2020-10-15 - Teenaged Wasteland V: Meddling Kids

The new guy in class today is a tall, lanky kid, the sort of boy who seems to consist of arms and legs and knees. He's seventeen years old and his hair -- no doubt a lighter shade naturally -- has been dyed a strange shade of black with purple-ish undertones that clashes rather badly with his bright, blue-grey eyes. He's got five silver earrings in one earlobe and seven in the other, a nose stud, and an eyebrow piercing that looks like it was put in for the first time three days ago. Black skinny jeans, black combat boots and a black hoodie -- but at least the black t-shirt has a print: No, I Don't Care. As if to top off an already unfortunate first impression, the youth is wearing black gloves indoors.

The new foreign exchange student clearly raided the first Hot Topic he found with his daddy's credit card. Heaven only knows why this kid came to Gray Harbor of all places. Some sort of student exchange program, no doubt, and pity whatever family on Bayside swapped their son or daughter for this skinny emo kid named Ravn. Calm down there, Lenore.

He cants his head as if to make out what the woman is saying and then -- upon having managed -- claims a chair. The nearest chair. Is there a seating order here? If there is, it may just have gotten changed.

Kailey sits at the back of the class. Her mouse brown hair pulled back into Sailor Moon style buns and pigtails. If only she was blond. Her black leather jacket hangs off her chair along with a black canvas backpack that has been bleach-decorated and covered with flowing flower and skull motifs. She wears a long-sleeve black and purple striped sweater that falls to her knees and artfully torn black leggings patched with fishnets. Combat boots and a choker with a skull complete her own American goth look. Is it any surprise when she catches a glimpse of Ravn she actually looks up from drawing?

The sub barely got a glance. Another substitute, another shitty day at school. One of the lone goth kids. A loner among the flock and considered "weird" even by teen HS goth standards. Ravn gets a smile from her painted purple lips. There's almost always a seat beside her open. The sub gets another glance, eye roll, and Kailey turns back to her drawing of shadows chasing after a little girl.

Gina Castro sits in the back row, the corner, nearest to the window, somehow making that little section a little bit odder. Her hair, an asymmetrical shag that reaches to just past her shoulders on average, is a deep emerald green color that fades into a pink ombre-- and yet, if she moves her hair, you can see the peek-a-boo black beneath, though currently much of her hair is hidden beneath a dark grey slouchy beanie. Her eyebrow is pierced, as is her nose, and she wears no obvious make-up except an odd symbol around one eye and her deep, dark green lipstick. She's got on a baggy, oversized olive-green jacket that falls almost to her knees, over a babydoll grey dress over a black t-shirt, her "socks" actually black fishnet that reach midcalf and worn with hiking boots. She wears too many long necklaces, of shells and braided leather and odd stones and a locket.

She doesn't blink enough. Gina never does. But she's got a little half-smile on her face - a smirk - as she leans over her desk, humming something old timey and tuneless. Those closest might notice that what Gina's working on at her desk is... a doll. A.... grass doll. Made of real braided grass and bark. All of which she gets from the the rough canvas pouch, stained with dried mud, that sits at the edge of her desk.

Her notebook is out, though, neatly tucked in one corner and open, with a freshly sharpened pencil that looks badly chewed right next to it, along with an eraser that looks like a half-rubbed-away pizza slice.

"I don't know anything about it, I just arrived. It's my first day. It's probably just a chair." The lanky kid stays right where he is, looking up at the bird teacher person as if he's wondering just what crawled up her backside and died -- and more prominently, why she thinks this is his problem. To say that he's got an accent would be an understatement. Some people should come with subtitles -- he's definitely one. The shoulder hitch and the bored tone doesn't help. Ravn has attitude. All the bad attitude.

In contrast to the kids that seem to be able to construct their looks either through clever craft or money, there sits that one kid. In a sea full of islands, just another seeming blip on the map. He was tall, sure, but lanky, nothing quite attractive or magnetic about the boy. Baby fat was an idea long lost to the habit of too many skipped meals. Mommy and Daddy’s alcohol wasn’t cheap, yaknow.

He wears a t-shirt with the school’s logo on it, denoting him as a member of the track team, but no one had ever seen him with the jocks. Jocks didn’t consider track a sport, at least not a team one. The one upside was that track didn’t require a team. It meant that leaving the house under the guise of “practice” was actually quite plausible. He just had to run to practice. His shoes told that story in a manner that seemed tired, the rubber soles worn, the top leather cracked and cloth threadbare in places. A simple pair of jogging pants finishes the outfit, probably the only thing he could get washed regularly without a sideways look.

His book was on the desk, but closed, and he was reading a pamphlet of some sort, looking thoughtful, wistful, distracted. Leon Gyre: Just another piece of the trailer park trash that hadn’t yet figured out it didn’t have a place anywhere but the bin.

Kailey feels those eyes and doesn't rise to meet them. Instead when her attention shifts to Ravn she glances at the woman. Adding an exaggerated profile of the woman to one of her shadow creatures. Her notebook is out and she is clearly ready to start working and stop drawing. But most every second not actively writing notes is spent drawing.

The lanky teenager in black and attitude looks after the bird woman as her attention strays from him to some of the other kids. For all his attempt to look like someone who doesn't give a shit (it's all right there on his t-shirt, after all) he's got a pair of sharp, blue-grey eyes that seem to take in everything. The colourful girl drawing. The girl with the -- whatever that's supposed to be, some kind of arboreal voodoo doll? The mumbling students in track clothes all focusing their attention on the kid in the worn shoes.

So that's who's on the bottom of the pecking order here, his face reads as he looks at Gyre.

In a mostly bored tone he says, "However, leave him alone and tell me where to sit." From the expression on Ravn's somewhat too fine-boned face he doesn't expect to get an answer, nor does he care much what it might be.

Gina seems to be ignoring the nonsense going around her just fine - even at this young age, she's a master at selectively ignoring what's happening. But she's still a student, and when the teacher approaches, she does look up-- back to her work, when the teacher is distracted by the other students, before she looks back up when the teacher is in front of her and...smiles? She blinks slowly, and then pinches the half-woven arms of the knotted creature, not entirely completed, up so Mrs. Campbell can see. She even makes it do a little dance, wiggling it a bit. She hasn't stopped that strange, tuneless humming yet-- only now does she stop, when she stops the doll from dancing. "The guidance counselors say I need to make new friends. But that means I have to get rid of the old ones, don't you think, Ms. Campbell? Out with the old, in with the new-- then out with that too, when it doesn't suit. Seemed like a lot of work. I can make you one too, Ms. Campbell. That way, somebody's always watching the one watching you." A little wink towards Ms. Campell, before Gina starts humming again.

Yeah, there was a reason Gina was considered a strange kid in high school, even by Gray Harbor standards.

Right for the throat, that one. Specific, biting, inflammatory. Pick on the guy that has maybe a week's worth of ill-fitting clothing for what he wears and bonus! Now the jocks were even more contemptuous of his existence. This was Leon's lot in life.

You'd think coming to his defense might earn you some goodwill. Negative. It only reinforces how low he was. He didn't want Ravn's pity, the curl of his nose and brow told the other boy. But the glare lacks the heat as its distracted by the other hateful looks from his contemporaries. Leon glares back down at his recruitment pamphlet, then leans and stuffs it safely into his work and frayed Jansport.

Kailey shoots Leon a sympathetic glance. Gina gets more attention, though only out of the corner of her eyes. There's a faint wince. This teacher is going to be trouble if she isn't careful. When will Rollins get back? For a moment she glared at the substitutes back and pondered playing head games with her. But no, she had to be sparing. Paranoia quietly nibbled at her though as the cruelty continued to ooze from the teacher. She could almost hear her mother screaming, 'She's a Bad One!' In her ear. It made her begin to fidget and pick at the black paint on her nails.

Also in the back, slouched into one of the desks rapping out a beat with his pencil against the cover of a folder, is Itzhak Rosencrantz. He doesn't have any particular style beyond 'tough guy who works on cars a lot', but since that's basically 'John Travolta from Grease,' close enough. Tight jeans, engineer boots, plain white t-shirt that does not currently have a pack of cigarettes rolled into one sleeve but will once school lets out.

