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Log Title: Bullets at Fault

Log setting: The playground in the city park.

Log Cast:
Trace
Jason
Jean-Batiste
Catherine
Ryan

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Trace walks with his head lowered slightly, a casual amble aimed towards the playground, his ultimate goal being little fort hidden in the bushes. His braids swing in time to his steps.

Jason's perched at the top of the castle, looking like nothing so much as a red-haired raven. He sits back on his heels, his coat and hair blowing lightly about him, green eyes watchful. With your eyes down like that, he definitely sees you before you see him. As you're just about to go through the bushes, after you've traversed the entire length of the playground under his gaze (crooked smile and sparkling eyes, he's amused - as always), he calls out, "Gettin' the last of your stuff, huh?" Nothing in his tone to indicate anything weird just went on the other night and he got chased out of Walker's. Well, he /would/ have been chased out, had he not left right before that point.

Trace whirls around, startled, and scans the playground for the owner of the familiar voice. His wide hazel eyes touch the trees first, interestingly enough, as though his first thought was to find you nestled up there among the leaves and fruit. Finally he picks your figure out from atop the castle and smiles a little. He shoos the smile away. Bad Jason, yeah. But it creeps back a little, around the corners of his mouth. Wandering back to the castle, he calls up, "Just checking on something. Gonna see how bad the mattress in there was... Even though I know it's gonna be just too gross for our new apartment. Fulla bugs n' stuff, probably." He feels slightly traitorous, because he's glad to see you and can't help it. "Kin' I come up?"

Jason tilts his head to one side, only reinforcing that animalistic aura about him right now. "I dunno... kin ya?" He giggles, then points to the ladder. "Only if you can figure that thing out. It's a pain in the ass." A playful wink, and then he looks to the fort. "You know, there's this pesky rumor that you can go to thrift stores and get a whole, clean mattress for like... /twenty/ dollars!" He gasps and looks at you, as if surprising himself. "Imagine that! A clean mattress for cheap!"

Trace giggles a little, clambering up the ladder slowly, and finally managing to pull himself up on top of the castle's platform. He pulls his legs crosslegged in front of him. "Yeah... yeah, we were talkin' about gettin' out to some garage sales and, y'know, thrift stores... Definitely gonna do a little pickin' when the Tulane kids get let out for their summer symester break. College kids throw out all kindsa neat shit." That's it, let's just avoid the obvious topic for now and pretend awhile. His pupils are constricted, too much so considering the dim light, but he seems alert and level-headed inspite of it.

Jason grins and nodnods. "Beer stains and other unidentifiable marks. Go by the rich dorms.." His own eyes have that unnaturally bright look about them that they had the other night, that need to get into some sort of mischief. But he doesn't look so... malevolent tonight. He reaches out and plays absently with one of your braids, twisting it between his fingers, expression going thoughtful. "So, Bat find a place yet?"

Trace nodnods shyly, letting his braids get played with. *Such* a traitor. "Yeah.... yeah, it's really nice. It's perfect. Wait til' you see the door. It's like... like colorful trip, or maybe a fruitopia commercial before they all got stupid... And the eye-hole, that's the coolest." He figits with one of his shoelaces that has come undone, tying, tugging gently. When he peeks up at you, he asks, "Did you.. sleep here last night?"

Jason giggles. "Oh cool, when you gonna move your stuff?" Jason doesn't care about traitors. Or that he's making you one. Just keeps playing with your hair. "What's up with the eyehole? And can you paint the inside? Like... every room. I think I had an idea fer the bathroom, 'cept I dunno what it is now." And then he giggles. "No, silly, the boards are too hard. I like trees better." He tosses his head a little, gesturing towards the trees behind him. "Lotsa people look down, no one ever looks up."

"Well, I mean, I just went there for the first time this afternoon..." Trace shrugs. "The eye-hole's really neat. There's this... well, this eye drawn around it.." He considers, then just decides, "You have to see it. And I'd *love* to help paint it inside. Gotta wait til' Batiste talks with the landlord, though. I bet it's fine... Door got painted, after all."

