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@noah-reischer
The longer I look at the ceiling, the more I start to see Morgan Freeman’s face in the swirls of paint. Is this what death feels like?
If God is revealing himself to tell you that you're the next Virgin Mary, just tell him he has the wrong address.
"Hey, I don’t really have the choice." Nick glanced around at the throngs of people. He could go to a library, that was true. But Nick rather liked the forever changing atmosphere, it reminded him of home and the crowds that would wandered through Miami. It wasn’t a place that ever stood still, the library did and it was rather suffocating. "Last roommate took my last coffeemaker, I’m not risking it with the new one. Just in case."
"To each his own, I guess," Noah shrugged, before he cracked another smile. "Lost the coffeemaker in the divorce, huh? Rough. Mine's been out of commission since Max tried to use it." He shook his head. "Sometimes it's like being friends with an untrained Labrador."
Regarding the other boy thoughtfully, Keane ran a hand through his hair from the back to the front. In addition to the nature of their relationship, Noah represented a different level in the social hierarchy of Westfield, and Keane considered him as somewhat of an authority figure. Not one to put much thought into his words on a regular basis, he was at least moderately wary of what and how he talked to Noah.
When Noah raised his eyebrows, the sunglasses lifted slightly, exposing the small darkened patches on his cheekbone for a second. “Haven’t heard from you since the last job, which was a while back,” Keane shrugged. It wasn’t a problem per say, but he couldn’t help wondering. “And you’ve got, uh-,” he stopped mid-sentence and motioned at his own cheek, unsure whether it was a bruise.
Noah saw Keane’s gaze gravitate towards where a bruise blazed across his cheek, visible just below the ridges of his aviator shades. A pair of sunglasses could only do so much. “Yeah, I do,” he said flatly, a point-blank reply that he paired with a small shrug. It was the defensive mechanism of his already-injured ego; further questions were unwelcome unless he offered the information himself, and the probability of that happening also seemed unlikely.
"I'm on a schedule, so we can walk and talk,” he said, nodding towards the door and making his way towards it, trusting that Keane would follow. Once the chiming bell of the coffee shop door had closed behind them, Noah turned to look at his companion, expression unreadable behind the dark lenses. "Haven't had much on my plate lately, but I may have something for you now. The sales department could use an extra set of hands."
Half asleep, Aurora was dragging herself to her next class when her shoulder collided with someone else’s. ”Ow! What’s the rush, darling? I almost spilled my juice on your nice shoes.”
Noah's eyes had been glued to the screen of his phone; he was too busy tapping out messages and scheduling his daily rounds to notice the oncoming person until his shoulder accidentally clipped her in passing. Glancing up sharply, he turned on the hallway roadblock with a frown that softened into something more apologetic once he saw it was a girl he didn't recognize. "My bad. Should've kept my eyes on the road." He looked down at his boots with an appraising gaze, nodding as a smile of approval appeared. "I'm sure the Ferragamos appreciate being spared."
Shiny hasn’t even worn off yet. Simple shit, weed and whatever pills you got to make you mellow. Coke sometimes, depends on the party. The fuck’s a Yelp?
Jo. Thing is, I’m broke. Scholarship doesn’t cover extras. Gotta job need doing, dick need sucking?
Shiny, minus the wide-eyed wonder- most newcomers walk around with stars in their eyes for the first few weeks. Now, talking business. I've got some xanax, val & oxy in stock, so it's your pick of the litter. Plenty of weed, plenty of coke- it's a little pricey at the moment, but still the purest shit around here. As for Yelp, nevermind. The joke wasn't good enough to warrant an explanation.
Ah. Well, I only sell on credit by exception and as generous of an offer as that is, those bases are already covered. Though, actually- I might have a temp job available. You any good at sales?
"This Mickey really sounds wonderful. He must be a good friend to have, with those hacking skills and all that.”
Of course, I hand-pick all my friends from the cream of the crop.
She looped her thin arm through Noah’s offered up elbow, waving off his words with her free arm. “Cheating is punishable by expulsion. Read the handbook sometime, it’s a truly exciting read, promise.” She sighed, leaning into the taller male. “That was a lie. I considered having someone put it into cartoon form. Literacy rates are doing poorly, pictures help.” The campus was barren, the few security guards who roamed the ground at night had earned a reputation for falling asleep sometime around nine during their night patrol, leaving the students to whatever they fancied, so long as the cameras didn’t catch them. “The homeless muggers were chased out in 2003, it was in the paper.”
Outside, the cold night air bit at exposed skin, which he considered might be a good thing- the January temperature could work wonders when it came to sobering up. It was already long after curfew, but there was hardly a Westfield student who didn't know all the in's and out's of breaking it- Noah himself was a veteran, and a quiet stroll down campus streets was hardly the worst crime he'd pulled off in his four years. "If you want pictures that'll keep people flipping pages, I'd be happy to offer my services," he said, shooting her an innocent look that was only betrayed by a lopsided smile. "Believe it or not, I've got prior experience with brochure work. " It was hard to pass up the opportunities for a comment when they came around; honestly, he never would've thought that a few pictures for the admissions department last year would turn into the joke that just kept on giving. "Better safe than sorry," he shrugged, as they passed by the darkened plate-glass windows of the bookstore and their reflections slid past them. "Especially in the company of someone who looks like they've freshly gotten their ass kicked. Bet you've never felt safer."
It’s fine, I can cover myself, I’m not like, nouveau or anything. I got two ounces and I’m picking up later, want to break into it with me then?
I know, I know. But I didn't want to start charging you without forewarning, just in case you take it personally. You know I can't say no to such an offer.
Save it for something graded, yeah? You get high? Who sells around here? Everyone seems too pissbaby to score, I was gonna have to call up a cousin or something.
Ah, so you are new. If you tell me what you're in the market for, I can help you out. I don't exactly have business cards to hand out, but if I had a Yelp page, I think it'd have pretty good reviews.
I'm Noah, Reischer.
Is he the blonde one? Oh wait, he’s the one with the tattoos. I wasn’t going to give him like— one of our discount fees, he’s your friend.
Appreciated, but I meant more along the lines of any discount fees. I can only sell at full price for the moment- but it's a temporary measure, I give it a couple weeks tops.
Something about coke. You don’t mind me buying, from a… Mickey whatever, right? I only buy from you.
Oh, Mick? Mick's my roommate, I'm pretty sure you've met him- he's helping me out in the sales department at the moment. Head's up, though, all discounts are on temporarily hold.
You peaked or something? Fuckin’ chatty.
No, just figured I'd share a unique tidbit of Westfield history with an unfamiliar face. My Monday high usually wears off around five, anyway.
Noah, why are your friends texting me?
That's a good question that I'm not sure of the answer to. They're probably high and attempting to be funny. What'd they say?
Wouldn’t sit there. Bad luck or something.
Why? I'm already aware that these stains are the ghost of vomit past, I even remember the senior responsible for them in my sophomore year. Can't say the student lounges don't have their own quaint history.
I’m packing it up, it’s totally not worth it.
As much as I enjoy a good Monday catfight, they say that the high road is more gratifying in the long run.
"Thankfully, no. Just a teenage girl."
"I don’t know who Mickey is, and I can safely assume you’re not talking about the mouse."
Huh, alright, I'll accept that story for now. Mickey, my roommate. Also known as resident Wunderkind, genetically-engineered for such great heights as hacking into school servers to change F's to A's and making security camera footage of stairwell hook-ups mysteriously disappear. The school wouldn't run without him.
Clean as a whistle. Come get your booze.
As long as there's no insects swimming at the bottom of it.
