Touch of Crate

[LYourLocalAutist]

On a frigid but clear-skied late afternoon, a beautiful purring noise pulled into the parking lot of the darling of downtown Vegas. In it were contained three markedly small women of the cheerleader genus, and one secret Andre the Giant clone. They'd come to chew bubblegum and play board games, and they were all out of bubblegum.

[Sylvie Rattray-Aubert continued from any colour the customer wants, as long as it's any colour the customer wants]

"...But that's enough about that- we're here!"

Sylvie chirped, marking the end of the totally real and totally interesting topic of discussion that had totally been happening during the car ride. It had been a very eventful one, between said discussion, that on meeting Lucie and the simple presence of Claude, though the last one likely only went into effect for Sylvie herself. The presence of friends helped temper her stupid feelings— when they weren't actively encouraging them, that is. Which was, coincidentally, how they'd managed to get Claude to tag along, tainting the sanctity of the girl's trip with the boycrush's presence, a crime surely punishable by being drawn and quartered. Sylvie lamented her lack of rope and horses for a moment before hopping out of the Mustang as it was parked.

She firstly looked upon the sight of the all-crate holy land with a smile. The distinct smell of street food and the distinct smell of thrift shop clothing wafted through the air. Not a tourist in sight. Harmony. And uncramped by the general populace today, it seemed. They'd have an easy time getting to Connect Pour, which she had to remind herself not to abbreviate. There, fun times would be had by all despite that man's presence and the impact it had on her psyche, she hoped. Her hands went back to fiddling with her bow as she waited for the rest of the group to present themselves, though they were a flat three-four feet away from her already.

[Fiori]

The next person to exit the vehicle - vaulting themselves out of the convertible with relative ease - was none other than...

((Marcy Valerio continued from any colour the customer wants, as long as it's any colour the customer wants))

It had been an... Interesting journey, no doubt. She spent a fair chunk of it looking flabbergasted after picking up Claude, left in a state of shock after meeting his big sister. Quite literally as it turned out, she was HUGE! Must've been pushing seven feet! Sure there were a fair few girls on the tall side at Red Rock - eat your fucking heart out, Heather - but damn, that reveal caught her off guard.

It took the car coming to a sudden stop to break Marcy out of her stupor, when a careless biker cut them off right as they were passing through a crossroad. Unsurprisingly, she wasn't too happy about that, nor was she shy about letting everyone know about it.

"HEY! RED LIGHT, ASSHOLE!"

Aside from that little incident, the rest of the journey was a delight, with Marcy quickly returning to her usual chatty self by the time they arrived at Crateful Dead.

She stood there besides Sylvie, hands rummaging through her hoody's deep pockets. At the risk of undermining the previous post, Marcy DID in fact have bubblegum on her. She never left the house without it, and would definitely need some if they were going to be playing board games. When it came to non-physical activities, she found it impossible to focus without chewing on something. It's why she found it criminal that you weren't allowed gum during exams, a ruling that resulted in countless gnawed pencils and pen lids.

Gum in hand, she quickly popped one in her mouth before silently offering her friends a piece, idly chewing away as she waited for everyone to gather themselves. "Sooo, straight to the cafe, or do we wanna browse a lil first?"

[Magnum 0pus]

The next person to get out of the convertible did so by gently opening the car door and stepping out. He then walked around the vehicle and stood beside Sylvie with his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket.

(Claude O'Neil Porter continued from any colour the customer wants, as long as it's any colour the customer wants

Every time Claude caught a glance of Marcy's confounded expression, he couldn't help but chuckle. No matter how many times he's seen the reactions of people when they met his sister in person for the first time, it never got old.

A hint of curiosity was present on the giants face as he ahead at Crateful; it had been some time since Claude had last been to this wondrous place. In all honesty, the young man only ever saw it's charm because of Connect Pour and the mostly mediocre street food that was sold. With the lack of pesky tourists, not like he ever really saw or had any issue with tourists in general, Claude would be able to at least enjoy some fun board game times with his friends.

