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Front Flip for Style; Open! Come make fun of Roy!
Topic Started: Jun 12 2017, 11:12 PM (217 Views)
Pippin
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((Roy Benson continued from NOW LOOK AT THIS NET))

Roy was asleep on a park bench.

This had not been his intended course of action upon entering Tilles Park, obviously. Especially not in Tilles Fucking Park, unless he desperately wanted to wake up with a knife in his lower back. No matter the location, though, sleeping on benches was an action reserved solely for hobos. And, like, dogs and stuff. And Roy was neither of those things, last he’d checked. Being an unwashed bum with a constant perfume of Eau de Asshole was probably the worst fate imaginable.

Being a dog sounded pretty awesome, though, if he was being honest (which he was). You got to run around all day until you got tuckered out, in which case you could sleep wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted, for as long as you wanted, and you got frequent breaks solely to chow down. Plus, everyone loved you! It was the perfect set-up! The only downside was that his dreams of a superstar sportsman would be pretty much done and dusted. There wasn’t much demand for dog hockey sticks or skates. At least, he didn’t think there was. Might be something to look into later.

Right now, though, it was Inadvertent Nap Time. A small puddle of drool was pooling beneath his opened mouth. Really, he could thank God (and also genetics) that he didn’t snore. That’d have just been the icing on the cake about to be launched at his face. Come one, come all, and witness the Amazing Snoozing Idiot! Laugh at his career-ending injury, and gawk at his ability to fall asleep at any location at the drop of a hat! And make fun of him for being ginger, if you were THAT sort of person.

This whole situation had been, of course, entirely avoidable, not that Roy would have let you even think of considering that. The previous night, whilst most of his classmates were no doubt tucking themselves into bed, or already fast asleep, or doing things that would greatly disappoint the little baby Jesus, Roy had been hit by a bolt of inspiration. His kid cousin Jason’s birthday was coming up, and the little dude was crazy about two things; soccer, and books about soccer. As far as Roy saw it, the path from A to B here was obvious. He had sat down in front of his computer and bashed out the first few chapters of Jason, the Rookie Striker Who Would Lead His Team to Cup Glory.

Title was a work in progress.

This had taken him up to 2:30 in the morning – writing with one hand was an utter bitch – and the sensible, rational decision would have been to get some shuteye, satisfied with a job well done. But, alas, Roy’s copy of Madden had arrived that morning, and he had decided to reward himself by playing that, rather than staving off sleep deprivation, broken arm be damned. The sun had come up and the birds had started practicing for Fucking Annoying and Loud Screeching Fest ’17 by the time Roy’s head had hit the pillow.

It was no surprise, then, that Roy had woken up this morning bleary eyed and filled with piss, vinegar, and regret. His addled mind had decided that a good morning job would be the best thing to wake himself up, with the added bonus that there’d be less people to see how silly he looked running with a cast on.

He had managed half a lap of the park, and it had been a thoroughly fucking miserable experience. His legs had felt like big, heavy, fuck-off goo legs, providing 100% traction and 0% stability, and for some bizarre reason, the grass had looked real soft and inviting all of a sudden. He had sat down at one of the benches, just for a moment. Just for a breather, just to get some energy back. Just to give his eyelids a timeout for a sec.

And so, as the breeze gently tousled his hair and bapped the cap of his water bottle to and fro, that was why Roy was aslee-

Oh, shit, the Puppy Bowl was a thing, wasn’t it? Well that fuckin’ settled it, Roy was gonna have to become a dog now.

Ahem. Anyway.

And that was why Roy was asleep on a park bench.
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Maxwell Lombardi did not particularly want to be walking through Tiles Park right now.
 
((Continued from Guess Who’s Back, Back Again?))
 
