Survival Of The Fittest

"It is, yeah!"

Sylvie gave a nod to Clarissa's question as she began to properly enjoy the grey Mustang's heating capabilities, letting out another sigh of relief. Connect Pour had those large, really, really nice beanbags. The kind you could sink into, but still properly sit up in. She chuckled at Marcy's playful brattiness as she settled behind Clarissa and her. Thinking they were about ready to go, she was about to open her mouth to continue the yap about this café that let you play sorry before it came through.

Sylvie could swear she felt it before she heard it, through a sixth sense of some manner. Some sort of aura of implacable poise. A juggernaut of confidence. The aura was then actualized in the form of the rumble of a Camaro and a resounding battle cry concerning her money and the taking thereof. Her head turned—how could it not—and it was as she'd suspected; Stella. If there was ever some kind of "perfection" on the cheerleading team, there it was, in a strikingly white car mouthing goodbye to her and the girls with a smile that could probably kill God in a fit which, weather considered, stood in total defiance of him. It sent some unknowable, perhaps unwanted, shivers down Sylvie's spine as she waved back almost nervously. Her arm lowered and she sighed again. A different kind of sigh; even she didn't know what it meant. She mumbled something out that was supposed to be a thought, on instinct.

"...She's like the hottest bitch ever."

She rapidly clammed up and hoped no one heard that, wondering what she was thinking, subconsciously shrinking into herself a bit. She cleared her throat of that... statement... and listened out for any opportunities to escape the awkwardness. Thankfully, Clarissa came right in with an out. Three o'clock? Vague, but Sylvie knew how a clock worked. She began to turn her head 180 degrees. Surely, whatever was there couldn't provoke anything weirder or more shocking than getting with a drive-by by Stella Nyquist herself. "Mm? What-"

Crush jumpscare.

Sylvie felt like she was going to have a heart attack about sixty years young. She hadn't even heard him approach in the wake of the gunshots and cash registers. She scrambled to try to look normal in front of her friends in the immediate face of Claude leaning down on the Mustang's window in front of her. She failed. She tried to rearrange her seating position to look "more normal" whatever that meant, which just meant she squirmed a bit around as she locked eyes with Claude. She could barely deal with one sudden appearance of an impossibly hot person, and now she had to deal with another at point blank, and it was the one she was actively attracted to to the point she acted like a bit of an idiot around him. She couldn't even beat herself up in his face, she was too busy just... admiring. Handsome. Unbearably so. Framing such a kindly and friendly expression and- and- and- she needed to get it together. A red beyond that of the cold spread across her cheeks before she could come back to her senses and reply like a normal person.

"OH! Uh- Claude! Hi. Salut. (Hey.) You're, ah, looking-" Her eyes trailed down to his unreasonably tight clothing around his muscular frame, giving Sylvie what would've been her second heart attack of the day. They visibly widened before scrambling back up to his eyes. She cleared her throat, gathering what little composure she could. "-I mean- how're you doing? Okay, I hope."

She put on a smile herself to match his as her posture in the seat settled. It wasn't forced, despite what her somewhat wild body language might suggest. Her heart was beating at an increasing and increasing rate, sure, but she could handle that, surely. She just had to get through the initial shock. She could be normal around her friends in front of Claude O'Neil Porter.

Marcy stifled a snicker, overhearing enough of Sylvie's mumbling to get the gist.

Not that she read much into it. Marcy didn't swing that way, but she had working eyes. Stella was objectively hot. Nothing unusual about one girl voicing her totally platonic appreciation of another's looks, right?

Regardless, it wasn't long until another familiar face loomed into view, barely giving Marcy a chance to forget to put her seat belt on. Low and behold, it was Andre the Giant himself: Claude. The baseball team's biggest heartthrob, or so she's heard. He was too much of a goody two-shoes for Marcy's liking, but she got the appeal.

Sylvie was certainly a fan, even someone as oblivious as Marcy could tell that. It was possibly the worst kept secret on the cheer squad. As such, her lips formed a mischievous grin as she leant forward, poking her head between the car seats ahead of her.

"We were just speculating over whether you were strong enough for Sylvs to sit on your shoulder~"

A little cheeky? Perhaps. Totally worth it for the look on Sylvie's face alone? Absolutely.