Now that the gentle giant thought about it, he had no idea just how his friends were like with board games. For all he knew, Sylvie could very well be the type that goes from an easily flustered little bunny rabbit to a kaiju filled with rage and anger that leaves chaos and destruction in her wake when she rages while Marcy could very well not rage at all and be as chill as a caterpillar, and Clarissa...

...Honestly, Claude had no idea on how she was with board games, so it was anyone's guess at this point.

Speaking of Clarissa, he looked over at her to see if she also still had a look of shock on her face like Marcy had the whole ride here.

[Cicada]

Top rolling up. Parking gear, parking break, ignition killed. Clarissa's eyes idle, comfortably empty.

She glanced at Claude, as sudden as she was suddenly aware that he'd glanced her way. Lips briefly parted in an unspoken question. It stayed unspoken as she decided it was probably just his eyes wandering. It usually was, at least as far as she was aware. She nodded and smiled LED bright- thanks for being gentle with the doors.

[Clarissa Shoemaker, Pregame Thread 2]

She had always wondered where Sylvie got all the funny stories she told when riding shotgun- now she knew. Like, she'd always been skeptical that debate was that wild and exciting, but it turned out Sylvie also had a very funny and very very tall benefactor. Apparently all French people in existence were in cahoots?? Clarissa had actually really liked meeting Lucie. Maybe she'd end up an in-law when Claude and Sylvie were joined in holy matrimony? Maybe that was how that worked, who knew.

"Uh..." Marcy asked a question and Clarissa.exe continued to slowly reboot. Behind the wheel Clarissa existed in a different reality from the one that talked to people and tried to puzzle out WTF people were talking about.

"Do we want to eat at Connect or somewhere else?" Clarissa's phone was now in her jeans left pocket where it was easy to find, as opposed to in her car where it was harder to find and always playing her playlists no matter how many times she took Spotify out behind the shed. She scrolled the bar-board-game-establishment-thingys menu. "It's like a lot of sweet food they have. Waffles and crepes, kinda fun." Up down up down went her thumb. "Happy hour's like, right now. If we want drinks."

She could taste first sip of each of the names on the drinks menu. Craft beers, cocktails- and they were, indeed, overpriced.

"Oh and while I remember, since Sylvie brought up that one story about Mrs. Harper. Were any of you guys gonna do like what Elisa did last year and come back to assistant coach for a year?" A pause. "Asking Claude too, I guess," Clarissa giggled.

[LYourLocalAutist]

The gang was all here! As... if it hadn't been when it was localized within Clarissa's Mustang! And the fun was already starting, localized entirely within the conversations taking place during the short commute from their parking space to Crateful itself. All the non-Frenchies here had seemed to recover from having been in the presence of the force of nature that was Lucie O'Neil Porter. She was perfectly understanding of their reactions but still had to keep herself from bursting into chuckles along the ride to Crateful.

During said commute to Crateful, Sylvie mostly listened and replied to the questions her girls were posing. She'd talked enough on the car ride itself and wanted to soothe her ears for a moment with the sound of her besties yapping about literally anything. Socialization with people she genuinely liked was a balm. A small, casual smile rested on her lips the entire time. Of course, she took time to answer questions as well, starting with Marcy's.

"Mmm, I could do with some new stockings... wonder if any of the thrifts have some Uniqlo."

Lord knew she needed something for her poor legs. Skirt and inefficient heater leggings didn't do much in terms of insulation, and she had to focus a bit harder to keep the rest of her body from shivering by extension to the cold that bit her there. Unbeknownst to the rest of the group, her thoughts equally turned to any plushes she could acquire from Crateful's myriad stores, thoughts she quickly sought to suppress, returning to how to deal with the cold. She had to ease herself by thinking of all the warm food and drink they'd serve at the café. Clarissa bringing it up certainly helped. She slid out of the topic of fashion and into the topic of food with marked ease.

"Ahh, there, please. I could kill for a warm crêpe and some hot chocolate..."

