2020-04-11 - High School Dreams

It's a little odd to be in a school, especially with Lyric knowing the things she knows now, but planted firmly back in the past. The school was the same.. yet not. Wearing jeans that are awfully short, a shirt that's not hers at all, but one of her foster brothers, and shoes that were overlarge, she isn't wearing a coat right now. It's maybe not that cold out though, so she doesn't seem to mind. A backpack is on her shoulders and she hooks her thumbs behind the straps as she walks through the abandoned halls. The silence hits her and she begins to occupy herself by whistling a song by Tom Petty. You Don't Know How it Feels to be Me.

"Hello? /Hello/?" comes a voice shouting through the hallways. The whistling also carries, and so the voice calls out, "Hey, is somebody out there? Hey!" And the sounds of jogging feet can be heard approaching. It's Tyrone, also wearing jeans, though his are much looser and are hanging down low on his hips, showing the top of his boxers, which are black. He's also wearing a tank top underneath a button-down shirt which is left unbuttoned. He also has a baseball cap on his head, worn backwards, with his hair in cornrows that hang just past his shoulders.

Again, the familiar, yet not. The voice that is. Her whistling ceases and she stops at the end of a row of lockers and presses herself against the wall to try and hide herself. It was the only immediate place to hide once she'd heard the jogging feet. Peeking out, she catches sight of the guy approaching and frowns a little. Who was he? Somewhat familiar, true, but.. Her eyes drop to his legs and all thought of hiding is gone as she steps out and stares at him. Her white-blonde hair is in a ponytail, lopsided, and she wears no makeup. "Who are you?"

When Lyric steps out, Tyrone starts to slow down. Then he stops, gawking. "... /Lyric/?" he asks. "... is that ... /you/?" Tyrone scrutinezes the younger-looking blonde. But, the hair is pretty unmistakeable, even if the boobs aren't as pronounced anymore.

"Yes.." Lyric says hesitantly and steps back, not expecting Tyrone there at all. Not even expecting herself there either. "What are you doing here?" Then adds to it. "What am I doing here?" The next would be what are we doing here, but it's covered. "It's me. You're Tyrone? Before, I mean. Before the accident?"

"Yeah, it's me. When I was like, sixteen," he says, making a face. He's a skinny kid, not scrawny, but not nearly as well-muscled as the adult version of himself. "Gosh am I glad to see you. I feel like I've been wandering around for like, HOURS or something, but ... it's really weird. The clocks are /barely/ moving," he says, pointing up at one. Except, now it's ticking like normal. Which makes Tyrone's brow furrow. "What the fuck?" he exclaims, then grimaces and covers his mouth. "'scuse me. But ... they /were/ moving super slow. I swear they were."

"Were they?" Lyric looks up at the clock on the wall that seemed to be ticking along fine. "Why are you sixteen?" Looking over herself, she blushes a little at her body, the way she was dressed and the underdevelopment of it. "Do you want to try and figure out why we are here?" THere was always a reason.

"I swear they was," Tyrone says, shaking his head. He sighs and then turns back to Lyric, folding his arms across his chest. "Nah, no idea why. I /thought/ it was just a regular dream at first, but it's too real. ... you think there's a reason?" he asks, blinking.

"There's always a reason. Like maybe something bad we gotta make sure isn't around anymore or anything." Even though she seems to know him, Lyric wears a more wary expression than she does in the actual time that he knows her and she seems to shy away from him a little. "Want to find the reason? We can look around."

"... I mean, yeah. Sure. You prolly know a lot more about this than I do," Tyrone responds, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. He looks around a little, examining the hallway. "You know, it's weird. Parts? Looks like my ol' school, where I went. But there are other parts I don't recognize at all. Like the cafeteria, or the library? They ain't even in the right place."

"Those are parts of my high school. I noticed some was familiar but some wasn't." Lyric watches him rub the back of his neck and points out, "You do that when you're older too." As if he didn't know. Squatting down, she tugs the backpack off her back to see what's inside it. "We can see if there's anything inside." Reaching for the zipper, she doesn't find one. Nothing to open it seems. "So weird. The veil is so weird."

