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Log Title: Evening with the Family

Log setting: It is Thursday, June 14th, 2001, in Walker’s home.

Log Cast:
Trace
Glass
Jean-Batiste
Jason
Walker
Ben
Starlight

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Glass waves back at Trace and parks behind the Beetle. He kills the engine, which has got to be a relief.

Trace loiters about until you make your way up the steps, murmuring, "Hi, Doug... What's going on?" He reaches for the doorknob again.

Glass climbs out of the car and slams the door, heading up the walk behind you. He shrugs a little, "Nothing much. How you doing?" He's carrying a thick manila envelope.

Trace lifts his shoulders in a vague shrug, murmuring evasively, "I jest had to go out." He tugs the door open and waves you on in. "I *think* everyone's in there... Should be, anyway."

Glass nods, "Okay. I understand." He steps inside.
Glass opens the door to the grey house marked 613 and steps inside.

First Floor - Grey House

Glass steps inside when Trace opens the door. He's carrying a thick page-sized manila envelope.

Jean-Batiste sits in the kitchen with Ben, drinking hot, spiced tea. He looks a little bleary but he's smiling contentedly. Something Ben's just said has him mildly embarrassed, but rather than just let the blush spread across his face unchallenged, he replies to the professor, "You wouldn't wake us up. We'd be listening for it." He drowns his grin in another drink of tea.

Trace hollers out with vague cheer, "Avon calling!" and jostling the door shut behind him and trailing on down the hall after Glass. Striding into the livingroom, he quips, "Right now if you buy our new blusher, you get your very own Doug absolutely free!"

Glass smiles, "Plus postage and handling."

"Well, naturally," Trace agrees with a grin.

Benjamin laughs lightly into his own cup, sitting lightly on a kitchen chair turned backwards. "Sickos," he pronounces softly to Batiste, then turns and peeks over his shoulder at the latest entrants. "I already have a blusher, unfortunately," he calls with a laugh, tilting his head to indicate Bat.

Jean-Batiste laughs softly, looking towards the door. "Hey, you two..." he calls towards the entry, licking a runaway drop of tea off the corner of his mouth. "What colour blush is it? Is it coral or pink? I simply -can't- wear pink..." Blushing? Who? Not him. The tea's turned his cheeks rosy, honest. He has oceanside property in Arizona for you, too.

Trace mms and leans his cheek against the frame of the kitchen's entrance, his considering eyes on his friend in blonde braids. "Batiste Blush Colored. Which is *quite* pink, let me tell ya, so I guess you don't get no free Doug." He giggles and moves further into the room, crossing it to reach the fridge. He tugs the door open and rummages about inside.

Benjamin sips his tea with mirth lounging in his dark eyes, over the rim. "I suppose we will have to pay for our Doug, then," he confides to Batiste. "Do you suppose we can pay in tea, or perhaps spaghetti?"

Jean-Batiste laughs, rubbing self-consciously at his cheek as he does. He gives Trace a raspberry on the sly - thbt! - and then leans conspiratorially towards Ben, eyeing up Glass if he's moved around the corner of the entry. "I hear he's a real softy for clove cigarettes..." he counter-confides in Ben. "I bet with one of those and some tea, it'd be a done deal." He laughs again, then starts to cough lightly, setting his tea down so he doesn't spill it.

Glass smiles, "Maybe. For how long?" He steps over and picks up Batiste's teacup, sniffs it, and asks, "What kind of tea is it?" before putting the cup back down. "And is there any food?"

"Come look yerself, lazy thing!" Trace chuckles, ever the helpful one. Pulling a water bottle from the fridge, he nudges it closed and moves back across the room. He fumbles clumsily with the lid of the bottle. Damn lids never wanna come off nice for him.

Benjamin pats his back pockets absently, trying to discover where he hid his cigarettes. Though, he had just come from work, it's looking like he didn't bring them at all, Which causes a frown, because now that Bat has mentioned them, a licorice-clove does sound awfully good. "It's just regular tea... there's some honey and nutmeg for it, there," he calls into the kitchen. "And leftover spaghetti."

