Survival Of The Fittest

[Meela Paireerak continued from Seventy Five Percent]

Somewhere hidden within the bowels of downtown Las Vegas, there is a open-air shopping center. Within that shopping center, there is a quiet little board game cafe from which the scent of hot drinks and cardboard wafts through the hallways. Inside that board game cafe, there is Meela.

A mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream sits untouched at her lonely corner table. The girl stares at it, holding onto her backpack with both arms as it sits comfortably on her lap. She’s always found the drinks here a little scalding, hence why she doesn’t touch the thing until it’s cooled down. A pair of black wireless earphones play the Advance Wars OST into her ears, freshly converted from Youtube URL to MP3 format.

As Meela’s head rests atop her bag, she lets the chiptune-esque melodies wash over her as time flies by. It’s nice just, letting all this 'nothing' happen for a while, she ponders. This cafe was her personal escape hatch from her own life. There are no tests, no expectations and no Ritas here in this place. Just her, the tables and chairs, a shelf of books and games on the wall, the hot chocolate going cold that she forgot about, the other shelf with minifigures on it and-

SHIT the hot chocolate! It’s probably too cool by now, damnit. Meela pounces at her beverage with both hands and sips it quickly.

Yeah, it’s cold. Ah well, at least the cream’s in-date this time.

Hm. Quiet. One of the few places in this damn town.

((CHESTER BISSETTE - CONTINUED from buzzing))

Chester Bassette glanced around the cafe, holding up a large coffee in his hand. He hasn’t been here before, probably because he stays clear of this noisy and ridiculously themed market place. But, for the life of him he had to get a drink. He glanced around the cafe, seeing most of the tables were taken and he grimaced as it seemed the only tables open were the ones right up against the outside, where all the chattering and laughing were passing by. He mumbled to himself, before he paused and did a double to the corner of the cafe.

Hm…..that girl…Meela? The tech girl from school.

He takes a small sigh through his nose and quietly approached. He paused as he stood near the other end of the table.

“..Hey.” He greets quietly “Meela…right?”

Meela cleans the chocolatey cream from her top lip with a napkin, not having noticed Chester's presence. Then she hears him, looking up like a deer detecting a snapped twig in the woods. The napkin is still in her hands.

"...Sup. What do you want?"

There were two main reasons guys wanted to talk to Meela face-to-face -- the first, and by far the most common, was that they messed up their phone or computer somehow and needed her help to fix it. She'd had this 'local tech support girl' reputation since her first year of high school and while she embraces it, she'd prefer if they didn't interrupt her when trying to unwind.

The second reason, less common but dreaded infinitely, was that they spotted a short girl in a gaming-adjacent space and felt compelled to chat her up awkwardly. She could always feign an urgent phone call if that happened but, damn it, she didn't want to have to. Was her 'I WANT TO BE ALONE' demeanor not enough to get the message across to these weirdos?

Whatever the case, this guy hasn't even said 5 words yet. He doesn't... seem like a threat yet. Noticeably oily, fits right in with the wargaming crowd but, y'know. Meela's been there before.

Chester stared at her, as if he was processing her very simple question. He glanced away and cleared his throat “Bissette. We uh, we share like a science class I think?”

He decided to give a small introduction. God, talking to people.

He gave a sigh as he gestured to the far end of the cafe “It’s uh, really noisy over there. Wanna drink coffee. You’re quiet. Is this seat taken?” He then gestures to the seat across from her. He gave a sharp inhale, his eyes looking directly at Melanie with a bored and non-confrontational expression.

Oh. It was the unprecedented third scenario: someone who also hates people happens to have the same idea as her. 'I mean, that's fair enough' she thinks, debating whether she's about to make the right call. '... he can stay for now'. Her eyes drop back down to her drink, swirling the lukewarm liquid with a teaspoon to make it sweeter.

"You're correct. Also nah, take it if you want." she says before taking another sip.

Bissette stared at her, blinking. It was as if he didn’t even think that would work.

He glanced around before pulling the chair and sitting down across from her, releasing a soft sigh as he finally got off his feet. He sniffled, looking around the place for a minuet. He played games before, but he never went to a game cafe because…why? It was stupid.

“Thanks.” Bissette muttered as he took a sip of his coffee…

…and immediately recoiled as he coughed into his arm “Jesus Christ, what temperature are they brewing these things..?”

"Yeah, fresh coffee's hot." Meela says nonchalantly, not looking up. "They really should warn people about it."

She takes out her smartphone from the pocket of her hoodie, a black Samsung with a sleek, monochrome live wallpaper that moves based on the phone's gyroscope, and lays it on the table. The media player had landed on some boring menu music she should've deleted a while ago, which she swiftly rectifies with a press of the skip button.

All things considered, this was going not terribly. As long as Bissette doesn't exceed this level of social interaction, anyways. She has limits.

