“I don’t think too much of you, I’m just thinking realistically at the prospective jobs you could have. It seems apposite for you to be a model in some foreign country,” he responds, crossing his arms over his chest prudently, looking over her once more. “You know, with your charm and all, you could have a modelling career anywhere. And if you’re really into having the finer things in life, like a folding screen, then I’m sure modelling would make you enough money to keep those things. I mean, you could be famous in another country, and not even have to worry about being known in America so you won’t be found out. It’s a win-win situation.” He thinks about all this talk of alternative situations, how they could start fresh. The blank-slate she mentions does sound nice, it would offer an opportunity for all of them to leave this with some sense of ‘I did something good, now I can go back to living in a non-fantasy world.’ They’d be able to take down their coats and turn off the lights to an empty warehouse. It’d be a place they once stored all their dreams, but by the end, it’d just be a skeleton of what greatness was onced housed there. Ferris is broken out of fhis thought process when Scarlett mentions that impossibility of it all, to this his forehead puckers and he bites the inside of his cheek which forces his lips into a sort of crooked shape. “We don’t have to be normal, but I want something that doesn’t tie me down in Las Vegas for the rest of my life. Maybe I can get married, have a couple of genius kids, and work under a fake identity. It’s not normal, but at least it has the potential to be something other than this.” His features soften, and he laughs a bit. “A Swarovski toothbrush? Is that even functional?” He asks, his lips curled into a disbelieving grin. “Normal is free, technically. We’re paying a Brobdingnagian price by choosing this over normal. There’s this concept in economics called opportunity cost, it’s the next best choice you give up whenever you make a decision in your life. In this case, our opportunity cost is living like regular people.” Seems like he chooses to use big words and concepts to defend his point whenever he feels threatened in his argument. By Scarlett going against his safety blanket of normality, Ferris feels anything but protected right now. The thought of having to give up the dream of normality is what can keep him up late at night, those nightmares attacking him viciously like the grotesquely knife-sharp teeth of a monster. He shakes the thoughts from his head, scratching at his neck as if there’s something crawling up it. “I would work in a laboratory to do research on curing genetic diseases and how to prevent them from happening before they’re present. I mean, I don’t know what lab would hire me after I’d been off the grid for so long, but I’d sure as hell like to have a shot at being a part of something good and normal.” Ferris shrugs his shoulders, breaking their eye contact. He chooses to look at something that can’t judge him, or look at him like he’s crazy. The beam behind Scarlett seems like the best place to rest his gaze. “The investments would be a side project to keep me entertained, and also to bring in six figures,” his tone is lighter here, more relaxed. He can finally return her gaze, one that he thought he’d have to give up from just how pressing it felt. “Being an investor is being both the piggy bank and the kid who takes the money out of it, so I’d be both.” He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose tentatively, his eyes shutting slightly in something a bit more intentional than a blink. “I didn’t say the cat plan was inferior because the Egyptians did it. In fact, I think that’s a reason that the plan is a good idea - it’s more of a pro than a con,” he lets out a dry laugh, “and my panties are not wet at the thought of ancient Egypt. They just had such an interesting civilization! That doesn’t mean that I’m all horny for the history. It’s more like I have a brain-boner. That’s a better word for it.” He looks at her with a hint of confusion, biting at the inside of his bottom lip. “You might be missing out then. I’d suggest you start off with the classic of Mulan. That entire film inspired me to move to China and become a warrior in the Han army. Sounds pretty impossible now… Especially since Han China was a dynasty approximately two thousand years ago,” Ferris flashes a genuine grin for a bit, his mouth curling into a child-like smile. When he genuinely liked what he was talking about, it was clear in the way his eyes seemed to shine with a curious sense of passion and his cheeks lit up with a light pink blush. He didn’t have distinctive dimples, but his best smiles were those where he showed off some teeth and where it was clear he wasn’t forcing it. The child-like wonder of his interest in both Disney and history was clearly shining through here. “Ha-ha, very funny. But you know what they say - big brain, big hands, big feet, big…” He leaves it off at this leaving the rest for her mind to fill in the blank. “And, if we’re going with infernal names, Beelzebub is cute, but there are so many other great options. Like, Loki, Lillith, Sekhmet, Baalberith, and more. I think I’m putting my vote in for Baalberith - ‘B’ for short.” Ferris isn’t opposed to the name Beelzebub, but if they’re