CLOSED FOR @resoluticns
"Mm, okay, how about this?” Dylan wet his lips as he neared Lane 4, glancing briefly to the television above that displayed his and Marina’s similarly abysmal scores. He shook his head, setting down the fresh pitcher of beer before sliding into the plastic seat across from the blonde. “You’re stuck on a deserted island and you can only take one book and one item with you -- what’s it gonna be?” Slouching back in his seat, Dylan sunk low into the revolving chair, used to the weird slide and give they had attached to the tables that were so aptly decorated with neon paint splatters -- the bowling alley wouldn’t be called Cosmic Lanes without the appropriate 80s space theme.
It’d only been about an hour since Dylan first let Marina into the bowling alley after hours, but the second empty pitcher on their table and mess of cheap, cheesy nachos proved they weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon, either. Dylan had nowhere to go, but he knew that eventually Marina would be called away by family or an internal obligation. It always happened the same; she’d get a text or check her phone and when she saw the time, she was rushing off. It wasn’t a bad thing, but Dylan just couldn’t relate. He probably could’ve spent the night in Cosmic Lanes, conked out in one of the uncomfortable booths in the food court and no one would’ve given a shit as long as he out by eleven for his math course. “Whose frame is it?” He asked, sleepy brown eyes drifting towards the bright lanes, black light illuminating the decals on the back wall.