It was a grungy place. It was a grimy place. It was a place that someone of Maxwell’s status would ideally not be caught dead in. The reason for this was that Denton was not exactly a pristine place, and although Maxwell could give himself better surroundings in Kensington, those incapable of reaching the higher classes had to live down in Tiles Court, where crime seemed to be incredibly and increasingly common. Given Maxwell’s well-off manner, his fairly lavish way of dressing - even now - and his desire to keep the spot on the social totem pole he wanted to be in, it would be a fairly bad idea to walk down here and risk the chance that Maxwell would get robbed. He was aware of that.
 
However, going through this place, going through Tiles Park, did annoyingly have its advantages. Advantages Maxwell could not seem to be able to attain anywhere else.
 
It was an ideal place for him to go whenever he was on a jog, was what he was referring to. It was a place that - if he ran down from Kensington to here, walked for a few moments, and then ran back up to Kensington - allowed him to come from his house and be back in a good amount of time while still covering the distance he felt he should run for. If he scheduled his runs so that they took the same amount of time each day he did them, it would keep him in shape, and allow him to maintain enough time in order to pursue his other needs, social and academic.
 
No matter how hard he seemed to try going to any of the other places near Carrington did not allow this equilibrium to happen, either not providing Maxwell enough exercising or taking too much time away from him.
 
As thus, he had to go to Tiles Park, the lowest place in the city.
 
Oh, the sacrifices Maxwell had to make just so that he could get the amount of exercise he wanted.
 
But that did not matter now. He was currently walking through Tiles Park, allowing his legs to rest in a walk after his jog down. Although he would have liked to do the walking part of his routine somewhere else, this was again annoyingly the only place it felt right to do so in, and although he was annoyed at that, he didn’t really want to be. This was the part of the walk where he was supposed to relax. Cool down. Not feel anger at the fact that he had to be here. Not feel a latent sense of paranoia that some cunt was going to try and mug or stab or hustle him.
 
No. This was the relaxing part. He brought his phone out from his pocket and typed the password in, looking at it while he walked in order to see if anything he was in had updated in that brief ten minutes spent running.
 
The first notification he got, the first notification on Messenger, was an all too fond one from a name and profile picture he knew very well, at this point.

Lyndi Thibodeaux 📱 2/17, 11:12 AM
hey max, how's it going? : )

 
He smiled, slightly. It was nice how much it seemed that she cared about him. If one were to talk to Lyndi just a few weeks earlier, and bring up Maxwell, she would have likely been fairly neutral about him. There would have been a sense that she liked him there, but the sense would have been one of casual friendship, shared experience at the top of the school totem pole, as opposed to honest and open fondness
 
Things had changed though, in the past few weeks. After that incident in the cafeteria, after that point in time where Alex had decided that he was going to be particularly insufferable, the two of them had decided to go outside and sit together. They talked, and they laughed, and Maxwell decided that he would have liked something like this to happen again, and thus asked her out to have coffee at Central Mall. She accepted, and they went together, but from between that point to the end of their date it seemed that her thoughts on him had changed from mild friendship to slight devotion. She had made those feelings known to him, she asked if they could go on further dates together, and after a moment of thinking about it, he decided to accept those feelings. Make them as his own. Maybe he didn’t feel quite as in love with her as she did him, but she was fun to be around, and she was a whole of a lot more interesting to interact with than the vast majority of the other people here, and she was incredibly attractive, and that was good enough for Maxwell.
 
He wasn’t entirely sure how long it was going to last, he wasn’t entirely sure if there was an endpoint to this relationship, but he didn’t mind that. He liked her. He would not mind being with her for the next couple of months at all. That was all that really needed to be stated.
 
He put a reply into his phone and closed it, before putting it back in his pocket. He looked up again. There were people around. An old lady with a dog coming his way. A jogger coming up from behind him. A person who looked like he was in Maxwell’s year, laying down on a park bench. That last one caused particular worry. That last one was a risk that Maxwell would be seen here. He walked, slightly faster, past the bench.
 
And then jumped as the dog suddenly started barking as loud as it could at him.
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((Florentina pregame start.))

