Survival Of The Fittest

"It tastes good, Claude. Trust."

Alyssa Rochefort, blessed be her name, was deftly houdinied back into Clarissa Shoemaker(the real name!)'s wallet. Oddly enough, Clarissa did think the photo on her fake looked better than the photo on her actual. Joanne had a good eye for aesthetics, just like... oh, every other woman and most men in Clarissa's life except C Shoemaker herself.

"And that looks good, Marcyyyy..." Clarissa affected a faux whine, which she was positive sounded right because she copied it straight off other girls it had sounded better on in middle school. "No fairrr! Hmmph." She gently headbutted Marcy's shoulder because something something affectionate. And it did feel like a nice and friendly gesture, probably. Not romantic, definitely. In intent, if not perception, or like. Whatever? She was doing the thing people did sometimes with other friends. Close. Enough.

"Also, hm. I dunno if I'd call the cafeteria food that bad." She rotated her taste buds through a buffet of memories... mashed potatoes... chocolate milk... "Especially spicy chicken sandwich day. The ones wrapped in the foil." Dang, now she wanted one. The self-outplay...

They had democratically(?) settled on a game, regardless, totally without her involvement. Not voting was the best kind of voting, kinda hot take, but Clarissa stuck by it as long as nobody actually heard her saying it.

Clarissa began to trace something in the air before herself as she started to zone out, her eyes loud and her lips totally silent. Fingers dancing along the concept of a Jenga tower, as opposed to the one that actually existed and was being played with.

Core stability of the tower... load bearing blocks...

She mouthed ideas to herself without saying anything, and in the process totally declined to go next. Whatever she was seeing in her minds eye willfully defied gravity.

Left side... less stable... oh, wait she had forgotten to actually Do Things.

She gently clicked another middle piece out.

Despite Marcy's clear incredulity towards Claude's sudden decision, it looked like things were going smoothly. It was understandable by all means; had it been any man but Claude, Sylvie would've felt much the same. Not (only) due to his permanent residency in her head as crush, but because she knew that the giant of a man sitting next to her was a little stupid. Please do not make him think too hard, she thought to no one in particular; he will get a headache. She could woobify him in her head. Per usual: as a treat. Surely such a simple little action on a hangout would not bring down any manner of karmic retribution upon her soul-

THE SUN

Sylvie had to take a good five seconds to perform a total system reset after Claude flashed her a smile so kind it could melt hearts and so bright it rivalled- well, we've gone over that. She felt her jaw clamp up and her eyes widen slightly, her entire self heating up at his teasing, however light. This was the kind of god-matching hubris they talked about all the time in Greek mythology. The kind that got you turned into a plant or an animal or a concept.

...But it wasn't, really. Sylvie was just a mess.

Snapping back to herself, she went a bit redder with embarrassment at the way she was acting in front of her girls- and him. Had to lock it in. Jenga. Jenga. JENGA! Bit of a mantra going on there to try and distract her from the way she stared at that man like some awestruck puppy. She tried to play it a bit casually by putting on a smirk at Marcy's selection and quipping: "Good thing you're not driving." completely oblivious of the almost-choice the woman across her had been on the precipice of just minutes ago. Now- Jenga. Jenga. Jenga. Time to play.

Jenga wasn't Sylvie's typical game, but she knew the schtick. She didn't have Marcy's clear experience, or whatever the good doctor super autism Jarvis 5D mental visualisation Clarissa had going on there, but she did have comically little fingers and some good nimbleness. Surely, she strategised to herself, her eyes squinting lightly, she could stick to middles and avoid inadvertently poking at any surrounding blocks.

"Clockwise is just... the classic, I think."

She spoke as a response to Claude's remark, her eyes turning to him, waiting for him to make the first move. Inwardly, she was going to be a bit surprised if he didn't topple the whole thing, what with his literal gorilla-boxing hands. Huge, lumbering things, probably rough, and, and warm, and... and...

Sylvie tore her eyes back away. JENGA. JENGA. JENGA.

Marcy couldn't help but smirk at Clarissa's response, reaching up to pat her friend on the head as it gently bumped against her shoulder. "There there... I mean, I know you're the designated driver and all, but I'm sure you can get away with a sneaky treat. Not like we've ordered yet or anything."

Speaking of which, was there like... An app or something they needed to take orders? Should they head up to order individually, or was Clarissa offering to order for the table since she was the one with the fake ID?

Whatever the case, she nodded her head in agreement to them going clockwise, which meant that Clarissa was up next... Or at least she would be, if she wasn't lost in space. Classic Clarissa. Marcy stifled a chuckle as she nudged her friend's shoulder, subtly gesturing towards the tower to signal that she was indeed up next.

