(( Stella'd said she'd be here. So she was here. Had already finished Calc last semester, wasn't here because she needed to be. But, you know, she didn't make commitments she didn't plan on following through.))

Wasn't at the dining table. Nah, open floor plan. Living room adjoining the kitchen, no ...

(( You know where from .))

Linn 9000 on percussion, Fairlight CMI on bass, Oberheim OB-8 on synth pads, chorus borrowed from Luther Vandross. 128 BPM, four on the floor. Parking lot, white Camaro, speakers turned up. If you knew what song she was listening to, you knew what song she was listening ...

[+] Jiiiinx.

But, seeeeriously though. Distracting yourself from something doesn't make it go away.

[+] So, goooood luuuuuuck, Mona.

((God knows your crowd's gonna need it.))

Worry not, as of the last revision to our rules (changelog here , please all handlers should read it (yes even the allegedly illiterate ones), it is important), we'll be trial running public rolls in v9 (albeit with vital-for-me-to-mention-because-i-want-to-avoid-the-possibility-of-anybody-stepping ...

"...Mhm."

Good luck , Stella nearly said. Killer conversation closer, no other reason.

Wasn't used to feeling pity for people like Mona, maybe. She was bad news on some level, obviously. Didn't spend your nights chemically inducing a feeling resembling joy, gyrating in the dark, blood in your ...

Stella was many things. A hedonist? Not especially, no. Believe it, people slicker than Mona'd tried to test her before. But, little known Stella fact: she dabbled in the consumption of dance music. Of course, wasn't enough of a thing in her eyes to turn it into a personality trait. Kept her ...

Well, Mona didn't need to worry -- Meggy didn't know what the Peltzmann effect was either.

Stella waved her goodbye.

An-y-waaaays. So, Mona. Mona , Mona, Mona .

Head tilt, eyebrow raised like a skeptical Marcia Brady's. "Oooh, listen to you, you're like a cult recruiter..."

Wasn't like Red Rock ...

"Mmmm mm ," rising pitch, subtle head tilt. Left side of Stella's mouth winced itself inward. Brow furrowed. Gaze consistent, solid.

Slow second of dead air.

"...Sorry, you'll have to be more specific? Like, the Peltzmann effect, orrrrr do you mean, like, Barbara Streisand's house?..."

Stella blinked once.

Mmm, well. Unexpected responses on both counts.

First off, Meggy.

"Diiiidn't mean to say they were. Like, I'm not Mortimerrrrr." Stella stated, simply. Like, Meggyyyy, you've seen how bougie her house is. "Just, like, literally they do have a squad that's specialized in AI ...

...Oh, Meggy really was that naïve, wasn't she?

Poor girl.

Mood: killed.

Stella took another bite of her sandwich, bristled a bit as she swallowed. The cheeses were each a different temperature, hadn't melted together evenly -- white cheddar fusing with the bread more so than anything else. Felt ...

Stella shifted her body to face Me&Mo. Left the half-fry on the table, checked her nails real quick.

"Oh, no. Noo. Thank you, though." Direct statement to Mona, casual. Shook her head, "But no, the competitive scene's actually crazy."

"Most of us wouldn't be able to afford it," Ingrid said, thank ...

Wow, see, Ingrid? Stella wasn't making a worse fool of herself than Aubrey Plaza at the 2013 MTV Movie Awards. She was communicating with like Meggy and Mona, actually.

Rest of the table went silent as soon as Marroquin sat down, 'specially the boys. Automatic, like they'd learned someone'd just ...

Stella reached across the table, grabbed one of Kraig's Neeeew Yoooooooork fries, graceful movement; the guy either didn't notice or didn't care. Held the thing between her fingers like a cigarette, loose.

Leaned forward in Ingrid's direction, elbow on the table, right hand holding up her own cheek ...