Itzhak looks like a guy who does terrible in math, but he's not. He's so good at it that he sells crib sheets and completed homework, along with the caveat that if his customers don't copy it out in "ya own fuckin' handwriting", they've earned themselves a beating. It works, mostly, except for that recent Incident where Itzhak ruined the cheater's lunch three days in a row to make his point. (A girl. He wouldn't hit her, but he's creative.)

He's in the chess club and the youth orchestra, and it's generally more effective to threaten him with taking those away than yet more detentions. Mr. Rollins is one of the teachers he gets along with, because Mr. Rollins treats him more or less like a peer, just one who needs to learn math. Mr. Rollins cares about Itzhak without constantly lecturing him about all his wasted potential. Mr. Rollins has never said to him even once, "Why can't you look at your friend, Joe Cavanaugh, and try to be more like him?" Mr. Rollins has, a time or two, invited Itzhak to talk in his office if there were things he needed to say, if there was anything he wanted to talk about. A time or two, Itzhak has taken him up on it, and come out with reddened eyes, scowling more ferociously than ever in case someone accused him of crying.

Also, Itzhak showed up to prom in a sparkly dress and was voted onto the court as Prince (once the recount was official), and slightly got eaten a little bit? He's been jittery since. He's jittery now, one bony knee bouncing, the pencil going rat-a-tat-tatt-a-tatt on the folder cover.

Gina looks away from Ms. Campbell - how brave of her! - and looks around to the other kids in class, eyebrows up. Her fingertips, painted with a flaking pink polish and with chewed-to-ruin nails, stroke the half-finished braid that forms one arm. But Gina's eyes snap back to Ms. Campbell when she starts playing mindgames, before her attention looks back at the classroom, to find the targets. She'll make eye contact if she possibly can, and.... wave the arm of the little straw doll, still smiling, before she puts the half-made straw man back into the sack, its head sticking out, and puts the bag in her lap. "IIIiiiiii won't distract them for long." Gina says, her smile growing wider, slyer, as if she knows something Ms. Campbell doesn't.

Gina is, in fact, wholly ignorant of new information. She knows far too much and never enough, but she's bracing herself anyway because the first rule of high school is very much the first rule of dealing with most things: never let them see you flinch, and always have the upper hand, even if the cards are blank. Shut down the fear, ball it up and swallow it, let it sit in your stomach acid until condenses into something spiteful you can throw out. Tactics that work to both guilt parents, accuse professors and bitch at her fellow students, which, speaking of--

She glances at Ravn and Itzhak, the two new ones, and reaches to slide her notebook in front of her. "Glad you spotted Mr. Rolls's guidance book. I'd hate to have my learning interrupted." Her glance up at Ms. Campbell is once more a smile, but this one... slightly more perfunctory, Gina's expression expectant.... far more like a diner who has just given a waiter an order, than a student waiting for a teacher to lead her. But hey, her smile is broad, and her eyes glint with expectation.

Ok, maybe the weird foreign kid should have just butted out and minded his own business. But it also didn't mean he deserved to have some hostile hag in his head either. Leon knew. He knew that darkness and whispering sometimes.

So the kid just unceremoniously picks up his textbook and slams it to the floor in its flatest side, causing a clear, and hopefully concentration-breaking clap as hard cardboard meets linoleum in a loud SMACK.

"Uh... Oops..." He tries to play it off like he dropped it, not power-spiked it like he was trying to demolish an entire brood of insects. Picking up the book and not meeting anyone's eyes he just utters a quiet, "Sorry."

"Oh I never mind, teach," Itzhak says, flashing Ms. Whats-Her-Name-He-Wasn't-Listening a lopsided smirk. "Only I was wonderin' when Mr. Rollins is gonna come back." Mr. Rollins has his own method for teasing Itzhak until he quits it with the audible fidgeting, and 'snippy passive aggression' ain't it.

Then there's other stuff going on, stuff Itzhak can hear, and--the new kid, the smarmy fuck with the accent, is suddenly under fire. Itzhak jumps as the sound of Leon's textbook hitting the floor startles the hell out of him. He glances at him, wide-eyed, and then at the girls. Gina can take care of herself, if there's one thing everybody in school knows it's that, but Kailey and Zoey... not to mention Ms. Whatever is doing something to Ravn. "Hey, he's new, he don't know how things are around here!" He tries to interfere, himself.

Paranoia for the win. Kailey's own mental shields were already raising when that whammy came at her. Of course that just means Ravn gets it worse. The goth looks at him and is very glad that she is not him. Of course her attention is very much now on the scene unfolding and the play between teacher and student. She frowns and taps her pencil eraser nervously on her book, nibbling her lower lip. As her eyes jerk around the room they meet Gina's for a minute. One side of her lips turn up in a half-smile, but she looks stressed. Especially feeling the energy rolling off the teacher. If it wasn't a mechanical pencil she had it might have snapped from the grip on it. The older Kailey wouldn't hesitate to do something rude, like pull Ms. Campbell's pants down with The Force. But this Kailey? She's scared and she hunkers down only finding some courage when Itzhak asks after Mr Rollins. "Yeah, when is he gonna be back?" She echoes the shop-jock softly.

No hope of rising beyond what you were born to.

So, basically, anything he wants, and nothing. Ravn looks back at the teacher with the slightly impressed expression of someone who just watched a heavy weight world champion boxer land a blow in the opposite direction of his opponent. Swing and a miss doesn't even begin to cover it as far as he is concerned.

"Tell me something I do not know." The skinny kid rolls his eyes even as he responds to things that were never said aloud. Either the entitlement is strong enough in this one that he genuinely thinks that school rules don't apply to him, or he simply doesn't care. One might even venture a guess that he wouldn't mind getting tossed out of class or sent to detention. His t-shirt says No, I Don't Care and his attitude says make me.

"My foster family claims that you have the world's best education system. Are we supposed to learn something today, or should we just play who's up to the inspector first?" 'Principal' was likely the word the foreign exchange student was looking for there.

The best defence is a counter-attack. Just because the bitch hit him where it hurts -- but of course she did, they always do -- doesn't mean that Ravn has to let it show. Seventeen years with a narcissist mum teaches a kid to keep a straight face, and if his hand trembles slightly it's because it's bloody cold in here.

Kailey is a sly little thing when it comes to note passing. And Ravn learns first hand of this when a micro paper airplane sails over to poke him in the back of the neck. Her aim may be slightly off though. It reads, 'Nicely done newbie. Quad after class?' But otherwise she is a good student for the rest of class. Shooting Gina a look, rolling her eyes, and setting to work at numerous points through the class. Though she definitely is watching the clock. And she is already ready to go when the bell rings. Not quite springing from her chair, but enough to make her chair scrape as she zooms for the door. She pauses on her way to glance at Ravn. A quick smile and she's out to the quad.

As she heads through the halls she stops at the machines to grab a bag of cheetohs and two Dr. Peppers. So she is waiting out in the shade, sitting on the back of one of the benches, waiting like an oddly colored crow for the new kid. "HEY!" She calls to him when he does show up, waving an unopened can of soda invitingly at him. "So -that- was an awful welcome to school for you. But could have been worse. I'm Kailey. Where are you from?" She starts launching into eager chatter as soon as he is within conversational range. The can of pop tosses to him.

Gina jumped when the book hit the floor, and she spent-- just a little too long staring at Leon, moreso than most people. She's still smiling, though, and the smile appears... warmer? Not quite. More amused? More real. She continues to stare even as the lesson begins, writing notes without looking down at her notebook for a few moments before her gaze strays to Kailey - if she manages to make eye contact, Kailey gets a wink and an upnod towards Ravn. Itzhak only gets a glance, since just like she can take care of herself-- so can Itzhak Rosencrantz. Still....while she writes notes during most of the class, she does manage to throw a crumpled piece of paper towards Itzhak, and another at Ravn. The letter to Itzhak says only, ((ROLLINS + ADMINISTRATION??)). As for Ravn's letter.... all it says is ((FRIENDSIES? Circle: YES or NO)) If either boy looks back at her, she just grins wider, that sly, cheshire, sneaky smile.

