maskormenacelogs | [muffled meaningful song lyrics playing in the distance]

[ Terry Ward does not think he's qualified to talk to at-risk teen. In fact, Terry Ward is pretty sure he still qualifies as an at-risk teen. But guilt has always been a powerful motivator for him. He remembers his best friend from high school -- she'd been a user, and one of the first to be preyed on by his demonic powers. Her greatest fear, the one he'd torn out of her mind and transformed into, was herself, strung out and destroyed by whatever poison she'd become addicted to.

Still, guilt aside, he hates high school. And Terry hates a lot of things -- but few things as much as high school. He imagines he can feel himself breaking out in a rash just walking down the hall. It's hard to imagine just a few years ago, he was one of these kids. It was a lot of getting shoved into lockers and being dunked in toilets. It probably contributed a lot to the all black, guyliner'd look he still sports now.

He lingers outside the gymnasium where a group of the students are gathered, procrastinating his contribution to these "pep talks." Half under his breath, he mutters: ]

This is stupid. Am I allowed to say that this is stupid?

No, I don't think so. It's not impossible that a few of them may become volatile.

[Chilton whispers this, leaning closer to his fellow imPort. He recognized Terry from Holiday's initial gathering. He glanced down at his schedule, noting which groups of people he had to pitch pep to, and saw that this was one group of a few. Motivational discussion was never really Chilton's thing -- he was a doctor to the criminally insane! Wrong sort of motive engaged, given his experience.

But the word "psychiatrist" seemed to be interpreted in many difference ways, here.]

You know, you might remind them of their familial atmosphere. Which reminds me -- [Chilton rooted within his highly masculine messenger bag, before pulling out a buttercup yellow shirt that read HUGS NOT DRUGS. A cartoon bunny had its arms open in an anticipatory embrace, and not a drug was in sight.]

You should probably put this on now.

[ Terry was more or less prepared to brush off this adult figure until he magically procured the world's most hideous t-shirt from his very masculine man-bag. It effectively silenced Terry for a long moment as he first stared, then skeptically squinting at the horrific garment -- perhaps because his demonic eyes were being blinded by the combination of yellow and fluffy animals.

Finally, he physically recoiled, tensing in the shoulders and edging a half-step away. ]

What the hell is that supposed to be, exactly? [ He glanced at Chilton a bit accusingly, as if this were maybe some kind of purposeful attack. ] You can't be friggin' serious.

I absolutely can be serious, and I'm being serious right now. [He gave the garment a little shake, as if that would force some appeal into it. The smile he offered came archly, as if the man halfway couldn't believe the effort of his morning.]

It's intended for a depressive looking, slim teenager -- I think you win that description, at least. Besides, we need someone these ruffians can relate to. It just isn't going to be me.

[ Terry only leaned farther away as Chilton shook the shirt at him, as if he were afraid some of the yellow particles would fly off like spore and actually touch him. Yellow was not his color. Color was not his color. ]

Well, you picked the wrong depressive-looking, slim teenager, because I hated high school and high school hated me. They're not gonna like me anymore than they like you. [ He exhaled, annoyed. ] Whoever decided to send me here is an idiot. Just because I'm a telepath doesn't mean I know how to talk to people.

Then don't talk to them.

[He tried again to shove the shirt Terry's way, hoping that the responsibility of the fabric would leave his hands for good.]

Use your powers to catch their attention, let that do the talking for you. Better to rule with fear, right? [Perhaps it was a joke, and perhaps it was poorly timed. Chilton rolled his eyes upwards, buying a moment to backpedal.] That's why we were chosen to integrate like this, I'm sure. They want us to normalize our abilities. Now put the shirt on, because I am much too soigné to wear cartoonish animals.

[He had learned a few French phrases for moments like this.]

[ Terry responded by pushing the shirt back at Chilton, putting his hands on the man's fists and encouraging the hideous yellow thing back in his direction. He'd probably go into anaphylactic shock at any moment just from close contact with the fabric. ]

I'm not using my powers in a fucking high school. Are you crazy? [ Actually, he'd done that before. Mostly out of pubescent temper towards jocks and their tendency to make his life miserable. Some days he regretted that more than others. ] I can't normalize my stupid ability. I definitely can't control it well enough not to flip if a whole auditorium of teenagers freaks out at me.

[Chilton frowned, mulling over this impasse. He pushed his hands, armed with the shirt, back into Terry's -- any uncontextualized gaze would perhaps assume they were holding hands under the warm glow of cotton.]