Hot and sweet was a match made in heaven, and was always there for Sylvie when she needed a bit of a boost from frigid weather of any kind. It was always typically the best-looking food in any café establishment. She liked when food was cute to look at before being rent to mush in her mouth.

Suddenly, the third topic change occurred—from Clarissa again. This one called back to a story Sylvie had told during the drive about the cheer coach, one that was totally intriguing, I promise. Clarissa posed a question that Sylvie immediately knew the answer to, which saddened her slightly. Not that she'd let the girls know. Instead, she produced a small and genuine chuckle at the thought of Claude as an assistant cheer coach, then sighed before answering her question.

"Ah, no way. I'm getting my SATs done and then it's off to Stanford for me."

She returned to smiling, and though she tried to hide it, this one would seem a little more weary to anyone who paid close attention.

[Fiori]

"Hmm, dunno about Uniqlo, but I remember buying these super cute spider-pattern tights somewhere around here. Might've been a Halloween pop-up store though..."

Truth be told, Crateful Dead wasn't at the top of Marcy's list of favourite hangout spots. Sure the whole converted shipping crate gimmick was cute and all, but it was... Well, it was nice, but it wasn't super exciting. It lacked moxie. She preferred places that either had a bit more edge to 'em, or were at least loud enough to keep her stimulated.

Still, she liked the frog. It took a lot of willpower to not immediately crack a joke at Sylvie and Claude's expense the moment she laid eyes on it.

Marcy's mood took a slight dip when Clarissa started asking about their future plans, brows furrowing as she considered her response. "Uuh... I dunno, probably not I guess..."

She was a little more curt than intended. For starters, she hardly knew what she was going to be doing a week from now, let alone after she was done with school. She wanted to be a dancer, and she wanted to remain with Finn. Apart from that, the future wasn't something she liked thinking about.

But neither was she keen on thinking about the past, either. Especially of the time Elise was assistant coach, after spending most of that year on the bench wondering if she'd ever be able to dance again.

No. Marcy lived for the present. And right now, she wanted to take a selfie in front of the frog, grinning and waving the others over to join her as she readied her phone.

[Magnum 0pus]

The Frog. That forsaken frog. Every time he's been to Crateful and he sees that damned amphibian, he couldn't help but glare at it in the same way Goku does in that one meme. Claude quickly snapped out of it when the girls began to decide to go browsing the wares for some new clothes. Great plan, fantastic plan, even! He was up for whatever, so long as he didn't have to keep giving the frog the stink eye.

"You know you could just wear some pants and not some thin stockings that provide no amount of warmth at all..." It was clear that Claude went for function over fashion when it came to outfits. Even then, with the outfits he wore, Claude managed to look pretty fashionable.

"But honestly, I'm fine with whatever you girls wanna go do. All I want to do is get something to eat." Moving on, when Sylvie brought up food and then pointing out the café establishment to them. It was a pretty good suggestion, and he did say he was fine with whatever his friends wanted. "Yeah that looks like a nice place for a meal, Sylvie. Wouldn't mind grabbing a bite there." Not only would he be eating actual food instead of the government mandated slop he was served today in school, but he would no longer have to be in the vicinity of the frog.

The sudden question from Clarissa about what they planned to do in the future made him stop thinking about the cursed amphibian and start thinking about what he really had planned to do with his life once he graduates. Listening to what Sylvie and, to some extent, Marcy had to say in regards to that made Claude think that maybe his aspirations were a bit too out there... bah! Who cares, it's his life and he'll live it how he wants to!

"Maybe get into a college with a good baseball program, like Vanderbilt or Mississippi state or maybe even LSU... after that, I'd declare for the MLB draft and see if any team picks me." Claude told them about his plans for the future with great confidence, as if he knew it was a guarantee to happen....

...Let's be honest, there was a reason he was a star athlete in Southwest Red Rock High.

