Survival Of The Fittest

((Max Neill continued from Captain's Orders))

Max was always first to Student Council meetings. It made sense - as President, he had a role to fulfill and a reputation to maintain, and it was the little things, like promptness, like being there to greet his fellow councilors, that added up to make him a good President. Furthermore, somebody needed to be there first to set up the room, as Miss Kawasaki's room was unworkable for Student Council meetings in its default layout.

Unlocking the door to the large room, used primarily for Junior Combined Sciences and Electronics, Max walked into the room and casually tossed his satchel onto the closest desk. Wasting no time, he began rearranging the desks and chairs so that they were organised in a sort of rectangular shape. They had tried many configurations on the first day of Council, and this was the one that worked best - and Max may have been a bad person for saying it, but it meant that when it came to designated seating, Communications Officer Tristan Matthews was seated furthest away from him. It wasn't that Max didn't like Tristan; it was just that he was loud. Oh so loud. The further away he was, the more secure Max could feel about not losing his ability to hear.

Max picked up his satchel and tossed it over at the table on the other side of the room where he usually sat. The satchel thumped onto the table and slid off it, and Max winced as it dropped to the ground with a thud. He walked back over to the other side of the rectangle of tables, picked up his satchel and placed it on the table, pulling up a chair and sitting down behind it. He unclipped the bag and pulled out his Student Council materials - complaints from students, invoices for little things the Council had done, sheets detailing the Councilors' roles during the upcoming Prom. Flicking through both them and an A4 workbook titled 'Council Business', Max jotted down little details and waited for the rest of his congress to arrive.

((Tristan Matthews continued from For The Kingdom, The Power And Glory Are Yours))

Speak of the devil. Or, speak of the man of God, as it were. Tristan Matthews was the first to arrive after the president himself. He chuckled as he brushed a hand through his hair, being quick to notice Max quickly. "Heya, Max." However, there was something strange about him there and then, something that just stuck out... He wasn't wearing any headphones. His DS was off, too. This was uncharacteristic of him. On the other hand, this may have been a result of him taking this particular meeting a bit more seriously than he did the GODspeed meeting, where he 'may have' made a fool of himself for trying to play music for dramatic effect.

He set his bag down next to his designated seat, moving the chair back and sitting down quietly. He still didn't make any moves to touch his DS. Instead, he pulled a book out of his white coat. Or, to be more accurate, a comic book. Not the traditional sort, mind you. It was "Understanding Comics", by Scot McCloud. To see him read a book was normal, but without listening to music? Quite unnerving.

Every so often, as he waited, he take a quick peek at what Max was doing, noting that there's probably some pretty important stuff to share for the meeting. Now, Tristan liked Max. Okay, Tristan liked a lot of people, but Max was one of the people he considered a friend. He was appreciative towards his political attitudes, a worthy opponent in tennis, knew he was a born leader, and generally, he knew Max was a guy you could count on, among other things. Now, Tristan actually had long figured out why Max sat furthest away from him, but he didn't take offense to it. Might as well do the guy a favor this time and actually leave the music off this time around.

((No need to PM me now, Pigeon. Also, I read Understanding Comics recently myself. It's a fantastic book.))

((Laverne Falciander continued from An after school meeting))

Laverne Falciander, class treasurer, was elated. Even in something as trivial as a student council meeting, she was feeling great and determined that nobody would work up the guts to tell her otherwise. Today, oddly enough, had been what she called one of her, "sky highs"– those rare days where she was able to cruise through her schedule with very little bothering her. The insults and petty jibes that came were far and in between, and she'd only been called, "The Hurricane", once the entire day. It had been by a crowd of freshman boys anyway, so all in all, Laverne was able to disregard them like flies. Flick em' off. You're doing great today…

There was that issue of what had happened at the pool yesterday to send her mood plummeting down like a killjoy anchor, but she brushed it off. Brush em all off. Today's gonna be a good one…