I'm not crazy. [The protest came out too hard, too fast.] Look, then, if you don't want to employ it fully -- why not talk about it then? As something you've overcome? Or whatever you can pull out, I'm sure they won't appreciate the difference between a cold truth and a little fabrication. [He gritted his teeth, pushing the shirt closer, trying to make it touch Terry's face.]

This. Is. Your. Legacy.

I haven't overcome it.

[ Apparently, protest and refusal were two of Terry's greatest skills, and despite what ever problems he had with his demonic power, he had no issue with utilizing those to excess. ]

I really hate this. This whole thing. And I don't feel like being helpful. [ He did feel like trying to bat that yellow monster away from him though, letting go of Chilton to slap his tear-bearing hands away. ] Do it yourself. You're the real adult here.

[ Being nineteen didn't count, not in Terry's book. ]

You look somewhat adult-like.

[They wry comment was more centered on Terry's assumed age rather than any other concrete detail.]

And it isn't as if I am loving this prospect. We're in this together, you and I, so we're going to have to adapt with compromise.

[Which surely logically included Terry wearing the shirt! Such was Chilton's thought process. He balled the material in one fist, using quiet violence to smother some of the offensive hue.]

You know we can't just skip out on this endeavor. It's part of the deal. So -- bearing that in mind -- what is it that you want to contribute?

I'm trying to decide if it's too late to go drown myself in the boy's bathroom.

[ Not that it would've done any good. He was technically immortal, no matter how little he valued his own life -- or how morbid his sense of humor was. But right now, even a toilet bowl seemed like a better option than the hideous yellow shirt and an auditorium full of kids that resembled the antagonists from his unfortunate early pubescent years. ]

Can't we just put up a few flyers and bail? There's other people here. They can do the talking. Some people were born to be public speakers, some people were born for strategic flyer placement.

Don't do that, all right? Go on stage there and discuss suicidal tendencies, they might take you seriously.

[He gave Terry a look up and down, as if judging the younger man. As if there was something about his dark clothes and glower to suggest My Chemical Romance played frequently in the shadows of an unspoken bedroom.]

Flyers weren't part of the deal. [Though he won't deny that it's a good idea -- this Terry Ward had a working system, Chilton would give him that much credit.] Just give out he shirt as, I don't know, a "prize" or something, all right? We can give it to the flunkie who pays the most attention.

[ terry eyed him for a long, hard moment. it was a moment full of teenage petulance and stubbornness. or maybe that scowl on his face was because he was thinking very, very hard about disappearing -- as if by sheer power of will, he could make himself evaporate into thin air. that was a preferable alternative to all of this. public speaking had never been his strong suit.

people in general, really. ]

I'm immortal. I can't actually kill myself. Just so you know. [ one final act of smart-assery before he finally (reluctantly) snagged the shirt from chilton, exhaling irritably before pushing the auditorium doors open to face his face. ] But I swear, next time? I'm choosing the toilet bowl.

[ Community service was one of those old, tired things. The things that politicians did when they wanted to look good. Things like reading storybooks to elementary school kids, or quizzing them on their mathematical knowledge, so that the kids would go home and tell their parents that the mayor -- or president, or vice-president, or whathaveyou -- was a pretty good guy. To inspire voters when they got older, but mostly for the camera time. The thing to post to the website, to show compassion and humanity.

Mitchell had always done a lot of visits to kids, but normally it wasn't to at-risk children like this -- and not to talk about something that impacted them. Especially not about drugs, which was why Mitchell Hundred former Vice-President of the United States, former mayor of both New York City and fake New York City -- and current habitual drug user -- didn't know why he was here.

Well, alright, he did, he was playing nice with this world's current establishment, and if he had a few other people along, it made it easier to lie. He didn't have to say as much. Which was why he was mostly leaving this all up to the people who probably weren't hypocrites about the subject at hand. ]

[ In contrast, Nelson is at his best in situations like this. Or perhaps at his worst. When they get the school he's already got the workings of a self-righteous lecture outlined in his head, and by the time they actually reach the classroom he's entirely ready to step up onto his soap box. He's good at speeches... in a way, and stand confidently beside the other two men, shoulders straight. ]

All right, kids. I'm Nelson Gardner, and these are my colleagues Mr. Hundred and Mr. Bradbury. This is important, so make sure you pay close attention. Whether or not you do could mean the difference between leading a wholesome and successful life and ending up dead in a gutter and I assure you the gutter is no place for the future leaders of tomorrow.