When Lyric points out the rubbing at the back of his neck, he grimaces and almost does it worse. Instead, he drops his hands to his sides and shoves them into his pockets, which is only moderately successful, given that his pockets are lower than usual, with his pants sagging. He watches Lyric try to get into her bag to no avail and then cants his head to the side. "Do you think we need something from your bag? ... maybe we can find like, scissors or something in a classroom?" he offers, starting to walk off towards the nearest door, probably intent on simply opening it and walking in.

"I guess I just figured everything was for a reason. The backpack and all. Maybe there's nothing inside it." Not too concerned about it, Lyric was going to just shrug it off. As he takes off walking, she stands, bringing it with her to follow him. "You know this part of school better than I do."

Tyrone just shrugs and walks up to a door. He tests the knob and finds the door unlocked, so he opens it. The classroom is dark when he steps in, but the light swithc works and the flourescent lights flicker to life. It's a regular classroom, nothing out of the ordinary, with about 30 desks lined up in rows and a teachers desk in the front next to the board. Tyrone immediately goes over to the teacher's desk and starts opening drawers and rifling through, looking for scissors. "There's gotta be scissors around here somewhere," he comments while he searches.

Lyric stands at the door not going inside exactly. Not yet. Watching him a moment, she grins. "Maybe we should find the art room, there's probably scissors in there." Leaning against the door frame, she glances out in the hall then back in the room where he is. "There's prolly nothin' in the backpack. It doesn't feel like there is."

After a few more seconds of searching, Tyrone pulls a pair of regular, teacher-style scissors out of the drawer. Everyone knows them- black handle, silver blades. Always sharp enough that the teacher won't let anyone else use them just because she doesn't wanna have to buy new ones every year. Pulling the pair of scissors from the desk and holding it aloft over his head like some kind of great, magical sword, Tyrone announces, "Scissors!" He then grins, a very familiar expression, if made a little more impish by the youth of his face, and walks the scissors over so he can hand them over- handles first!- to Lyric. "What teacher ain't go'n have scissors in they desk? E'ry teacher in my high school sho' did."

However Lyric uses the scissors, they seem to be made specifically to cut through the fabric of the backpack. Inside of the backpack will be one item, a singular item, which Lyric should recognize right away and know /exactly/ where it belongs in the school, with a very strong feeling that she needs to put it back there.

Reaching out a hand, Lyric accepts the scissors with a curious look, "I guess so. I never looked in my teacher's desks when I was in school, but thank you." Even as she says it, she gives a little half smile before she crouches down again, taking the backpack in hand, slicing through the material. When she opens it, there's a note, folded, on the front it says, Mr. Samuels. It was familiar and Lyric doesn't open it. Instead, she leaves the backpack there and holds the paper in her hand. "I have to go to the office." Her expression is a little bleak suddenly and she starts walking towards it, her steps slow, deliberately slow but with a sense of urgency inside that has her speeding up, but only a little.

Eager with anticipation, Tyrone stands next to Lyric as she crouches and cuts into the backpack. And then she pulls something out. "... what is it!?" Tyrone asks, excited. And Lyric looks at it, but then doesn't share it. Which makes Tyrone blink. And then she stands up and says she has to go to the office? Now Tyrone is all sorts of confused. "Wait, what? Why do you have to go to the office? What was in the bag?" Tyrone stares after Lyric as she starts to walk off. He then turns and reaches for the backpack, only to find that it has ceased to exist. Which confuses him even more. "What in the /hell/ ...," he asks, one hand moving to his hip as he uses the other one to take off his cap, so he can pat at the front of his cornrows. After a few seconds of just staring at the now empty floor, Tyrone shakes his head and turns and jogs to catch up next to Lyric. "Was there a clue or something in the bag? Is there something in the office that will get us out of here?" he asks, pulling up beside Lyric and turning to walk backwards so he can look at her while they talk.

"It's a note for Mr. Samuels." Lyric tells him when he catches up. "Mr. Samuels is in the office so I'm taking him his note." At least talking, and his presence, she isn't alone so she seems to relax marginally and keeps the pace she had set before he had run to catch up to her. "We will see what it's about, we'll see what Mr. Samuels says."