really getting a cat then they’re naming it something that he’ll be able to agree with. “I’m not even joking! Someone could have drowned, or gotten E Coli. from the bacteria in the untreated water. There’s so many possible accidents that could’ve tied a ghost to this location,” Ferris insists, his hands waving frantically as he speaks. “Fine, then it’s official. Our cat will hide in your room, we’ll let her out into the open at night so she can kill off our little critter problem. Then we’ll never have to tell Cole, and we’ll have the chance to keep a cute little kitty.” Ferris sighs and tries to piece together where they’ll even get the cat from. How could they hide the expense of buying a cat from everyone else in the warehouse? He could worry about that later. “Yes, I stay on the roof. Like, not all the time, but I set up a little tent. There’s some pillows, some books, I even have a sweet rig for my laptop and stuff. You can come check it out sometime, it’s a great place to go when I want to hide out from the rest of the crew.” He had set it up the day he got here. He could crawl out of his bedroom window and onto the roof, so it seemed like the perfect place for a fort. It was a perfect place to go when the inside of the warehouse felt too stuffy. He could gaze out over almost the entirety of Las Vegas, and it was a perfect thing to see. Ferris loved the way that he could see the glow of the city lights at nighttime. When he was awake late at night he ended up going up their to calm his nerves. He could almost always lull himself into a sleep when he was up there for even the shortest period of time. “Good, now I know I won’t be turning into a full on advertisement for CoverGirl. I know I have nice cheekbones, but I’m just not makeup material.” Ferris looks disgusted at the words ‘chemical’ and ‘peel.’ The only chemicals he’d ever worked with were in a lab and none of them were meant to go on your face. “Maybe just a nice charcoal facial, okay?” At least he knew that much, he could work with a bit of a spa day, but he would like to work his way up to a full blown chemical peel.
He looks overly cocky, and like he’s won something. He only half listens to what she’s saying about his humor, but he’s already been proven correct by her original laughter. “Uh-huh, say what you want but your para-linguistics can’t lie. You laughed, and don’t even try to pretend that it was because what I said was ‘stupid.’ That was one-hundred percent pure-joy laughter,” he proclaims haughtily, his hand raising to flip back a non-existent bit of hair. His smile turns up into something much more egotistical than he’s let on before. “Stop trying to fight it. You know I’m funny, and I’m just too hilarious that it will blow your mind if you admit to knowing it.” He resumes crossing his arms and making himself look taller by straightening out his posture. He definitely didn’t need an ego boost, but Scarlett had just indirectly given him one in her laughter. “I think that, for me, money has been fascinating; I just don’t want much of it. I have this thing, where I always want to learn more about something even if I feel like I know everything there is about it. I always want to keep digging, and I always have twenty questions that I could keep asking each time I dive deeper into my knowledge of something,” Ferris had always been great with writing research papers. It was because he never stopped exploring and asking questions. That was something that seemingly bothered everyone around him. He was always making random connections that barely made sense, or he was always frustrated that those around him couldn’t provide him with an answer that helped him out. He blew a raspberry from his lips after he spoke, another equivalent to a sigh. “I was… a bum, to say the least. I was making a lot of money, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t doing anything successful,” it’s a vague answer, and he decides she’s worthy of a bit more information. “I used to, uh, play in casinos. I was really good at reading others and determining the possibilities of my hand being successfully played in games like poker. I had gotten it up to such a high percentage of winning that one might even call it cheating.” He stopped there. It was enough to satisfy her curiosity, if she even had any, but it was also little enough that he didn’t give everything away. He wasn’t ready to admit certain things to her, he didn’t know her well enough yet. “What were you doing before all this,” he returns the question, his arms unfolding to motion to the greater part of the warehouse. “I wish I had both charm and a filter, but looks like we can’t be as blessed as you,” he bats his eyelashes, but keeps up the blunt tone she had left off with. “Old age doesn’t suck! You pretty much sleep all the time, you don’t have to worry about working, you can just have chill time all the time,” he refutes, his voice sort of whiny in nature. “Don’t you just want to do… Nothing?” He laughs again, his features contorting into an impressed look. “I think I’d prefer to die as an ‘old fart,’ like you said. But, I don’t think I’d mind dying for some great cause either. Either way, I’d have lived my best life right? If I die doing something glorious, then I’ve peaked. But, if I die of old age, then I guess I’ll have all of my questions answered,” he