[ He's looking at a kid with dyed hair and both ears pierced, squinting, and then looks at Rick and indicates him haughtily. ]

Mr. Bradbury and I were both USMC. No doubt with a war going on many of you are expecting to serve your country eventually and drugs are no excuse not to do your part. Would you rather be a hero or a disgrace?

[ Bradbury's not unfamiliar with this kind of work -- even as a washed-up cop in the NYPD, he's done his share of talks. He's not necessarily very good at them, though, so he's happy to leave that bit up to Nelson and Mitch. Between the two of them, they should be able to keep things going without Bradbury chiming in, right?

Then again, considering the topic of the lecture, maybe Mitch isn't the best candidate for speaking about it either. He glances at Mitch while Nelson talks, face impassive, but those broad shoulders are twitching slightly, suppressing amusement -- though it's not at Nelson's expense. He does straighten up when he's gestured at, though, squaring his shoulders and nodding at the kids. He's glad he opted for a slightly more formal dress shirt and slacks. It's not exactly a suit, but it's better than his original plan, which was a T-shirt and jeans.

Nelson's speech doesn't seem to be making much of an impression, though. If anything, the kids seem to be slouching further in their seats. Idly, Bradbury wonders if Nelson finds himself more comfortable here -- some of the technology is out of place, but he swears the whole place feels like a surreal trip backwards and forward at the same time. ]

[ Mitch is honestly a little impressed, while he stands somewhere vaguely behind Nelson, listening to him go on and on about drugs. Now, Mitchell had a certain impression of his employee, was it former employee now? Nelson was jumpy, anxious, he could see his convictions could come into play, but the guy never seemed to be this... well...

Honestly, he'd be impressed, if he wasn't trying to scare the piss out of kids, some of whom didn't look at all intimidated by the way he was talking. ]

While it's important not to do drugs, I think the more important thing to focus on is why would you do them?

[ Hey, he'd done that spot after the pot fiasco, he could do this. ]

Honestly, it's not worth it, putting your futures on hold for a quick high, believe me. There's so much more anyone can do than sit in their apartment all day getting stoned. What kind of fucking life is that?

[ He very pointedly didn't look at his bodyguard -- former bodyguard, but at the kids. Bradbury knew now, something that others didn't, but Mitch wasn't going to jeopardize that. He kept his eyes on the kids -- earnest. Oh, he was good. ]

[ It's undoubtedly Nelson's element, doing the talking, making speeches. Marine or not, he's definitely "brains" and not "brawn" and has always flourished from the strategic planning part of the equation than the action that might often follow. Nelson's confidence could overpower his nerves and self-doubt only under particular conditions.

Nothing which means his attempts are always successful, or that he expects them to be. (Not that he doesn't hope that they'll be.) The reception he's getting right now isn't far off from the reception he's gotten from grown adults, bored or apathetic or already assured enough in their own perspective to disregard his words almost entirely. He is not put off or hindered by apparent disinterest, spirits energized by the fact there is much more here he can relate to. It isn't perfect, but he catches glimpses of a world he's familiar with everywhere he looks. ]

Precisely! The world waiting for you beyond these doors is vast, full of possibility! Any one of you might go on to do great heroic things just like all the good folks out fighting for their country now. It would be a terrible, terrible mistake to dumb yourself down for a momentary thrill instead of putting your body and mind to their full potential.

You kill brain cells, your body deteriorates, you completely lose all sense of right and wrong and reality and most importantly-- [ He's not exactly ranting but certainly hitting a certain stride, speaking quickly and energetically. ] You'll become completely unfit to function or contribute to society. That's no life to live.

[ Bradbury's too used to it not to wince when Mitch swears, though he does internally sigh. The City's former Mayor may not necessarily have a PR department to worry about pleasing these days, but teenagers or not, he could try keeping it PG-rated. He's studying the kids more than strictly paying attention to what Nelson or Mitch are saying, because he doesn't really have much to add.

He's more concerned with keeping an eye out for potential troublemakers, and it really doesn't surprise him at all when a voice from the back pipes up, rude and self-assured, deriding both men for sounding like his grandpa. The mood in the air is restless, bored, and he figures someone'd better do something quick to defuse the situation before it gets any more unpleasant. ]

[ Mitch only looks at the kid with a tilt of his head, nodding to Nelson like the agreeing co-speaker he was supposed to be. The irony, and there was loads of it, was just something that Mitchell tried to power through and ignore.