Regardless of the answer, at the end of class, Gina continues her tuneless humming, collecting her things - including her coarse bag of straw, and sauntering right near... Leon. She'll wait. Hovering right near him with that smile - poor fuck, he's caught Gina Castro's attention. At least she doesn't have a bag of gummy bears on her. "Leon, right? I liked the book thing. My hero." Is she teasing? Oh god, is she flirting? One can only pray no. "I don't think you like the new teach either, Leon Gyre. Let's go buy a soda."

Note passing? Ravn's not quite certain what to make of this. Friendsies? And what the hell does quad mean? He dips into a hoodie pocket and fishes out his iPhone -- a brand new technological marvel introduced to an amazed and flabbergasted world just this very year (it's 2007, right? It absolutely is, at least for him). An expensive toy, but more importantly to Ravn, a toy that comes with translation software. He enters the word 'quad' into Babelfish.

Quad, it returns.

With a small sigh Ravn tucks the cell phone back into his pocket before that grumpy old bint of a teacher decides that he's not allowed to use it in class or something. He's been in the US for less than a week and one thing he's already come to rue is the fact that translation services generally work like crap for a language with only six million speakers. Quad is probably short for something and he'll need the whole word if he's going to find out what it means.

He's relieved to leave the classroom when allowed. His English isn't bad but reading a textbook or watching actors say lines on TV is entirely different from being submerged in the real thing. People don't talk like TV. Which is good because if they did, most people would be bloody morons, but it's also bad insofar that there's so much more um and em and huh and slang in actual, real life English. He has a nagging suspicion he's going to go home with a pronounced PNW accent and that at least will be hilarious because if there's one thing any of his teachers and family at home all agree on, it's that Americans can in fact not speak English at all.

Which begs the question of why the heck he wasn't sent on a trip to, you know, actual England instead. Ravn would happily have gone on to ruminate on that but he's startled out of letting his mind wander as it usually does when he realises that Kailey is sitting next to him on the bench -- so that's what a quad is, a schoolyard, huh -- and she's tossing him a soda. He catches it, deftly, and musters up some kind of smile; after all, she probably means well. "Ravn," the lanky kid replies. "Denmark. I'm on a language journey. Are all the teachers here so hysterical, or was I just unlucky enough to find the local village witch in the first attempt?

Actually, it's the year 1998 or 1999 or thereabouts, and heavy, indestructible Nokia phones with half-inch black and white screens are the order of the day. And they're not allowed in schools anyway. Cell phones are just a new fad that most people are pretty sure will fade. Who needs to carry a phone with them all the time? What, are any of these kids on call for the ER?

So Itzhak doesn't have one and if he did he wouldn't have it on him. He is, however, an inveterate note-passer, and when he snatches the paper from Gina and surreptitiously scrapes it laterally over the edge of his desk to flatten it, he reads it, then shoots her a look and shakes his head; not 'no', but 'tell you later', paired with a little quirk of his eyebrows and a pat of his long fingers in the air to indicate to her to drop it for now.

He swaggers out with everybody else, following along to the quad, frowning. He's not precisely a popular kid, not with that bad attitude and willingness to use his fists, but he is a kid who seems to know everybody, or lacking that, knows somebody who knows somebody.

"He ain't," is what he tells Gina, coming up to her. "He's not like Them." Ravn, he eyeballs, down, then up. Then he jerks his chin at him, belligerently curious. "You okay, fresh meat?" Kailey is making overtures on behalf of the group (it's not HIS group, okay? Itzhak doesn't have a group, he's like Byron Thorne in that he circulates among other peoples' groups, but he's quite unlike Thorne in that he never makes those groups his, teenage Itzhak doesn't know how to do that. Teenage Itzhak only knows the fire in his belly is a conflagration out of control and sometimes chess and violin and working on cars and hanging out helps and most of the time all he wants to do is scream at an uncaring universe and beat it until it cares), and he approves, not that literally anybody cares about his approval.

"Hysterical? I dunno what was so funny about Ms. Campbell..." Kailey says with a raised eyebrow as she pops her soda and offers the opened cheetohs towards Ravn. "Though you're on the nose about being a village witch. Dunno about this ones though." A smirk and she takes a sip of her drink as she looks him up at down. "Denmark huh? I wanna go backpacking across Europe one day. Netherlands, Iceland, Denmark, all on my list for sure to go. You got any good suggestion for places to see that aren't on the tourist routes?" Another tiny sip. "Mmmm! Is the chocolate as good as they say? Or is that another place? What sort of foods have you found weird here so far?" And then she shuts her mouth for at least a few precious seconds as she eats a cheetoh. Fingers are wiggled at Itzhak as he joins them. "Yo," She manages around her mouthful. "You find any volkswagon van's for pick and pull yet?" Did she remember to ask him? She seems to think she has.

People making conversation of their own will to Leon was strange enough. Friendly conversation was another thing entirely. Go ahead and add the fact of its source to that equation, and that Leon was already not great at math to begin with, and you’ve got yourself an unsolvable proof to the track kid. Skepticism and confusion plays across Leon’s face as he looks aside and up at Gina. He shrugs in a typically teenage fashion. Hero?

“Doubt it.” He asserts. Gina didn’t need saving from shit, as he’d ever seen. He’s silent for a long moment more, then ventures, “Yeah, she’s kind of a bitch.” Oh good, straight to swearing. No anger issues here, folks. “I uh... yeah sure.” Could he afford a soda? No, but she hadn’t specifically said he was buying, so maybe if he was just in the vicinity as she bought one, that’d be socialable enough. Did he wonder about what happened to Mr. Rollins? Sure, guy was nothing but nice. Would he voice it? Probably with reluctance. He ambles his gangly height from the school desk and shrugs his tattered backpack onto his one shoulder, thumb tucked in the strap.

Following along in the wake of Something Witchy Gina Castro. Nothing could go wrong here.

"She must then even about her sick attitudes," Ravn murmurs in response to Itzhak's inquiry. It's not clear what exactly he's trying to communicate there, but the general intent is not a challenge to deduct: The foreign exchange kid doesn't consider it his problem whether the substitute teacher likes him or not. Kailey's barrage has him staring at her, though. His grey eyes go wide as he tries to parse that onslaught of information in a foreign language. Eventually he gives up and just shrugs at her in response. Words are hard. Girls are hard. Girls with words, let's not even go there.

He pulls his hood up and stretches his long legs in front of himself, crossing them and slouching on the bench in a posture of sullen defiance interrupted only by a nod to the kid in the track shirt and the worn shoes. The Danish kid fancies himself a bit of a conman -- and still vaguely nurses a childhood dream about running away with a circus -- and he can appreciate a good distraction as well as the next guy. Worn Shoe Kid is all right.

Dash showing up was a blessing and a curse. For one, it had interrupted their trip toward the soda machine, theoretically. That meant the awkward idea of buying a soda with the near zero cash he had on hand was right out the window. The curse was... Well, it was another conversation. Sure, Dash was on the track team, but refer earlier to remarks about how much of a team sport it was. Leon tosses a slightly nervous stare from the other jock to the rest of the Breakfast Club they seemed to be amassing at the moment. It’s probably strange when he finally has to speak up.

“Can you like... show me where it is?”

Does the teach get a farewell wave from Gina? Yes, she does. And Gina even mouths 'Always Behind You' while glancing over Ms Campbell's shoulder and smiling. But away she goes, agreeing with Leon's comment with a wordless noise of assent. Ravn's foot is kicked if he is not appropriately tucked into one corner of the bench so the max distance can be put between her and the Kailey-Ravn pair.

Gina does buy the soda. Do Itzhak and Leon like red fanta? too bad, that's what they get. Gina herself has a piña colada fanta. She remains quiet, listening as she eavesdrops on Leon and Dash's conversation. "Him? You mean Rollins?" Gina seems to take it as a given she's following. "You come too, Danish guy, goth chick." Like Gina isn't known for her jealousy inducing black wardrobe.