The tea is 'normal' black tea, sweetened with honey, spiced up with nutmeg. It smells good, as long as you like tea, and all. Batiste reaches for the mug once Glass has put it down again, clears his throat, then drinks some of the soothing liquid down. "It's good, you should try some," he murmurs to Glass. His eyes trail over to Trace, and linger there for a while, a thoughtful smile coming to his face.

Glass looks over at Trace, affecting an innocent expression, "Me? Look in Walker's fridge? I couldn't do that. " He smiles at Batiste, "It smells good. Is there a pot of it, or just hot water?"

Benjamin rubs at his goatee absently with one hand, sipping and watching the boys' interaction, quietly. Family's converging again, and he has to remember how to act. It's been a couple of entire weeks since he's been able to spend much time with them, after all, and that's plenty of time for a Ben to forget his role.

Jason never bothers knocking you know. He just flings the door open and bounds inside, humming something spritely to himself. The door slams shut with a push from his heel, rattling the front window, and he sings out, "Is anybody ouuuuut there?" Then, with a bright giggle, he trots towards the sounds of people in the kitchen. Peering around the corner, he flashes you all a bright, sideways smile. "Y'all been hiding from me, ain'tcha?" Wow, cheerful today.

Jean-Batiste shakes his head a little at Glass and stands up, touching his hand down on Ben's shoulder as he does. "Just hot water...I'll make you some, I need a refill anyways." He starts towards the stove and the tea condiments arranged nearby, calling back softly to Ben as he walks, "Ben, you want some more, too?" He's reaching into the cupboard when Jason makes his cheery, noisy arrival, and looks over with a sudden grin on his face. "Hey, you," he murmurs. Putting the mug down, he adds, "I think you're the one who's been hiding, mister." More grinning.

Trace rolls his eyes, "Everybody looks in Walker's fridge lately, that's jest the way've things." He grins as the lid finally gives gives, even if it has left some red lines and soreness on his palms from the effort. A long drink is thoroughly enjoyed, all in one stretch, so that the bottle caves in a little and then thunks back to its original shape once he finally lowers it away from his lips and runs the back of his hand across his mouth. At Jason's appearance, he chuckles and murmurs amusedly, "Yeah, well we were thinkin', y'know of all the places to hide, I mean *Walker's*... Who'd look fer us there, y'know?" He grins brightly.

Glass turns and looks at Jason. He grins. "I was hiding from you. I dreamed you came after me with an ax. And then, and then a toe-eater grabbed you and said it was your twin brother. Batiste had to tell me it wasn't real."

"No, thanks, I'm fine," Ben calls back, still having half a cup of tea in his mug. Jason's arrival causes a lifting of the smile, cocking his head to consider the boy thoughtfully. Some new angle, maybe, that he hadn't seen before. New clothes? Brighter teeth? Something in the general mouth/shirtfront area.

Jason sticks his tongue out at Batiste, then turns a crooked grin on Glass as he slips all the way into the kitchen, eyes twinkling. "Well, that's what he /says/. I was jus' kinda ticked you ran faster 'n I thought." He winks playfully, already wandering over to Batiste to give the older boy a quick, one-armed hug with a cheek pressed against the other's shoulder. Then he pulls away before anything can be returned and bounds over to the 'fridge. "Anythin' left?" he chirps at Trace.

Jean-Batiste reaches out to return Jason's hug, but the redhead's already bounded away to the fridge, so he drops his hand to the empty tea mug and starts filling it with hot water. "Beware the vicious toe-eaters..." he murmurs, grinning over at Glass. "Yeah, you were pretty convinced. But, like I told you. Jason wouldn't use an axe, he'd use a chainsaw painted electric blue or chartreuse or something." He nods to that - see? Makes perfect sense.

Glass nods to Batiste, "Yeah. I realize now that it was just all a dream." He takes a seat near Benjamin and smiles at him.