Tilles Court wasn't the best place on earth. The problem with it was the fact that the housing cost were really low around here and it meant that less fortunate people lived here. That wasn't wrong by itself, but some people used that to their advantage.

In places like this, criminal activity wasn't rare, especially things like drug dealing or petty theft. Florentina rarely dealed drugs in this place. Mainly in richer part parts of the city, or at least safer places than this. But this time, an usual client called her and asked for some weed so, as the nice drug dealer that Tina was, she decided to open the window of her room, sneak out and go meet with him. The deal was done and Tina got the coins she wanted.

A normal day in her life. Well most of the time she didn't sneak out but other than that, it was pretty normal. She decided to cut through by the park, saving her some times and avoiding walking in the decrepit streets which weren't really taken care of. Yeah, she didn't like that part of Denton. It also smelled funny but without the funny part of the equation.

As always, after doing her little occupation, she lowered her hand in her purse, fished out a cigarette and lit it with her lighter. She sucked in the smoke, filled her lungs with it, getting the relieve of the nicotine she really needed then slowly opened her mouth letting the cloud fly away. There was probably a rap song about smoking somewhere. She could find it on YouTube when she would be home.

As she walked on the path with a cigarette in her mouth and her keys readied in her fist, she saw a jogger wearing fancy cloth running in front of her. Okay, that was either a) a pimp, b) a drug lord, or c) a bourgeois in the wrong place. She didn't want to be seen by either of the three because option a) probably meant getting kidnapped and sold as a sex slave, b) meant she was competition and she could get murdered and c) meant she could be asked for drugs while she just sold all of her stash and she didn't want to deal with a rich brat's attitude. If it was the combination of the three, she'd probably pass out.

There was also another jogger but he wasn't as flashy as the one in front of him. Even though he was obstructing the view of the rich kid, he was only blocking the way and doing nothing else. Plus there was this old lady with her dog coming toward them.

Tina didn't like dogs. She was not scared of them but she didn't really felt safe when they around. They could jump and bite your throat out or do something as creepy as trying to hump you. Dogs with a lease on were nice because they couldn't really do that unless you tried to pet them but they could still do one thing: bark.

Bark, bark, bark!

Tina froze in her tracks, staring at what was going on. This little shit better not bite someone or else cops are going to be called and they are going to ask why a girl like her had a bunch of money in purse in this part of the town.
Edited by Rena Ryuugu, Jul 9 2017, 08:38 PM.
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Pippin
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Hey, y’know what? If all of his dreams were gonna be this freaking legit, maybe Roy was gonna have to start sleeping on park benches more

Cause hey, whaddya know, now he was dreaming about being a dog, and guess what? It was just as awesome as he’d predicted it would be. He didn’t have a fucking clue what type of dog he was; his knowledge of dogs, other than that they were lit as fuck, was that they were either big or small, always hairy, and shed all over the goddamn place. What was important was that he was a dog, and he was wearing doggy football gear. Apparently someone in Roy’s dream world had decided to go ahead with that sales pitch.

And, man, it was a good thing that guy had done so, because all of a sudden there was this great big fuckoff neon green dog in front of him. Like, proper massive. Literally building sized. Adogalypse now.

Heh. That was pretty good. Sucked he wasn’t gonna remember that when he woke up.

Dream Roy now had more important things to worry about anyway, because, fuck, Adogalypse (heh heh heh) was staring straight at him, and he was not looking like a good boy right about now. Before Dog Roy could do anything, it was charging right at him and opening its mouth to bark and

“Aaagrabafffuck!”

Launched unwillingly back into the real world, Roy’s first instinct was a totally rational and understandable one. He scrambled into a sitting up position, almost catapulting himself off of the bench in the process, before moving his good arm into a defensive pose, attempting to perform every single form of martial arts at once.