"Okay ... so who was Mr. Samuels? Was he your principal?" Tyrone asks, continuing to shuffle along backwards as they walk. Unless they get to stairs, in which case he'd turn around and walk the correct direction. But before either of Tyrone's questions can be answered, they find themselves at the office. ... how did that happen? Hadn't they just been walking down the hallway? Tyrone once again looks /very/ confused at the sudden change in their positions, as he spins and sees the door to 'The Office' right in front of them. "... man, what the /FU-/," he starts to exclaim, but stops himself. "This is effin' crazy. We weren't here a second ago, I swear," he asserts. But, there is the office door, which Lyric could easily attempt to walk through at any moment.

If and when Lyric /does/ open the office door, as soon as she pulls or pushes on the doorway, it's like a seal is broken. There's a little sound, and suddenly the inside of the office is lit normally and staff is buzzing around, doing the types of things that people who work in school offices do. For Lyric, everything should feel familiar, almost like a sense of deja vu; she should feel like she knows what's about to happen, even though she should feel certain that she /could/ do something different if she wanted to- ANYTHING different, to break that uncomfortable sense of repetition.

It was the office. The office wasn't so bad. Mr. Samuels wasn't even that bad. Lyric finds herself going inside to get it over with, like she knew she had to do it. To go through this again. A deep breath and she approaches the secretary. "I have a note for Mr. Samuels."

The secretary looks up over the rims of her glasses and regards Lyric like she's a waif or a thing to pity. "I'll deliver it, you should be in English, shouldn't you Ms Bates?"

Lyric shrugs. "I gotta give it to Mr. Samuels. Can you tell him I'm here? Please?" Like she knows the man would accept the note if he knew she was there to deliver it.

The secretary nods, "Very well, Ms. Bates." Her tone implies, sure, let's do what YOU want to do. And she's gone only a moment before she tsks to get her attention. "He's a busy man, but he will see you now."

Lyric walks towards the door, folding then refolding the note and once she gets to the door, she knocks just once. A voice from the other side, sharp, bids he to enter. So she does, just inside the door, leaving it open a crack once she's in there. "Mr. Samuels, I got a note for you from Ma."

To his credit, Mr. Samuels doesn't ask Which ma? Not this time. But he does reach out a hand and takes the letter, motioning to the chair across from his desk. An invitation to sit. But really an order.

Lyric sits.

Mr. Samuels opens the notes and reads through it, making a few noises here and there. "Is that so?" The note is folded and placed in his pocket. "Your mother," a slight scoff at the word, "says you weren't in school yesterday not because you were sick, but because you were skipping because you stayed out all night the night before. You know this is truancy. Again. You'll have to go to juvenile detention and leave the home you're currently placed in." Like he's some social worker or something.

Wellllll, Tyrone is displeased. From the moment the door opens, the hairs on the back of Tyrone's neck stand up, which he tries to smooth down rather immediately. Which should look very familiar to Lyric. His eyes narrow as they walk in and she hands the note over. He's about to say something, to ask questions, but he doesn't get the chance. In fact, when he tries to interrupt, he finds that he can't say anything at all. No matter how hard he tries, when he opens his mouth, no noise comes out. And suddenly, he can't reach Lyric, either. Even though he's standing RIGHT THERE, and she's moving to sit RIGHT THERE, there's some kind of force field that prevents Tyrone from reaching her. Which he starts pounding against and beating against to absolutely no avail. There isn't a way Tyrone can affect this, one way or the other.

Of course, against the orders of her said mother she had read the note on the way to school. That's not exactly what it said. But the gist of it was the same. Lyric just nods at the accusation and the threat. "Yes Sir, I know what's gonna happen." The words are dual edged. She knew what was going to happen to her. Even then and especially now as she repeats it.

"Good, then we understand each other. Of course I have to report this to your social worker," Mr. Samuels says after several moments. "She is coming by today to speak with me about your recent absences anyway."

While there are plenty of excuses Lyric could offer, she doesn't. Even though she knows the future of this moment. She can't say them now, because she hadn't spoken them then. Tyrone, she doesn't realize is still there, she's so caught up in the moment. "May I be dismissed, sir?"