Kailey stares at Ravn hopefully a minute. Then seems to realize something. "I'm sorry, I talk fast. Do you like the Dr. pepper?" She nods to the can. This time she gives him time to process the question. "Do they have that in Denmark?" Another pause. "What soda flavors are popular?" She may also be speaking a little slower.

As Dash approaches she flashes him a nod. "Dude, Rollins' car is here?" Kailey glances towards the parking area while chomping another cheesy cheetoh. Her finger tips were very orange now. "Why the fuck we have a sub if he's here?" Now she frowns. There were few teachers she liked, but he was one.

Ravn looks from one to the other, and winces a tad when his foot is kicked. He gets up when Gina instructs him to -- possibly in some false belief that the whole class is moving to some other classroom for the next lesson and he might be expected to tag along. Unfurling himself from the bench to his six foot three, the Dane murmurs, "It tastes a bit like roasted caramel. Is it some kind of cola?" and follows the others, frowning a little.

And keeping his distance from cheetoh fingers. Just in case. Who wants orange finger prints on their black hoodie, indeed. It takes effort to look this casual.

Following Dash into the parking lot, there's a fair bit of that sketchy peering of Leon's gaze back and forth, the typical teenage mannerism when you're doing something you shouldn't be. He takes a sip of that red Fanta with a appreciative look Gina's way, regardless of what's undoubtedly creepy stares back at him. (<3 Gina) He eyes the car, then gives the area one last suspicious sweep.

"Anyone know how to break into a car?" he asks, just super casual-like. No big deal, right? He looks down, peering through the driver side window, then lets his chin slowly fall, his eyelids droop, and reaches out to touch the handle.

Itzhak may or may not like red Fanta but he doesn't refuse it. Someone giving him a soda, what, is he to complain? Yeah, probably, he can complain about everything, but he's distracted; he just takes the damn thing, cracks it and swigs it.

"Just 'cause his car is here don't mean he's here," he mutters, "youse guys know that, right?" He swaggers right up to the Civic, eyeing it like a rival. Then, setting down the soda can, he takes the door handle in hand, jiggling it a couple times--then puts his shoulder to the door in a particular way, bracing it as if he wants to lift it off its hinges, and, "Grng!" with a grunt he shoves, rocking the car on its wheels. There is a silent Sound, some kind of rush of unseen unheard energy--

The door pops open. So does the other door--and actually falls off its hinges. A tire tweaks funny, no longer lined up with its sisters. Itzhak pulls a horrified face and promptly backs up, hands spread like he didn't do it and you can't prove it. "I, uh, I maybe hit 'er a little hard..."

"Usually I'd say just crack it open. Like walnuts." Gina remarks, slowly circling the car. A hand rises to tug her beanie back into place before she uncaps her soda and then bends at the waist to peer through the window. When Itzhak moves to take the door handle, and there's that drop, she casually takes a step or two back, uncaps her drink and has a sip while the car finds itself battered. She looks at Itzhak at his little commentary, then has another sip of soda before she caps it, shoves it in a pocket and heads towards the now opened car door - at least he was a gentleman and opened it for her to look inside - and of course, the first place she looks is for the glove compartment.

Meanwhile, with Leon deep in this... whatever it was. Memory trance? Empathic reading? Why was he just standing there so still? It almost looked like he'd stopped breathing.

Then the door literally drops away, and the handle he'd already had his hand on drags his whole arm down with it. He's suddenly having to scramble to keep it from slamming to the pavement and crushing his foot. He looks a little harried, like he'd just woke up from being drenched with water and someone was yelling for him to drop and give them twenty... What was that? Using both hands, he holds the door up stable, and looks around wildly, "What the fuck just happened?"

Gina proves herself way too comfortable with rifling through someone else's things, and she makes no attempt to be stealthy about it - she just grabs things form the glove compartment, eyes them, and then tosses them to one side if it proves uninteresting. She does eye the registration and chuckle - "Oh, that won't help you, don't you know?" She murmurs, before she also tosses that aside - looks like the address is blacked out of the document. But finally, she pulls something interesting from teh glove box - a small velvet pouch, and when she pours the contents out into her hand, a rather interesting wooden ring falls into her palm, and she clambers out of the car, holding it up to the light to study the miniature forest within the resin.

Of course, just then she looks over her shoulder and spots Leon and Itzhak being weird-- "We found a ring in an unlocked car. Obviously." She smiles towards the pair, "There's a forest in my hands again. Did Rolls like the woods?" There's something... just beneath the words, something probing.

Kailey follows after the others eating her cheetohs and sipping her soda. When they get to the car she hands back and keeps an eye out. No, she does more than that. She reaches up and makes a gesture like she is pulling down a blind. At this point in her life hand gestures were becoming a thing when she fiddled with Glimmer. What she does now is draw the blinds around them. Or tries. No one needs to see a bunch of teens ransacking a teachers car.

Attempting to set the door back into place, or at least hand to off to Itzhak to put back together, Leon tries to get his bearings on what he remembers. His eyes sink shut and he rubs his forehead above the bridge of his nose as he tries to play it back and verbalize, make sense of it all.

"There were... people... five... People have been moving his car... I think... He's still here. Rolls... He wanted to stop Jones from doing something... But... Regret. Rolls didn't think it was worth it. He argued with someone." Each bit came out halting, words put to interpretations of what he was shown. When he opens his eyes again, he's blinking, like woken by bright sunlight. He looks to Gina, furrows his brows.

Itzhak pulled a wrench out of his pocket, and not just a wrench but three or four wrenches--what? How the hell did he fit all that in the extremely snug hip pocket of his jeans? Well, he's got them laid out on the asphalt and he's kneeling by the fallen door, working feverishly to get it the hell back on the goddamn car. He's bright red in the face while he does this. Sure, real smooth in front of the girls, Rosencrantz.

"Yeah, he likes camping and shit like that," he mutters, about Rollins, while he gets his hands dirty.

Gina is still smiling, the ring in her hand, dangling on the first joint of her forefinger as if her finger is a display rack. She holds it up to study it, ignoring the boys and Kailey momentarily, saying in a dreamy voice, "He skips through the copses singing. And his shadow dances along-- And I know not which I should follow," The ring is dropped once more in her palm, so she can pick it up with her free hand again and hold it up towards the light, "Shadow or song. O Hunter, snare me his shadow--" Gina tilts her head to look at Leon, then rolls it to look at Itzhak instead, before holding up the ring as if to frame the boys with it, one eye closing, "O Nightingale, catch me his strain--" She grins, and then turns to look at Kailey and Ravn with that sly grin of hers, "--Else moonstruck with music and madness. I track him in vain." The last is almost singsong, and Gina laughs, in the end, tossing the ring up and catching it in her palm again. "Wilde. Who knew Rollins was a fan?"

As suddenly as that, her grin disappears , and she raises both eyebrows, looking at the group, "This probably isn't his ring, though. Hey, Gyre. Did anyone you see wear this? Because it could be important. Forests usually are." Her attention also focuses on Ravn, after, to see how he's taking all this.

"Wild what?" Guess what classes Itzhak doesn't do so well in.

Where was Ravn Abildgaard when you needed a car stolen? Somewhere else, because he used to swipe car keys and do exactly that, and if there was one thing that his father made very clear to him it was this: One car goes missing, son, you go home. None of that bullshit pulled on the Petersons. No discussion.

Ravn argues with his mother all the time. Not with his father. Him, at least, he respects.

He's within earshot while all of this goes down. But that's as close as it gets -- wandering around over there, studying the buildings, looking at random signs, and definitely getting seen by several witnesses as not at all part of what's going on. Are the other kids planning to steal that car? He's not sure. Who's Mr Rollins? No bloody clue. What's going on here? Beats him, but whenever shit goes down, you can be sure some jock points at him as the one who did it. And why not? The kid with rich parents never gets in real trouble. It's not that Ravn doesn't understand why. Nonetheless he'd like to stay out of trouble just for once.