Jason grins, his fingers plucking up another one of your braids to play with. It really must be fascinating, because that's where his eyes are. "When're we gonna do Walk's room anyhow? 'R has that been put on hold fer now?" And then a question strikes him, lighting his eyes up. "What floor we on? Can we make noise? People gonna stomp on our ceiling?"

Trace chuckles. That had been one of his first questions, too. "We can make as much noise as we like. Actually, it's like we're sorta... right on top of this gay night club, right? So we're gonna have a hard time matchin' that for noise, and can pretty much scream at the top've our lungs without botherin' anybody. A lot of music'll get through the walls. Which is fine, coz I don't got the money for a CD player or nothin, so free music, right? And I sleep heavy.." He goes tentatively back to the first question. "And the mural for Walker...." Okay, enough. "Well, I was afraid we'd have to do it without your music coz we have to do it soon, but I really wanted you piping there, and..." he takes a breath. "Well. It's just that Walker and Batiste are kinda pissed at you... They -- I mean, you scared 'em..." He peeks up, and says softly, "I'm not mad. But... But then, I'm real hard to piss off, when it comes to my closest friends..."

Jason positively lights up when you tell him where the apartment is. Oh, god, Jason's just going to be in his element over a nightclub. He lets out a soft giggle - which dies pretty fast when you tell him you're doing the mural without him. He sort of freezes as you talk, getting this hurt, betrayed look. You feel his hand start to slip away from you, but then you tell him that you're not mad and why and, while he doesn't look cheerful again, he does give you a soft, private smile, his fingers touching your face a moment before finally withdrawing. You know, if you hadn't told him that he was out on the mural, he'd probably be beaming from being called one of your closest friends.

Trace sighs. "Look, if you'd just... I mean.. If you could just talk to them sometime, and let them know you didn't mean to *scare* anybody... I mean, you didn't mean that right? If you just let 'em understand it was just a prank and you're sorry..." He trails off. Starts over. "You know I want you there. It won't be half so nice without your music in it. So you gotta... fix things. You know? Because I don't like this, not at all.."

Jason blinkblinks a little, like he really doesn't know what you're talking about. "I didn' mean ta scare anyone with what? Last night? All I did was turn out the lights... Dunno why they got so pissed at that..." Well, at least he seems genuinely baffled. "What should I fix when I don' know what really got broke and all?" He gives a shrug, then a smile. Does he take /anything/ seriously? Well, except for following bitchy boys with knives.

Trace looks at you with stark confusion now, and slight disturbance... "Jason.... Jason, you *tied* them. Around their *throats*, and their chests and legs, and I don't know how you did it but you scared *everybody*.... Walker hurt himself trying to get free. His ribs are all bruised, and his back... And, and Batiste, I'm not sure why he flipped out, but he kept saying it could've killed someone, which I don't think is true, but he swears it. He was *shaking*, and I'd never seen him that way. I think maybe... someone tied him, and... something, I don't know. But you really twisted up something inside him when you did that." He licks his lips nervously, and then purses them. His look is imploring, and his rambling falls into a silence as he waits.

Jason tilts his head a little as you go on, blinking slowly. It's like talking to a dog or something, you're not quite sure if they understand, but you know he's listening - even if he's twirling his braid around his finger like an airhead. After a few moments of silence, he hmms, then shrugs. "Dunno why everyone thinks /I/ did it," he mutters, sort of sullenly. And then he offers up with a smile, "But Walker /likes/ whips and ropes, right?"

Jean-Batiste steps in from the park.

In the approaching sunset - unless the two of you have decided on a different time - Batiste walks quietly into the playground, crunching on an apple every few steps. He's without his backpack, free hand dug loosely into a pocket.

