"Nailed iiiiiiit," Reggie sings out as she rolls onto the roof, very gracefully, and sits up with an entire twig in her hair. It's not clear when she acquired it. She squints at the young man next to her, head bobbing a little, awash in more liquor than she's had in at least two years. It's dark, her vision is not cooperating super well right now, and there's a lot of new faces to remember, so she... straight up cannot find this boy's name in her rolodex right now.
"Hi, hello, it's just lovely out here tonight—in-inci-incidentally, do I know your name?"
It's cool. She seems like a happy drunk, and like - nimble? Relatively speaking. Stevie Nicks is singing low in his left ear and Bunny hooks a finger through the string to cut off the sound of the proverbial woman who loves somebody, smiles back.
"Probably not," he replies, not particularly bothered by the notion. Or realizing that this is an appropriate moment to interject with it. Whatever. It'll get there when it gets there. He knows hers - Duke's mentioned it enough that it's gone and stuck. "Good birthday?"
"Soooooo good." Reggie sighs and looks vaguely in the direction of the bar. Her last birthday had been cold and quiet, huddled up in Dylan's camper while the three of them tried to pretend they weren't scared shitless about the state of the world. At least this one was warmer, with more people to remind her that the world hadn't shrunk to nothing quite yet.
"Everyone's celebratin' me except that bitch." She nods sort of in the direction of the guard tower she thinks Carter might be in. But she really has no clue. "Which is SUPER hot, I hate being ignored."
"Good," he echoes in confirmation, fingers reflexively tapping out Skip Back, Pause, and then absently tapping along the cover while the CD player takes its sweet time idling itself off.
No point in wasting batteries. Kind of a limited resource.
Bunny's gaze flicks up - quick but not attempting to be surreptitious about it - to the tower he's far more certain Carter has been holed up in for the night. Doesn't much matter whether you'd call it reflex, curiosity, or an excess of caution, but Bunny pays attention. So it's not really something he has to cast around too much to follow this time. They were doing a whole Thing at Court's party. Or a thing, maybe. At the very least.
"Good to know what you're into." His shoulder ticks up, cheekbone nearly colliding into it. "Guess she could be waiting. Figure she's kinda used to it. Watching too, I guess. Whole long-range scope thing."
"If she so much as acknowledges me independently I will delete her name from my brain." Reggie shakes her finger like she's lecturing Bunny on proper insane lesbian etiquette, bossy and a little patronizing, even while stumbling over consonants and turning esses into eshes.
"Just like I forgot yours—sorry," she drops the finger into an outstretched hand, then lowers her voice to a dramatic drunken whisper. "My real name's Oregon."
"Didn't say she was gonna do nothing about it," Bunny counters, knee bouncing. "Just that there was long-range observation."
There's a difference. One's got open and observable action. The other's got reconnaissance.
"Oh, we're doin' those?" His nose wrinkles, his own hand teetering like he's weighing something. "Aubury," he says, word creaking out sort of like it's chalky. Like it tastes bad. Hasn't really had a reason to say it in years. "Nobody uses that, though. Can call me Bunny."
"That's SO cute." She grasps his hand in a crushing handshake, whether he's ready for it or not.
"Is that like one of those Red Talon names? Because I have got some opinions on the military and how they prey—preyed on small towns and poor youth and then Red Talon just swooped in to do the same, but I don't wanna, like, hurt any feelings." Reggie has never once cared about hurting someone's feelings. She just learned to pepper that phrase into her sentences, like "no offense" and "not to be rude, but."
Bunny jolts - jumps a little, tenses a lot - at the sudden movement but recovers quickly enough, lets his hand stay captive and nods along agreeably for a few moments of processing time.
Then his face wrinkles up even further. "Why's everybody think I was in the military?" He glances down at himself, kind of like the spindly lines of him have gone and performed some sort of unconscious betrayal. "Shit." Is it his face? Is it the hair? Sure as shit ain't his biceps. "None of that, fuck 'em. Last name's Rabbit."