Bissette glanced over at the girl, raising an eyebrow at the smartphone and turning away to drink again. Yep. Burns. But we wasn’t about to cough again. He lowered the cup, looking at the people coming and going. Bissette always knew he could read someone well, just by how they; behave; look; and talk. It was a gift he mastered for years.

He glanced over at Meela, pursing his lips. He gives a sigh as he slowly sips the coffee again, his eye twitching from his mouth burning.

“You a fan of this gimmicky place?” Bissette simply question, leaning back as he engaged in a very simple conversation.

""Hm, it's alright." she replies, figuring that she should at least take one earbud out while Chester is talking to her. "I don't play a lot of games here 'cause like, you know," she gestures to the empty seats around their table. "Alone. I just... like that it's not that busy."

Meela is about half done with her drink, resigned to the fact that it's descended beyond her optimal range of temperature and just wanting to empty the mug at this point. She thinks about what the average temperature between her 'hot' chocolate and Chester's scalding coffee would be and whether, if she had some sort of thermodynamic kinesis superpower at this moment to split the difference, they could both be able to enjoy their drinks.

This is what reading too much does to a person. She rejects this line of thinking before it's too late. Instead, she tries to fill the empty space in this conversation with some words.

"... what about you?" she asks as though she's only 90% sure you're meant to reciprocate this kind of question with the same question. Even when you don't want to, particularly.

Bissette’s nose wrinkles. He gave a look around the cafe, his eyes flicking around as he took another a slow sip of coffee. It was a pretty simple question to ask someone else, but to Bissette? You might as well have asked him his opinions on Fidel Castro’s Leadership of Cuba. Spoiler Alert: A mixed bag.

He sighed deeply, leaning back as he gestured around “It’s fine. Usually don’t come here. The whole area.” He gestures outside the store and then quietly points at his ear “Too loud.” He pauses and then moves his hand around in larger circular motion “Whole town too loud sometimes.”

Meela perks up at the mention of 'too loud'. She looks in Chester's general direction for the second time since this conversation began, her investment in it increasing slightly.

"Oh yeah, that's real. It's like, you can't go anywhere without somebody talking on their phone right next to you. It's... it's so annoying." Her hands gesture frustratedly as she opens up more, the facade of indifference giving way to this internal fire, hurling criticisms across the table. "I don't even... I can't even walk past Area 52 anymore 'cause it's so crowded, it's crazy."

Maybe it was the sugar in her drink amounting to all this conversational energy but, in any case, it felt good to get these thoughts out of her system. She wonders how long it'll last before she crashes again, having to withdraw and bail to safety like she always does.

She wonders if that's why she doesn't have more friends.

Bissette sat up a little and scoffed, holding his hand up "You should see L.A. it's a madhouse. It's like being packed in like sardines."

He shook his head and took a sip with coffee, his mind whirling before placing it down "At least here, that abandoned park is quiet, and the desert. There, you can't even walk out of your apartment without a train blaring by, it's stupid"

Bissette, stop annoying this girl by talking. She's enjoying her frufru drink you idiot.

"God."

Meela sounds exasperated in her response, as though picturing herself wedged amongst thousands of much taller people inside a busy subway train somewhere in central L.A. Otherwise known as her worst nightmare.

"See, I could never live in L.A. I need like, personal space, right?" she says mimicking an invisible box with her hands . "... like, this far apart y'know but... but more." She struggles to convey the exact distance she means and promptly gives up trying, slumping back in her chair. Thus was the irony of her social capabilities -- when she felt like talking, she stopped being good at it.

"... you moved from L.A." she says slowly to herself, as though she was supposed to ask Bissette a question but simultaneously, mid-sentence, already reached a logical conclusion and decided no, this shouldn't be a question, instead just making this standalone statement without any prompting from Bissette himself. It takes her a second to realize this might be a strange thing to do, so she course-corrects.

"I-I mean, did you move from L.A.?"

Okay good, that's much better.

Chester suddenly looked at her, an expression of confusion on his face

She…asked him a question…about himself? That…never happened.

He adjusted in his seat quickly, scratching his neck as he inhaled through his nose.

“Yeah yeah. When I was 12. Or 13. Folks asked if I liked LA. I said no. They asked me where I wanted to go. I said Vegas. Then we moved the Vegas.” He said matter of factly, rotating his hand a bit.

"... huh."

That answer seemed to satisfy Meela's curiosity. Why she was curious at all about this random guy from her class she'd never spoken to before now, god knows. Probably 'cause Chester was the least annoying thing in her immediate vicinity, she thinks -- may as well savor it while it lasts.

It doesn't last.

Meela's phone notifies her of its current battery status: 5%.

5%?! Fuck. She didn't have the chance to charge it at the library after she stormed off. Fuck, now if anything went wrong on her way back home she can't contact ANYONE. This sucks.

She pockets her phone with a quiet "Shit" under her breath. "I gotta go. I'll, uh, yeah I'll see you. Later."