After which she sighed, chewing away as she lightly drummed her fingers against the table. Left with not much else to do other than wait for her friends to take their turns, Marcy figured now was as good a time as any for a little reveal...

"Hey, check this out" she whispered, reaching into the depths of her hoodie pockets to produce a pair of sunglasses - pink framed with heart-shaped lenses - which she swiftly put on with a wide grin. "How do I look?"

When the girls had taken their turns pulling out blocks from the tower, Claude was about to do the same now that it was his turn... but he stopped. It was getting a bit too stuffy in the café for him, and he felt the urge to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling.

So what did he do?

It's quite simple, really.

The young Frenchman unzipped and took off the caramel brown bomber jacket he wore, setting it to the side next to the window, and rolling the sleeves of his black turtleneck sweater up to his elbows. Honestly, just the sight of his sweater hugging his brawny frame would've been the bane of a certain member in their group, but when he unintentionally began the gun show, it would've been certain death for said member of their small group.

Once Claude had his sleeves rolled up, he was locked in and laser focused on the jenga tower, his large hands carefully aiming for one of the blocks at the base of the tower; calmly pulling out the left piece and leaving the tower in a delicate state as he set the piece at the top.

Because of how focused he became, Claude didn't quite hear or pay attention to what had transpired between Sylvie, Clarissa, and Marcy, but the sight of his pink haired friend wearing those snazzy shades made him chuckle, "They look good on you!" He complimented her genuinely.

She could tell just from the sudden wobble of the tower, see the imbalance of compressive force. Left side unstable, bearing an uneven amount of the load. Nothing she could actually calculate into a meaningful number because a) real life didn't work like that probably and b) she sucked at physics.

Right side... Her lips moved at the same time as her fingers. She tapped out a lower side central block and redistributed the weight into a slightly more stable configuration.

An abstract problem to solve became a concrete place in space and time- Connect Pour, right side of Marcy Valerio, across a booth from Claude Porter and Sylvie Rattray-Aubert. Existence, in so many words.

Ah, she'd nearly hit escape velocity on that one. She was still surrounded by friends, who tethered her to earth.

"They're cute, Marcy! Where'd you get them?" She admired the swanky touch. Made her look a bit more cinematic, like she could be typecast into a teen drama. Also, thrift store?? Address, quickest route, etc.

She glanced across the table at Claude, who was appreciably, tastefully playing his own part in the production of the moment as eye candy. Hot guys were hot, news at eleven. Clarissa didn't linger longer than a single moment, no actual attraction, but she had to admire the work her boy had put in.

"I can get the orders after this round," Clarissa offered. Better she do it so the others could keep playing!

Sylvie leaned back against her seat, herself relaxing as everyone began to settle into the game. She did raise an eyebrow at the two present girls, clocking the context of "designated driver" and "sneaky treat" having been used in the same sentence, but nothing more. As long as Clarissa didn't drink, everything would be okay.

She watched on as they took their turns and gave a little chuckle at Marcy having to snap Clarissa out of "it". Whatever "it" was, her friend was prone to little swims there, most usually when she had to focus or when she didn't have to focus or when literally anything was happening at all. It was her thing. Sylvie didn't really understand; she studied law and not the thought processes of the automobile-inclined cheerleaders of the world.

Her line of sight was about turned over to those two rather than Claude for that short moment, appreciating the sight of her besties just... interacting. This was what she came for. There was some caramel brown movement over in her peripherals, but it didn't particularly catch her attention. What did was Claude's hand reaching over to take his turn right next to her. Looks like the fat-finger theorem didn't work out this time around. Ah well. Sylvie grinned and reached out to snatch a remaining centre piece before she'd even fully turned around. She got to that point about when she'd fully pulled the block out and was about to place it on top. She opened her mouth to state something right as her head had fully turned to face the entire table.

"So, who's gonna gooooooooooo... uhh..."

He had to be doing this on purpose.

Her comment meandered into a mumbling bit of gibberish as she just... flagrantly stared, a bit slack-jawed and red in the face. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair at all. Sylvie's body entered an emergency-powered autopilot state as her brain had to hit a hard reset. That is, the hand that held the block continued to move. It clumsily bumped a few of the tower's higher blocks before she finally slotted it up there by some miracle. Some sentient parts of her mind yelled at her to get it together, but she couldn't. It was like that one 1984 Apple ad but instead of Big Brother it was Big Man-tits.