Trace smiles. "Fruitopia... Milk, blech. Oranges and peaches, and some cheeses left over from what we didn't eat at the picnic. Leftovers. Uh." He glances towards the fridge. "Chinese leftovers, which gotta get special mention because Chinese is so good. Dunno what else, ya gotta look yerself. Prolly just mostly scary half-decomposed Walkerstuff left from before we moved in."

Jason calls over his shoulder, "Polka dots!" as he dives into the 'fridge and starts moving stuff around. After quite a bit of noise, he finally pops back up with... an apple. Oh well. He shuts the 'fridge with a bump from his hip, then bounces back to where Batiste is sitting, pausing to ruffle Trace's blue braids as he passes. "Why was I chasin' ya?" he asks of Glass, grinning, then takes a big bite out of the fruit in his hand.

Benjamin inspection of what's completely not new and different about Jason is interrupted as Glass sits nearby, and he's caught completely off-guard at his new tablemate. Either he wasn't anticipating the need to speak again so quickly, or he's just terribly surprised at who it is he needs to speak to now. At least Jason picks up his end of the conversation again, and Ben is mercifully relieved of the burden of needing to come up with something to say. He merely smiles beningly.

Glass looks at Jason, wide eyed with mock solemnity, "You wanted to chop off my toes to feed to your toe-eater brother, I think. And then you were gonna stab my eyeballs with little straws and suck out the juices." He smiles.

"Ick," Trace comments, wrinkling his nose. "That's pretty nasty, Glass. Whatever the hell you dropped t'see all that, y'jest keep it t'yerself, kay?" He grins.

Glass looks at Trace, "I didn't drop nothin'. I'm just making it up."

"Jest joking anyway," Trace points out with a little smile.

Jason ooohs and settles himself next to Batiste after a playful butt-bump to the other's arm, chewing and swallowing the apple-chunk. "Yup, that sounds like me, I think." He giggles brightly, then peers down at his shirt. He frowns a moment, then leans over to whisper to Batiste, "I got sumthin' in my teeth or sumthin?" He flashes a big toothy grin for inspection.

Jean-Batiste was busy all this time just mixing up tea. Honest. He mixes up his own mugful, as well as one for Jason and Glass, delivering the steaming mugs to them, Jason first, then Glass. He returns to grab his own from the counter, sipping from it as he returns to Jason's side, and peers down at the redhead's mouth, trying to look so very serious about it. "I think there's a baby toe in there..." he murmurs, trying to stifle a laugh.

Glass yelps, "Aiiap! He -is- a toe-eater!" He backs away from Jason's general direction, his chair thumping a little as it doesn't exactly glide over the floor.

Jason ohs! and grins happily, running his tongue along his upper teeth. "Jus' wonderin'." He takes another happy chomp of the apple, chews, then swallows and leans over the table towards Ben with a grin. "What /were/ ya lookin' at anyhow? I got some kinda stain goin' on 'r sumthin?"

Jason snaps his teeth playfully at Glass, eyes lowering to the other's feet beneath the table.

Trace hmms and peers around to find that he's the only one standing. But there's no chairs left. It's between sitting on the counter, the table itself, or stealing Bat's seat while he's up getting tea for the others, he supposes, but seeing as how he doesn't want to be a nuisance he chooses option one, setting his bottle of water down a moment to heft himself up onto it and let his legs dangle down, swinging them a little. Little slender clappers inside the huge oversized bells of his jeans. His eyes flicker from Jason to Ben, watching for the answer. Nothing particularly new about Jason is jumping out at *him* after all.

Glass yipes and folds his legs up under him, sitting on his boots. That can't be comfortable. He stares at Jason in mock terror.

Benjamin giggles quietly to himself as well, trying to follow the discussion and only mildly succeeding. He flutters long doe-lashes at Jason for a moment before realizing how utterly wrong that must look on him, and squelches it immediately. The stern professorial frown he puts on next is much more suitable, indeed. "Mm, no, not now you don't."