The heads up from Clarissa to Sylvie had Claude fix his gaze on the shorter girl, whose reaction upon seeing him made him laugh briefly, like it did most of the time. Her squirming was pretty damn adorable, and the way she barely managed to irk out a greeting as she tried to look "more natural" made him chuckle a bit more.

"Salut Sylvie!" ("Hey Sylvie!") He responded back in French before noticing how she was about to say something about his looks before asking him how he's been, having not noticed how she briefly ogled his sweater that clung to his muscular torso. Now, Claude could do a little trolling- a bit of tomfoolery, even- and pry further and ask her to tell him how he's looking. But, he decided against it since trying to pry any further would make Sylvie redder and more of a mess than she was now. "I'm doing pretty okay, thanks for asking, Sylvie. Now lemme guess, your adorable self missed the bus, which is why you're still here."

Calling Sylvie adorable was something he did from time to time whenever they were together. In all honesty, Claude calling her that probably ended up making her more of a flustered mess than if he had asked her what she would've said about his looks. Even with how openly she reacted around him, he never got the hint that she had immense feelings for him. For all it was worth, he considered her a very close friend.

That had to count for something, right?

Claude watched the smile appear on her face, it was genuine, and he could tell that much. It was always cute to him whenever Sylvie smiled; maybe because of how small she was? Yeah, that's why.

Claude looked up at Marcy as her sudden intrusion and interjection with the cheeky comment about whether he was strong enough to have Sylvie sit on his shoulders made Claude ponder for bit- just a bit- before answering quickly, "Oh yeah, absolutely!" He responded quite confidently and with an innocent smile, not really noticing the undertones behind his friends teasing comment.

"Maybe I could do it some other time. After all, I wouldn't want to hold you girls back from doing you plan on doing." Once Claude said that, he looked back and forth between Marcy and Clarissa, the smile on his face turned into a small smirk before he asked them, "So anyway, what's new in the world of Marcy and Clarissa?" An eyebrow was raised after asking how they've been, wanting to know what they have been up to and such, like a friend always does.

The feelings of floating after someone else's ghost were always pleasant. Moreso than the actual part of making that ghost corporeal. A shared meal, a table, awkward small talk even when she'd known that person for years of her life.

Remembering that ended and reloaded Clarissa.exe. Just in time for her to not really get the context.

Like, had they been speculating about Claude lifting Sylvie onto her shoulders? Yes, that was an amazing thought and cute and funny because obviously Sylvie's immediate reaction would cause the ears of her bow to stand up in that cartoon metaphor for popping a boner et cetera. But. They hadn't actually been talking about that. Right? Right, Clarissa hadn't been that zoned out by Stella's emerald glare.

So yeah this was one of those situations where Clarissa nodded and didn't say anything because it was probably just a joke or a metaphor that whizzed past her head like a bullet at Canon's head.

"Uh, new things in my world." Clarissa recovered remarkably and was able to smile at ease, once more curdling up in her seat like a dumpling so she could conserve heat. The car's heaters hummed and her baby was ready to drive off into the sunset that wouldn't be for another few hours. Clarissa could relax- it wasn't her time to shine just yet.

"Raya and I have a quote on the exhaust swap out we brought up the last time you were in the shop." Cosmetic since the Claude's car would be a gas guzzling environmental nightmare short of turning the engine into a generic copy paste that missed most of the point of having a 1970 Maverick, but it would upgrade the sound into a beastly bellow befitting the look. "She and I have been disagreeing on the header legnths for like a week now but we got something that should work with the chassis. I think Raya said she'd text you today or tommorrow." The Magnum Opus, Raya's nickname for one of the fucking coolest cars on campus... Maybe not practical, but so damn aesthetic. Clarissa saluted, every time.

She zoned out for a moment, the life of the party migrating from her eyes inward as she contemplated a laundry list of specs both generic from manuals and specific from the measurements and test runs they'd already put Claude's car through the prior months. She'd come to life if- when- Sylvie did something endearing trying to keep herself cool under the pressure of hot boy presence. Relatable, etc.

By the look on Sylvie's face, unseen by Claude as she turned and gaped horrified and wide-eyed at Marcy, you could've sworn she'd just levitated into the air, cursed her and her lineage for a thousand thousand years to come, blew up the school with laser eyes and proceeded to single-handedly propagate global warming into critical levels wherein the earth was scorched and billions were dead. She hadn't; she'd just instigated a bit of embarrassing dialogue between a teenage girl and her crush. Which was comparable.