After a few seconds, she managed to tear herself away and regain consciousness. She tried and immediately failed to play whatever that was off, the embarrassment plastered all over her face. What was with her today?? This was way less composed than she usually was around that man, even when they talked together alone in French after one of his matches. It might've been the setting being reminiscent of a date location, or her friends actively egging her on and lowering her composure, but she didn't have time to think. Her eyes raced around whatever was in front of her in an attempt to distract herself. She shortly settled on Marcy's new glasses. Clearing her throat, she spoke.

"Uh- they're- they're pretty. I love the design."

She put on a bit of an awkward smile as she continued to recompose herself. She did mean what she said; she was a bit of a sucker for traditionally cute motifs. Within, about a million and a half thoughts and emotions whirled around. Shame and attraction and scrambling for a plan on how the hell she was going to keep herself normal around Claude and her friends. She couldn't just... not look at him for the rest of the hangout. She just needed to get it together enough as to not react like a cartoon any time he said or did anything remotely suggestive. She took a deep breath in and out, looking a bit more calmed as her thoughts setttled. She could do that. He was just one guy.

"Thank you, thank you... Got my hands on 'em earlier whilst we were browsing" replied Marcy, a mischievous grin on her face as she adjusted her shades.

She kept them on long enough to steal a glance of her own, brow raising as Claude flexed his guns. Again, he wasn't really her type - when it came to beef, she preferred leaner cuts - but if he was going to show off the goods like that, it would've been rude not to ogle a little. After which she removed her glasses and turned to Sylvie, flashing her brows with a knowing smirk. 

"Alrighty..." Marcy continued, pausing a moment when she noticed the pricetag still attached to her sunglasses. She hastily tore it off before pocketing them, clearing her throat and cracking her knuckles in preparation for her turn, "Lets see what we've got to work with"

The tower was still reasonably stable, even after Claude removed one of the bottom pieces like an absolute gigachad. Not to be outdone, she wiggled her fingers as she slowly reached down, gently prodding at a piece on the lower left side. Seemed pretty loose. With several careful pokes she managed to wiggle it free, weakening the left side even more before gently placing the piece on top.

Was it a dick move? Perhaps, but Marcy was never one to play passively.

"Sounds like a good idea, Clarissa!" Hearing her offer to get the orders after this round was like music to Claude's ears; he was too much in his zone, and he didn't want to end up messing up and causing the tower to fall over because he went to order everyone's food and drinks.

With a rub of his eyes, he leaned to the right, resting his head against the glass as he watched the others take their turn. Claude hadn't noticed how each of the girls had briefly ogled him moments earlier when he took the jenga piece out the bottom of the tower after he took off his jacket.

...He was just a clueless dude when it came to that sort of thing, is all.

The sight of Marcy taking off the price tag off the shoplifted shades she had was ignored. To him, such a small accessory wouldn't cause any harm if it got shoplifted, so Claude looked the other way.

After the girls all had their turn, it was finally his time to shine. Quickly straightening himself up, Claude locked in once more and went in to grab a piece from the stack right above where Marcy had just grabbed her piece. With a focused look in his eyes, he gently nudged a piece on the right and pulled it out-

DEATH CHAOS DESTRUCTION HORROR AGONY

The whole jenga tower came down, crushing everyone and causing a national tragedy!

Not really though; it just toppled over with a loud crash of tiny wooden blocks.

Familar grin... Oooh, was Marcy being sneaky again? That was the bit of her she'd inherited from her new squad of friends. Not really a cheer squad thing, at least that Clarissa was aware of.

"Gonna have to teach me how to do that, Marcy."

She might have made that comment before? And either it was Vivian or maybe Sylvie who'd told her, 'no thats not a very Clarissa thing for you to do'. Clarissa was pretty sure it was just kidding around, right? One of those things where she meant it as a joke and then other people didn't take it as one and aaaaa, etc, move on with her life, etc.

Joanne probably would have gotten the joke.

Meanwhile! Whoops, Claude was grabbing a piece Clarissa definitely would not have grabbed. She would have warned him against it, but. Not the point of the game!

And now! The tower was gone. To shreds.

Clarissa giggled, a bit startled as the nonexistent dust cloud settled. But, also, giggling at moments like this was a good idea sometimes.

"And that's my cue to get the foods and drinks and such. Ciao!" Clarissa slipped out of the booth- one of the benefits of like, every girl on cheer being a tiny smol albeit not as tiny as the red bow ranger herself. Easy to rearrange everyone when they were all at tables. Clarissa was melted into the crowd in an instant, only vaguely visible among a small puddle of shoulders and shirts by the flashes of ruddy hair.