Jean-Batiste drapes an arm around Jason's shoulders - if Jason permits, of course - and sighs mock-sadly at Glass. "I know where he hides the chartreuse chainsaw," he admits. He looks over at Trace, and waves him over with a smile. "Hey, come over here..." he invites, pulling his abandoned chair towards him with his foot.

Jason pops in after the chainsaw comment with, "With polka dots!" And then giggles softly, resting his head back against Batiste's draped arm. He chomps more apple, then asks of Ben, "So what was that look fer when I came in, huh?"

Benjamin lifts one shoulder in an idle shrug, with a sip of the tea. Ever so elegant, of course. Ever so proper. "Just looking," he murmurs. "Perhaps I'm just a lecherous old man, and I'm only here to ogle these fine young things." Completely, totally blase and blank.

Uh-oh, piqued curiosity. Jason give Ben a pouty look, brushing some hair back over his shoulder. Brows furrowed, he asks plaintatively, "No, c'mon, what were you lookin' at??" Hey, this is a self-image issue with a 15 year-old.

Jean-Batiste giggles softly, and murmurs sotto voce to Jason, "He wants your polka dots, man." He poses a bit for Ben, giving him a completely overdone sultry look that lasts for about three seconds before he laughs. "Oh, Ben," he murmurs, "you're not -that- old..." Just a little old, you know?

Benjamin coughs quietly, holding his teacup in both hands. If he were sitting in the chair the right way, he could lean back, but... alas, he has to lean forward, technically closer to the young tempters of his deviant, ancient lusts. Uhhh huh. "I was considering an image of you," he tells Jason in a smooth, low murmur, "That Walker described, which he'd dreamed of."

Glass looks at Benjamin with interest.

If Jason had ears, they'd perk. His eyes spark as he tilts his head, brows raising. Setting the apple down, he asks, "What'd he dream?" His tone sort of gives no option for denying an answer.

Trace slips off the counter and trots on over to the offered chair, but doesn't sit yet, murmuring, "Well, where you gonna sit?" He takes another little sip from his water, then looks to Ben with plenty of interest in this latest revelation. "Ohh... Yeah... yeah, tell us!" He worries at the spiky little ring around the rim of the water bottle, twisting it around with his fingers.

Jean-Batiste's attention focusses intensely on Ben as well. "Yeah, c'mon, tell us..." he murmurs. "Maybe it's like..." He pauses there, looking uncertainly to Trace for a moment, then finishes with a light shrug. "Go on, sit..." he implores his blue-haired friend with a smile. "I'll stand here and hug the both of you." He puts his free arm down along the empty chair's backrest in preparation.

Well, that's all the convincing Trace needs! He lowers himself down into the chair and leans back to nuzzle at the arm briefly before turning again and leaning his back against the chair, turning curious hazel eyes to Ben again.

Benjamin glances about the room, to be sure that Walker isn't lingering nearby, ready to pounce once Ben gives up the secret. "Well... he dreamed that we were all at a party of some kind, with a bunch of other strange people he didn't know." He sips his tea, relating the secondhand dream smoothly. "And Jason kept going off with people, disappearing with strangers, and each time he came back, his shirt front was stained a bit more, with red." A meaningful brow lifts, pregnant pause. "Until it was just us left in the room."

Jean-Batiste's eyebrows lift a little, then furrow as he concentrates on the images Ben explained. "Mmn," is all he says, looking down at the table, then tipping his head slightly to peer at Jason out of the corner of his eye. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would say.

Jason leans forward as Ben describes the dream, head cocked. And... just blinks as the man finishes. Brows furrow a little. And then a small frown as he puzzles through what that could mean. Judging from the confused look, he's not quite sure if this is a good dream or not.

Trace purses his lips, looking at Ben, then at Jason. "That's... pretty weird," he admits, his expression somewhat unnerved. "I'd almost expected..." His brow furrows slightly, grasping at forgotten dreams of his own, and finally just gives a small shrug, leaning his head back a little to peek upside-down at Batiste, then at Jason again. "Dunno. Something... else. Wonder what Walker was thinkin'..."