shrugs once more, realizing that death isn’t something he’d really considered yet. Mortality is so fragile, and yet, we all expect to die so far into the future (or at least that’s what Ferris thought until he met Scarlett and heard her views on dying young). “I won’t die disappointed! Even if not all of my questions weren’t answered at least most of them will be! Our lives are built on trying to get all of our questions answered, and that’s why I want to die knowing that I’ve fulfilled almost all of those answers,” Ferris frowns a bit at the fact that she doesn’t believe he’ll get the answers that he seeks. But, he won’t get into it. “Decor?” He repeats a similar tone to that which she used moments earlier. “I think that it’s useless if you’re not even using it for its proper function. You really should get your money’s worth by using it for changing. I mean, what’s the point of having it if it’s just pretty?” He questions the morality of having something like a folding screen. He’s one to talk, his room has plenty of things that should have been cleaned up for their lack of purpose a while ago. “The part about keeping creeps out makes sense to me, but who’s even lurking in this part of town? The warehouse is huge, and under lock down. I’m fairly confident that an intruder would have a hard time getting in.” Ferris hopes this will offer some kind of assurance to her that it’s okay to leave the windows unblocked. “Just me? That’s even more bullshit! Scarlett, do I look like the kind of person who just goes about making fun of others?” His tone at the end drops into his usual sarcasm, he realizes that it was a bad move on his part to make the ending sound like a joke. “If anything, all of us seem prone to making fun of stuff like your decor,” he disproves, his crooked frown returning. “If I’m also the co-owner of our cat, I think the three strikes rule shouldn’t even apply to me. I can be kind and keep my mouth closed. And, I deserve to see the cat if I’m going to be buying her supplies.” Ferris is going into his slightly stubborn and know-it-all side again, his posture straightening up as he debates her policy. But, as soon as he sees her girlish smile, he feels his posture relaxing back into something natural for Ferris. She looks nice when she smiles like that. “A man of my caliber has to have some kind of imagination. I get all that imagination from the movies and books I spend my free time with.” Ferris uncrosses his arms and scratches his shoulder blade. “Book club? Doesn’t that take some actual effort to keep going?”
He shakes his head against her explanation of the job. Maybe social services would turn some people numb, but not Ferris (or at least from what Ferris can gather, it wouldn’t be easy for him to turn numb by doing such a job). “You might go numb, but I don’t think that’s true at all. I haven’t known any social service workers, personally; but from all of the people I’ve seen on TV - I’m sure that you wouldn’t just turn numb. Also, from reading descriptions of the job, I feel like it’d force you to be empathetic.” He cracks his knuckles and nods, their work is pretty similar. “If you see the worst faces of people, doesn’t it make you want to do your best, and put on your best face, though? Just because I took up this job, I don’t feel too numb yet.” He thinks the comparison is strange, though not wrong. They really do help get good people better things, similar to the way that social workers act. Ferris doesn’t imagine that social workers also perform breaking and entering stunts, or steal large sums of money from rich peoples’ bank accounts. But, they do have good intentions, just like Reato. “Quiet is lovely; I always would prefer silence to noise, but a librarian’s kind of quiet is just too eerie for me,” he explains, a shudder going through him as he thinks about the deafening silence. It would be all consuming, and it would be horrible to spend everyday stuck in it. “Sure, you can find anything wrong with any job,” Ferris agrees, nodding his head slightly. “But, you can also find those jobs that you know you would just absolutely hate. Being a librarian is that job for me. I would hate it, it would end with me losing my mind or rotting away behind a shelf that someone would forget I even went to stack books on because nobody would care about anything I did!” His complaints continue on, and his hands are waving about through the air again. He had to add the hands as he spoke to emphasize just how horrible it would be. “Like I said, I think the modelling life would be perfect for you. Or maybe, you could be an interior decorator; you seem to have an eye for all things decor,” he says the word ‘decor’ with that same tone she had used a while ago. He likes it now, it feels like it might be an inside joke that he could develop with her. “The last job I see suiting you is, like, a jazz club owner. You have that mysterious smile, and I could totally see you in a place filled with cigar smoke and the sent of pinot noir. It’s perfect,” he exclaims, a bright smile crossing his lips. “What do I want to do? Like I said, work in a laboratory. I mean, that’s both the job I would probably have if I hadn’t joined Reato, but also the job I’ll have when I leave Reato. You see, my dream job was to develop the technologies that do genetic research work. I was even