"I- wh- we-"

For a good second, she could do nothing beyond stutter and stare with some kind of terrified incredulity like a bunny staring down the barrel of a shotgun. She practically forced herself to clear her head as she heard Claude address her. Gotta keep going, gotta keep sane. Unfortunately, she turned from the shotgun barrel to some manner of oncoming freight train as the next words out of Claude's mouth after saluting her were calling her adorable. Hell is a teenage girl.

"Uh- yeah! I was lucky Clarissa was here, heh."

She awkwardly chuckled, somehow managing to string a coherent sentence together and keep a relatively looking smile on her face, still trying to get a handle on her stupid brain and stupider heart. Nothing could be done about the blush, save for passing it off as the cold, and even that was unconvincing on account of how bundled up she was. Not like she was very cold at that point. Not with him around.

She sighed in relief— and equal parts disappointment?— as Claude's attention turned to Clarissa and her car yap, and then to Marcy and her own respective Marcy yap. She took another breath to recover her composure and curled up into some ball of shame-recovery in the style of Clarissa's cocooning, cheeks still red, eyes still flitting to his face every so often. She could allow herself a little bit of yearning as he talked. As a treat.

Yup. Totally worth it.

Marcy struggled to keep a straight face, looking as though she could break out into giggles at any moment. It didn't help when Claude actually seemed into the idea, just barely suppressing her laughter as she nodded her head in agreement.

"That I'd like to see!" she teased, playfully elbowing Sylvie in the shoulder.
 
Once Clarissa had Claude distracted with car-related technobabble, Marcy took the opportunity to look Sylvie in the eyes and flash her a knowing wink, silently mouthing "You got this, girl" at her. After all, in Marcy's mind she was doing her friend a solid. Give her the push she needed to act upon her feelings, encourage her to make a move whilst the iron was hot. Carpe diem, motherfucker.

Okay sure, Marcy was also kinda trolling her too, but she was MOSTLY trying to be a good wingwoman. Maybe 50/50 on encouragement/trolling.

"Oh, me?" she asked, realising it was now her turn to talk. "Uuuh, well y'knoooooow... Same old, really. Birthday bash didn't quite go as planned, but managed to make it work... Kinda... Gotta roll with the punches life throws ya, right?"

"Buuuuut..." she continued, casually gesturing to Sylvie with her eyes. Don't talk to ME, talk to HER you idiot! 

"SYLVS here was just suggesting that we go check out this nice cafe down by Crateful Dead! Connect Four, I think it's called? No wait, that's a board game..."

Her eyes suddenly lit up, mouth agape in realization. "OOOoooh, it's a PUN! I get it now!"

Car talk! Specifically talk about his car, The Magnum Opus. The exhaust swap, although cosmetic, would make his car growl like a true beast, and he couldn't wait to get body work done. But then, Clarissa brought up the discussion she had with Raya about the length of the headers, and the fact they settled on ones that would fit the chassis was great news. Claude then remembered about the issue his car was having with its heater when she brought up how Raya would text him today or tomorrow, "While we're on the topic about my car, I have been having an issue with the heater where it just... hasn't been working, for a while now, at least. As to why or even when it stopped working, I have no idea."

He hoped it would be something his mechanic friend could look into and give a quick fix. "You don't think Raya would mind if I drop by later today so she can check out what's wrong with the heater, right?" Claude asked her since it was starting to irritate him having to sit on the cold seats and nearly freeze his ass off every day for the past week. It didn't help that he shivered every time he practically drove around in The Magnum Opus.

"My best bet is that the problem began near the end of Christmas break, perhaps? I dunno though." This was all just speculation since he hadn't actually driven his car for a few weeks now- not since the beginning of December, at least- and he could very well be wrong about when the problem started. Dwelling on it further wouldn't help fix the issue, so Claude stopped thinking about it and decided to wait for Raya's text that Clarissa told him she would send him.

After bringing up the car issue he's been experiencing, Claude’s attention was brought back to Marcy, who told him about her less than favorable but still tolerable birthday bash she had not too long ago, "Well happy belated birthday, Marcy. Good to hear you at least went with the flow!" It made him feel bad to hear about how her party went, and he hoped he had some money on him to at least buy her a late birthday present, but maybe he could get around to doing that later...