Granted, Mr. Samuels was just doing his job, but he was a stickler for the rules and didn't let anything slide by, never questioning the truth of the foster mothers statement. Adults were right. The teens were wrong. "Yes, get to class, I'll call you back when Mrs. Goucher arrives."

Lyric rises without another word, turning away from him, trying not to show the defeat with slumped shoulders or the moisture in her eyes. Already she knew what was going to happen. Leaving the office as fast as she can, she steps out and leans against the wall before sinking down and covering her face. She doesn't cry. She learned not to do that long ago. But she's taking a moment to compose herself.

When Lyric rises and walks right past him out of the office, Tyrone becomes even more frantic. And when she leaves him behind, he gets even more angry. Turning, he looks at the desk of Mr. Samuels, and then raises his hands, trying to lift things, or throw them, or otherwise affect any of the items in the room. And he fails. Miserably. So, instead he turns and runs out of the office to try to check on Lyric. "Lyric, are you okay?" he asks, his voice returning as soon as he's outside of the office. Which surprises him. He quickly rushes to Lyric's side, finding himself able to, now, so he reaches out and tries to very gently rub her shoulder, speaking quietly. "Hey, hey, Lyric, are you okay? ... I don't know what just happened, but ... are you okay?" he repeats. Unfortunately, teenage Tyrone is just as inept at trying to deal with feelings as adult Tyrone, so all he can think to do is gently reach out and try to brush her bicep affectionately. Because that's comforting, right?

Lyric hadn't seen him inside there, no where in the office. So when he suddenly appears he startles her so caught up was she in the misery of the moment. Lifting shining eyes, from the moisture, not the happiness. The moisture she's determined she would not allow to fall. Tyrone wasn't a part of her teenage years so it sort of sobers her, realizing she wasn't that kid anymore. So she offers a change in it. "She told me to take out the trash, so I took it out. Then I went back and I was locked out. She wouldn't let me in. She talked through the door and she said I took out the trash." The words sound bleak, so she offers a wry look. "That was a long time ago." Trying not to linger on it. "Let's get out of here."

"What?" Tyrone asks, confused for several seconds. But, it does dawn on him, and his eyebrows raise. And then quickly lower. Anger is an emotion that Tyrone is very quick to resort to, so Lyric should recognize it as it clouds his face very swiftly. His teeth clench and his jaw flexes. And then he stands up and nods, holding his hand out to help Lyric up. "Yeah. Lets," he says, waiting to see if Lyric will take his hand or not. And, if she lets him help her up, he won't be in any hurry to let go of her hand, willing and fully intending to continue holding it until she lets go. It's the only way he can think to be there for her. "C'mon, let's go see if there's a backpack for me in my locker. I always used to leave it in the football lockers, back in the day," he says, nodding down the hall.

The teenage Lyric hadn't built up the solid walls yet, she still wanted acceptance and was able to be hurt. Vulnerable to it. Even when it happened over and over. Looking at the hand, she tentatively reaches out a hand to his and places hers in it, looking like she's going to be put back in her place again anytime. But she does accept the help up, getting to her feet. So they aren't separated, she keeps her hand in his and walks with him through the halls. "That's why I was absent," she clarifies. "I tried all night to get inside, but then I fell asleep under the house. I went there, because when my mom, my real mom was killed, we hid under the house." Not immediately clarifying who the we was in the scenario. "Yeah let's go see."

Tyrone nods to Lyric's story, his jaw still clenched, his neck muscles still tight. He's very stiff, obviously nearly enraged. But that hand? That hand is gentle. It's almost tender. And, when she doesn't let go of it, when she continues holding on, even as she tells him part of her story, he very softly squeezes her hand, and Lyric will actually feel a presence surround her, as if Tyrone is trying to protect her. Because he is, even if it's in a literal sense, and completely useless in these circumstances. But hey, he's a kid, at the moment.