He could only look at the kids, an eyebrow rising. ]

Hey, you say that, but I've been in some crap positions before. I remember what it's like being where you're at, but the more you try and screw yourselves over, the worse it's going to get until you have nowhere left to go but the high.

You really want that, because I promise, it gets really old really fast.

[ At the interruption Nelson stops talking, standing up there with a more recognizable (to some) agitation on his reddening face. He reminds himself that it's all right, they're only kids. Blindly swallowing counter-culture and subversive ideas was what they did.

He looks at Mitch warily. ]

Er-- uh, w-what he means is that yes, all of us up here know what it's like to be young and confused. You might not know who you are yet or what you can give to the world, but the answer won't be found in a needle or a tablet. You'll be "dropping" a lot more than "acid" if you give in to that direction and you'll never find your way out of it. Assuming you're lucky enough to survive the experience.

[ He shakes his finger meaningfully before putting his hands on his hips, but the assertiveness has not quite returned to his posture. ]

[ Christ, but Bradbury can practically hear Nelson dropping the air quotes when he speaks, and though he manages not to wince, he can see the mulishness settling in on the faces facing them. Not all of them, though -- it's only the ringleaders, the rowdiest kids with the most to prove that are staring back at them aggressively. Then there are those who were bored as hell and only just tuning into the conversation because it looks like it might actually be interesting, not active participants but definitely not above fanning the flames if the potential results have any chance of alleviating their boredom. And then there are those that just don't want to be in this room at all.

Bradbury resists the urge to rub at his forehead and just clears his throat, cutting in for the first time to give Nelson a moment to breathe and regroup. ]

Maybe you're thinking trying it once or twice ain't a big deal, but all you need to do is get caught at the wrong time and that can mess you up for life. Show of hands: who's a fan of football? Baseball? Any of you plan on going pro?

[ He pauses long enough to let the kids actually willing to humor him raise their hands, then goes on. ] You can kiss those dreams goodbye if you ever test positive. You see it all the time: guys who're at the top of their career, and think they have it made, but they lose everything just because they couldn't kick a habit. You really wanna be that dumb?

[ Mitch baked off, not really willing to interject on that at first. He could talk about people getting hit in the middle of their careers with a drugbust. Plenty of politicians that got caught with it, if they weren't careful, but nobody really cared about that shit -- except for him. He kept the blatant factoids to himself, in case he bored the kids to death.

Which honestly, they were already doing, but Bradbury seemed to be doing the better job with them, getting to them on their level, whereas Mitch often struggled. He expected teenagers to either be "kids" or "adults", when they were neither. He couldn't demean them, he knew, but he also couldn't expect them to act like adults. So he didn't really do teenagers.

Good thing he was never having kids, honestly. ]

He's right, actually. [ He spared a thought for the fact that -- well. The irony. ]

And beyond that, do you really want to prove any shitheads out there who expect it from you right?

Quite right. I know I never gave the stuff a second thought when I was young and had athletic aspirations.

[ He's stretching the truth a little bit, considering he came from a small town before most of the drugs they were addressing had really come into being. He couldn't have smoked anything even if he'd wanted to because of his childhood asthma, and he still wouldn't consider prescription pharmaceuticals "drugs" in a real way. But it makes for a good story; none of these kids know he grew up in the 1920s. ]

Because I wanted a future. I was determined that I would play football and that I would be a Marine, and I don't regret for a moment making sure my body and mind were fit for duty. There are no shortcuts to success, and drugs especially will only destroy your abilities to perform, slowly but surely. Mark my words.

[ Nelson's shoulders have straightened out again, head tilted up with at least the appearance of confidence -- he shakes it, tsking sympathetically. ]

Not to get started on how you would destroy your social life.

[ On the one hand, at least the kids look slightly less mutinous, and more like they're actually paying attention. On the other, Bradbury's not so sure that's a good thing. They don't seem entirely convinced, yet, but at least total anarchy hasn't broken out.

And then one of them pipes up: what if they don't care about becoming a football player or being in the military? What if they want to become heroes instead?

The mention of superheroes gets an enthusiastic response, though it's probably hardly the kind they would have wanted. There's a lot of miming of shooting down crooks and dispensing vigilante justice, sound effects and all, and the upsurge in volume has Bradbury wincing and muttering under his breath. ]

Christ. [ He's not the one with direct superhero experience, but he's not exactly all that clear on whether they're allowed to talk about previous superhero experience, so he looks to the other two for a clue.. ]

[ Oh christ. They had to get the classroom with a whole slew of kids with their heads up their asses, didn't they?