Suddenly, he noticed how his delinquent friend frantically gestured to the cocooned Sylvie with her eyes. The sight of the pint-sized cheerleader curled up into a ball was damn cute, and Claude couldn't help but smile warmly upon seeing it.

But then, when Marcy mentioned Sylvie suggesting to hang out at Connect Pour- or in her words, Connect Four- over in Crateful, his smile faded and he looked at her with silent confusion; an eyebrow raised and a look in his eyes that made it obvious he was trying to process what she said. It didn't take long for his confusion to turn into a subtle look that conveyed one single word, 'duh'.

"You're- You have got to be kidding, right? There's no way you got the pun just now!" Despite the amount of disbelief he was experiencing, there was no real reason to make a big deal of it. So, Claude decided to turn back to Clarissa with an indifferent look on his face, "I'm going to drop by my house for a bit, and if I get the text from Raya today, I'll make sure to drop by as soon as possible so you two can get to work on it, alright?" Slowly shifting his attention back to Sylvie, who was still curled up in her jacket, Claude decided to tease her a bit by placing his hand on her head and ruffling her hair a bit, "I hope you manage to win a few games, at least." A chuckle left his mouth as he slowly began to stand back up, no longer leaning on the car door.

Before Claude decided to leave the girls to hang out at Connect Pour, he turned back to Clarissa to ask her one last thing, "On the off chance that she sends the text today, do you have any idea on what time Raya will most likely text me?"

Was Sylvie lucky Clarissa had been there? Clarissa's thoughts continued to idle, colder than the peak performance of her baby Mustang and its itch to gallop. She contemplated... wasn't Clarissa just always there? Always ready to help a friend? Clarissa was never there because of luck. She was there because she wanted to be... Without answers Clarissa's brain gears began to fuel an itch in her fingers. She scratched it by gently attacking the Sylvie ball the seat over. Clarissa's hands touched down on Sylvie's shoulder and side. Take this! Patpatpat. And this! Patpatpat. And this! And the bow, of course, was not moved a hair out of place.

Clarissa, of course, could only be so distracted by attempting to roll up the frien-shaped burrito. Car talk. She was focused and present. She nodded along, taking a bevy of mental notes as everything ran smooth and felt lubricated up in her gray matter for a change. She was a simple girl with simple, automotive-related needs.

"Assuming you checked the basics of course," Clarissa mused. She already knew the answer: he had. She knew him well. Claude was yet another trusted friend and very familiar face. Stupid tall, and if there was somehow more than one of those in the vicinity, two scars. Claude looked out for her in the same way others like Marcy or Vivian or Raya did. Like, to the point where she sometimes wondered if something was wrong with her because so many people needed to keep an eye out for her. But! Uncomfy thoughts! Related: Clarissa had crushed on Claude for a hot minute, like, last school year. Baseball boy? Yes please. But like, Claude was too... familiar to really be someone she'd want to date. Kind of the Ick? Also, Sylvie. Clarissa was loyal to her girl. Liking another girl's man was a capital n No.

"Probably electrical. Resistors kaput. Or maybe deeper into the system. I'll text Raya. I think she'll get to you in the morning if its not tonight. She's busyyyyy."

Phone. Wait, hadn't she closed Spotify already? Out, away with ye, damn app. Clarissa scrolled down her contacts, itsspelledsylvie no, no, no, scrollscrollscroll

isBFF5ever
Raya
lets also check magnum opuses heater circuits
i think its circuits mayb not but he says heaters ding dong ded
since after crisismas
Claude brings it by after u text the exhaust quote

Hm...

Oh. Marcy, you genius. Clarissa smiled to herself, feeling a bit sly. That was why it was a party when Marcy was around. She tried to catch her friend's eye for a hot second. The friend with the pink hair not the friend with the red silk bullseye on her head. She wanted to be sure someone else could maybe knew what she was doing. In case she didn't. Better to stick to someones plan than her own, always.

"Isn't four better than three for board games?" That made sense, right? Like, Monopoly worked that way right? And, uh. Hungry Hungry Hippos? "Claude, we'll follow you so you can drop off the Magnum Opus. Then all four of us can hit up Connect Pour?" She shot another maybe?? subtle look at Marcy: Y/N, I, Clarissa, am not totally fucking this up.