She walked into the student council room with the smothered remains of a Three Musketeers bar clutched in a greasy fist. Her stomach hurt a little – as it always did lately when she ate outside of her doctor's recommended diet plan – but that was trivial in the grand scheme of things. She was cruising through the day fine and dandy; the sky was the limit. Wiping chocolate paste from her mouth, she crumbled the shining wrapper into her hand and shoved it into the pocket of her sweatpants as she walked in. Can we seriously not get a real student government room? Our school has the money for it – they just want to cash it all in for those jocks so they can have their own football field. Better yet, give the Hurricane her own private wing. Heh, some joke that would be…

Her sense of humor was odd and she knew it. Her doctor had advised her that it was perfectly normal – if not a little random and nonsensical – but it was becoming a day where Laverne actually liked herself despite the flaws that she carried around with her enormous body. She walked toward the gathering of chairs that acted as their meeting place and took notice of two people: Max Neill, the class president, and the communications manager Tristan Matthews. On one of her bad days Laverne probably would have judged them – maybe even thought of every way she was better than them – but not today. Council was in session.

Laverne hurried in and took her assigned seat, ignoring how the chair creaked under her weight.

(Thea Kairos continued from We've got Spirit, Yes We Do )


Thea hurried down the hall and was pleased to see that she wasn't the last to arrive, despite having just remembered there was a meeting today. She glanced down at her practice outfit, a formfitting t-shirt and shorts, shrugged and walked into the room. She nodded a greeting to Laverne, Tristan, and Max and then quickly claimed her claim to Max's left. Placing her backpack on the floor she proceeded to pull out and arrange a number of items on the desktop. First was a hairbrush, followed by a small mirror. Next, came a bright pink notebook, with one of her old campaign fliers tucked into the front pocket. Last, to be produced was a simple blue pen which she set on top of the notebook.

That taken care of Thea turned her attention to the mirror and brush. Setting the mirror on top of the notebook she pulled her hair from the ponytail and began shaping her long, dark hair back into cascading waves that framed her face. She worked for a couple of minutes, making minute changes her and there before finally declaring herself satisfied. She looked around to the rest of the group and made sure they weren't waiting for her. She reached down into her backpack, putting the brush away, and reappeared with a tube of lip gloss. She once again refocused her attention on the mirror touching up the make up that had been removed for cheerleading practice. When she was satisfied, she returned all the items to her backpack, opened the folder to a clean sheet of paper, and wrote the date on the top.

"Do we have an agenda?"

As always, Tristan was first to arrive. The man may be loud, but at least he's promp...where the hell are his headphones? Max caught himself staring at the lack of plastic covering Tristan's ears, recovering quickly to offer a hasty "Hey, Trist" as the boy sat down and he's not even playing his DS. Max shook his head slightly, and then said to his friend and Communications Minister, "Hey Trist, you sick? This must be the first time I've seen you without DS in hand or headphones on head."

As soon as he'd said that, Laverne walked through the door. Hurricane Laverne, as she'd been dubbed for reasons Max was not privy to, was a canny Treasurer, dexterous with accounts and tenacious when it came to chasing down sponsorship and money from the school's senior management, and Max knew she was an invaluable asset to the Student Council. He greeted her with a courteous, "Hey, Laverne," and turned back to his 'Council Business' book, looking over the first few pieces of business for the day. First up was...

SLAM!

The door flew back as Thea Kairos skidded into the room, dressed in just her practice gear. Max, who always dressed nice for student council meetings, even if the room didn't allow for his semi-formal gear to be truly appreciated, shook his head at his Secretary in mock disapproval. "Thea, Thea, Thea," he said, mimicking Mrs. Morrison's clucking tone. "What are we going to do with you?" He chuckled at his impression as Thea sat down and pulled out her gear. Speedily and neatly re-applying her make-up, almost as if in response to Max's japery, Thea then got her pad and opened it to a new page.

"Do we have an agenda?"

Max smiled at her. "Well, I'm planning to start with a some stuff the senior management have asked to get sorted for Prom, and then we've got the question of the Council's Gift To The School. Oh, and there's some complaints about cafetorium prices going up again and the school newspaper's got itself in hot water again. Same old, same old, really."

Max glanced at the door again, before adding, "We're still waiting for Liam, Abigail and Roland, though. Hopefully they won't be too long."