From where he sits up in the castle with Jason, Trace calmly shakes his head in soft, stern disagreement. "No, no... I mean, it's *totally* besides the point, but I think he likes it when he's the one in control. And when he was telling me about Hell, he talked a lot about how he liked it because you could, you could, y'know, express yourself sexually *with someone who consented*... He seemed like that part was real important. Now you tryin' to tell me you didn't do it? Who was it, me? Or Batiste, who was all stoned off his ass til you went and killed his buzz? What about Ben and Walker, was that like some magic Houdini trick, tyin' 'emselves up at the same time, so completely?" He's a bit exasperated that you'd deny it. He'd expected that you would make light of it -- even still claim it was only a prank, and it's their fault for taking it seriously! But he didn't expect what seems like an obvious lie...

Jason shrugs a little again, then murmurs, "Kinda a Houdini trick me tyin' 'em up all at once like that, don'tcha think?" But then he grins again, despite the disapproval on Trace's face. "*I* thought they'd enjoy a little Houdini." Well, there's Jason for you, deception for deception's sake, and /then/ the making light. You have to realize, he's got to hit all the bases on his way around. "Was perfectly safe 'til Walker went an' hurt himself. Prolly helped his mood tons, too. Sheesh." He heaves a sigh, like 'what fools these mortals be' or something, then looks out over the park. And, oh look! It's Batiste. His other fan from last night. He gets a bright grin and wavewaves to get the approaching boy's attention.

When Jason sits up and waves, Trace follows his gaze and spots Batiste. He covers his eyes, with a look like 'oh NO... Down, Jason, *please* look somewhat contrite.'

Jean-Batiste's attention is already on the wooden castle, his steps stilled. He chews his bite of apple about twenty times more than is necessary, reducing it to paste before finally swallowing and stuffing the half-eaten apple into his pocket. His expression is very cool and even, the poker face kept from perfection by a touch of confusion or hurt. "There was nothing perfectly safe about it," he notes, approaching the castle a few steps. "-Nothing-. Benjamin woke up with bruises on his throat, Jason. You nearly -strangled- him. He can't remember what happened, that's how -safe- it all was."

Trace blinks. He hadn't known about Ben's bruises, the man had fled so quickly the next afternoon.. "He's right, Jason," Trace argues diplomatically. "Just... you shouldn't have. I know you were only teasing, and you didn't mean to hurt anyone, but... I mean, it's *done*, so just..." He trails off, the plea bright in his eyes. Fix things.

Jason rolls his eyes a little and smirks slightly. Mostly to himself, considering no one /else/ seems to appreciate the humor in all of this. "He jus' hasn' tried hard 'nuff s'all. 'Memberin's the easy part." He looks to Trace as the other boy speaks and blinks slowly. Once more, is he /getting/ it? "But /I/ didn' hurt no one..." He heaves a sigh. No one understands poor Jason. He then nods with a one-shouldered shrug. "Yer right, though, s'done. Over with. Finito." He nodnods with finality. There, all done. He grins down to Batiste. "When're we gonna do the mural?"

Catherine steps in from the park.

Catherine comes slowly walking onto the playground, ambling around aimlessly it seems as she is lost in thought and just goes where her feet take her. She watches a few children play at the jungle gym, and she smiles, then starts to head over to the swings, and picks one that isn't in use.

Jean-Batiste's jaw shifts a little as he stares up at Jason, the expression growing cooler, approaching a glare. "No, Jason," he replies, dripping sarcasm. "Of -course- you didn't hurt no one. And if you pointed a gun at someone and shot them, it wasn't -you-, it was the -bullet's- fault, right? Give me a break." He shakes his head slowly, disbelieving. "You laughed at it, Jason. Like it was a joke. Someone could have been killed."

Catherine looks up towards the castle, as she begins to swing a little, hearing the raised voices, and a slight frown furrows on her brows as she sees who is up there, or rather, what they seem to be talking about.

