#ingrid 001

[caylabarker]

@ingridhvwk

Cayla had been watching the whole time. It should have felt wrong, but it didn't-- She had been watching Tommy from the other side of a screen for years. She was even liveblogging their conversation on Tumblr, with Raven urging her to go interrupt them, but something had felt... off. Maybe it was the fact that Tommy looked quieter than Cayla had ever seen him, or the fact that Ingrid looked viscerally upset. She had chalked it up to the points drop at first, but he was back where he had started-- Cayla made sure of that.

Nothing made sense about it, so she had hung out by the cash register and snacked on her fries so she could watch them a little longer, occassionally exchanging glances with the cashier. Is that Tommy Price? the cashier asked with her eyes. YES!!!!! Cayla answered back with her eyebrows.

Eventually, though, the conversation had rose in pitch, and Ingrid had started crying, and Cayla knew something was up. She didn't want to believe that Tommy could do anything cruel, especially not to Ingrid, but this was 2019. Any man could be an asshole.

Cayla watched with a frown as Tommy left Ingrid crying at their table.

"What the hell?" the waitress whispered.

Cayla didn't like the way the woman was staring after Tommy like he'd done something wrong. It was one thing for her to doubt Tommy, a complete other thing for someone else.

"He almost died tonight," Cayla snapped. "Give him a break." She took the stack of napkins on her tray. "Hold on, I'll be right back."

It felt even worse to be approaching Ingrid now, but Cayla knew that she would never stop wondering if she didn't find out what had gone down tonight. Even worse, Sky would probably kill her if she found out that Cayla had ignored a sobbing Ingrid in a Burger King.

"Um..." Cayla hesitated a couple seats away from Ingrid, unsure what to say. Sorry, it looks like my idol dumped you. Anything I can do? No, it would be better to pretend not to know who Ingrid was at all.

"Ma'am..." Cayla began, taking a tentative step forward. "Are you alright?" She help up the napkins like a peace offering.

[atozadani]

@ingridhvwk

None of these idiots knew how to dance.

The hot press of bodies, the music pumping over the loud speaker, the way the crowd writhed together on the dance floor-- Annissa didn't have anything against a little bump and grind, when the occassion called for it, but it hardly fit the theme.

Then again, neither did Annissa. She had made a big splash in her entrance outfit, but even after the night grew hot and she'd taken off her traditional gown, the simple sheath dress underneath was starkly out of place.

Much like Annissa herself would have been in a party like this, which was entirely the point.

Still, Annissa thought crossly as she pushed her way to the DJ booth. It was bad enough that white people stole jazz music, did they have to disrespect it like this?

After slipping the DJ a hundred and a scribbled "recommendation", Annissa grabbed the microphone from the front of the booth. As the tribal thump of drums from the club music wound into a close, Annissa waved her free hand in the air.

"Okay, you Oliver Twists, settle down. Now, I don't know if you heard but this is supposed to be a real party." On cue, the horns started up, slow and sonorous, behind her. The beginning of a real barnburner of a brass band. Annissa's smile grew a little more genuine. "So I'm going to teach you to really know your onions. I just need a volunteer real quick."

Annissa searched the crowd. "You," she said, pointing at a girl with brunette hair pinned up under a beret. "You look like a nice bit of calico, get up here."