stateofdecay | PRESCOTT BLOOD DRIVE

GIVE US YOUR BLOOD

Prescott Fire Station is holding a blood drive! Anyone in the Quad in the giving spirit is invited to drop by and drop off a pint. Please only donate your own blood, and straight from the source—dusty mason jars full of mystery blood will not be accepted at this time.

Make sure to stick around post-donation; Arlo Rattray is cooking up vegan pancakes shaped like blood drops and snowmen to help replenish that blood they just sucked out of you. For anyone who doesn't like breakfast there's also a couple packs of peanut butter Oreos, but they're not thematic or anything so they're not fun.

VOLUNTEER SPOTS

After donating, Quaid starts to feel woozy and nearly hits the floor—but they're caught by [RESPONDER (or trainee) B].

Around the pancake table, [VOLUNTEER C] knocks a bottle of maple syrup off the counter and gets stuck washing dishes as penitence—and holy shit, there are a LOT of dishes.

Edgar, meanwhile, gets sent to a cot to lie down for a few minutes and winds up taking an impromptu three-hour nap. Oh, god, what time is it, where are they, what is their name?

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She shakes her hair a little more fully over so that Blythe is fully shielded from the boys and cannot think to intervene. "Don't worry about that. Maybe it's Just Intact enough to guide Your soul." It probably isn't.

"Nooooo," Blythe wails quietly. "You gotta tell me where you're leadin' my soul at least!" Hair gets in his mouth and he has to shake it away. Good news: the room doesn't move when he does it. They're making progress. "'Cause I'm ALL in if I can learn a new accent."

Evening does not love the sensation of wet hair necessarily, and checks over at Odyssey and Bo. They're still kind of flirting, but that's okay. She throws her hair behind her own shoulder, and links her arm reassuringly (eh) into Blythe's. "Oh, but we're already there. It's the Stage. And I'll Absolutely teach you a new accent, which one??"

"They warned me the devil would be attractive... I just thought they meant he'd have abs." Blythe sighs and catches sight of the two maybe-flirting boys out of the corner of his eye. They're bent over something with their backs to him, and that's probably fine. As long as they don't find anything explosive. He closes his eyes to them and sinks back against Evening. "Can you do Acadian?"

"My co-devil with abs said you were Taken." She snuggles into Blythe's shoulder, unaware on purpose of any of her other current charges. She's a little dizzy, still, actually. It's not terrible to take a little rest. "J'vais parker mon car." She tries out an Acadian but also French/English mix phrase to take her there. "I was in an Incredibly specific commercial.

"J'vais parker mon car," Blythe tries to copy the sounds coming out of Evening's mouth, but it winds up sounding a lot more Cajun and a little bit old prospector. "I don't think I got it, what should I be doing with my hands?"

"I think you just Wave them Around with a French air of Confidence and the Salt of the Earth Humility you must Also espouse." She tries to demonstrate, a flick of the wrist that tries for this but does not get there. "Try again."

"J'vais pah-kah mon cah," Blythe repeats, infusing a little Boston Southie in his voice as he waves his fingers through the air like he's conjuring something out of the air. "Am I nailin' it? Can I update my resume?"

PRESCOTT BLOOD DRIVE

SCENES: Blythe & Evening

SCENES: Blythe & Evening

SCENES: Blythe & Evening

SCENES: Blythe & Evening

SCENES: Blythe & Evening

SCENES: Blythe & Evening

SCENES: Blythe & Evening

SCENES: Blythe & Evening