"If you're not busy?"

And then after that Clarissa would drop by Raya's shop and help her with the rest of the shift. Yesssss. Clarissa would have fun with friends, Sylvie would get some, then Clarissa would get to close out with some good old elbow grease and burning the midnight oil- that was the right way to say it?- with her best friend ever. Actually perfect day.

Sylvie was experiencing a teensy bit of mental and emotional turmoil and the prospects of... just about everything in this current situation. Little bit of murderous intent at how Mar-Mar over there in the back had to expend physical effort to keep herself from laughing along with the shock?? joy?? terror?? of Claude's presence and reactions to the situation at hand. She had this?? Yeah, right. She couldn't even keep a straight face at anything Claude said to her. Embarrassment and flush, once more. Infinite torment nexus. Just girly things.

She attempted to sink a little deeper into her ball-self, a markedly easy task in theory, considering her size relative to the seat's. Comfiness could solve about everything, Sylvie had learned about a dozen years ago. She first pulled her focus away from Marcy's almost mocking look, and then, expending much more active effort, pulled her focus away from Claude's everything. Curling up a bit further, she felt like she could regain a bit of focus and composure. Fate didn't like this— Fate wanted Sylvie dead. She was thusly forced out of her tiny trance-like state as a hand that could crush her skull like that guy from Game of Thrones reached down and ruffled her head. The force behind it, however light, sent her jiggling a bit in her seat and mussed the perfectly done sandy hair slightly and sent her into another fit of blushing.

And her bow! Her poor bow! Post-intervention by the jolly giant outside the car, It'd become mussed itself. Its lengthy tips bent slightly to the sides. Like bunny ears. Confused bunny. Overwhelmed bunny. Her face was still red, her brow furrowed as she scrambled to raise her arms above her head and try to set them right again.

"God- Claude, don't do that!" She squealed, in a tone that practically shrieked "If you actually never do that again I will get very sad".

As she fixed her prized accessory up, she began to feel a batting sensation against her sides. She didn't even have to glance, although she did— car cat. Cat-rissa. Bat bat bat against her sweater and curled up self. Like the world's most inefficient punching bag. Something like Liz or Diz would do at home. Itch or stress relief was the cat's goal, she knew. She got back to smiling a bit— it was actually grounding, the repetitiveness and genuine intent behind Clarissa's action. Let her get properly thinking for about the first time since that man got here, still twiddling with her bow. Now, Marcy, she'd picked up, had invited that man to come over with them on their C-Pour hangout. However! It was subtly, a bit misinterpretable, just as a well-spoken attempted wingwoman like Miss Valerio in the back would've put it. Maybe, Sylvie hoped, she could rely on that man's denseness. At least, that's what Sylvie *assumed* it was. She hadn't as of yet found a better explanation as to how he continued to seem totally oblivious to how she folded like cheap laundry around him. Maybe he'd just chirp "have fun!" and walk on away. Sylvie took a more relaxed breath out, and turned her head slight—

Clarissa?

Cs?

Cs, why're you looking like that?

Cs, I don't like that. Clarissa. Clarissa NO. CLARISSA—

But to the girl's horror, it was too late, and that man was extended an invitation, almost like a vampire. Sylvie was stuck between two traitor bastard women and a hard place- man- guy. Gears in Sylvie's head started to whirl as the tiny people who operated her went into DEFCON 1. Was this salvageable? Sylvie thought. And thought. And thought a little harder. Her gaze turned to the floor. Then, between thoughts, it turned upward. She took a bit to look at Marcy's face, filled with genuine motivation despite the little trolling, and Clarissa's which was much the same. Her gaze subtly turned towards Claude's, and his face was framed in genuine kindness. Oh. She was among friends. Did she... have to panic?

What was there to salvage? What was broken?

Barely seconds had passed, and all that'd happened was that Sylvie looked down, her eyes widened slightly, and she went slack-jawed a bit. She raised her head up towards Claude and went back to her smile. It was a little bit awkward and her face was still a little bit red. Still as crushing on that man as ever, shyly tucking a lock of mussed golden hair behind her ear. But she could talk and she could feel just fine about it. Just fine.