Trace bites his lip and wants to hug Batiste right now, he looks so cold and unlike himself.... but Batiste's way down there. He figits where he sits. "Jason, you gotta do better'n that. Don't you care at all that you hurt Walker and Ben?" Wait, no, that's not gonna work. He tries to rephrase. "I mean.. Do you care that your joke didn't work out as you wanted, and people got scared and.. reacted not like you thought they would?"

Jason blinks a little, head tilting. You know, some people are a lot of fun when they're pissed off. But for some reason, Batiste isn't one of those people... maybe it's because Jason actually seems to give a damn. He chews on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, then murmurs, tone more subdued, "Only coulda died if the house caught fire 'fore they got out." A more half-hearted, almost sullen defense. He looks back to Trace. "You two shoulda been flyin', ya know... Woulda been fine if ya didn' come upstairs." He gives Batiste a genuinely pained look now - yes, Jason gives a damn - and murmurs, "Then you wouldn't be so mad at me right now."

Catherine remains very quiet as she starts to listen to what is going on at the castle, and she stops her swinging to keep very quiet, so she won't be heard. Of course, that's the moment her phone chooses to go off. Hurriedly, she pulls it out of her pocket.

Catherine removes her cellular, flipping it open to answer the call.

Jason's head suddenly cocks to one side at the sound, then his eyes dart to the swingset and the lone girl. Uh-oh, someone's been eavesdropping on a private conversation. Jason's eyes narrow slightly.

Jean-Batiste's eyes go a bit flinty as he stares back at Jason's pained look. "I think it might have upset me a -little- to come upstairs and find you giggling at a couple of corpses," he says. "Call it a hunch." No, Batiste has -no- humour about the situation whatsoever. "They were -strangling-, Jason. You know that thing that happens when you can't breathe?" He looks away, grinding his teeth for a second to calm himself, pulling his half-eaten apple out and taking a loud bite of it. "Ben's a prof. He sort of -needs- those braincells you were killing off so nonchalantly." Another loud crunch - at least it gives him something to chew on other than his tongue.

Catherine whispers very softly into the phone, looking up as she does, and she blinks a moment as she ends up looking Jason straight into the eyes. She quickly looks down at her feet again, and continues her hushed conversation with the person on the phone.

Trace watches Batiste attack the apple for a moment, glances at the intruder but doesn't seem as offended by her presence as Jason. Doesn't care much, really -- there's other matters demanding his attention. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again. He'd only be repeating himself. He can't make Jason sorry about anything. He curls in on himself closer, hugging his legs to his chest.

Oh, screw the eavesdropper, Batiste is being unreasonable (and Jason is the bastion of rationality here). Jason frowns down at the boy. "Oh, come off it, Bat, they were breathing fine. I woulda let 'em go earlier if they weren't." But then he smirks. "S'a good thing that Benji don' kill off his /own/ braincells by jus' hangin out with us when the smoke starts flowin', don'tcha think?" He then heaves a sigh and says simply, "Look, sorry you got freaked out, but..." He shrugs. How much concession can he make to Trace when the accusations against him suddenly become totally unreasonable to Jason's ears. Jason's ears, mind you - not your normal ears.

Well, he said sorry. It's a start -- though Trace doubts it will fly as he looks down at Batiste, to check his reaction.

Catherine giggles very softly over something, and seems to have forgotten most of what is happening a little further away at the castle. She speaks softly into the phone and her mood seems quite lifted already.

Jean-Batiste carefully swallows down a mouthful of apple, eyes flaring for a second before he takes in a breath and tries to collect himself. "They -weren't- breathing fine, Jason. If you'd stopped laughing for a second, you might've realized it." Another bite, a smaller one, then, "Sorry but what? It wasn't your fault? You don't do shit like that to people without their permission, and you sure as hell don't hang them like that and then -leave-." He shakes his head, then asks softer, "How could you do it? How could you do it and then...and then..." He gestures angrily for the word, throwing his apple away in frustration. "And then -laugh- like that, like it was funny?" He shakes his head at Jason, disbelieving.