Kailey watches the proctor with tense shoulders. Waiting to see if her illusion holds. When it does she smirks cocky-like and turns to the others. Holding out her hand she says, "Lemme see?" Then her eyes go distant. Jaws goes a little slack as she sees whatever. Face registering surprise and confusion. "It's a gift...for someone named David," She fiddles with it before sliding it onto her middle finger absently.

"There was some sort of serious talk they had. Concerned? Rollins decides to not give 'im the ring because of it. He's sad," Kailey speaks as the images come to her. Turning the ring on her finger now as she stares into the middle distance. "He's in the car. Someone yells his name...I think it's the vice principal? Then that's it. He put the ring away..."

After a long moment of blank-looking assessment off Gina’s mental state, Leon just shrugs at her question, still rubbing his forehead a bit as if massaging the skin there would do the same for the jumbled mess of memories he was having to sort through. The patrolling adult is stared at with wide eyes, then finally Leon can look away to the others, not quite looking like the quick thinking of Kailey had done much to relieve his worry about the whole thing. Though he does look relieved with someone else has to use the same trick on the ring.

“I uh... couldn’t really sift through all the stuff on the car itself... too many people, thinking, feeling... but if the ring belongs to him... can you use it to find him?” It was a brief hope, Leon not knowing Kailey’s grasp on their powers.

Great. It's a parking lot. And for some reason everyone else is still fussing around somebody's car. Ravn kicks a bit at a few pebbles in the hedge along the far edge and eventually decides that there has to be some reason or other that everyone is out here, breaking into somebody's car, instead of doing the things you'd expect -- attending classes, bullying the nerds, whatever normal American kids do. He's not entirely certain what normal American kids do, outside of TV movies, anyhow. According to Gracie Lee Peterson, there's a lot of sneaking out involved. He probably doesn't want to know what for.

He is however certain that he's already bored out of his skull.

Hands deep in pockets, the lanky teen in blank saunters towards the rest of the group. Whatever it is they're doing, it can't be more boring. He addresses everyone and no one in particular: "What are you really up to? I help to car a car but maybe it is not smart to do it in full daylight where God and everyone can see it all?"

That kid needs to work on his spoken English for sure.

Gina has no problem handling off the ring -- or winking at Leon when she's stared at. "I've got a delicate poet's soul. " Gina assures, before her attention goes to Kailey's continued power use with a small, amused smile, watching the adult walk by. Ravn's words have her shrugging. "I want Mr. Rollins back." she explains. "So we're going to find him." Her head tilts in Kailey's direction. " Do you know how to find somebody?"

Kailey turns to look at Ravn. Her green eyes clear and she raises a brow. "We're pretending to be the Scooby gang and figure out what really happened to Mr. Rollins," She explains. The ring continues to be turned on her finger. "He's probably everyone's favorite teacher and...They did something to him. Why?" She looks down at the ring and then Leon thoughtfully. "I can try...not something I've had much practice in...but his emotional connection to this ring is pretty strong," She says and looks down at the ring. Her head cants slightly to the side. Then she turns to look at one of the school buildings. It's closed for renovations and has been for awhile. She frowns and begins to walk towards it. "This way," She says as her steps become faster. Not wanting to lose the thread now that she has it.

“Hmm.” Leon grunts, looking at Gina. It could or couldn’t be a truncated snort or some other indication he might have found her remark funny. His response was no less joking, however. “Did they give it up willingly?” His look remains her direction for a moment more, gaging reaction, then he looks to Kailey. He knows the score. He falls in. He makes a brief look around the other kids, “Just as long as we’re not trying to pick out who we are in the gang. Cuz someone’ll have to be the dog.” Probably the most people had heard the wiry kid talk all year, and here he was cracking jokes. He sips his Fanta, but keeps an eye out on the approach, wary of adults. Track was the only thing that kept him out of the house besides school. He didn’t need his team status revoked as a punishment.

As they approach closer, Leon looks at the run-down building before them. He looks to either direction, seeing the more overgrown nature of the fauna and has a thought. His steps pause, but his mind continues forward, seeking out small minds within the building, trying to steer clear of those adults that he knew could resist the press of his psyche, and searching for animals, attempting to recruit the small creatures he could find for scouting or distraction as they might need as they headed into possibly hostile territory.

Itzhak squints up at Ravn, his hands busy in the door hinge. (Somehow the door is cooperating insofar as it helpfully floats in place for him.) "What we're really up to is we're fuckin' sick of this mishegoss and we're gonna do something about it. They don't get to take anyone else from us. Not anymore." With a final wrench to his wrench, he tightens up the last bolt and stands aside, testing the door on its hinges gingerly. Everything seems to work okay? Ish? The door might be a few millimeters off and might leak when it rains now but at least nobody will walk by and notice Mr. Rollins's car door hanging off.

Shifting back on his heels, he yanks a handkerchief out of his pocket (...Itzhak carries a hanky? well, sure he does, apparently) and a bottle of cleanser from the same pocket. Okay, also apparently he has endless space in that damn pocket. He sets to cleaning his tools and his hands with the same fast, fast motions, taking care of business while he listens to Kailey's reading of the ring. What she says makes him look up from his task, eyebrows tilted up, his expression stricken--only for a flash, before he covers it over with a scowl again.

"Wish I had my violin today," he mutters, finishing up and making all that junk vanish into his one hip pocket. None of it appears to be there once it's in. Itzhak doesn't seem to notice. What, doesn't everybody have a fifth-dimensional pocket? "Youse guys remember that pen he's always got? He got it for Teacher of the Year last year?" Eyes drifting closed, Itzhak taps out a beat on his thigh. Then, voice low and rough, he sings. "You are my sun-shine - my only sun-shine - you make me hap-py - when skies are greyyyy...."

As if pulled by a magnet, his head turns to point in the direction Kailey had already felt something, coming from the buildings. "C'mon," he murmurs, and starts walking, still singing. "You'll never know, dear - how much I loooove you - please don't take - my sunshine - a-way..."

"What does scooby time mean," Ravn murmurs and sounds like he doesn't really expect an answer because there is very obviously a lot going on here, and everyone else clearly has an opinion on whatever it all is. He doesn't know any Mr Rollins. What he does know, though, is that the best way to stay unnoticed and out of trouble is to -- well, when in Rome, do what the Romans do. If everyone else is headed for that building over there he's just going to sidle along and try to keep his head down. Sure, they're all supposed to be in class somewhere, no doubt about it. Sure, there'll be trouble. Sure, he only cares insofar that he'll be able to tell Mr Peterson (the very religious father of the household in which he is a foreign exchange student), I'm new here, i just did just like the others just like you said I should. At which Mr Peterson no doubt will sigh, pat his shoulder in what he thinks is a reassuring way, and tell him to keep practising his English.

These kids know what they're doing, that much is obvious. There's some history here, something going on that isn't on the lecture tables. The Danish kid is a little curious. The thing he had not counted on, though, is how bloody hard it is to keep up when you don't get subtitles and don't have a dictionary at hand. Real live speakers mumble. They um and ah and er and toss in the occasional word in Spanish or whatever it is that tall kid with the curly black hair is speaking, and they assume that you understand their pop culture references. Better to just follow suit, try to be a good Roman, and do one thing he does know how to do.

He takes up a position at the rear end of the group and just watches. Ravn himself would not be able to explain how or why, but he's got an acute spatial awareness that often alerts him to the presence of people and things before he can actually see them. And he's spent enough years living in the war zone his parents call a marriage to smell trouble thirty minutes before it gets there.

If these kids are going to break into that building, he can play sentry. Somebody's got to, and besides -- if trouble does happen, he'll see it first and perhaps be able to get the fuck out of there before the shit hits the fan.

Kailey leads the way with Leon to the abandoned building with a frown. "This is...this is getting into The Weird," She says with something approaching a whimper. The way she says those last words is with o.inous emphasis. Actual fear can be seen on her face. "What do They want with him?" She glances at the others with a frown. Eyes falling on the other two she asks, "Can either of you handle getting the debris and locks? I want to keep focusing on Rollins to find him..." She eyes the fence and rattles it slightly. "He's in there. For sure he is..."