She found the order counter fast even in the crowd because of course she did, she'd gotten a heat seeker lock on it the moment she'd eyed up the store layout for the first time. Bathroom, staff rooms, all neatly filed away in her vroom vroom 'what is conversation' ass brain. Only sort of an exaggeration. Her friends knew, Clarissa did not wander. She got exactly where she wanted and needed to be in the form of a straight line, especially if she didn't have to talk to or look at anyone to make it happen.

Sylvie tried not to look at the way Marcy smirked. She did not need to ask for whom the Marcy smirked; it smirked for her. Dammit. Extra red in the face, and a little attempt at covering it up from her gaze by lifting up her sweater's collar, trying to hide from the world in big and cute clothes. She sighed. Get used to it already girl it's been years. At the very least she could keep playing. That did serve to gradually un-attack her heart and un-depricate her self.

By the time Claude's turn rolled back around she'd been reset to default settings. Good for her. She was staring down the token boy of the group and contemplating his cluelessness when— CRASH— down came the tower and not a moment too soon. Somehow a bit more of Sylvie's tension was relieved at that. She giggled alongside Clarissa. Of course, it'd be him eventually. She smiled and waved Clarissa off as she promptly snuck away to get the group's orders. "Thanks, Cs!" before turning her attention back to Claude, with some strikingly normal smug expression on her face.

"Yknow," she began to quip, a little sarcastic drawl facilitated by the current casual and humorous atmosphere in her voice. "I'm kinda surprised you didn't tumble it the first time. I mean look at this—"

She stuck her hand out into a spot mid-air where it would reasonably be next to Claude's and what the fuck. There were differences here, in every aspect of how you measure a hand, that would need to be scaled in multiplications. Sylvie at the time just found it funny to show off. Hell yeah. Normal hours.

Marcy simply smiled and winked in response to Clarissa's comment.

It felt nice to catch up with the gals like this, without certain parties souring the mood with their presence. She could only imagine how Joanne would've reacted - probably start acting all judgy, make a huge fuss and rat her out right there and then.

Well, fuck Joanne. She wasn't going to get between Marcy and her friends this time, nor was Marcy going to waste precious neurons thinking about her. Instead she was going to laugh along with the others as the tower fell, clapping her hands in celebration. "Aaaaaaaaaye!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but notice a table of hairy nerds sitting around a game of... Fuck knows, something overly-complex about colonialism or some shit. Whatever the case they didn't look happy about the racket they were making. Honestly, if they were annoying dorks with their mere presence, then that just made this venture all the more worth it.

Nodding her head as Clarissa went to grab the goodies, Marcy helped put the jenga pieces away before pushing a certain black box towards the middle of the table.

"Now then..." she began, slowly sliding the lid off before getting to work shuffling a deck of white plastic cards. "Rules for Cards Against Humanity are pretty simple: Every turn one of us draws a black card with a prompt, and the rest have to play a white card in secret that matches said prompt. Whoever submits the funniest card wins the round!"

It should be noted - as Marcy started dishing out cards - that her peers most likely already knew the rules of CAH. Frankly, she was only doing this for the reader's benefit.

"I'll go first!" she continued, drawing a black card from the deck. After which she blinked, face scrunching up as she repressed a snicker. "Well, that's one way to kick this game off..."

She laid the black card down on the table: Daddy, why is mommy crying?

"Hit me with your best shot!" she sang, punching the air a couple times with a pair of fingerguns. "Fire awaaaaaay~"

Well Jenga wasn't going to last that long anyway! Claude scoffed lightheartedly as he watched Clarissa take the opportunity to go get their food. When she went off and disappeared in the crowd, he helped Marcy set the destroyed jenga tower to the side. "That could've gone better..." He said silently before he felt the tiny hand of Sylvie brush up against his. The difference in size between his hand and hers was immense; almost like the paw of a bunny next to that of a grizzly bear. He smirked at how she pointed out the obvious, but he decided to clap back at her smugness.

His large hand gently closed around his tiny friends hand briefly...

"You got that right, Sylvie!" He chuckled playfully as his hand practically engulfed hers in a playful manner; he meant to simply tease her, nothing else. Claude would still not notice how Sylvie reacted blatantly to this display. Just one of the quirks of being a clueless himbo...

Moving on!

When Marcy took out the small black box containing the sacred cards for CAH, Claude secretly hoped that the first card would at least be a bit mild–it would some time for him to get into the rhythm to play the game.

Daddy, why is mommy crying?

Okay, this was a good start for him! Claude finally let go of Sylvie's hand, blissfully oblivious of the state his small friend was left in, and started to search for a funny card out of the hand he was given...