"Honestly?" Reggie arcs her brows so high they almost disappear into her hair. "You kinda look like the sorta guy they'd take advantage of." She plops her back on the van roof so hard she can almost (but not quite) feel it, and rolls her head to squint up at Bunny. "Like... a nice kid low on options."
Yeah, okay. He can see that one, actually. That explanation tracks. Bunny blinks, logic of the assumption clicking nicely into place and settling better than any sort of neon-sign personality traits he needs to forcefully erase, and lets out an agreeable enough hum.
"Took the other option," he replies. "Incarceration."
"Ohhhhh, I also have strong opinions on the prison system, but it's moooostly a retread of the military yada yada." She swings her hand through the air to illustrate the further extent of the yadas.
"You weren't in when things, like, went," she whistles and points her hand down, down, down toward the van, "were you?"
"Oh, yeah. Like it wasn't too bad or anything?" Meals. Roof. Stable daily routine. The usual advantages for low on options kids. God, yeah. No wonder why people think his ass was in the military. "But as an institution, it's pretty shit."
Bunny tracks the motion of her fingers, lips curling up wryly. That does just about sum it up, huh?
"Nah. Was in a house by then." Luckily. "Bet juvie went to shit, though."
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stateofdecay2024-11-20 08:02 pm
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
"Hi, hello, it's just lovely out here tonight—in-inci-incidentally, do I know your name?"
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
"Probably not," he replies, not particularly bothered by the notion. Or realizing that this is an appropriate moment to interject with it. Whatever. It'll get there when it gets there. He knows hers - Duke's mentioned it enough that it's gone and stuck. "Good birthday?"
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
"Everyone's celebratin' me except that bitch." She nods sort of in the direction of the guard tower she thinks Carter might be in. But she really has no clue. "Which is SUPER hot, I hate being ignored."
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
No point in wasting batteries. Kind of a limited resource.
Bunny's gaze flicks up - quick but not attempting to be surreptitious about it - to the tower he's far more certain Carter has been holed up in for the night. Doesn't much matter whether you'd call it reflex, curiosity, or an excess of caution, but Bunny pays attention. So it's not really something he has to cast around too much to follow this time. They were doing a whole Thing at Court's party. Or a thing, maybe. At the very least.
"Good to know what you're into." His shoulder ticks up, cheekbone nearly colliding into it. "Guess she could be waiting. Figure she's kinda used to it. Watching too, I guess. Whole long-range scope thing."
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
"Just like I forgot yours—sorry," she drops the finger into an outstretched hand, then lowers her voice to a dramatic drunken whisper. "My real name's Oregon."
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
There's a difference. One's got open and observable action. The other's got reconnaissance.
"Oh, we're doin' those?" His nose wrinkles, his own hand teetering like he's weighing something. "Aubury," he says, word creaking out sort of like it's chalky. Like it tastes bad. Hasn't really had a reason to say it in years. "Nobody uses that, though. Can call me Bunny."
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
"Is that like one of those Red Talon names? Because I have got some opinions on the military and how they prey—preyed on small towns and poor youth and then Red Talon just swooped in to do the same, but I don't wanna, like, hurt any feelings." Reggie has never once cared about hurting someone's feelings. She just learned to pepper that phrase into her sentences, like "no offense" and "not to be rude, but."
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
Then his face wrinkles up even further. "Why's everybody think I was in the military?" He glances down at himself, kind of like the spindly lines of him have gone and performed some sort of unconscious betrayal. "Shit." Is it his face? Is it the hair? Sure as shit ain't his biceps. "None of that, fuck 'em. Last name's Rabbit."
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
"Took the other option," he replies. "Incarceration."
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
"You weren't in when things, like, went," she whistles and points her hand down, down, down toward the van, "were you?"
OTHER WHITNEY AREAS: Bunny + Reggie
Bunny tracks the motion of her fingers, lips curling up wryly. That does just about sum it up, huh?
"Nah. Was in a house by then." Luckily. "Bet juvie went to shit, though."