"U-Uh, yeah! It's this really nice place in Crateful, all sorts of fun board games, really nice hot drinks this time of year... yeah, we were gonna go. If you want, you're welcome to come along."

Claude seemed to find Marcy's delayed realisation rather bemusing, something she was quick to laugh off with a gesture. "Aaah, just having a blonde moment..." she joked, running a hand through her pink bob. "No offense Sylvs"

Laughter briefly turned to despair when Claude missed his cue, Marcy barely holding back the desire to scream obscenities at him. Goddamnit, why were guys so frickin' clueless? You provide 'em plenty of hints, give them the all clear to make a move, and it just goes completely over their heads! You could grab a guy by the scruff of the neck, look him dead in the eyes and say 'Sir, I am flirting with you. Please destroy me..' and he still wouldn't get the memo!

Thank god Clarissa was there to back her up, Marcy offering her friend an assuring nod. There were times when Clarissa could come across as a little spacey, missing insignificant little social cues and having jokes fly right over her head. But when it came to helping one of their friends hook up with a hottie, Marcy could always rely on Clarissa to work her magic.

Sylvie still looked horrified about the entire predicament, to the point where Marcy almost felt bad about pressuring her to act. Almost. She remained convinced that Sylvie would thank them in the end, after finally landing the fella she's been ogling for so long. Sometimes, you just had to give your friends a little push to help them out of their comfort zone.

Case in point, look who just went and asked Claude if he'd like to tag along? YES! Go girl, GO!

"Yeah! It'll be fun!"

Claude brought his hand back at the literal screech from Sylvie who was flustered by him ruffling up her hair and leaving her precious bow in a less than perfect state, "My bad, Sylvie. Wasn't my intention to mess your bow!" He smiled nervously as he watched her reset her iconic accessory... It would be best to hold off on doing that for a while, after all, he wouldn't want to incur the wrath of Sylvie, the tiny bunny!

After that ordeal, he would watch as the Clarissa turned into a car cat and unleashed a barrage of vicious attacks on the Sylvie ball. It was a funny little sight that made him grin as the small girl was basically turned into one of those inflatable punching bags for kids.

His attention was brought back to Clarissa when she mentioned about him having checked the basics. That much Claude had done when this issue with the heater was first noticed by him. But when nothing really came out of it, he had asked his grandfather for help, who then surmised that it was more than likely electrical. The suggestions given to him by Clarissa as to just what had been causing such an issue further cemented what his grandfather told him, but one could never be too sure, "More than likely it is an issue stemming from electrical problems. But I just want to be sure that it's nothing else that could be causing this." A relieved sigh was let out from him, a visible puff of breath exited his mouth as he looked over his shoulder and back at his car.

For a moment, the tall baseball player was lost in thought as he stared at the Magnum Opus with a slightly worried look in his eyes. What if there were more problems than just the heater that he hadn't noticed? What if it was starting to become obsolete and just stop working? Would he need to buy one of those trashy electric cars? Just the thought of having to buy something like a tesla frightened Claude, who briefly shivered before he quickly snapped out of his dreaded state of worry. More than likely, he was just overthinking things. If there had been any other issues with the car, then he knew he would've and should've noticed. Heck! When his grandfather checked on the car, the fact that the only issue seemed to be electrical was all he needed to know at that moment.

Taking this into account, Claude calmed down and was brought back to reality when Clarissa asked If he wasn't busy which confused him as he looked back at her with an eyebrow raised, "If I'm not busy for what? He asked before Sylvie chipped in and he then realized what they were referring to: hanging out at Connect Pour. The idea sounded fun, he had to admit, but he really wanted to go home and get some rest and "cozymaxx" as he's heard his fellow classmates and kids these days say from time to time. Although he had no idea why the word even existed, he just chalked it up to people trying to start some new vocabulary.

Something he didn't necessarily mind if it wasn't annoying most of the time

Anyways! It took Marcy butting in to convince him to tag along for him to go through with it and agree to hang out with them. "Y'know what? Sure, why the hell not! Let me just call my grandpa and tell him about this so he knows ahead of time. You guys can come along so I can drop it off at my house before we go, alright?" Claude had unintentionally suggested what Clarissa had suggested earlier when he was lost in thought. After suggesting them his idea, he dug his hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his phone- a new Samsung- turning it on and swiping the screen to unlock it before he then pressed the phone icon. A bunch of names littered his contact list, but he was quick to find his grandfather, who was simply named GRAMPS.