Of course, Mitchell's experience with superheroics wasn't exactly a pleasant one, but in retrospect, had he been the one normal among a sea of people with powers? Oh, hell yes, he would have wanted to sign up. Leave the boring life of a civil engineer and work to save lives?

It sounded so good, until you were faced with reality. ]

If you guys want to be superheroes, you're going to have really make sure you don't touch the crap.

[ God, did he ever know. ]

It comes with a lot of responsibility. What if someone needs you're help, and you're stoned out of your mind? What if you're too busy getting your fix, and you lose control? What if you hurt a lot of people, because you're that irresponsible?

[ He paused, a bit of a grimace on his face. He wouldn't say it, but alright, alright. He was projecting. ]

If you want to be a damn superhero, I'd suggest acting like one early on.

[ Nelson squares his shoulders, encouraged himself by the sudden enthusiastic response. Superheroes he can talk about, yet another thing he has experience with. Plenty of experience. ]

To be a hero is an enormous responsibility. The weight of lives is on your shoulders, whether you work alone or with a group. You don't have the law to protect you, so you need to be wise. Think ahead, keep a clear mind and a fit body. I was--

[ He hesitates, already anticipating scrutiny about what weight he's gained since his peak years. Still, he goes on: ]

Don't put anything in your body that would make you unfit to drive. As a hero you forfeit your right to only be responsible for yourself, and that's something to remember every day.

[He had an itinerary denoted, intended for execution over the next few days. It was made fairly clear that more than merely public image hinged upon this engagement for Doctor Chilton: considering his status as probationary psychiatrist (of a recovering addict unit), his commitment to this tedious and somewhat patronizing task was paramount. It was a way of working through that probation period, greasing the cogs a bit quicker.]

So... Homeroom talks first, then a gymnasium group... Slackers, mommy issues, teenage hormonal anxiety -- I left sociopaths for this?

[His angst reverberated from the echo chambers of lockers down the hall.]

[ Gideon, though undecided, was leaning toward the more ordered path -- direction seemed good for him at the moment, given how little his own mind offered. That meant he found himself "shadowing" at school this day a person whom he already had been mentally "shadowing." It seemed pertinent and also wise to keep an eye on Dr. Chilton while any doubt about intentions (motives, truths) still lingered.

Of course, he first had to find Chilton, but that didn't prove difficult. ]

Careful what you wish for, Frederick.

Ahh! AH -- oh. [Chilton whipped around, his nervous exclamation extinguished once he registered Abel's face -- or, more truthfully, once he registered the face and then remembered that Abel still didn't know about murdering all his other psychiatrists.]

Abel! What are you doing here? The outreach program is for registered people only -- unless. [He folded his arms, mocking with a tilt of his head.] You're a student? Here?

[ Gideon simply stood there, hands in his coat pockets -- not a thick coat, bearing in mind their location -- and responded to Chilton's outrage with a faint twitch of a smirk. It was lacking in humor. ]

That would be odd, now wouldn't it? No. I've graduated. [ It's a little more deadpan than usual, before he juts his chin out slightly and raises both his eyebrows. ] Today I'm your shadow.

I already have a shadow. I don't require another one. [Chilton shot him a withering look, thinking that Gideon was initially simply mocking his position. Following him around, just to mock him? Now that was a new low. What sort of demented, conniving individual would seek out a target simply to invest in--

Though that wasn't precisely Abel Gideon's modus operandi.]

Wait, are you really? That's your designated job, not community service -- but following me around?

[ Smirk growing, Gideon stayed in position, tilting his head to the side as Chilton's understanding dawned. ]

Not a job, thankfully. Just for today. I'm supposed to learn by example, so I expect to see the master at work. Make sure you impress me.

[ He tilted his head in the other direction, raising both eyebrows and gesturing outwardly with one arm. ]

So -- shall we?

All right. [There was nothing secure or authoritative in his tonal inflection, but Chilton wasn't prepared to fight what the system had determined. So Abel Gideon was going to accompany him during the day, so what? There was no disputing his former patient's instructions, especially if it wrought ill from the government.

So this was unavoidable, fine.

What's the worst that could happen?]

But we're establishing foundational rules. You're not allowed to interrupt me, or undermine me.

[ Gently and with amusement, he reminded Chilton of the obvious: ]

You aren't my doctor anymore. Can't tell me what to do.