((Liam "Brook" Brooks, continued from Tending the Flowers ))

Loud and rushed footsteps echoed down the hall as Brook ran for the Student Council's meeting hall; sure, the term for it was a bit more... illustrious than the actual room deserved, but as things stood right now, the student council took everything it could get from the school. It even seemed desperate for members... Max was an okay president (despite the fact that Brook thought he could do a better job), and Laverne (as hard as she could be for the senses at times) was competent enough, but Brook honestly had a negative view of Tristan and hardly knew enough of the others to form any other opinion rather than casual indifference.

"It's Brook, damn it!" He said with a bit of playfulness amongst the exaggerated aggravation in his voice as he pushed through the door. Slowing down as he approached his seat, Brook still kept his jogging stride intact with a few high-knees before resting them. The sweat on his brow and panting lungs was enough of an indication that he ran the whole way here. He was still breathing heavily when he took his seat next to Max, groaning and stretching his neck to take a look at the papers in front of him. "Whaddawe got here?" He mumbled, looking back up to everybody and offering a quick wave.

"Sorry about that, I got tied up in a few things. Nothing big. Hey... I'm not last!"

"Shit!" Mike Jeffries raced down the hallway, his blond bangs blowing back as he did. He didn't know how long ago the student council meeting had started, but he did know he was late. That wasn't good- the other student council members were not too fond of his laissez faire attitude. And plus, he had a duty to the students to be there- the other council members were a bit of tightasses, and he interjected a bit of... fun to it. Or tried to, at least.

He opened the door, running in with a goofy smile on his ace. He skidded to a stop, and placed the backpack on the ground, looking at the people already there. Brooks, Thea, Laverne, Max, and Tristan. Friends... but he didn't know if one or all of them were going to ream him out for being late.

"Sorry about that, guys- I wasn't, ya know, trying to be fashionably late, or somethng like that. I was just, well, uh..." Mike blushed. What, Mike, afraid to say that you skipped the last two periods of school to go see a girl? Think they might get a little annoyed at you for that? She had wanted to get get some ice cream with him- her school had a day off. Mike hadn't had the heart to tell her he had to go to school... so he had taken the most noble course of action, abandoning the Orwellian school system to give the girl one happy afternoon. "I was a little busy."

"So, what are we working on?!"

((Roland Hayes continued from Closing In))

Shortly after Mike walked in, Roland followed. He was getting better at sprinting. He finally started hitting the gym after his dad was admitted to the hospital. It was a bitch, true enough, but Roland found that he liked lifting weights. As it turned out, he had a bit of pent-up energy to burn up.

Still, adding something else to his schedule made him nearly forget today's student council meeting. He wasn't used to keeping track of so many things at once.

He walked into the room and took a look around. Almost everyone else was here already. Only Abigail really stood out as a missing person. He took one of the remaining seats and tried to make himself comfortable. It wasn't easy, as he was feeling a little hot from the exertion of getting there.

"Hey guys," he said, looking around the room. "We still waiting for Abby?"

As soon as Max had rattled off the list of important people still missing, one of them burst through the door. Liam's gangly figure burst in, yelling "It's Brook, damn it!" as he half-jogged to his seat. Relations between Max and Liam had always been a bit strained for reasons Max was never quite sure of, but he was a solid Vice President, even if he wasn't the most pragmatic person in the group. Max just smiled at the boy as he asked about the sheet of paper, restraining a curt "You'd know if you had been here on time."

Following Liam was one of the less important members of the Council, Mike Jeffries. The boy hadn't stood for a titled position earlier in the year and seemed quite happy in his unglamorous role as Council Member, and it suited him well - all the help without any of the ire directed at him for not doing "enough" (though what "enough" was had always eluded Max). Max and Mike had an easy friendship, and Max waved off Mike's lateness. "Don't worry about it," he said with good humour, "it's not like the Council's waiting just for you."

With that line, Roland entered the room, sweating a little. Roland and Max were good friends, and Max couldn't resist teasing him by making an exaggerated glance at his watch when Roland caught his eye, tutting and shaking his head at the External Affairs Minister.

"Hey guys. We still waiting for Abby?"