He saw three things in front of him. The first was the source of his wakeup call, a definitely-not-building-sized-dog barking its little heart out, being walked by some old woman who was probably too deaf to notice. The second was a girl who looked like she belonged in Roy’s year, but like hell he could pin a name to that face. Probably one of those loner emo kids who kept to the shadows and listened to stuff like… fuck, was Linkin Park still a thing? That had been a thing during Roy’s thankfully short-lived emo period.

Oh, fuck off. Everyone has an emo period. Just admit it, this one time only, then pretend it never happened, like everyone in the world with a bit of common sense.

The third thing, however, was the fucking last thing Roy wanted to see after just waking up from a dignified nap on a park bench. Maxwell Tea-and-Crumpets was never Roy’s favourite person to see at any time. They generally rolled in a similar crowd, but Max always seemed like such an arrogant fuckass, and even within the popular crowd he seemed to think he was automatically the most important person there. The man played fucking chess, for christ’s sake, that was an activity reserved for total geeks or gloating British super villains. On top of that, he’d always had waaay better luck with girls than Roy had. Which, like, was understandable, he was the sort of dude every dude aspired to look like, but still. Fuck.

But worst of all, the guy was a pretentious British dude, and right now, he was probably judging Roy harder for falling asleep in the park than some Victorian gentleman taking a walk through the slums. Roy was pretty sure he could see the monocle manifesting over his eye already.

Slowly, Roy lowered his arm, blinking twice as he looked up at Maxwell, dog still having the time of its fucking life barking.

“Hey, uh, Benedict, I’ll give you a dollar if you pretend you didn’t see shit here, alright?”
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Maxwell - for what he hoped were very obvious reasons - did not like dogs all that much.

Not because he couldn’t stand their constant bootlicking, no. It was more because they were loud, it was more because they were viscous. It was more because - despite how hard Maxwell tried to get them to avoid him - they always seemed to turn into rabid monsters whenever he walked past wherever they happened to be. It didn’t make sense. Why did they hate him in particular? Was it because of his cat hair? Was it because they didn’t like the way he smelled? Was it because they were like all the wannabe anarchists at his school who wanted to show what they were made of by disrespecting the person on top? Maxwell wasn’t entirely sure, and to be honest, he didn’t want to stay near them for enough time for him to find an answer.

So as the dog in the park barked at him, as the woman walking him made her profuse apologies, Maxwell couldn’t exactly say he was happy right now. Part of that was due to the dog. Part of that was due to being here already.

Another part of that, however, was the fact that the boy sleeping below him had woken up, and was looking him right in the eyes. Roy Benson was a person that Maxwell knew, vaguely. He was in some sports teams, some of his friends had talked about his accomplishments, he had heard about the fact that he had broken his arm - something that Maxwell could see fairly plainly in front of him. Normally, Maxwell would be in trouble. Normally, he would be worried that someone who actually had social grace had the capability to bring him down.

However, it also seemed that Roy did not want others to know he was here.

It also seemed that Roy would be willing to go to anything to not let this happen.

And Maxwell supposed - although the item he got from the deal would be different - his safety would be assured. If Roy said that he saw Maxwell in Tiles Park, then that would imply that Roy was also in Tiles Park.

It would be mutually assured destruction if either of them revealed it. The fact that Maxwell even got something out of it - insignificant as it was, given his current wealth - would mean that this would be a deal worth making.

He smiled, slightly.

“Alright, that’s a deal.”
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Roy's eyes quickly went over her, probably recognized her and she recognized him, then continued to look around. Tina never really understood why people weren't drawn to her. She wasn't mean or anything, but people often forgot about her. She was like a shadow, most people forgot they had one when they went by their daily lives.

There was another boy she just saw from behind but when she heard his voice, she recognized him. Kinda. Roy called him “Benedict”. She had no idea who that was but the boy wearing fancy clothes sounded like the popular (and rich) student Maxwell Lombardi. She kinda hated him. Not in any active way, but she just resented him. He was a snob, kinda annoying.

