Survival Of The Fittest

CLANK

Whzz. Fshh. CLANK. Whzz. Fshh. CLANK. Tong. TSHH. Tong. Whzz. Fshh. CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.

New angle grinder was in.

The metalworking club had a minimal but comfortable spot situated off to the side in what was meant to be the pottery room. Right next to the kilns. Not much else you could offer a party of three in such a school. Even so, it was equipped with a good amount of the things an aspiring mechanic would need to remain inspired, all carefully maintained by the most dedicated metalworkers the school had to offer... only one of whom was present right now, grinning with wide green eyes as she admired her newly-cut work which would go great on some exhaust system. Yeah, it was that loud with just her.

[Raya Loux continued from Love is All I Bring]

Raya hummed to herself cheerily as she set the part aside for now. Still had to cool, technically. Even more technically, she probably ought to be waiting for her two comrades. Comrades in fire and steel. She needed them to have the minimum number of people to start the club. Bit rude to do things without them, she thought. But, they were late, and she could swear that the new angle grinder was looking at her with bedroom discs. She needed to make something it was almost instinct. And the great Mr. Butler, in his visionary kindness (you'd be surprised how into observing metalworking an art teacher can be) had sanctioned her. Now she had a new thing. Made by her. Out of metal. Hell yeah.

But she couldn't just keep the club a solo act. There were other parts! They needed to be played! So, she sat herself down on a nearby stool (AFTER making sure the grinder was off and safety was on and it was positioned away from her alongside the rest of the tools she'd used (of course)) and began to down her first drink of water of the day. With how hot things got, she'd be needing more later. Those damn kilns. Even in the middle of winter she was just in her tank top because of them. Room didn't even need a radiator when they were baking... as the next person to enter the room would find out. She couldn't wait to see which one it was, and kept humming to herself, the tune this time of a more excited nature.

Clarissa tried not to think about how dopey she looked carrying a Costco™ 40 pack of water across half of campus because there was no student parking near Art+Design, just staff. She usually succeeded in not thinking about it!

[[Clarissa Shoemaker continued from The Collector]]

Clarissa ambled in through the main door to the pottery room, neutral face. Eyes acknowledging there was a Raya in the room with a glance, but delayed in actually reacting. First, she put the many many water bottles on the closest free table. After that she pulled out her red hair clip and casually stabbed it into the plastic to open it. After the after that she hesitated for a moment... Dot dot dot... Ellipses... Then she robotically pulled off the denim button up she had on, plain black tee underneath. Spare shirt, she'd already been through one for that day. The importance of taking dance seriously now that she was on the competition team. Praaaaactice was what the doctor perscribed for her.

Clarissa's two hands folded the long sleeve she'd shucked, sleeve to sleeve, press flat, sleeve to the side, press flat, collar rolled in like a coccoon, press flat, fold in half, press flat, fold in half again. A neat gently long rectangle of shirt, which she left next to the water bottles.

Then she immediately lit up like a firecracker, eyes bright, body language bouncy precisely one instant faster than an eye blinking after she'd been inert and placid like stagnant water.

"Raya!"

She bounded over to BFF5ever with a prairie gallop. Clarissa wanted to hug! But she wouldn't throw herself into Raya's arms unless her friend was ready for the full speed tackle.

"Jeez, it's warm in here already." She skid, skrrrrrrt, to a halt by friend shape, hair animated a second longer as it rearranged itself into a total mess half in her face that she started yanking away in fistfulls. "I got the scrap for welding Claude's exhaust pipes." Make the Magnum Opus sound like a prowling beast, yessir that was the plan, after a bunch of detours inevitable when dealing with maintaining a compact made in the 70s.

"I'll drop it off at your shop or you can take it when we leave... Where's Meela?"