up with Angel, anyway? Picking up strays were fine--but this kid was not. There was just something, and everything about this shaking ball of fluff(this time she meant the boy) that just grated on every single one of her very thin little nerves. He was almost enough to make her want to go back up to Paradise and try to see if that mysterious curly haired boy would show up again. That simple thought made her glance around the hall smoothly. If Angel got to adopt the stray and his fleas, she was dragging that kid along with them if she saw him.

When Angel mentioned she was terrified, Tramp laughed. "Yeah, we're just shaking." Tramp feigned her fear, making herself shake while she carried a wicked smile on her face. She rolled her eyes, and started to walk ahead, but backwards, facing her friends. "So either we can get a move on before the big old boogeyman comes and gets us and enjoy some proper green fun, or we can stay here and try and comb the fleas and ticks out of the runts."

Tags: Molly / Angel / Scout / Wes / Olley / Tramp / Hedgie / Xander
Notes: Hurrhurr. Boogeyman. C wut I did thar?
Outfit: Awesome ruffian gear!
Song: Supermassive Black Hole by Muse
Credits: Template Credit-Olley @ OUAC

[DAN KAPLAN]

Tommy had been really scared that he’d run into like, some scary people killers or something. Or even worse, dog killers. He didn’t want to run into people who would try to kill Sparky, especially not in a blackout where the two of them could lose each other easily. But these people seemed cool. Not as cool as Mallory’s college friends, especially Mason Howard, Tommy’s best friend in the whole wide world, and certainly not as cool as the cool kids on TV who wore pants down to their ankles and listened to really fast rap music and all those really cool things. These kids weren’t as cool as them, as far as Tommy could tell. But they still seemed pretty cool. And definitely people Tommy could use to vote for him for President, when he ran.

"Woah, chillax there, little man. No need to tweak."

Oh no, did she think he was jittery? Tommy didn’t want anyone to think he was jittery, and by extension not cool, least of all this cool girl here. She totally looked cool: she had dark skin like those really cool guys on Jersey Shore, and her hair was all stringy, which Tommy assumed was cool. “Sorry!” He had to make sure she didn’t think he was scared. Tommy didn’t get scared. He wasn’t afraid of anything, and the dark was no exception. “Sorry! Sorrysorrysorry! I’m just really excited because you know, the dark, and new people, and they just make me excited!” There, that should satisfy her.

"'Sides, wouldn't he be a scardy dog?"

Tommy felt the girl’s arm around him. You only put your arm around people you thought were cool, right? Right. This meeting with these people was a success, so far, at least. “Yeah, I guess he would be,” Tommy agreed. And she was smart too! “Scardey dog.” He liked that.

"I'm Angel, that's Ripley and that's Wes."

Tommy waved at all the new, exciting people. ”Hi Angel! Well, I already said hi to you, but now I know your name, so hi again! Hi Ripley! Hi Wes!” Angel, Ripley, and Wes. Those were the coolest names ever! Tommy knew he should probably come up with a cool name for himself, so he could fit in with these cool people. Unfortunately, nothing was coming to mind. ”I’m Tommy! Well, Tomas. Tomas Torres. But my friends call me Tommy because it’s shorter, even though it’s not, I don’t think. Wait…” He paused for a minute to count the letters on his fingers. ”Actually, exactly the same length. But yeah, I guess that’s why. And my brother calls me Thomas the Tank Engine. But I don’t think you should call me that, because that’s way longer than both Tomas and Tommy.”

"I'm terrified. Petrified even. Can't even hold the flashlight straight. But we got places to go tonight, see? So, you mind doin me a solid, hangin out with me? I gotta good feelin 'bout you."

This girl was scared of the dark? And she wanted Tommy’s help? Well, she was certainly asking the right person. Tommy’s chest swelled with pride. ”Certainly! I’m the bravest person around! I can be brave enough for all of us here!” He looked around, nodding emphatically at the others.

“What’s his name?”

The kid, Wes, was scratching his dog behind the ears. Tommy beamed even more. ”Sparky! I named him after a talking spark plug on the Mr. Fixit Show!” Tommy had loved that show. That was the coolest show ever.

“You like tea, Mystery Man?”

Tommy was pretty sure he’d only had tea like, three times in his life, but decided that this was not the place to mention that. ”Yeah! I love tea! Tea is so cool. We drink it all the time in Boston. Do you?” he countered, deciding that if he wanted Wes to think he was cool, he needed to start up a conversation.

"Can the dog stay if he has to come? That thing is just going to piss on fucking everything, or start humping legs."

Sparky stay? Sparky stay? How could this blonde girl even suggest that? Tommy crossed his arms in consternation, stomping his foot. ”No! Course not! Sparky goes where I go!” He stuck out his tongue for emphasis. ”Me and Sparky come in a package! Like the ones from UPS. All tight.” He shoved two tight fists together in case this blonde girl couldn’t conceptualize. She needed to know, if he was going to be hanging out with her and thinking she was cool.

"If it pisses on me, I'm gonna piss right back on it."

”Sparky doesn’t ‘piss’ on anyone, thank you very much,” Tommy replied indignantly, a bit offended by the swear. ”He is very house-trained. I house trained him myself! Sparky would never pee on anyone, unless they’re totally not cool.” This girl needed to get her facts straight, otherwise she would never vote for Tommy for President, and that was something he couldn’t have.