What in the name of everything holy were these cards? Out of all these options he finally settled on a card that made him chuckle: "Injecting speed into one arm and horse tranquilizer into the other arm"

The young man placed the card down in front of him with the phrase side facing down, hiding it from the group until they were all ready to play their chosen cards. "Best I could do, in all fairness."

"Pff, of cour-"

Her sentence, the beginning of the pull-away of her hand and about sixty other vital mental processes were cut off by a very large, very warm hand and the way it engulfed hers. She froze a little bit. Deer in the headlights, only... tactile. That wasn't the scary part. That was how eerily calm it felt. There was a striking lack of wild fluster and incoherent thought-babbling and insanity and everything. Her eyes were wide and her jaw was a bit slacked and she was blushing. That's it?

His hand was warm. So, so warm. Comfortable. Grounding. A genuine size-accurate anchor of a man she wished she could sink into. Her hand in his, however much of a bit it was intended to be, felt correct. Grounding. Sylvie almost wanted to reach out and lovingly clasp his hand with her free one and then bump her head into his shoulder. She turned her head up to gaze at him with eyes like stars, expecting to meet his own...

...The big idiot was looking at his CaH options.

She blinked. Then stared a bit more. Entirely different expression, recognizable as "It really had to be him, huh". Some humour and disappointment and love (as a prerequisite). She was gonna have to make the move herself before Senior year was over, wasn't she. Ah well- that's a problem for later, and the problem for now is Cards against Humanity (and Claude big bear hand leaving hers very sad we cried). She took another moment to feel that lingering warmth on her hand before pulling from her own hand and pfft. Audible suppressed chuckle. God damn it. Immature and lowbrow bullcrap. Damn shock value game, though that was the express appeal, and damn did it work.

"This game sucks." Grinning widely and tossing her card to the forefront:

"The worm that ate my penis and is now my penis."

Despite being the kind of person who generally found board games... Well, boring, Marcy loved Cards Against Humanity.

It wasn't just because it was easy to pick up and play, though that certainly helped. In this day and age where everyone was trying so hard to avoid upsetting each other, it felt kinda liberating to play a game that encouraged you to be on your worst behaviour. Not that she likened herself to those online weirdos who complain about snowflakes ruining everything, or those cringey Gen X comedians who're mad that they can't say the R-Word anymore. But like... It just felt nice to unwind with friends and take turns trying to make each other laugh, y'know?

She'd played on some tables where folk outlined boundaries at the beginning, make sure to avoid certain subjects. But she didn't bother with any of that - She was Marcy fucking Valerio. Nothing ever got under her skin.

"Ahem... Daddy, why is mommy crying?" she read aloud, reaching out for the first card.

Like... Ok, so this particular black card did dredge up a couple unpleasant memories of her parents prior to their divorce. But c'mon, it's just a card game! How bad could...

Injecting speed into one arm and horse tranquilizer into the other arm

"Bianca, baby, could you fuckin' relax? It was just a little molly! We both know you've tried way worse back when we were students..."

Huh. Well... Hmm. She forced out a chuckle, only grimacing a little as she cleared her throat and reached for the next card. Maybe this one would be less...

The worm that ate my penis and is now my penis

"Oh yeah?! Well, at least the girls over in Pahrump know how to give decent head!"

Aaah. Now there was a mental image she hoped to never revisit again.

Forcing out another awkward chuckle, she grit her teeth for a couple seconds before picking up the first card.

"Hard to top horse tranquilizer..."

As oblivious as ever to the romantic woes of his small friend, Claude gave his hand of cards a few quick glances to examine his options.

Even then, he couldn't quite grasp the hand he was dealt: literally and figuratively. To be fair, this was just a very "mature" card game, so it wasn't like he could make a whole big deal out of it. It helped being able to stop thinking about things and just go with the flow...

...Sometimes brain empty, but instincts help very much!

Is good.

Anyways, Sylvie finally played one of her cards, and from the sound of her (poorly) suppressed chuckle, it must've been a really stupid and rather goofy card that could make anyone laugh, regardless of that. With Clarissa still grabbing everyone's order, Claude simply waited for Marcy to read the cards both he and Sylvie chose to play.

Something was wrong. Claude quickly noticed the mannerisms and reactions Marcy showed when she read the two white cards. "Is something bothering you, Marcy?" Worry was laden in his voice after asking his delinquent friend that question. He clasped his hands together, resting both elbows on the table, before propping and resting his chin on his knuckles as he waited to see what Marcy had to say.

If she didn't want to talk about it, then he would respect her wished and wouldn't pry any further. But, if she did decide to talk about what was plaguing her mind, he was all ears; that's what friends are for, after all, right?