Survival Of The Fittest

Maybe she wasn't right. Didn't feel so right. She'd probably lost the privilege to be in the right at some point though, so throw one more thing into the overflowing toilet bowl that was the things slipping away from her that night. Silver lining, she lost privilege ranks when it came to scoring oppression points. Funny, as the oppressor apparent.

But yeah, Irene supposed everything Noah had said so cleanly made logical sense.

He was a good kid. Go figure. Irene wondered if that had anything to do with the complexionity of her emotions concerning him. To be fair, she wondered about a lot of things. Like what she was supposed to be doing now. There wasn't much that came to mind, at some point she'd seemingly lost that as well. She took several seconds to dully stutter, because failing words was now her new habit. Breath, choke on own breath, repeat. Ad infinity, or however that Latin went.

"Uh, well... Maybe...? If you want to go back to the dance you totes should. See other friends... Or. Or if you want to go home, same. I, uh. I can get- get my mom to pick me up. Hang out with other friends for a bit while I wait." Reliable service in a pinch, Clara Djezari. Call Irene Chrysler, because she needed a bailout. Not that she really understood the significance of that reference. Just breezing through the living room, hearing names on the news...

Irene's now completely dry and clear eyes began to wander. Gravity that Noah carried as the one who was tall and speaking well Irene couldn't help but meander. She got the sense that she should try to rub off some of the crusts that dried tears had formed in the roots of her lashes, but she refused the call for now.

Noah sighed and brushed his hand through his hair as Irene replied. She was fine going home with him or waiting for her mom. She did want to know what Noah wanted to do, which made him slightly glad she asked.

"I might go back inside," Noah said. "I do want to see some folks and maybe dance a bit more. I probably won't stay for the whole night, though. I'll just get it out of my system and then head home."

Noah handed Irene her phone back, then turned and walked back to the door. He was about to open it, when he turned back and looked at Irene.

"Let me know when you leave," Noah said. "Oh, and sorry about tonight. If it helps, I did enjoy the first part of it."

Noah gave a weak smile and walked back inside. Now Pharrell's "Happy" was playing. Noah muttered a curse towards Pharrell for making things painfully ironic, but decided to go with it.

He made his way out to the dance floor and merged with the crowd. Tonight was a bust, and even though he had wrecked his chances of staying slightly amicable with Irene, he wanted to at least have something good happen. He could at least dance his pants off for an hour or so before retiring.

With that, Noah did a jump split on the dance floor, and let himself get lost in the chorus of the song.

((Noah Whitley continued elsewhere))

Irene unconsciously watched his hand as it rather nicely worked his hair. Was in a virtual coma when her phone was suddenly back in her hand. Pixels on her text drafts menu. How long had she had this many? She couldn't even remember half the words staring her in her face now. Her eyes traced loop-d-loops and figure eights back and forth. Noah was looking at her again.

"Oh, alright! And, uh. Yeah, I guess it does help." She couldn't really remember why she'd gotten mad in the first place. Weird. She just remembered thinking at some point that it hadn't mattered. It really hadn't. It had just been this thing in her hand that had caused the metaphorical train to derail. If that was the right metaphor? Her hand tensed, she felt tendons poised to snap in two. The urge to break the phone herself came and went. One more time for good measure. Noah was still looking.

And now he was gone.

The doors quietly swung shut behind him. At least he'd smiled. Irene stared after him, eyes vacant of vacancy. Life sparked somewhere in them, some emotion yet unspoken, though she wasn't quite sure what contrivance she could summon that would be apropos. She would happily have worn some inappropriate emotion on her sleeve if she could find the right one. Maybe a smile, a giggle, a sigh of relief... She was compelled to bite her lip, suckle on the tender flesh of her innards. The phone she somehow hadn't yet destroyed flickered with activity under the oppression of her thumb.

She pulled up the draft of an even older text. Read almost exactly the same as the one Noah had just deleted. She soundlessly scrubbed the entire text, wondering just who had typed all this shit up.

At the end she made a quick edit, letter by letter, crawling her finger slowly as wasn't even possible. Was she getting it right? Memory was already hazy, somewhat. She remembered dry tears and soundless sorrow, or something contrived like that. And maybe she remembered this:

'My little sister is an amazing kid, and I know she's going to rule the world someday, and I believe she can do it.'

Irene considered it for a moment, then saved the draft and shoved her phone back into her pocket. Started for the door. A couple passed through it, laughing about nothing in particular. They looked good together. Totes complimentary. Irene watched them for a second, remembered she had to call her mother. Phone back out as she walked in. She started to rub at her face a little, it felt all crusty and grimy and stuff.

And hey! Right through the crowd there was Noah, looking all good and stuff again...

((Irene Djezari continued in I didn't know what I was supposed to say about that, so I just said Wow))