Glass looks at Benjamin, his eyes soft and thoughtful. He murmurs, "Then what happened?"

Benjamin shrugs again, finishing off his tea. "That was all of the dream, Walker said. Or that's all he told me, at least." He leans up again, setting the cup down momentarily. "Now, don't you boys tell him I told you. Or I'll have to confess, and he'll surely beat me in a -rather- unpleasant way." There's a pleasant way? Ben doesn't clarify.

Glass smiles faintly, looking off into the middle distance.

"Maybe...maybe it's about..." Batiste looks between Ben and Jason repeatedly, trying to play psychoanalyst. "Maybe it's about how...you know, how protective Jason is of his friends?" He looks around at everyone, to see if his suggestion has any merit. He chews on the inside of his cheek, thinking more. "Maybe he was protecting all of us from those strangers, or something."

Jason finally just settles back in the chair, snuggling back under Bat's arm with his hands cupped about a mug of steaming tea. He looks... thoughtful. He leans his head back against Bat's arm and lets his eyes drift partway shut. "Does... Walks like me? I mean... me bein' 'round?" he asks, tentatively, looking up towards the ceiling.

Trace blinks and nods a little, "Yeah! Yeah, like were they bad strangers..?" he demands of Ben, then immediately remembers that this was Walker's dream, not his. He shifts his gaze to Jason and answers for him immediately, "Of *course* Walker likes you. Why wouldn't he?" He takes another sip from the water.

Benjamin tilts his head, blinking oddly at Jason. "Like you?" The thought hadn't crossed his mind. "He wouldn't let you crash on his bed, I don't think, if he didn't like you."

Jean-Batiste nods a little to Trace's assessment, and leans over to rub his cheek against the crown of Jason's head. "Walker's pretty vocal about who he doesn't like, I think." Just think of the conversation about Cherry, after all. "If he didn't like you, he wouldn't..." He trails off as Ben speaks, and nods to him. "Yeah, exactly. He's opened his home up to you, he wouldn't do that if he didn't like you."

Glass nods to Jason, his attention returned to the present. He doesn't say anything, though. Jason turns his head against Bat's arm a little, sighing softly. "He doesn' trust me, then.. Takin' life from others..." His murmur drifts off, another small frown taking over. And then he shrugs and smirks faintly, sitting up again and sipping his tea. "Ain' like I /deserve/ it 'r nuthin'," he says dryly.

"Naw," Trace denies, "That ain't right, Jason. I mean... I mean, yer puttin' an awful lot've stake inta somethin' that was just a dream, anyway... Dreams don't gotta mean that's how the person feels inside! Does sometimes, maybe, but not always. People jest'... dream fucked up shit, y'know?" he shrugs faintly and looks down at where his fingers are again playing with spikey ring around the mouth of the bottle.

Glass looks at Jason, "Naw. Maybe it meant something else. Maybe it was about all the battles you have to fight, huh? You won them."

Trace looks up sharply and protests, "No! Not that either. Coz, like... he didn't come back to us in the end." He bites his lip and finally concludes, "Was just a dream. Don't go all Freud on it, y'know? It don't gotta be significant."

Jason looks dubious at Trace's defense... then just gives Glass a weird look and shrugs. "First I'm tryin' ta hack someone ta pieces, then I'm sneakin' off 'n murderin' the party guests. 'M pretty popular in people's unconciousnesses lately."

Benjamin slides back off his chair, keeping one ear on the conversation. He doesn't have an interpretation for the dream. In fact, he's been working on that ever since Walker told him about it, and he's no closer to a good picture of what Walker's subconscious was thinking than when he first heard it. Ben meanders into the kitchen, rinsing out his teacup.

Jean-Batiste leans into Jason a little, and rubs the redhead's shoulder softly. "He wouldn't let you come and go from his home whenever you want if he didn't trust you," he murmurs with gentle insistence to Jason. He watches Ben move off, then leans in and murmurs against Jason's ear, grinning a little at the end of it as if to silently say, 'Hey, cheer up.'

Glass smiles at Jason, "I didn't really have that dream, I just made it up."