Tyrone leads her around a corner and suddenly they find themselves at the locker rooms. "C'mon, it's this way. The rest of the school is empty, I don't think anybody's gonna notice if you come in," he says, finally releasing her hand so he can go and push open the locker room doors. And that's when the same affect happens as when Lyric entered the office. Except, this time, it's a locker room full of boys in various stages of undress, some already padded up in football pads and practice jerseys, some just starting, others mostly nekkid. And Tyrone suddenly looks a lot more lost in the moment than he was mere seconds ago.

Lyric keeps her hand in his even if it's hesitant, expecting something bad to happen. Then she does feel that presence around her and she knows the root of it. It brings a look to him. Not a whole lot of expression, just a somber look to him with perhaps a touch of thoughtfulness in it.

Suddenly they are at the locker rooms and she nods, walking in with him. As soon as he lets go of her hand though, she fades into the background of things. Literally, she can feel the shift. She was hyper sensitive to the veil at times. Her eyes fall on the boys and she doesn't recognize any of them except Tyrone, so she watches him, curious as to what's happening. "I'm here," she reminds him, not realizing he cannot hear her.

Except, when Lyric says something, Tyrone's ears twitch and he pauses. He doesn't turn and look at her, just pauses for a second and turns his head slightly. Then, he shakes his head and continues on. One of the boys comes rushing from the other end of the locker rooms, where there appears to be an office, and announces, "They're posting!" And suddenly, all of the boys are rushing together, pushing forward, except for Tyrone, who simply chuckles and moves towards his locker. He starts to undress, sliding the button-down shirt off, then pulling off the tank-top, revealing that even though he's much skinnier as a teenager, his muscles are actually better defined. There are hoots and hollers and groans from the crowd of kids as they celebrate or decry whatever they're reading on the sheet. And then one of the kids comes and starts getting ready at a locker near his and Tyrone asks him, "Hey, how'd you do?"

"Second string," the boy responds with a shrug and a smile. "Not bad for a sophmore, huh?" he adds.

"Yeah, not bad, Kenny. But I can't believe Nanfwang's not starting! I knew I beat him, but I didn't think I beat him /that/ bad," Tyrone responds, chuckling.

The other kid turns and looks at Tyrone, surprised. "What are you talking about? He /is/ starting. I'm second. You're not even in the rotation, man," Kenny replies, as if Tyrone should be expecting this. Obviously, he wasn't. He stops in his tracks, holding his shoulderpads. Then, he drops them and hurries towards the chart, which was posted on the wall, which has largely been left alone now that all the other kids have seen it. He quickly scans his name at the top of the chart and doesn't see it anywhere. Then, he switches down to the bottom, the practice squad, and finds his name third under 'Halfback' and seventh under 'Sam Linebacker.' And, immediately, the rage starts bubbling up again, as Tyrone's fists clench and he glares daggers at the sheet. Then, he turns and looks at what must be the coaches office, and looks like he might be ready to go and do something about this anger.

Lyric watches a little helplessly. Was he so good he'd expected it? So many questions from the glimpse, but she knew Tyrone was angry. Never had she really seen him angry. Not expressing it anyway. As he watches the office, she tries to get his attention. "Come back, Tyrone. Maybe we don't need to relive all this stuff. Let's go home. I can take us home. We need to go before it keeps you again. Keeps us this time."

Lyric's voice again distracts Tyrone. This time, though, since she says more, he turns and he sees her. Which, being as it's in the boys locker room, ought to weird him out or at least beg questions. Instead, he reacts like it's completely normal. "But I was /better/ than everybody. All summer long, I made everybody look dumb. I'm faster, I work harder, and all summer I put up with the coaches riding my /ASS/ at every practice. Why the hell did they put me on the DUMMY squad? I'm not even gonna play, just hold the goddamn bags so Nanfwang can try to run me over! Those coaches are fucking idiots!"

"Adults think they are always right. They aren't. Nothing will change their mind, Tyrone. I don't know why people do what they do but we can't change it, we just have to get over it. Nothing is ever fair." Lyric says with all of the conviction she feels.

"But I did /everything/ they asked me to! I went to all the camps. And even though they didn't make me a captain this year, even though I was last year, I didn't complain or say anything. I just worked harder. And now they put me on the DUMMY squad?" Tyrone says, the anger giving way to a different emotion, as his face goes from angry to pained. "What did I do wrong? What didn't I do? Why wasn't it enough? Am I really just not good enough?" he asks, pain evident in his features.