offered a job in Australia after I wrote my dissertation, I could have gotten a job down there working on improving the technologies that look into genes that could potentially be correlated with diseases such as Alzheimer’s and Dementia,” his tone is slightly somber, he could have had that life. But, now, all chances of that were destroyed. Australia didn’t want him now that he’d gone off the grid. He was a nobody. “Wine actually wouldn’t help with your cognitive function. It’s better for heart health. If you want something that directly affects your brain you should try the recreational use of MDMA or Benzodiazepines,” he teases, a smirk coming back to his expression. “Ah, it’s not too difficult to have a brain like mine. I actually feel like my brain is pretty quiet… Imagine an evidence locker full of filing cabinets,” he explains, “that’s kind of what my brain’s like inside. I don’t have trouble locating a specific fact because I just recall which specific thing I want to remember.” He’s always had trouble explaining that to other people. It doesn’t even, really, make sense to himself how he’s able to recall so much. It’s just something he’s always been able to do. “Fine, guess we’ll use one of the big gray walls. But, I think that it’s more interesting to use a white screen,” he pauses, “what kind of movies do you think we should watch?” Ferris examines the speakers a bit and settles that they’ll work just fine for their clean up process. He nods when she asks if they can test them out, he takes his phone out of his pocket and plugs it in. The speakers make a slight buzzing noise once they’re attached to the headphone jack, which is a good sign. Ferris plays the first song that comes up on his library, and it rings throughout the room. “I’m pretty sure they work better than fine. I don’t think we’ll be needing to get those bedazzled speakers,” he corrects.
“is it strange to say that i still prefer this?” it’s more of a rhetorical question than one she expects an answer to. she already has it; of course it is. it’s completely ridiculous, but scarlett doesn’t really mind sounding so. risk; risk and chaos always played an overriding part in her life, something knitted into her very bones right from the start. it’s undeniable and unavoidable, scarlett thinks. but truth is, she could live just fine without it. this is her fault alone, how she always seeks out a sense of havoc to then feel bad about the lack of normalcy, to then feel like a victim of her own life; to then feel like she has some proof of how she’s alive, even if it is shitty. she’s her own biggest saboteur, but she’d rather blame it on the gods, or whoever created a life full of hardship to put her into. she leaves the topic of better lives for her be, focuses on his own version. “ actually, that might not be so farfetched. i’m pretty sure that most companies’ morals are so far down the drain, they’d even take a criminal as long as he’d do a job well. so you’re pretty much set for life. you can still have your american dream.” she catches herself saying this not really because it’s how she feels, but more of a reassurance for the boy who now seeks shelter somewhere past her. who is she to tell him he hasn’t got a chance at a happy life? a scoff emits from parted lips and scarlett is thankful, in a way, for the subject change to something lighter. “how could a toothbrush even be nonfunctional? it’s not like the bristles are covered in crystals.” she laughs a teasing laugh, though her grin subsides into somewhat of a bittersweet smile only moments later. “you think too negatively about this. opportunity cost seems like a matter of preferences and perspective. think of this as the next best thing, so in that case you’d be paying a brobdigitty price for choosing something as boring as normal.” words are accompanied by a quirk of her defined brow, and she’s trying to match his wide lexicon, though utterly butchering it with her poor attempt. it’s not something she worries about, thinks her point is far more crucial. they did choose this, so she isn’t going to pretend to be displeased with the reality of it all. it seems to be a step in the right direction, which could give a lot of insight on how truly unprincipled her life was before. scarlett can’t live an ordinary life, not until she manages to balance the scale that is currently so weighed down by how much bad she’s sent into the world. and this is the best chance she’ll get to do so. “ that’s good. that’s something good to do.” she says, an uncharacteristic faintness to her timbre. it’s genuine, though it turns her veneer into something a lot more transparent, something that has all the potential of divulging just how vulnerable she is with a conversation like this, hence uncomfortable. so she leaves him with that, and with a small nod of her head. “well, how can you get a boner if you’re not horny? and you’re supposed to be the smart one…” she points to him, shakes her head in disbelief, though it’s hard to suppress the hearty laugh threatening to burst. it’s almost absurd, how they got from the weight of their previous conversation to this, but she welcomes the old banter with a satisfied smile. “i don’t know. everybody probably loves those movies because they watched them when they were little, so they have this eternal nostalgic charm to them. i think