Catherine looks a little startled back up towards the castle as a half eaten apple suddenly falls on the ground before her feet, a slight frown as she tries to make out who threw that at her. She is still talking quietly on the phone.

Catherine clicks her cellular to disconnect the call and hangs up.

Jason frowns slightly, again chewing on the inside of his lip in thought. Well.. hmm. He obviously can't answer the questions that Batiste seems to shoot out rapid-fire like that. So he just addresses a minor little issue, "But if I asked 'em first, then it wouldn't've been a surprise..."

Ryan Bordreaux steps in from the park.

Trace looks at Batiste, moved. And Jason's answer turns his stomach. He doesn't care? True that himself and Batiste know Walker and Benjamin better than Jason, but that doesn't forgive last night's chaos. He purses his lips, still with nothing to say, but realizes that Batiste is absolutely right there. The laughter was terrible, this continued denial is terrible, and he's suddenly very tired of playing diplomat. "Sorry, Jason.." he mumbles softly as he lugs himself to his feet and starts down the ladder. "Woulda' liked to've had you pipe to our mural..." He feels that he tried.. but what can he do, if Jason remains so immovable? Sorrow knots in his throat as his feet touch the grass. This wasn't at all what he'd hoped for..

Catherine sits quietly on the swing, looking over towards the castle, but occasionally looking towards the entrance to the playground. When Ryan comes walking in, she smiles brightly and she gets up from the swing to hurry over towards him, putting her arms around him tightly to give him a warm hug, and she says softly, "Hi Ryan.."

Ryan Bordreaux materializes from out of the circle of trees with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets and quietly whistling some old Doors song to himself. He grins and stops whistling when he spots Catherine, taking his arms out of his pockets and opening them up to allow her to cuddle around his waist as his own arms wrap about her and return the hug, "Howdy sweetheart, how are ya? Sorry I took so long I had ta drop someone off."

Jean-Batiste takes in another deep breath and stares down at the grass, trying to remain calm. His shoulders are set in bony tension, fingers dug down into his pockets to try and keep them from fidgeting. His breath hitches in, and he shakes his head, looking up at Jason through pale braids. "Yeah, there's about a dozen things you -could- have done differently, and none of this would have happened," he agrees. "You didn't, though. And you're not even sorry about it, now. I just..." He swallows hard, teeth gritted. "I just really can't believe it, Jason. I thought...I thought I knew you better than that." He looks hurt and confused and defeated, shaking his head again as he looks away.

Jason's eyes go to Trace as he moves, then blinks slowly. Wait, he's leaving. And... he's off the mural thing. Another look to Batiste. And that one's certainly not changing his stance. He blinks again. /Now/ he's thinking about it finally. It's punishment/reward, and the punishment just grew to something harsh enough to force him to change his behavior. "Um, wait..." he says softly, but not without a trace of a slowly rising panic. "Look, um... it won' happen again, I /swear/. I think I was a little goofy from sumthin' I had earlier, 'n..." His voice drifts off, his lip beginning to get gnawed. These things always devolve into two against one.

Trace takes up a position beside Batiste, literally and otherwise, slipping a hand onto his friend's tense forearm. He says softly to Jason, "You still on it now? Because I'd like ta think all this is somethin' else makin' ya talk like ya don't care about nothin." He licks his dry lips, hating everything that's happening right now. "Nothin' I want more right now 'n to forgive you and patch all this up, but shit... how d'you 'spect us to when you're not even sorry?"

Jean-Batiste swallows hard, and leans into Trace a little, bumping shoulders with his friend. "Please," he murmurs, not looking up, voice close to a whisper. "I don't want this to happen, but..." He looks up at Jason, his youthful face home to ancient, pleading eyes. "How can we trust you, how...how can we feel safe around you, if you can do something like last night and not even feel bad about it?"

(Incomplete)

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