Through the front door comes the sound of activity on the porch, quiet creakings of footsteps. Jason blinks a little as Bat whispers, then smiles softly and leans gratefully into his friend, nuzzling gently at the other's shoulder. He closes his eyes and slides his free hand up to scratch gently at Bat's neck, the moves it across the other's shoulders to play lightly with one of Trace's braids.

Walker and Starlight open the front door and step inside.

Trace grins and stays still now to let the braid get fussed over, but his eyes flicker towards the kitchen's entrance at the sound of someone at the door. He sets the water bottle down on the table and calls, "H'lo? We're in the kitchen..."

Jean-Batiste grins, looking quite pleased with himself to have improved Jason's mood. "So, when do we want to go camping?" he asks the house as a whole. "Do we want to have Ben's housewarming party first? Or find a rave, maybe?" He considers his own options, pausing before he speaks at the sound of the door opening.

Benjamin checks around the kitchen to make sure that everything from making tea is cleaned up and put away, and dries out his own cup for re-placement in the cupboard. "I really ought to get home, get some sleep," he comments to no one in particular, before he notices that the door's opened.

The door swings open, Walker stepping through. He angles for the kitchen, mildly wondering who all 'we' entails. "Hey," he greets as he takes in the small crowd. "S'up?" He looks over his shoulder to motion Star into the kitchen before moving to attack the fridge.

Glass is sitting at the kitchen table. He smiles to Walker and nods, but doesn't speak.

Trace blinks at the second familiar face that waltzes on in and glances over at Jason before leaning in closer to murmur to the redhead very briefly. Then he straightens and gives the two a shy wave, answering, "Jest' sittin' around. What's goin' on with you two...?"

Starlight pauses in the door, eyes a little wide as they scan. People. Looks up at Walker, then shakes his head and steps back onto the porch. "Forgot somethin'." The child moves to the side, out of sight.

Jason lifts his head from Batiste's shoulder and looks back at Walker, his fingers still playing with Trace's braid on the other side of Bat. Brows furrow, but he offers Walker a small, hopeful smile. And then tilts his head at the new face. Well, not so new face, it looks like he recognizes her. Or.. him. Whatever.

Starlight opens the front door and steps outside.

Benjamin turns at the sound of the Master of the House's voice, about to bestow one of those rare, glowing smiles on him. Only to find that the man's drifted past him already, and he has to turn to the other side, and just blink vaguely at his back as he leans into the fridge. "Just on my way out, actually. So I don't forget to sleep tonight, as promised."

Jean-Batiste's standing between Trace's and Jason's chairs, with an arm thrown over their shoulders in a comfortable, affectionate manner. He watches Walker and Starlight walk in, seeming mildly surprised. He muses over what to say - by the time he's figured it out, Starlight's ducked out again. "She's sure skittish..." he murmurs thoughtfully.

Trace smirks a little but doesn't look surprised at all. "She's slippery like that. A buck says she don't come back."

Walker gives the refrigerator a brief dig-through, pulling out the orange with a hope that it's relatively fresh. "Nothin' much. Brought Star home f'a..." he cuts off as said Star retreats. Hmm. He sets the juice down on the counter and heads back out into the hall to duck back outside.

Walker opens the front door and steps outside.

Jason starts to murmur back to Trace, but Starlight goes and disappears again. Once again, his brows draw together, then he gives a little shrug. "Be stupid ta take that one..." he says to Trace. "But, uh... so... she's a she?" he asks bluntly. And then another thought strikes Jason. He looks to Trace. "Which one girl? What'd I miss?"

Benjamin blinks slowly, and lifts a hand to rub at his forehead. It's really definitely time for bed, now. "G'night, boys. I'll see you this weekend for certain," he calls softly, with a little wave.

Trace blinkblinks and looks from Jason, to the door, then back to Jason. "Yeah! Yeah, I mean.." He looks down at his bottle. It hadn't occured to him. "I mean, I wouldn't like her if she wasn't. Y'know? She's, I mean, she's pretty." He blushes and wiggles his fingers slowly at the retreating Benjamin. "G'night, Ben. An' sleep well."