Gina follows after the group, quieter now-- slower than the others, as she's drawn some straw from her pouch and braids it as they walk, working on her...new "friend" there. She manages to keep up, towards the back of the group, and if she almost hums along with the music -- almost, something else, well, that's just how things are. Ravn is a good marking point, after all, though she makes no effort to talk to him. When Kailey stops, however, and presumably the whole group slows, she also slows.

She brushes the frayed straws she hasn't finished putting together over her fingertips, closing her eyes and tilting her head to one side, singing counter to the music, slow and wistful and low - she's no singer, but her voice is soft enough that it's less unpleasant and more...unsettling, especially as she continues. She refuses to let them lead everything, after all.

"Send me a kiss by wire--" Her hands reach towards the gate, never touching them directly. "Baby, my heart's on fire. If you refuse me.... baby you'll lose me..." Taking her hand back, she clutches her straw doll with both hands, and opens her eyes to look directly towards the others in the group. Her expression is unreadable, until her eyes focus on Kailey. And she rolls her eyes. "He's not in there. What they set out for us is in there. Can't you feel the difference?" She asks, and if there's a touch of mocking to her words, it's softened by the condescension - err, sympathy for the child. They're all such babies at this, aren't they?

"Something else is inside. Not just the usual mess." She shrugs, and laughs aloud, "Let's try again, to point the way-- or we can go inside, and play the game." She grins, all sharp teeth and sharp eyes, letting the others choose, as she continues to hum to her doll, which she sets dancing in the air in front of her (with her hands) "...you call me on the telephone, you tell me that you're all alone... I know that you are lying through your teeth...." A giggle, a glance at the building. "you dirty rascal..."

"Scooby Doo is a cartoon. Four kids and a dog solve spooky mysteries." Leon was explaining quietly to Ravn, even as the trailer park teen was concentrating on the mental work, the feathery tendrils of his mind slipping into the building, seeking, searching. "Though, the mysteries are never actually spooky or paranormal." His face turns slightly toward Gina and her words, one of his stormy eyes opening slightly to look at her, then shaking his head and closing it again, focusing.

The song and Gina's words have Kailey pause. Literally freeze with her hand in the air and a puzzled frown on her face. She holds that for a beat before turning to the other girl and cants her head. "Wait...what?" And she turns to frown at the building and then down at the ring. "I-I don't like this...what is it? We want Rollins..." She looks down at the ring and back up. "Did it...eat him?" Slowly she licks her lips and then scrubs at her face. She glances at Leon and asks, "Can you try talking to him," And she taps her temple, "I will too. But he may not be in my range. Heck...maybe both of us together can boost each other's signal?" The trepidation of Gina's words vanish in the light of this new idea. Bright green eyes grow wide with excitement and she reaches out to grab at Leon's hand. Her hair already beginning to get more staticy as she begins to gather her Glimmer around her to try and reach out to Rollins again.

Ravn does know what Scooby Doo is -- a terrible comic book for five year olds, badly drawn and badly translated, the sort that for some reason sits around supermarket checkouts in spite of the fact that no one has bought a copy in living memory. Something about a dog and some kids, and a VW bus. The Dane has no idea what that could possibly have to do with missing math teachers or breaking into somebody's car or abandoned school building but he does acknowledge the other boy's attempt to bring him up to speed, and he appreciates Leon making that attempt, at least. Scooby gang, then? Must be what this is -- kids solving problems, missing one dog.

There is so much to unpack here that he doesn't even know where to start. Substitute teachers with bad attitudes were just the beginning.

I'm stuck in a foreign country where I don't understand half of what people are saying, people certainly don't seem to understand most of what I am saying, and now they're holding hands and talking about boosting signals. What is this? A UFO conspiracy? A cult? Just Americans being Americans?

They can't actually be debating whether this missing math teacher is stuck inside a dilapidated school building, can they? He frowns and mentally rewinds the tape, trying to make sense out of the exchange between goth girl and doll girl in particular. It feels like watching German TV but without subtitles. He understands enough German to recognise what a show about. And not enough to get the finer points of the plot. From the sounds of it, the missing teacher is in the building, or the thing that ate him is in the building and this is about the point where it all just stops making sense.

Sometimes it's best to just shut up and watch. In fact, according to the Gospel of Ravn Abildgaard, this is a very legit solution to most problems.

Itzhak halts in his tracks, lips pulling away from his teeth in an alarmed sneer. "He ain't alone in there," he hisses under his breath, just after Gina says the same thing. Keep up, Rosencrantz! "Shit. Shit shit shit shit SHIT."

He looks at Kailey and Leon. "Youse guys got the--" he taps his temple. "Can you figure out who else is in there?" Then, pointing at first Gina then Ravn then himself, "Three of us can move stuff. Can anybody do the," he whips his hand in a circle as if that'll bring up the word he wants, "the, the shaping? We can get in there no problem but what if he's hurt?"

"If he's hurt, he'll need to shut the fuck up and move anyway." Gina says, in just... such a practical, blunt, casual way as she moves towards the gate. It's only a snap of her fingers for the padlock on the door crumples and starts breaking into pieces, chunks of metal falling to the ground with soft thunks. Short, sharp, precise, and she pushes the way open now that the padlock is gone.

But then, just as she looks over her shoulder towards the others, that feeling comes, the so-called prickling of the thumbs, and Gina freezes, momentarily, before saying what sounds like a very bad word in a language that isn't english. "It heard us now." She says, looking to the group....and noticing just how shivery and how still the mentalists are. Narrowing her eyes briefly, she sighs heavily, rubbing at her forehead, "Yeah, obviously." She mutters, stepping away from the door and to Kailey and Leon instead. "Hey! Hey, are you there?" She asks of them, one hand rising. She's got some mind games of her own, after all, if she needs to snap them out of it with a push of her own irritation.

A strange sensation of horror creeps up Ravn's spine. He's just standing there, he's just being the sentry, he has no reason to feel this way -- but he does, and it is not at all pleasant.

It's like that time the gardener tossed him a few magazines. He was twelve years old and of course he knew what nudie magazines were -- he just never had his own stash before. He hid with them in his room, reading them at night in bed. Thinking that no one'd know. He tucked them away in his bedstand where no one would see, not even the maid.

When he came home from school the day after they were on his desk. In plain sight.

He burned them. Tossed them in the fireplace and never said a word about them. Neither did his mother. But they both knew, and the feeling of absolute dread -- that's what he's feeling now. Existential terror. Just put me out of my misery, I will never live this down.

The exchange student looks at the others -- and admires Gina's handiwork with the padlock, not realising that she did in fact not use a hammer or rock to break it with because of course she did, what else would she have used? He doesn't say anything because the first kid to say 'I'm scared' is also the first kid to end up with his head in the toilet bowl. Just shut up, keep quiet, and stay ready to run.

Kailey looks at Leon and attempts a smile. It is wan, but her eyes are bright. Hopeful. Then they turn distant again and that wan smile slowly fades. The animals respond, cooing, crawling, calling in response. Find him. Find Rollins. Through the dark and the maze of minds around them. Until there he is.

Eyes still distant Kailey's smile begins to return. "Rollins!" She says his name with excitement. It mirrors on her face before it is replaced with wide-eyed surprise and hints of pain. "Ngh," Grunts the goth girl as her jaw goes a little slack. No response to the hand waving. A trembling in her limbs comes with sweat at her brow. But Gina sees the tears beginning to stream from eyes that are suddenly going a dull khaki green.

As Gina is turning from her she suddenly lets out a scream that had been frozen by the Principal. The scream goes from terror and pain to angry and downright dangerous. Kailey's face flushes red and the scream turns into a growl. She kicks out at the gate with a booted foot, shaking the chain-link. "FUCK YOU SYKES! I'M GONNA TEAR YOU APART!"

Now for those who know Kailey, or have even heard of her, know she is a scaredy-cat sweetheart for the most part. This? This is a Fury become flesh as electricity crackles about her head like a halo. The animals about hear one command, "RIP THEM APART." With an image of the Principal as they are now.