Claude tapped his grandfather's contact name and pressed the green phone icon, starting a call as he brought it up to his ear and waited for his grandpa to pick up.

It only took a few seconds before he picked up. To Sylvie, Clarissa, and Marcy, the voice of his grandfather was faint, and none of them- except for Sylvie, of course- understood what was being said since Claude was speaking in French.

"Hé grand-père, je vais passer brièvement pour laisser la voiture dans l'allée pendant que je passe du temps avec des amis à Crateful." (" Hey grandpa, I'm gonna be dropping by briefly to leave the car in the driveway while I hang out with some friends of mine over in Crateful.")

A brief pause from him as his grandfather spoke.

"Ça me semble bien, Claude. Assurez-vous simplement de rester en sécurité et de rester au chaud." ("Sounds fine by me, Claude. Just make sure you stay safe and keep warm.")

His grandfather responded, and before Claude could say anything back, he heard as his grandfather suddenly had his phone taken and someone else started speaking...

It was his older sister, Lucie.

"Salut Claude, je n'ai pas pu m'empêcher d'entendre que mon petit frère ne sera pas là pendant un moment puisque tu vas sortir avec des amis. Puis-je demander qui sont ces amis?" ("Hey Claude, I couldn't help but overhear that my baby brother won't be here for a while since you'll be hanging out with some friends. Might I ask who these friends are?")

There it was, the overprotective side of his sister. To be fair, Claude couldn't hold it against Lucie since she really did mean well and wanted to look out for him.

"Oh bonjour Lucie, euhhh ouais, je vais être avec Sylvie - tu la connais déjà - et deux de mes autres amies ; Marcy et Clarissa. Ils m'ont invité à jouer à des jeux dans Connect Pour et j'ai accepté. Je dois juste déposer ma voiture à la maison et je pars ensuite!" ("Oh, hi Lucie, uhhh yeah, I'm going to be with Sylvie - you know her already - and two of my other friends; Marcy and Clarissa. They invited me to play some games in Connect Pour, and I accepted. I just have to drop my car off at home, and then I'll be on my way!")

A brief moment of silence followed after he told her that, and as the young man waited, he brought his other hand up to his forehead and brushed a few tufts of hair out of the way of his eyes.

"Je ne pense pas avoir jamais rencontré Marcy ou Clarissa. Autant me présenter lorsque vous déposerez votre voiture ici - oh, et dites à Sylvie que je lui ai dit bonjour!" ("I don't think I've ever met Marcy or Clarissa. Might as well introduce myself when you drop your car here - oh, and tell Sylvie I said hi!")

A deep sigh came from Claude before he responded.

"Je le ferai, alors à bientôt, Lucie" ("I will, so see you in a bit, Lucie!")

"Ouais, je te verrai, petit frère. Prends soin de toi!" ("Yeah, I'll be seeing you, baby brother. Take care!")

With that said and done, Claude hung up and slowly turned back to face his friends.

"So uhhhh.... when we stop by my house, my okder sister
Lucie, is gonna want to introduce herself to you two," He pointed at Marcy and Clarissa, "She's just a bit overprotective, but don't feel overwhelmed, Sylvie here has already met her before, so she can tell you how my sister is like." Claude shifted his attention to Sylvie as he purposefully left out the part where his sister Lucie basically picked the tiny girl up by the scruff of her neck with one hand the first time he introduced them to each other.

It was a memory that Claude still remembered very well, and that he knew Sylvie also remembered just as well. Hopefully the tiny bunny of a girl wouldn't make it sound weird or concerning or anything, at the very least...

Sylvie's head swivelled back towards Marcy at the blonde joke, a light "oh come on" incredulity on her face when Claude turned away to call his Grandpa. Her eyes squinted and her expression turned to a partially joking pout as she turned away, accepting her quiet declaration of non-offence. She relaxed further into the seat as if she wasn't already practically sinking. Surface area!

