make it a three-pointer

I think people around here tend to stick to crime…

#chat: sam #char:sam #chat

Wasn't really expecting much better, to be honest.

milkovich-style

What kinda work you looking for?

#chat: mandy #char:mandy #chat

Whatever pays.

Anyone know any summer jobs going?

#fssrpg #haha his face

Honestly, I miss my mom being around more, you know?

#char:sam #chat #chat: sam

Yeah, I know. I miss mine too.

I’m sorry. My dad died too. And I’m never sure where my mom is these days either, apart from that she’s probably still somewhere in the States.

#char:sam #chat #chat: sam

Sucks, doesn't it? I mean I can't remember him but I just feel like there's something missing, you know? Ali gets pretty cut up about it.

Is it just you and your sister then?

#char:sam #chat: sam #chat

Yeah. Dad died when I was tiny, can't remember him very much at all. Mum's still somewhere in Europe.

Whatever. It’s been over fifteen years. I’m sorry if you think I’m fucking encroaching or something, but I like your sister, and I’m not going anywhere unless she wants me to.

#char:jordan #chat: jordan #chat

Maybe I'll tolerate you, for her sake. But don't think for a second that I like you. Think I've made that much pretty clear.

No, I don't understand. I don't understand how you can be mad at her when at least you have a goddamn family at all.

#char:jordan #chat: jordan #chat

You probably won't believe me when I say I'm sorry, but I am anyway. I didn't know.

Whether you like me or not doesn’t matter, especially if nothin’ I do will change your mind. I don’t care about any of that. What I care about is you complainin’ when your sister gets a free fuckin’ minute cuz you want the house to yourself every goddamn minute of the day.

#chat #chat: jordan #char:jordan

Fuck you. I don't want it to myself "every goddamn minute". I like hanging out with my sister, she came to my practice today and we walked home together for the first time in forever. But when all she wants to talk about is you, it's understandable why I'm a bit annoyed.

You know, I don’t believe you. I also don’t think you have jack shit to complain about, what with everything your sister sacrifices for you.

#char:jordan #chat: jordan #chat

You know, you're really not helping yourself here. And really? You're gonna talk to me like that about my own sister as if I don't already know how much she sacrifices for me? You really think I haven't tried helping her out or something, offered to get a job so she can ease up? 'Cause if you think any of that, you're fucking wrong.

Just at the grocery store where she works. I think she was silently judging my food choices, but other than that, she was nice.

#char:sam #chat #chat: sam

Yeah, she does that. You should hear her when she gets home from work, talking about how she's pretty sure this one guy was attempting to poison someone with the combination he bought, stuff like that.

You sure do complain a lot.

#chat #chat: jordan #char:jordan

Funnily enough I only started complaining this much very recently.

Highschool is Hell || Sandy and Sam

Sam didn’t understand much about sports, or about the pecking order between different kinds of high school athletes. This was the first, and with any luck the last year Sam would have to set foot in this place. He already had the diploma after all, and was only satisfying his parole conditions by showing up for health class. There might be further health classes in upper years, but Sam’s parole conditions would be lifted partway through the upcoming summer. After that, he was free, provided he didn’t get into any more trouble. He watched in barely-concealed awe as the girls filed up to slip pieces of paper, presumably with their phone numbers written on them, into Sandy’s hand. The taller boy certainly had something going on that Sam didn’t understand. Maybe if this whole ‘out and proud’ thing backfired, Sam could get Sandy to teach him how to pretend to be straight.

He listened politely to the diatribe on high school social order. He was skeptical. This was the South Side, and anyone here that showed an inclination towards liking faggots, or even being nice to them, was automatically branded the same. Sam thought that this was much different from being picked on for an accent. The two attributes just didn’t rank the same around here. He laughed, a little wryly. “If the key to surviving high school is intimidation, then I’m sort of screwed,” he replied. Sam had been intimidating before. Give him his gun and a ski mask and send him out on a job, and he could intimidate the fuck out of men twice his size and age. Stripped of those though, Sam felt oddly stripped of a significant part of his identity. Not to mention all of the weapons at his disposal. He knew he was intelligent, but he had no idea how to make that intimidating. “Any suggestions for what I should do?”

#para #para: Sam #char:sam

Waiting until he was sure they were down the hall and out of sight, Sandy glanced absently at the numbers in his hand and rolled his eyes slightly as he realised he actually sort of recognised some of them which just said a lot about how persistent they all were. He chuckled softly under his breath and balled the papers up then watched the small sphere fly across the corridor into a bin as he brought his hand back down to his side.

At Sam's comment, Sandy glanced at him and then took a minute to really thoroughly look the boy up and down, taking in his small build and rather delicate features. The phrase 'baby-face' jumped into his head because, in all honesty, Sam did look very young. Physical intimidation was definitely a no-no. "That's not the key to surviving. If you want to survive, you just need to keep your head down and avoid confrontation. You intimidate if you want to do more than just keep your head down, if you're sick of conforming to expectations." He shrugged, wishing he hadn't thrown the paper ball away so soon because his fingers were starting to twitch. "With the locker or in general?" He asked with a cheeky grin in response to Sam's question.

I met your sister. She seems cool.

#char:sam #chat: sam #chat

You know Ali? When did yous meet?

Empty houses are overrated.

#chat #chat: sam #char:sam

Not when you live with your sister, they're not.

Too many things, too little time, too many distractions in this empty house. Oh, wait no, my house is never empty any more, except at stupid times of night.

#fssrpg

Highschool is Hell || Sandy and Sam

Sam couldn’t help but notice the way girls across the hall looked at Sandy, nearly fawning over any hint that Sandy might pay some attention to them. The more he didn’t pay attention, the more enamoured they seemed to get. He shook his head in wonderment. Heterosexual relations were weird. It was like they were acting out some kind of ritualistic code that Sam had no idea how to crack. Stopping in front of his locker next to Sandy, he glanced back down the hall and saw the mountainous boy rumbling towards him again. This time, Sam prepared himself to dodge.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to. Sam grinned, genuinely now, as the mountain apparently named Anderson scrambled clumsily to his feet. There had to be a joke in there somewhere. “Thanks,” he said quietly. He looked at his locker and sighed. Such a small word, only three letters, and such a big fuss. Sam had never liked having to be in the closet, and it had almost been a relief when he was outed. But he had hoped people would have forgotten about it by now. Since they hadn’t Sam figured he might as well own his new-found notoriety. He had stopped on his way to school and picked up paint and painter’s tape, and regardless of the consequences there was going to be a big fuckin’ pride rainbow covering his locker door by the time he was done. Looking up at Sandy again, he frowned. He wondered if Sandy had really thought this through. “You sure you wanna do this?” he asked, and paused. “Even if they don’t pick on you, you won’t be doing your social standing any favors?”