Lyric knows very little about football at this point in her life, but she does look concerned. This had really happened to Tyrone? "How did you do it the first time? When this happened before? Can you change it? Should you? Will it change a lot of things outside if you do? Like will you be a pro football player if you change it now?" She's just curious. "Course you're good enough, Tyrone. You just gotta.." she doesn't know what. "Keep tryin?"

Looking back over his shoulder at the coach's office, Tyrone's brow furrows. "This is when I went in and lost my temper and got thrown off the team and suspended," Tyrone states, remember. Frowning, he looks back at Lyric. "... you didn't even try to change yours," he says, looking at Lyric, then back at the roster board, then back at the door to the office. He stands still for several seconds, looking down, thinking. After a moment, he shakes his head and reaches out for Lyric's hand again. "C'mon, let's go. Things are already different. You're here. And I think I know what's going on."

With the hope of finding out what's going on, Lyric lets him take her hand and follows him wherever it is he leads. "I didn't cause I couldn't. It was like I was on auto and I didn't know how to do anything different. I knew no other words than the script I already had. Like lyrics to a song, you know you could improve by changing one thing or another, but the radio keeps playing it over and over the same way."

Tyrone shakes his head a little. "Yeah, I know that's what it /feels/ like. But, you're still you. It's like ... it's like deja vu, 'cept you can actually make a choice. I heard you call out to me," he says, glancing over at Lyric. "But, in your memory, I couldn't shout, I couldn't touch, I couldn't even budge nothin' with my glimmer. I was totally shut out. Which is kinda what happened, last time I got stuck, 'cept I didn't know I was stuck." Getting to what would equate to about the center of both of their high schools, Tyrone starts looking around. "We gotta find something in common. Something we both went through, and go through it. Way out should be there. ... unless you wanna go huntin' dragons." That last part is obviously a joke, as Tyrone smirks at Lyric sideways.

"I didn't know I could change it. But I don't think it would have really changed anything. We both still went through. I mean in your memory now, you know that all that still happened right?" Lyric was curious about that. At the mention of finding familiar ground, she gives a loose shrug of her shoulders. "Then tell me things you went through and I will tell you if I did or not and we can maybe find out and fix things that way? Or.. I can open exits in the veil. I think."

Tyrone frowns and shrugs in return. "Yeah, I got no clue what we'd have in common. We ain't got hardly anything in common /now/. If you can find a way outta here, I'm all for it. The only practice I ever got was all fake, anyway," he says, shaking his head.

Lyric could probably do something with her glimmer, but somehow she wasn't in a very immediate hurry. They weren't getting hurt or anything. Nothing was fighting them. She keeps his hand in hers then reaches for his other one. "Will you do me a favor first?" Tilting her head back a little she looks at him with a tentative smile.

When Lyric reaches to take his other hand, Tyrone blinks in surprise, one of his eyebrows shooting way up. "... yeah?" he responds, looking down at Lyric. Which, after a couple seconds, makes his frown soften and causes him to relax just a little.

"Will you dance with me?" There's not really any music or anything, but he was there and she was there and they were teens and well.. she liked dancing. Once the question is asked, she searches his eyes just to see. "I didn't go to any of the dances in school. I wasn't allowed."

Tyrone blinks a few times, and then immediately looks down at his shoes for a second. If only she weren't holding both of his hands, he could scratch that stupid itch at the back of his neck! Gawrsh! "You want me to dance with you?" he asks, stalling furiously. "Like ... right here?" Then, an idea occurs, and Tyrone's brows raise and he looks back up at Lyric. "Wanna go see if there's one in the gym? I didn't have a date to my senior prom," he offers, smiling.

His reaction amuses her and Lyric waits for his response. When it comes, she looks surprised. "You didn't get to either? There's our something in common!" She goes with him, only holding one of his hands as they walk, this younger Lyric much more amiable and open to things. So expectant that there will be a dance in the gym when they get there, she will be devastated if there is not.