What? Erk, Ben's leaving. Jason gives the man a little smile and a wriggle of his fingers. "Don' work /too/ hard, Benji."

"I thought Star was a guy, but Trace figures she's a girl, so..." Batiste shrugs lightly - he can't make his mind up on the matter, and Trace seems pretty certain, so he'll work with that. He looks over at Ben, smiling softly at him. "See you soon, Ben. I'll stop by the apartment, okay?"

Glass does the finger wiggling thing at Ben as well.

Benjamin mmhmms tiredly to all the goodbyes, each causing a lazy smile as he wanders out.

"What kinda boy's named Star, anyway..?" Trace mumbles mostly under his breath. Then again, 'Trace' is somewhat androgynous as well...

WHOAH! Jason snaps his eyes back to Trace. /Like/ her? Who gave him permission for this. His brows furrow, but then soften once again. "Um... I was pretty sure she was a he m'self, but..." He shrugs slightly. And then grins. "Mebbe his parents were hippies."

Jason adds quickly, "Err, /her/ parents. Whatever."

"Yeah, her parents," Trace insists defensively, folding his arms and curling a little. "I mean... I mean, if she wasn't, she'd've said something. You don't just, just let people think that, if.. if they obviously do. She'd've said something. Sides, she just... I mean, *look* at her, she's cute! Gothy gloomy, but pretty.." His voice is almost plaintive at the end of this.

Jason snickers softly and murmurs under his breath, "Yeah, 'n we /all/ know them gothy boys don' wear makeup."

Glass murmurs, "Maybe she likes it. Walker lets people think that. For a while, anyway. You know her very well now?" He looks at Trace curiously, adds, "Besides. It really doesn't matter. If somebody's pretty, they're pretty."

Jason ohs and perks up. "Hey, /Walker/ knows 'er. Mebbe /he/, y'know, bein' Holly 'n all, knows. Y'know?"

Jean-Batiste scowls gently at Jason, grinning a little as he does, and hugs Trace reassuringly. "Hey, it's okay...you're right. She -is- pretty. Even if she turns out to be a guy. I think we just ought to ask her, you know? Maybe..." He frowns a moment, thinking. "Maybe, well, she figures it's safer to be a mystery like that, and not let people know. Or maybe she just likes confusing people."

Jason mutters, "Well, she obviously likes /us/." He slides his arm back from around Batiste and folds his arms sullenly. "One look and she was back out the door."

Trace scowls. "No, I don't know well. She won't let me. And well, that's real easy fer *you* t'say, inn't Doug. Some of us ain't lucky 'nuff t'be able to... to like just everybody." His scowl melts off his lips and brow at the hug and he just sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, I mean, she said she liked Batiste, and she was nice yesterday a little, but she still ran away real quick."

Glass looks at Trace, "So you'd like her until she took off her pants?"

Walker opens the front door and steps inside.
Walker steps back inside, carrying a subdued air of peaceful warmth about him illustrated in the benign smile he wears. He wanders back into the kitchen, grabbing the abandoned OJ on the way to deposit in the fridge once more, swapping it for a bottled water.

Trace flinches. "That ain't fair... that ain't fair at all, Doug." He sighs again and nuzzles at Batiste. "I like all you, don't I? But it's not my fault, I'm not... I can't..." He looks down. For some reason, this whole turn in the conversation is painful for him.

Glass looks at Trace, a sorrowful look warming in his eyes. He nods, murmurs, "It's okay, man. I don't understand but you know. It's how you are. It's cool." He tries a gentle smile.

Jason tilts his head slightly at Trace's flinch, then suddenly grows softer, reaching over to touch the other's shoulder lightly with a faint smile. "Fergit it, Trace... Ya prolly don' have nuthin' ta worry 'bout nohow..."