Max checked his watch again. They had been due to start seven minutes ago, and given the amount of stuff they had to push through, they couldn't waste any time. "We are," he replied, "But it looks like she's sick again, so we might as well get started now." Max picked up his piece of paper, subtly hinting at everyone to do the same.

"I, President Max Neill, hereby convene this meeting of the Bayview Secondary School Student Council," Max recited for Thea as she scribbled down the minutes. "All key members present, excepting Internal Affairs Minister Abigail Atkins. First point of order today - the Bayview Secondary School Prom."

Leaving a pregnant pause for Thea to catch up, Max continued on. "Most of what we need to do for Prom has been sorted now, as I've gathered from Laverne and Roland, and that just leaves us with a few administration issues to deal with before it hits next weekend. Most importantly, Roland, I need you to liaise with the caterers and make sure that the menu's all good for the seniors. Secondly, and Roland and Laverne, you'll need to get this done by Friday - records aren't showing that we've got any security for it. At the moment, it's just us, and the venue's not coming with pre-packaged guards - and besides, I'm sure you guys as much as I don't want to spend all night standing outside and not doing anything else. What we need are three to four security guard-like individuals to just patrol the place and make sure nobody gatecrashes or does anything stupid. I'm sure the senior management will give us all the money we need for that, Laverne, so you guys just need to make sure they've got no past records or anything and that they're good for the night at a reasonable price."

Max left another pause before giving the Council a once-over glance, and then asked, "Anything else we need to deal with about the Prom that I'm not aware of?"

Brook was sure to add in his own piece on the little fiasco involving Abby. Abby was a good enough girl, even if she was annoying at times (but who isn't?). Either way, she could certainly brighten up a meeting that would otherwise be dull, and so Brook was immensely disappointed when he realized that Abby was absent from chemistry.
"Yeah, Abby's definitely absent." He mumbled without meaning to. The next sentence came out clearer. "I don't think she's sick or anything but no matter the reason, she's still absent sooo... I guess we just go on without her or we'll be waiting all day."

It hurt to say that, but what can you do? Other than his piece on Abigail, his only 'conversation' had been an eye roll to Max's remark on him being a few pathetic seconds late and a few other looks around the room. As for prom being brought up...

Prom...

He nearly vocalized the groan that stormed through his mind. He could've been going to prom with Tiffany; Tiffany fucking Baker of all people, and instead, it looked like he'd be going stag and having the most company to be found with his hand afterwards. Go figure. It was his own damned fault for failing, for not just going out there and popping the damned question. He'd make a wonderful boyfriend, just never proposing, leaving a girl clueless until she left him dateless.

"Uh... I don't think there's anything left on prom unless somebody..." He looked to the others on what they thought.

Thea raised her pen to indicate she had something to add after she finished writing down the conversations.

"Has anyone talked to the administration about what the dress code is for prom? Last year I heard there were some people that decided that jeans and a tuxedo t-shirt qualified as formal wear. Also, you mentioned earlier that there were complaints from the cafetorium. Can we actually do something about it? And," she paused and rechecked her notes flipping back a page. "What'd the school paper do now? I mean if you mentioned it I should at least have an explanation in our notes."

(Not sure if there's a post order here or anything, but just in case it's my turn...)

Roland nodded and jotted down some notes on a sheet of loose-leaf that he got out of his backpack. He made sure to remove it carefully, without damaging the holes. The paper currently had the following written on it:

STUDENT COUNCIL ASSIGNMENTS

-Check menu with caterers for [space left blank]
-w/Laverne: Find 3-4 security for prom

Roland looked back up and raised his hand a bit. "Quick question, Max," he said, without waiting to be called on. "You said I should check the menu with the caterers... for what? Do I just make sure that the menu fits our specifications? What are our specifications?" He looked a bit nervous, worried that there was something he missed. He did miss the last meeting on account of his father's hospitalization. Maybe the menu was covered there.

Tristan quickly put the book away as people started to come in. He sat forward, and listened, but not before laughing heartily at Max's question. He figured Max would notice. "Oh, it's nothing, really. I figured I should take this meeting a bit more seriously for once." He wasn't lying, really. He listened to what Max said about the Prom. Ah, yeah, the prom...