i’m too old for disney now.” she shrugs, gaze veering from him to her manicured fingers, now more immersed in how there’s some chipped nail polish on her pinky. eyes quickly avert back to the boy’s pair the second he falls silent, a bit astonished. “ew, ferris.” she says through her grin, clasps a hand across her lips in an attempt to stifle the laughter. “loki? isn’t he that greasy haired british villain? no, thank you.” she enunciates the words slowly, conveying her distaste. “b? we’ll have a cat that we will call bee? you’ve gotta see the problem here.” she mocks, running hands through locks in feigned frustration before raising them in defeat. she’s made fun of almost every suggestion he’s given now, so it’s only fair for her to yield eventually, even if only a little. “okay fine, what about this; we call him b, and in my mind, that’ll stand for beelzebub, but you can think it’s for baalberith.” it isn’t anywhere near a good idea, but scarlett and ferris both seem to possess the obstinacy of a bull, so she doubts they’ll get to an agreement any time soon. this cat’s going to be a confused one. “i thought you wouldn’t even believe in ghosts.” she says, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip, hoping the possibility of this place being haunted will lessen if she doesn’t think about it too much. “despite the discomfort that comes to mind at the thought of lying in a tent on a roof, it surprisingly does seem kind of nice.” she admits it leisurely, the idea letting a smile settle on her face. “well, now you’ve told me, so it’s not much of a hideout anymore. at least not from me.” the girl’s eyes gleam, amusement lining her features, and she’s so utterly pleased with herself for knowing his secret now. “ oh, a nice charcoal facial, monsieur. say no more!” she injects a more pretentious intonation as a taunt, though it doesn’t really mask how excited she truly is.
out of pure instinct she gives an eyeroll, let’s her face contort into a mocking grimace, eyes narrowed, and nose scrunched. she gives him the middle finger, knowing that words won’t do much do aid the situation; his haughty demeanor proves that. but after his taunting just doesn’t seem to abate, she has to say something. “please,” she waves a hand, forcing her mouth into a tightlipped expression, “i laugh at everything! i’ll laugh watching an adam sandler movie, so that doesn’t say much about your humor.” she knows she sabotaged herself with that confession but feels it’s better that, than to let him win this and having to endure his mocking for even a second longer. the prospect of not wanting money seems so alien to the blond, she can’t help the look of confusion she so naturally gives at this. but the furrow of her brow soon softens, as she listens to him. “i think it’s good to have something like that, something that fascinates you. to be curious is a great thing. but this seems almost,” there’s a halt, as she tries to choose the right word for this, “-i don’t know, tiring, i guess.” she mutters, lips curling into a smile that seems almost sympathetic, almost sorry for admitting this. maybe it isn’t for him, she thinks, maybe he finds pleasure in never being satisfied with the answers he’s given. it does sound so like ferris, how he described this mighty yearning that seems to be guiding a lot of his actions and thoughts. she can understand this, her own curiosity almost matching his. almost. her kind has less to do with facts- more to do with people. she has this insatiable urge to understand people, their culture, all the technicalities with how their brain works. “that’s probably just me.” she hurries to add, not wanting to come across as judgmental, especially with something that seems so deeply ingrained in the boy’s nature. “that sounds thrilling, though. living the cliche las vegas life! fills you with adrenaline the moment you sit down at that table, no?” she beams, eyes glistening and looking at him like she needs him to be excited with her too. as with many other vices, gambling was something scarlett indulged in, too. you could say that the first few times she went, her motives were riddled with malevolence, knowing she’d garner much attention from the drunk spendthrifts that gathered there. it became less and less about the money as time went on, up until she hit rock bottom. but she doesn’t like to think about that, ignoring how her fingers twitch at the mention of casinos. “me?” she usually had no problem with talking about herself, but this is a sore subject. “i was a waitress in this little diner downtown,” she smiles sheepishly. scarlett doesn’t know why she feels the need to lie just then, she prides herself on her lack of shame, and something so normal as a waitress just doesn’t seem fitting. the guilt that’s been accumulating throughout those years of immorality is something she has pushed into some dark corner of her mind, and it only came out in times like these, where she forced herself to cover the truth. “become an investor and do nothing. you don’t have to actually be unable to do anything, you can be as lazy as you want.” the fervor in his tone when he speaks of life is so evident, it makes her hold her breath for a beat longer before releasing it with a sigh. how could she say anything against that? she can’t disprove his point, it’s entirely subjective and so personal that it’s completely untouchable. not that she wants to doubt his purpose in life, anyway. she isn’t that cruel. “look, i’m pretty sure we’re too different to ever come to a consensus on almost anything,” she gives a casual laugh, features twisting into something kinder than usual. “-so let’s just agree to disagree?” it’s her version of waving a white flag, not really a call for a compromise or a sign of surrender. it’s more of an understanding of each other’s points of view. she clutches at her heart almost like she’s offended. “oh please, people love pretty things! even just looking at something beautiful fills you with tranquility, or at least some emotion. why do you think art exists?” the same reason why people stared at her ass, because they covet beauty, and therefore appreciate beautiful things. “hey, they could be watching from the outside, hence blocking the window. look, i don’t trust this city or its people, so i’d much rather stay paranoid.” she says, matter-of-factly. she’s had to many bad experiences to not play it safe. eyes widen with shock and amusement. “is that supposed to be a rhetorical question?” she watches him with a look of disbelief, as if the question he just asked her wasn’t a result of any real thought process. “okay, even if we aren’t in my room, that’s strike one. for assuming that my décor is universally disliked. that’s just rude!” she tries looking at him sharply, though a snicker seeps through her facade. “if you can be kind, then you shouldn’t even worry about getting a strike. the rule stays.” her tone conveys a sense of certainty, and it’s a staple sign of how she won’t bulge. “don’t worry, i’m not very fast when it comes to reading books, so it wouldn’t be a weekly thing or anything.”
the more scarlett is listening to the boy’s words, the less she feels like she can find it in herself to agree on this. she thought ferris’ cynicism renders him stark against her seeming optimism, but whenever the subject changes from trivialities, it seems as if these roles change with it. “yeah, because tv is great proof,” she mocks with arched brows and small smile, but says nothing else on the subject, instead looks for an answer to his question. she wants to do good because she’s seen her own worst face, not really because of others. she’s even selfish in her kindness, she thinks to herself. “i don’t really know, but i think it sooner makes me lose a bit of hope.” there’s a slight crease in her forehead as she thinks about this further. “well, it’s….” she starts, lips pressing together while her mind is taking ten steps at a time to try and figure out why, despite the similarities, there’s still some contrast. “it’s different with this job. we don’t see the people valentine is hurting. we just know of them, which is far less upsetting.” her voice is colored with weird melancholy, and she gives a cough, straightens her back a bit before going on. she feels the gloomy air alleviate when she can finally laugh again; laugh at how ferris gets worked up talking about something as simple as librarians. she finally gives a nod. “okay, i guess i get it now. it seems pretty isolating, not to mention boring.” she pulls a face of disdain at the thought of the routine that a librarian has. at first glance that job seemed to fit ferris pretty well, but now that she’s talking to him, now that she’s actually hearing him, his thoughts, she can admit her mistake. scarlett is reveling in all the ( direct or indirect ) compliments ferris gives and the ego boost she’s getting isn’t needed or deserved, but it is welcomed. “jazz club owner!” she gasps, the thought never crossing her mind. “oh my god, i love pinot noir. i think you just found my calling, ferris.” the girl beams, mimics his wide smile and presses her hands together, giving a few small soundless claps of excitement. “ah, so that’s an example of a question you want answered in life. the cure for alzheimer’s.” she says with impressed eyes. she feels like she knows him a bit better now. “seems pretty ambitious, but if anyone figures it out, i hope it’s you.” her features soften. despite their teasing, moments of sincerity were sprinkled about their conversation, and though being kind to him sometimes felt a bit weird, it’s far better than the remorse that would wash over her would she dare make fun of something like this. “wine actually helps with anything other than my nerves? thank you for giving me another excuse to drink. and use molly, apparently.” she jests, partially, mentally jolting down said information to serve as a pick-me-up when she’s feeling particularly guilty for having one too many drinks. “your brain seems kind of like…” she pretends to ponder for a moment, though she only pauses for dramatic effect, “- kind of like a library.” she gives a laugh, as loud and spirited as she is, entirely. “horror movies! i want to see which one of those badasses will flinch first.” hands rub together at the thought of the mischievous plan to expose the biggest scaredy cat in the group. she thinks this would be hilarious, and that’s not hard to tell. as the room comes alive with music, she seems as pleased as ever, grin stretching wider than ever. “thank you, ferris!” she beams, grabbing the speakers and unplugging them in one swift move. she blows him a kiss of gratitude, waves, and then she’s gone.
