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The Homeless Bearde
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"I don't want you monkey-mouth motherfuckers sitting in my throne again."
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The refreshments table was clearly just a plastic sheet draped over two folding tables smushed together, and Baxter briefly wondered what the idea was, here - there weren't many trash bins in the gym that could be easily accessed, and whoever set it up was probably going to wind up picking up shitty plastic cups and chip crumbs from the floor.

Rachael's little gesture took Baxter by surprise, but he immediately threw a tight-lipped smile back and did a little imitation of her wave, glancing around before heading in her direction.

Ramona passed by his notice as his eyebrow rose, moving close enough to Rachael for her to hear him. His usual move at these sorts of things was a brush of arms, but he avoided that, keeping some distance.

"Lost?" he asked, corner of his mouth curling, stretching his beard alongside his lips. It came out low and loud, over the throbbing din of a pop beat.
Brandon Baxter is holding it all together. -- Keep it secret, keep it safe.
Kasumi White is writing her story. -- She could do this.

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Torn Jeans and Prom Queens · P.J. Hobbs Senior High School
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