Tina was like the smoke of her cigarette. People saw her then she dissappeared, leaving no trace behind. Well, not really, since Tina didn't smell bad - or at least, she hoped so. That's what happened when Roy and Maxwell started speaking to each.

At the Luz's house, Tina would often be forgotten when her parents when they asked for help. They'd go through the names of all of her siblings then when they reached Tina's name, they stuttered. They always remembered it, though, so she always did her chores then went back to her room to listen to music.

It's like that when she goes to sport events to cheer on her favorite team. She knew the people around her, and they probably recognized her, but they wouldn't remember her name. They knew she was part of the Luz family but which one was she? Tina was a shadow, a little thing that only existed because someone else was in the spotlight.

Her siblings - no, her whole family- all had their share of things they could brag about: good grades, good jobs, school spirit that would make any homeroom teacher cry from joy. Tina was a bit different in that regard. She didn't care one bit about school, the idea of finding a job and sticking to it for 40 years before retiring was a disgusting idea and she couldn't care less about her school.

Roy and Maxwell, they were on the spotlight, and Tina was behind them, being their shadow. Roy noticed her for a second but his attention was shifted to Maxwell. She wondered if the latter even knew of her presence. He probably smelled her cigarettes but unless he turned around and opened a yearbook and went down to L-section, he wouldn't know her identity. He'd obviously know she was in his school but her identity would be unknown.

Roy wanted to keep it a secret that he was there. Tina bit her lips. Roy gave a dollar to Maxwell and the latter was glad that he received it as a bribe.

Tina opened her mouth, letting the smoke escape her body one more time. She balanced herself on one leg, crushing it against her sole then throwing it to the side. She caught up with Roy and Maxwell and crossed her arms then continued walking beside them, and raised her left hand to hide her face. Then, she realized something.

Roy didn’t want people to learn about his little mistake and Tina was a witness. She could go around telling everybody that Roy and Maxwell had met in the park, at night, in Tiles Court. She turned around, and asked the pair, “What do I get if I don’t speak?”

Simple, concise, and clear.
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((Skipping post order to leave thread, if that’s okay))

And at what seemed to be the exact moment that Maxwell had accepted the deal, another person had joined the two of them, threatening Roy and asking a price for his silence.

For a moment, Maxwell was worried.

For a moment, Maxwell thought that he would be found out. That it would be discovered that Maxwell spent time in Tiles Park, just like all of the other peons who lived here.

But as he turned to see who was speaking, as he realized who that voice was, he realized that he didn’t need to worry about being found out at all. The reason as to this was because the person speaking was one by the name of Florentina Luz, and the reason as to why he was not worried about her was because she was the closest thing P.J Hobbs Senior High School had to a social pariah. She was a small girl. An ugly girl. One of those artsy shmartsy types who decided that rather than interacting with others, rather than acting how a proper high school student should, she’d spend all her time in the art room slaving away on a piece that nobody else would likely see. If she wanted to spread gossip about him, Maxwell doubted she could. He highly doubted that she had the friends to spread it to.

To be honest, he even doubted if many other people in the school knew her. Honestly, the only reason he knew her name was because she had been next to him in the school photobook.

So, to be honest, he doubted that any threat she held had any credibility to it, even if she were to actually make one to him. He had already made his deal with Roy, and there was nobody else who happened to be around, so he doubted he needed to be here anymore. As possibly ~fun~ as interacting with other people might be, he was on one of his jogs, and he needed to keep himself on schedule.

Plus, he didn’t want anybody else to see him down here. He didn’t want anyone who could actually share the information to know that he went down to Tiles Court.

So, while the other two were talking - probably going on whatever deal they were making, if Maxwell had to guess - he opted to leave. He turned his back, took his steps, and walked away.

((Maxwell Lombardi, continued in I Don't Mean to Sound Like A Jerk, but I'm Feeling A Little Stressed Out From Work))
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