"Oh, I went. I just didn't have a date," Tyrone corrects. "Or else we wouldn't have a memory to visit," he adds, winking. And sure enough, when he pushes the door open to the gymnasium, it's full of balloons and streamers and music and other teenagers who each have distinct faces that are impossible to recognize. And, as they pass into the gym, Tyrone will find himself in a very sharp sky-blue tux, while Lyric will definitely find herself in a prom dress, even if she would not have been able to get one at the time. Yay for Dreams. Tyrone looks around, smirking a little ruefully at the memory, then he shakes his head. "... yup. This was definitely one of the low points for me in high school. I shipped out three days lat-." Well. Tyrone /was/ sharing something. But, then he turned to look at Lyric. Who's all done up for prom. And who has, quite literally, taken his breath away. So pardon him staring.

Her hair is piled up with tendrils loose and framing her face in a romantic style. The dress suits her. It's long, a soft blue color that just matches her eyes and frames her as if tailored just for her. On the lower left side there is a slight gather with a decoration of silver rhinestones. When he stops talking, she looks at him, curious, wondering why he had not finished it. That's when she notices his clothing and she beams a bright smile. "You look handsome Tyrone." The somewhat shared memory of shipping out can be addressed later.

When Lyric finally says something, it breaks the spell and Tyrone blinks and shakes his head a little bit, trying to clear the stars. "Huh? Me? Oh, uh ... thanks," he stammers, immediately rubbing the back of his neck. "You look ... you look really beautiful, Lyric. Like, /really/ beautiful," he offers, quietly, looking back at her once again. The music is playing and people are dancing and typical prom stuff is going on, but the whole world pretty much ignores the two of them as they stand on the edge of the dance floor. "... um ... thanks for coming to my prom with me?" Tyrone offers, shrugging his shoulders up and smiling.

"Thank you!" Lyric beams, pleased at the compliment from him, especially when he reiterates it by repeating it. A blush lifts to her cheeks and she ducks her head a little, not used to such compliments. Especially genuine ones. Her attire she was wearing before might be a clue why though! "I've never been to a dance before. This seems fun."

"Yeah ... they pretty aighht. The music wasn't bad. I was just pissed cuz ...," Tyrone starts to complain, then stops himself. He shakes his head and smiles. "You know what? Doesn't matter. Maybe we can't change nothing 'bout our situations in the real world, maybe we can't fix messed up stuff that happened. But we sho could make a new memory, a better one, if you want?" he offers, holding his hand out for her and gesturing towards the dance floor.

Lyric is up for a happy memory and places her hand in his so he can lead her out to the dance floor. There's no mention of the past, she doesn't want to think about it any longer tonight. Right now, there was music and nothing immediately pressing and they were at the prom. What could go wrong? Well, plenty, but hopefully nothing will. "Yeahh, let's dance," she tells him with a smile.

Taking Lyric's hand, Tyrone leads her out onto the dance floor. The music is standard 20-teens pop or R&B fare, pretty much what you'd expect at a high school dance with a DJ. When they start dancing, Tyrone is pretty conservative, mostly just moving his shoulders and feet, but at least it would appear he has some rhythm. The music is, for the most part, upbeat, fast stuff, which is easy to dance to. The crowd also dances and jumps around, but nobody seems overly enthusiastic or flamboyant. Indeed, all of the other couples and groups really appear mostly as background 'noise' in the gym, leaving Tyrone and Lyric to themselves. The more Lyric gets into it, the looser Tyrone will become. However, it's clear that dancing isn't anything he's adventerous about, staying 'in the zone' with his movements even as he tries to keep up with the girl he's watching so closely. His smile couldn't be softer or more genuine than it is right now.

After a few up-tempo songs, the inevitable slow song comes on and Tyrone immediately looks somewhat nervous. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he checks out his shoes while he asks, "Do you wanna slow dance ... or ... do you need a break?" he asks, glancing at Lyric out of the corner of his eye so he can try to judge her reaction without giving away his own.