Her heart still beat a little faster thinking about the immediately oncoming hangout with Claude, but that was tempered by the presence of her friends. But there was still the undeniable tension she felt in his presence, however one-sided she knew it to be. Strangely, listening to her second language being spoken out loud also helped. She spoke it with some of the people closest to her—her family and, well, Claude. It also made her feel a little mischievous. Marcy and Clarissa, hell, the entire school, couldn't make heads or tails out of the noises coming out of Claude's mouth, but she could. It made it seem like a little something she could keep all to herself. Even if it was something as simple as listening to a friend call his Grandpa.

Could also be she just loved making up excuses to be close to the boy she crushed on, but, yknow.

Her eyes widened slightly and she was snapped out of another thought bubble by the giant outside the car. Lucie. Taller than Claude by some horrifying act of divinity. She could kill Sylvie bare-handed with marked ease— so could most people, but Lucie could pick her up by the scruff of the neck like some stray kitten and Sylvie could do nothing.

Nice woman all in all. Told funny stories. Created them for Sylvie to tell as well— Marcy and Clarissa would certainly get an earful on the drive over.

Speaking of the drive over, off the man went to his own cool car. Sylvie let out a sigh of released tension, nearly sliding down the seat this time. She turned her head back towards the foul instigatora and spoke.

"Hhhoh my God, I'm gonna kill you both."

There was a bit of a silly, tentatively thankful smile on her face and in her eyes that spoke directly otherwise. Clarissa finally got to ignite her baby and the engine roared to life. Unto the house of that man, then unto The Crateful dead— it was a bit like the day was just beginning.

{Sylvie Rattray-Aubert continued in Touch of Crate]

YES! Christ, finally!

There was a brief, HORRIFYING moment where it looked like Claude was going to turn them down. Like Jesus, this wasn't rocket science! If three cute girls ask you to go play board games with them, you say YES!

Thankfully - mercifully, even - he relented, Marcy almost leaping with joy from her seat. Instead she settled for grinning maniacally at her friends once Claude's back was turned, offering Clarissa a triumphant high five in celebration. Operation Land-Sylvs-A-Boyfriend was a go-go!

They listened as Claude spoke to his family, slipping into his native tongue from the sound of things. It reminded Marcy of the times her mom and grandpa got mad enough to start yelling at each other in Italian, of which she only ever understood, like... 40% of? Her Italian wasn't so great nowadays; she could ask for directions or tell someone to go fuck themselves, but that was about it.

When Claude wrapped up his little convo, he turned back with a counter-offer of his very own: An introduction of sorts to his older sister. Marcy turned to Clarissa, the two sharing a brief glance before shrugging her shoulders. "Uh, sure! Why not!"

It was a little odd, granted her own sibling dynamics were likely different to Claude's. If Gabby ever invited a guyfriend over, she'd probably just conjure up some way of embarrassing her. Still, no harm saying in saying hi right? She imagined his sister looking just like him, albeit half his size with long hair and a pretty dress.

Either way, Sylvie looked sort-of pleased with the direction things were going, despite the murderous pledge she made once Claude was out of earshot. To which Marcy just snickered and stuck her tongue out. "You're welcome~"

Their job done, the Mustang purred into life just as Marcy finally remembered to put her seatbelt on - didn't want to get yeeted into oblivion if they made a sudden stop, right? And before long they were off, destination: Claude's house, followed by Crateful Dead!

"Say, uh, random question but have either of you ever been to Mexicali?"

((Marcy Valerio and Clarissa Shoemaker continued elsewhere...))

Oh Marcy. Marcy Marcy Marcy... if Claude could've read her mind and seen what her impression was of his sister Lucie based on that phone call alone, he would have laughed without end. But even then, his pink haired friend still got one thing right about his sister; she looked like him, just a tad bit.

"Just follow my lead, we'll get to my home in no time!" Once all was said and done, Claude turned back around and walked off back to his car. Approaching it and silently dreading having to freeze his ass off inside of it. Just one more day, and it would be all fixed up and he could finally enjoy the warmth of the heater.

Just one more day.

With that, he open the driver side door and entered the car, sitting in the cold seats before jacking the keys in and turning the car on. The awakened growl of the Ford Maverick rang out before it quickly died down and became more of a low hum. After that, Claude grabbed the gear shift, putting it in reverse and pulling out of the parking spot. Once he was out of the spot, he shifted the gear to "1" and drove out of the parking lot a bit slowly so his friends could follow him to his home.

(Claude O'Neil Porter continued elsewhere...)