Aw, crap. Tristan realised he didn't have a date for the prom. Now that's just embarrasing. He blinked for a moment, but put the thought out of his mind for now. "I... I don't think we've missed anything concerning the prom."

Now, as for the other things, which Tristan processed in his mind... Cafetorium prices going up again, and the school newspaper's got itself in hot water again? Geez. This was just getting silly. But he'll focus on those things when they're brought up.

((Sorry - there's no real post order, just post if your character has something to offer.))

Discussion didn't exactly explode from Max's introduction, but then, Max didn't expect it to. Student Council meetings were never lively in the strictest sense, usually because of how tedious and repetitive the issues they dealt with were. However, prom usually got people talking more than usual - it was hard to find as big a social event on the seniors' yearly calendar.

Aside from Brook's non-committal murmurings, Thea was the first one to pipe up.

"Has anyone talked to the administration about what the dress code is for prom? Last year I heard there were some people that decided that jeans and a tuxedo t-shirt qualified as formal wear. Also, you mentioned earlier that there were complaints from the cafetorium. Can we actually do something about it? And what'd the school paper do now? I mean if you mentioned it I should at least have an explanation in our notes."

"As to dress code," Max started explaining, slightly taken aback by Thea's curt questioning, "I've talked to the administration, and they've made it very clear that formal is formal. No jeans and tuxedo shirt here, and, frankly, it would be a bit useless if they did count. This is the event of the year for a lot of people, and that crap just cheapens it.

"As to the Cafetorium, I'm not sure what exactly we can do about it - from what I've been told, the Cafetorium has a lot of liberty to change prices according to the market at its own volition. We should at least make it look like we're trying to do something, though.

"Oh, and sorry I didn't write the problems with the paper down, I figured everyone knew already. Apparently, the feature writer - what was his name? I keep forgetting - accused the senior management of cutting funding from arts programmes to go towards the football team, so he's got a lot of people fired up and stuff. So, yeah, something needs to be done about that. Any ideas? This isn't the first time we've had to deal with this jerk, so I'm thinking something solid."

Before dealing with the feature writer for the newspaper - someone Max openly disliked for good reason - Roland interjected with some understandable concerns.

"Quick question, Max. You said I should check the menu with the caterers... for what? Do I just make sure that the menu fits our specifications? What are our specifications?"

Max turned to his friend and, hands clasped together, started explaining. "Nothing too much, Roland - just gotta make sure that the options are all suitable. You know, gluten-free, vegan, lactose-free, et cetera, et cetera. Gotta make sure they stick to the classy image we're projecting with this thing too, so yeah. Just make sure they're not making sloppy joes and custard cream pies." Max chuckled, and turned back to the group. The meeting was ripping along at a fair pace, and it seemed like they'd be getting out of here quicker than he expected.

"So," he said, hoping to close up the matter of the prom quickly, "We good on what's needed for the prom? Does anyone want to say anything else, or should we move onto the next issues on the agenda?"

"Augh, vegan? Right... just so long as it isn't the whole menu..." Brook 'borrowed' the papers in front of Max, reading down the list to see what was next on the agenda. "So, prom, going once, going twice..." Brook wanted nothing to do with prom at this point, though he knew his mother was going to force him to go either way, so it looked like he was going stag. He couldn't let such bitterness spread to his matters in the student council, but that was far easier said than done.

Without saying much else, Brook handed the papers back to Max and sighed. He had to say something productive, at least, so he seemed at least to be a credible Vice President. What was the vice president supposed to do, anyway? In most of these school clubs, the president was just the PR guy while the VP did a lot of the work, but Max was really into his position. That left Brook mostly as a placeholder without a speciality; if Max was out, he'd take his spot for the time being. If just about anybody else was out it'd be the same thing, but with Abigail being absent, Brook still had just about nothing to do.

"How about the music for prom? That was squared away, right? What kind of selection are we looking at? Who checked out the DJ, again?" Brook looked from person to person. Maybe somebody had already covered this, but he didn't have the best of memory, not when he really wasn't very interested in the subject matter.