[ He watched Chilton for another moment without speaking, eyes curiously alight even now. He felt out of place in a school and not entirely comfortable, but Chilton's discomfort lowered Gideon's own exponentially.

He came a step closer. ]

You of all people should know I'm a very well-behaved person. Well... I can be.

You can be? [He repeated, his tone submerged in doubt.] I haven't seen that for quite some time now. Your behavior so seemingly well.

[Chilton, however, turned heel -- disengaging the direct staredown as if such a thing couldn't be on his itinerary. His tight shoulder told a familiar story: he expected Gideon to simply follow.]

I want to address the students who have truancy issues. You could probably relate to that much.

I was well-behaved for two years. I don't think one... minor transgression suggests that that be forgotten.

[ He tilted his head, smiling mildly and following as expected. Nothing else to do. ]

I hope you aren't expecting me to chime in.

I'm expecting the opposite, in fact. You're to sit and behave, and not because I'm asking you to do so. [Gideon already made it clear that such instruction would be ignored, if it came from his former doctor.] But because the government hardly needs much reason to consider you a danger to society. Especially if I felt it imperative to inform them of your minor transgressions.

[Plural.

Chilton knew of the deaths Gideon would cause, and he used the plurality as a reminder that he knew.]

[ Gideon leered, saying nothing in immediate response but wanting to get his disdain across. Whatever Chilton was referring to, of course, Gideon was not fully privy to. How he hated that, having information held over his head with no ability to confirm. Where was Alana Bloom? ]

None of which were committed here, Frederick. You may have trouble convincing them when there's no urgency to the threat. [ Not that there might never be. But so far...

He changes the subject: ] Are you good with kids?

[ The surge of shame and fury Karkat feels upon catching sight of Doctor Chilton should by all rights incinerate the pair of them on the spot. It takes a very large amount of self control for him to not just barrel his through the lunching students separating them and serve the man a fresh knuckle sandwich right then and there.

Instead, he walks through the lunching students, teeth gritted and hands curled into fits, to tap him on the shoulder. ]

Hey.

[ Should Chilton fall for it and turn, he will be greeted with an attempt to punch him in the mouth, with no further preamble. Considering how much time Karkat had spent gallivanting around with the Phantasm before their previous universe fell to pieces, it likely won't be an enjoyable experience, should it connect. ]

[Chilton absolutely fell for it, the concept that someone would actually sneak around and scheme a punch too absurd for his ego to consider. He turned, his expression one mildly annoyed, and even before he could make the full arc of one hundred and eighty degrees, Karkat's trained fist nailed the shrink in the mouth.

He staggered backwards, blood flooding his mouth (the force pushed his lower jaw upwards, gnashing his tongue in between). Students who were privy to the event formed a crescent, with a low rumbling of "fight, fight!" initiating.

Chilton stared at Karkat, wide eyes even more protruding as his hand tried to dam the flow of blood from his mouth. Eventually, dignity damned, he just spat out the mass of fluids, swallowing the rest.]

Damn it!

[ Karkat has to fight down a twinge of disgust at the sight of blood -- uuuugh -- now is not the time for squeamishness. Instead, he tries to work on manufacturing as feral a snarl as he can fit on his face, trying to look inhuman and intimidating. ]

You know what you did to deserve that.

[ Vaguely, he registers that his hand hurts. He'll probably have to get some ice for that. ]

I can't believe you sought me out! For that!

[Quick to play the victim, it was all Chilton could do to keep some motion going, aside from the continual spitting of his own blood. Luckily every secondary school was equipped with a nurse's office, and the bullet list of that tangent was setting into the back of Chilton's mind; his frontal focus, however, encapsulated Karkat.

The man spared only a few glances at their youthful audience, as he was keen to disregard them.]

Tell me, how long has that been a burgeoning desire? Or were you just an impulsive opportunist?

[ Karkat's focus is more divided -- the reactions of the watching student body are difficult to ignore, with his powers' newly heightened sensitivity. He might not be versed in Earth educational customs, but something tells him that what he just did was probably not recommended, for someone who was supposed to be here as guidance.

Oh well. Chilton had it coming, he reasons. And it made him feel better. ]

Oh, no. No. You are not going to start psychoanalyzing my righteous, purely justified fury and beautifully enacted revenge as well. I swear to god, I will knock each and every one of those pathetic little nubs you humans call teeth out and cram them up your nose, do not fucking test me.

[ Seems he hit a nerve. Again. ]

[muffled meaningful song lyrics playing in the distance]

open

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

locked to bradbury and nelson

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

open:

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject