Valentine feels a little bit like they're back in high school. They're dressed to the absolute twos in a secondhand Warped Tour shirt that's a few sizes too big, beat-up stonewashed jeans that're a few sizes too small, and a pair of checkered Vans that have seen better days.
Most of those better days were twenty years ago.
They're only dressed in their aughts-core worst because the instructions for the pottery course had said to wear something they don't mind destroying, and these items all came... let's say pre-distressed, when Val bought them. Sometime around 2008.
They're sitting alone, in the back of the studio, drumming their long, spindly nails on their plastic-wrapped block of clay as they wait impatiently for more students to show up. But it's not that they're particularly interested in making pottery, or even in making friends.
No, they're here because the roster for this class had included the name of one Wade Wilson - and Valentine is interested to see which one.
Wheelie practically runs into class about a few minutes before it starts. He’s in an old twenty one pilots shirt that is finally a bit tight on him and tattered blue jeans. It’s wearing his Deadpooling boots but he’s pretty sure if they can survive blood and guts, they can survive clay.
He’s been toying with the idea of more hobbies for ages and of course when he finally books a class, he ends up having a job the same morning. The speed he threatened that abusive loner at should go in a history book or something.
It looks around for somewhere to sit where contact with people is minimalish. Middle aged mums are a no go coz they almost end up screaming at the sight of his face and same with old ladies like 80 above. There’s a few young people but they all look far too chatty and it is not up to date on Tiktok trends. Eventually, his eyes settle on the emoish person at the back of the studio. They look like they won’t scream and they hopefully won’t talk much. They also look kinda cute.
He makes it’s way to the back and sits near them, not close enough that it’s creepy but also not far enough that someone else will sit between and creep him out.
“Hey, nice shirt,” it says casually, trying to make some kind of conversation so it isn’t awkward.