Leon shivers, but his mannerisms are predictably more muted. When he looks into that darkness and it starts to grab back, Leon reacts bodily, one foot retreating a step as his mind pulls free. He realizes the mistake, because he wasn't alone in that roiling mindspace, and makes to reach, but... Then Kailey doesn't need saving, which he should have guessed. There's a smirk on his face. Fucking teachers. Weird as this was, did the staff know what they were getting into.

Hey, dudes. I'm looking for someone. Leon thinks through his link, sending along his memories of Rollins, communicating the fondness for the teacher. The animals could take what they needed if he sent memories, smells he didn't think about, things he might not have thought to hear. Kailey he left to rouse the vermin she chose, but he was going to try to at least scout the area, think tactically with his little pack. He wanted to be military, afterall. Guess his fire-team was gonna be a little hairy. But stay safe. Eyeball and watch. The fourth mind gets a playful nudge, a curiosity if he really would come after five minutes, a wonder if all the fun would be had before then. No help means no rewarded blackberries. Snoozing was losing. Leon wasn't above a little bribery when it came to animals. Plus when you can convince a store clerk there was nothing in your hands, it was easy to walk out with things.

Leon finally opens his eyes, leaving that little link open to the animals, but not having to concentrate as hard now. He looks to Gina, joking dryly, "Present."

The name. Sykes. Itzhak shudders, things he doesn't quite remember seething in the darkness of his mind. It's not 'I'm scared' that comes out of him, though. It's "Guys, we can't handle her on our own, remember last time!" snapped sharply urgent. "I'm gonna get Coach!" Then he's bolting for the gym--

--and wakes up in his own bed, sweating, heart slamming around in his ribcage like a panicked rabbit.

That bloody dark-haired kid is the smart one. Ravn has no doubts about this as he watches Itzhak take off at high speed. Because the smart choice of action, when faced with something that feels like existential horror, is to remove yourself from the scene and look like the responsible one while doing it.

We're all about to get caught neck deep in shit, and he's the one who's going to come walking back hand in hand with whoever's in charge here and say, 'I told them not to do it'. Smart kid. Asshole.

The Dane looks back to the other students still gathered around the door to the dilapidated building. The thought of following suit certainly appeals. Just, walk away, and if anyone asks, claim that he didn't quite understand what was going on so he went off to find somebody responsible to ask. That's the one perk about this whole foreign language deal: When he pretends to not understand things, people generally believe him. It's pretty great for getting off the hook, at least.

This feeling of terror, though, is real. Something terrified the lanky kid enough that he ran away, and the waves of aggression emanating from the goth girl are real enough. There's something going on here that Ravn doesn't quite grasp and that bothers him most of all because bloody hell, he is the smart one. Isn't he?

<< Come join us and we'll obliterate this bitch. Together. >> Is Angry Kailey's reply to Rollins. Furious and flushed she barges through the gate and in towards the building. Trying to hone in on Rollins as she charges through the building. The electricity continues to gather around her and her mousy brown hair has started to stand on end. To say there is a murderous rage going on in the small goth would be an apt appraisal. The birds are directed to go for Syke's eyes while the snake should aim for the throat if it can. As for the cats, well, they know what they are best at doing. Keep her busy. Try to not die. Pretty simple directions. Does she notice if anyone is following her? It doesn't seem to matter. See earlier murderous rage, liekly not.

"What's in there?" Gina asks Leon, when he acknowledges that he's actually conscious and present. One fist at her waist, she looks mildly impatient, ready for this to be done-- but then there is Kailey the Bit-Sized Berserker, charging ahead with range and way too much static electricity. The scream has Gina's neck suffering from whiplash as she glares at the younger girl - age doesn't matter, they're always younger, somehow - and lets out an eloquent, exasperated. "Oh, fuck you." to no one in particular.

<< I fucking hate babysitting. >> For the first time since the whole adventure began, Gina proves herself to yes, actually posses the powers of a mentalist, transmitting quietly to her group - Ravn, Leon, Kailey, Rollins, the departing Itzhak. Her mental voice is low but perfectly audible, and it feels a little too close, as if it's right near your ear, as if it should be accompanied by a breath just at the crook of your neck, someone right behind you-- but it's all in your head. And somehow, the absence of a presence behind you may actually make it feel even spookier. <<Get OUT, Rollins. OUT.>>

Even as she commands her teacher, her gaze slams right back towards Kailey, and she tsks, clicking her tongue against her palette as her fingers twitch, the hum in her bones pulsing forward, rippling to encompass Kailey's clothes - shoes, dress, accessories - and tug her up and away from the door before she can actually enter the building. If successful, Kailey may find herself standing - nay, hovering - six inches over the ground. And reaching out to include her group AND Sykes, Gina's mental voice sounds again, just that close, ambiguously complaining...? Coy...? Mocking...? <<Principal Sykes, I've got a complaint. The new sub won't let me make friends, which is totally against what the counselor said. This whole system you're in charge of sucks.>>

WHAT THE HELL I AM HEARING VOICES NOW.

Ravn manages to not panic. It has to be jet lag. Bad school lunch. Overdose on violin bow resin. Something.

Oh. Oh, of course. Yes. I should have figured that out earlier.

Because of course it makes sense. Flying across the Atlantic doesn't mean you get to escape ghosts forever. America has its own ghosts. Of course it does. The peace and quiet was nice while it lasted and now it's over. The Danish kid looks around with an expression much like somebody expecting to see the resident White Lady or Headless Nobleman saunter past anytime now -- and this is perfectly normal.

The goth kid is flying.

That's... not so normal. Even Ravn has to admit that. Sure, he's seen hovering people before, just -- he's not gone to school with them before. Being dead is usually a requirement to doing the whole floating and hovering thing.

He shakes his head several times, hair a miserable shade of bad black dye job falling into his grey eyes and making him resemble nothing as much as a lost puppy with an unfortunate colour scheme. Then, with a sigh, he murmurs, "Okay, I don't get a meter of what's going on here, just tell me who to put one on."

It’s a lot to put on one empath, really it is. The anger from Kailey, the combative nature of Gina, the foreboding of Rollins, the dark malevolence of Sykes. The entire situation was too much for Leon to handle. His mind reacts reflexively, and he breathes in, hands going to the sides of his head, like he were trying to block out all the noise.

“Everyone STOP ,” He ends up blurting out at the same time a wave of calm explodes psychicly out from him, slamming into Kailey, Gina, and carrying on past into the building. That one step back had been another, and he finds now everyone was closer to the school, to the danger than he was. He realizes what he did almost immediately, and the tendrils of his consciousness snap back to him, walling themselves back inside his mind, cutting himself off from the animals, the people. Everyone.

“I-... S-... Sorry. I’m sorry.” He stammers, looking pained.

Kailey surges forward and then doesn't. There is a ripping sound for a second as a more delicate piece of clothing tears against her body straining forward. But she is wearing a leather jacket and boots and those are good grips. There's a snarl from the goth girl and she tries to flail and struggle against being held. "WHAT THE fuck is this shit?" One minute screaming and then calmly furious, her tone lower from a yell to a warning growl. "Put me down. Now," She says in a dead tone, the only inflection beyond that calm is warning. She turns her head as Leon apologizes and her brow furrows down as she narrows her eyes. Hate and anger are momentarily directed his way by those dull green eyes.

Sensing Rollins' approach to the door her head snaps back to stare hard. Not at the man himself, but where her mind senses Syke in the hallway behind him. Coming after him, chasing him, and she hasn't let the static dissipate. There is the smell of ozone building in the air as Kailey, a strong mentalist in her own right, prepares to unleash a blast past their teacher at the danger. Hopefully enough of one to give them more time to run. And they wonder why this girl is always skipping classes or getting in trouble at her foster home? Well DUH. Look at the principal. They're a monster. Electricity crackles as the doors burst open...

Voices, ghosts, and now -- bears. What the hell is wrong with this country!?