[Cicada]

Clarissa nodded softly. No pull on the bit of conversation she'd tried to fish up. She'd noticed Marcy hadn't seemed too happy with the line of thought, and:

Clarissa never really knew how bad ideas worked. Whenever she sat around and watched, say, the other boys and girls in cheer or on the dance team talking and people said things and other things that made for good conversation... It was like. She was never sure which X Y Z topicAtopicBtopicC ideas led to everyone laughing at a kinda mean joke as if it were the right thing to say. Or alternatively, to someone complaining in her text messages that the person who'd said something Clarissa had thought had been kind of funny actually made them a huge bitch. It was like how a car could break down a million different ways. But cars could be fixed with her own two hands, at least.

In times like this, better to not speak. To not smile, even. Unless it was the right time to smile, or to speak, or maybe

----

Clarissa didn't dwell on it long. Also dangerous. Her gear was neutral as they eventually made their way to Connect Pour, a different combo of rightleftrightrightleft than she'd thought it had been when Sylvie had first brought it up an hour some ago.

Smiling, speaking when spoken to.

Like the rest of the mall Connect Pour was a super cool geometric mess of several of those big shipping containers that were supposed to be on big tanker ships or on the back of windy long freight trains. It was just around the time of day for things to start getting busy, but there were a few obvious booths available for the taking in the gently moody atmosphere. Inviting. Reminded Clarissa of the later half of sleepovers, when the lights started being brighter than the moon outside the windows.

"Shoot, another shot trying to stop the feeling," Clarissa sung to herself slightly off key and an octave too low to the very famous, very gay song gently piping over the store's radio. This one had absolutely changed her life when it had been released, for like a week anyways.

"I'll take a booth," she offered. Leaving the responsibility of picking actual games to play and actual food to eat to the people who had the braincells. "I'll pick what I want to eat later!"

[LYourLocalAutist]

Sylvie stuck her tongue out at Claude's remark. Pants. A ridiculous concept. She could never. Sylvie didn't have that much self-confidence but she knew in her heart she was above pants. The yap was fine and the browsing was just as well. They came across a thrifting crate, and as thrifts do, it inexplicably had a few unimaginably fine pieces for its supposed status. Sylvie walked away with her new leggings, happy.

Then, as they approached, a certain tune reached Sylvie's ears. One that made her eyes widen imperceptibly and almost made her stop in her tracks.

That fucking song.

Sylvie subtly held some amount of loathing towards Chappel Roan. Some time ago, Chappel Roan had entered the underground chamber that lets people with more than five million dollars survey anyone on earth, seen Sylvie and made it her personal mission to fuck with her. Especially with that song. Clarissa had obsessed over it for the week it'd come out and Kiandra was *still* obsessing over it and she couldn't stop hearing it and its attacks on her psyche and personal problems because it'd been designed by that woman to target her specifically.

"You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feel-" SHUT UP!!!

Stupid gay song. How'd you feel if someone called you out, huh?

This deep and complex inner turmoil manifested as a tiny shiver across the girl's body as she took in Clarissa's mention of holding a booth for the group. She took a deep breath in and pulled herself out of her own thoughts, back into the world, back into smile and cheer. Bright eyes. Bright smile. Come on, now. It came naturally, and she reimmersed herself into her surroundings.

"Thanks, Cs!" She piped up as Clarissa went off, before turning around to face a prime aspect of the Café's layout: the shelves where the board games themselves lay. She gestured the remaining trio to follow and marched on over to begin her search. "Right..." she mumbled, pulling out a few, just to look closer Her eyes still turned over the rest of the options, and wow were they numerous. Monopoly was a classic, and so was stuff like The Game of Life, Jenga could be fun, and so could Catan... what the hell was a Guilty Gear? Choices, choices, choices.

Thankfully, it wasn't as if she was alone in choice-making- she turned around to regard her two companions, a contemplative look on her face. "So... you guys had any ideas? I was honestly thinking..." She raised and shook the Monopoly box. You had to respect the classics, really. She still hinged a bit on the others' opinions, though. "We have the number of people for the amount of board sides, anyway."