Lyric has always liked dancing, even when she was younger she'd been doing it since her mother was alive. Music, dancing, singing it was all so much a part of her that even now, dancing came naturally to her with little effort. It left her relaxing around him and getting into it. His smile gets a response in kind, and she really seems to be enjoying herself. As the next song queues up and is softer and slower, she tilts her head, about to instinctively say no. Considering it, she takes a deep breath before saying, "Just one, then we better go."

When Lyric agrees, Tyrone's smile gets even brighter. He steps closer to Lyric, placing his hands at her waist, resting at her hips on either side. He'll one-two step them in a slow circle like a boss, unless Lyric decides to lead them into anything more complex. He'll smile down into her eyes through at least the first verse, then he'll lean down and nuzzle his cheek to her head. And then, he does something that he NEVER does. He half-whispers, half-sings along with the chorus. "Cuz aaaaall of me, loves aaaaaaall of you ...." And he does this halfway, because he's just barely in tune and he's not able to do any of the trills or other things people typically do with their voice when they sing. And then, because it feels right to him, he lifts their slow-dance into the air. Which doesn't seem to be noticed by any of the other dancers, since they're not really autonomous personages, anyway.

It was a song Lyric knew but then again she knew so many songs old and new. When he sings, it's something she obviously likes because music was so important to her. So much! The words weren't as important as him singing it and she beams a smile at him. Her hands are around the back of his neck and when he suddenly lifts them in the air and they are levitating over the dance floor, she laughs, then adds a twirl into the dance. Anyone else in the room is as invisible to her as she is to him, and she just enjoys the moment.

Tyrone doesn't take them that high or that far, mostly just up and then back down as the song comes to its end. He then pulls away and smirks a little. "And /that/ is all the singing you're gonna get out of me," he tells her quietly, one of his hands reaching up to gently touch one of the loose strands of hair that is framing her face. And, even though the song has ended and gone back to something more uptempo, Tyrone hasn't budged, still just standing so close to her, one hand on her hip, the other gently touching her cheek as he fondles her curl.

Once they have landed, Lyric smiles at him and continues to stand there until he lifts his hand to touch her hair. A blush rises in her cheeks and she ducks her head shyly. What?! "Thank you for the dance and for the fun tonight. Maybe we should be getting back now. This is the strangest dream, no one tried to kill us. It's good."

Tyrone was all smiles and googley eyes until Lyric reminds him that they're in a Dream and that this isn't actually real. Which is very effective at popping the bubble. His smile fades, not entirely disappearing, but definitely losing some of its depth as he nods. "You right, we should go," he agrees, taking a few more seconds to study Lyric, her features, the way it feels to be this close to her .... And then he nods once more, committing it to memory, before he starts putting the Marine back on and getting back on mission. "So ... you said you can find an exit, right?" he asks, turning back towards the entrance of the gym.

Lyric notices how things dim slightly and Lyric keeps hold of his hand as she closes her eyes. "The door won't last long so when I say go, we can go. I don't know where we'll be on the other side, or what we'll be doing but we're going out." Counting, she holds his hand tighter so they can leave together and not get separated at least inside the veil at least. "Three, two, one. GO!" And there's the opening, she jumps and drags him through with her, if he doesn't resist.

Nope, no resisting, here. When Lyric just stands in place to open the exit, Tyrone stops trying to walk towards the door. Silly him, thinking the way out would be a regular door. Nope! Instead, Lyric does something, and then ZOOP! He's being teleported back into his adult, crippled body. Yay for leaving the Dream.

To be fair there are spiritual healers that could heal that body!

Lyric finds herself in the gym of the high school, seated in the center of the floor right on the mascot's head and wearing a pair of jeans and the t-shirt she'd been wearing at the country gig last night. Her hand is empty, she's not holding a hand, so she looks around for Tyrone too.

To be fair, Lyric should worry less about the mote and more about the beam!

And, since he's not holding her hand anymore and he's never been to the Gray Harbor gym, Tyrone finds himself in the same place he came out of the Dream last time: Addington Park. At least this time, he's not hanging on to his life by a thread. But still, he's in the middle of nowhere. And now he'll have to off-road it back to the sidewalk before he can get on his way home. "... well /fuck/." He sighs and starts pushing, struggling mightily to get through the grass and sticks one finds off the beaten trail of a public park.