Not to mention, bears are large. Like, big. This animal isn't just a large dog. It's not even two large dogs. It's a very, very large rug just like the one in his father's study except this one still has the bloody bear inside. Ravn very quickly reaches a mental conclusion as far as the bear is concerned: He's definitely not going to be in its way. Oh hell no. Bears get all the personal space bears want.

For someone who likes to fancy himself in control of any situation he's in, he's lost control with amazing speed here. The logical thing to do? What the Jewish kid did -- get the hell out of here, bail, take back control by returning to a situation that's within the parameters of 'normal'. Sure, running away is a dick move. So what? He's a dick. Nothing new there, every damn kid he's ever gone to kindergarten, school or college with would happily testify to that. Ravn Abildgaard is a sullen, introvert asshole who'll readily cut you off before you cut him off, just to not give you the pleasure.

But he's not that kind of asshole -- the one that runs away because he wants to save his own backside and let others take the fall. Knowing what kind of asshole you are is important. He's the kind who thinks 99.9% of humanity is a mile beneath him but he's also the kind that's far too proud to let those 99.9% take a fall for him.

Sometimes, he's just the very stupid kind of asshole, Ravn tells himself even as he runs up to where Kailey is hovering -- standing -- negotiating whether she's going to be hovering or standing. Somewhere along the way he picks up a stick -- not as heavy or thick as he would like, but better to have the equivalent of a branchy riding crop than nothing at all. "Okay, who needs some bank? So let's hell give them some bank so we can get home before it gets dark."

That didn't come out exactly right either, but who cares. Time to kick some backside. Just point him at the monster, preferably before adrenaline gives way to asthma and this just becomes embarrassing.

Gina scowls as the wave of calm overcomes her - she was /already/ calm! The deep-rooted hostility is just her natural state. And she looks towards the stammering Leon with a flat look, before she reaches out to - shockingly gently - put a hand over his and tug it away from his head. "Hey. Leon Gyre. We're chill. It's not a prob!" She assures, sounding... shockingly confident and blase about it. And, in fact, she...smiles. An impish, sly thing, quick as lightning as her eyes go back towards the door, but her hand is possibly still near Leon's wrist, "Thanks for chilling out baby taz. But I need you to fry the principal. Think you can do it?" And he might, in fact, feel like just a bit, luck is on his side.

Gina doesn't pay too much attention to Leon after that. She's got her eyes trained right on the approaching principal, starting at the horror approaching with a sort of resigned amusement. "Yeah, just a little closer...." She murmurs. Because timing is everything. Rollins needs to be out, Sykes needs to be at the door, Kailey can't be set free to run around just yet, there has to be a moment of distraction as Sykes gets fried so he can't use that idiotic exchange student as a hostage--

Before Gina can do what comes naturally to any teenager, and slam the fucking door in the face of authority.

As if Leon didn’t have enough roiling emotions from what he just did, what was happening. He had lost control, invaded people’s minds. Then the door flies open and he sees that thing. Nope. No sir. We are not even trying to deal with that one rationally. And the bear! He’d put that poor creature in danger! Just as quickly as he’d walled himself off, the rush of shame from Gina’s touch, the wish to make right, to defend, brought his gift back on, breaking wide open.

His hand opposite the one Gina had grasped erupts in corona of surging energy, gathering around his balled fist. He was not weak! The surging emotion, the sudden frustration and rage at Sykes, at his own failing. He wasn’t sure when the growing growl began in his throat, but before he knew it, he was opening his mouth in a wordless yell. His fingers splayed open into a bare palm and a bolt of pure lighting thunders from his grasp to strike at Sykes.

Hvad ind i det mest ramsaltede helvede er det der foregår --

-- Oh.

Ravn sits up in the queen-size bed that takes up a considerable amount of floor space in the Airstream trailer he currently rents from Vic Grey. His heart is pounding and he's drenched in sweat, and on the palm of one ungloved hand, his fingernails have dug into the flesh.

For a moment he can think of very little but that. Because it really, really hurts. He's not holding a stick. There is no monster to beat up with a stick, either. But there is neuropathy and bloody palms and it really fucking hurts. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't start a bloody asthma attack on top of everything else.

After a while he manages to uncurl and catch his breath. For a while he just lies and stares at the ceiling.

That was beyond unreal.

I wonder how many of those other kids were really there.

Shared dreams are definitely a thing, he knows that. The real question here is -- does he want to know how many people in Gray Harbor remember him now as the sullen little piece of privileged shit he used to be?

This could definitely get awkward.

Frustration makes Kailey snarl as Sykes eats her lightning strike. "Fuck you," She tells the principal and flips her off. At least she can still do that. Though she isn't running forward anymore, neither does she retreat. Staring at the door and the things beyond.

Her lips curl in a sneer of disgust but the calm persists. As Leon's arc of electricity surges past her that wild hair goes even puffier and strains towards it. Snaps and crackles in the air and the principal's scream turn her sneer into a dark grin. Taking pleasure out of watching that thing die. <<Don't fuck with us kids, my pretty >> She can't help but have a last word.

The ground and world change in a blink. Going from being help midair and back to just standing does not make ones proprioception happy at all. Adult Kailey stumbles and finds the animals had gotten into the fridge she had opened just before the dream took her. Kind of like that scene in Ghostbusters really. Open fridge and get pulled into another dimension.

In her hand she holds a bottle of A1. Or did because it clatters to the linoleum as she staggers and then slips in the eggs that the damned dog pulled out and broke on the floor. Kailey's crash to the ground is loud, but her bellowing scream of frustration and pain? Hopefully no one calls the cops...

The flash of horns and teeth glowing eyes and the voice... it almost distracts Gina. But she gave herself a task - close the door, get out - and the timing is there, and she forces the door shut, the sound reverberating as it cuts off the screams--

And Gina startles awake, sitting in her armchair. The heavy blanket she'd thrown over her legs was now beneath her, and as she rubbed her temple, she glanced at the table next to her. The cup of hot chocolate was no longer steaming. Exhaling heavily, she runs both her hands through her hair, until a plaintive, demanding meow has her looking down at her feet. Ignorance, in all their stupid, fluffy, nervous glory headbutted her shin with another meow, forcing a snort from Gina. "Yeah, all right. Hi Iggy-- I know, I know, Mommy was gone again and you freaked out again, didn't you, you little yellow-bellied soot ball?" Gina murmurs, reaching forward to scoop up the cat. Cradling it in her arms, she stood, the half-finished stuffed doll she'd been sewing before she slept falling out of her lap, its arm only half-attached, wool and dried, crumpled flower petals and leaves visible in the gap.

Later, when she finished writing, she'd finish fixing the doll, would scavenge a proper outfit for it, and she'd add it to the room upstairs. Later, Vice would arrive, proud and filthy from their adventures on the street, demanding food and comfort as well. But for now, she wrote down all the details and locked them away, just in case. She may never read it again. It was only habit, after all.

Long, long years of habit.

He had no words for what unfolded, Leon had only roiling emotion. Anger, victory, surprise, fear. What was that thing? Just the glimpse was enough to set a burst of new adrenaline through him. Did he had another surge like that in him? He gathered himself to-...

The door slams shut.

Leon's body convulses, folding in half, bringing him bolt upright, the clean white sheets darkened by sweat, the comforter flying off him. He breaths hard, his eyes staring into the darkness of their bedroom, flitting around the room, wary of a threat. He thinks to-... No, he doesn't extend his mind. This was no longer the other side. Here, there was danger. But here, he was home. He looks to his right, to the curled ball of skin and curled blonde hair. He marshals the torrential turmoil in his mind. He counts back, he forces his breaths to slow. Slowly, his hand still shaking, he pulls the covers back over the bare back of his wife, checking that her breaths were still slow, her sleep unmarred by his tumultuous clawing back to consciousness.

Slowly, he slips out of bed, slipping on some shorts, moving his bulk in the stealthiest way he can manage, heading downstairs. He had some thoughts to tend to, and a fresh Kentucky-born bottle waiting there. Maybe the bourbon would bring him some more sleep tonight.