Jean-Batiste sighs, looking a bit frustrated himself. "Ssh, it's okay..." he murmurs softly to Trace, rubbing soothingly at the bony shoulder hidden beneath the black T-shirt. "You don't have to explain." He pauses, and tries to inject a little humour into the room, adding, "It's okay if you like girls. Someone's gotta have my 2.3 kids, right?" He tousles a couple blue braids for good measure.

Walker emerges from his private utopia as reality vocalizes itself around him. What did he miss? When he stepped outside the mood in here seemed light. Silently he leans back against the nearest cabinet to open his drink, watching the lot of you.

Trace chuckles a little and finally lifts his head off Batiste's arm and reaches a hand up to squeeze Jason's hand on his shoulder. He gives both boys a grateful smile, then turns to give Glass the same. Then his hazel eyes seek out Walker and he asks without much true questioning in his tone, "So Star's snuck off?"

Walker nods, expression dropping into neutral-relaxed. "Yeah. Gone with th' wind." He sips his water then sets it aside to fish a cigarette out. "What've y'all been up ta?" Not quite a segue; more a blatant change of subject. What's he hiding?

Jason grins up at Walker, beaming even. "Jus' tryin' ta figure out..." He glances sidelong at Trace. Oh yeah. So he rewinds a little more. "Um, wonderin' what..." Oh yeah. Not supposed to talk about that either. "Um..." he finally says. "Nuthin?"

Jean-Batiste draws his arms off Trace's and Jason's shoulder, and moves over to the empty chair Ben left behind, sinking down into it to finish drinking his neglected tea. It's cold by now, but it still tastes okay. Between sips he looks over at Walker, mulling over his own questions for the master of the house. Finally he asks, "We're thinking of getting a camping trip organized, just for a weekend or something...you'd want to come along, right?"

Trace nods, mustering some enthusiasm now at this new topic they were supposedly talking about. "Yeah... Yeah, I ain't never been camping. We're gonna go out, rough it, y'know? With a campfire and marshmallows to roast and stuff. We just need t'find a tent I guess." He giggles. "And a spot with no biker gangs."

Glass nods, "We can get a tent. I have a stove. But I guess a fire is more fun. We should drive out someplace far away."

Jason sniffles into his mug, murmuring, "But biker gangs're what make it all /fun/..."

Walker blinks. "I... when?" Lost again to his own contemplations, Bat's question catches him off guard. He pulls on his cigarette, one arm folding loosely over his midsection with. "I ain't been campin' in ages an' ages..."

Trace giggles and admits, "Ahh... Actually, Glass, I don't trust yer car to take us someplace far away." He turns a smile to Walker and decides, "Well, then you definitely need ta come! Find some time when ya don't got no shows goin' on or somethin'. Tell yer boss t'give you a weekend off and come camp with us."

Glass grins at Trace, "My car dies a lot, but I can always make it go again. And we can hitch if it really dies." He looks to Walker, "Yeah. You should come. It'll be a party."

Jean-Batiste gulps down the last of his tea and stands up from the chair, moving over to the sink to rinse the mug out and place it on the drying rack. As he arranges the mug just -so-, he murmurs, "Well...anytime. I mean, you know all of us have -so- much on our schedule..." He laughs, grinning back at Jason, Trace, and Glass, then continues. "You and Ben are the ones who have to actually schedule it, so...it's a matter of if we want to do it before we have Ben's housewarming party or not." Batiste's just itching for a party, see?

Trace adds softly, "Also.. prolly a matter of doing it 'fore the mural's done."

Jean-Batiste shakes his head a little at Trace. "No, we should finish the mural first, that's important. We need to get it done, I think. Unless... Well, if you guys want to go camping before we finish, we can..." "Well, just let me know a couple-a days in advance so I can clear m'schedule," Walker smiles. He glances over at the phone as it rings, peeling himself away from the cabinet to answer. "Walker's House-a Ill Repute," he greets the caller.

Glass leans back in his chair, "I think you should finish."

Jason calls over to Walker, loud enough to be overheard, "We got /boys/! Boys boys boys! Cheap too!!" And then giggles madly into his mug of lukewarm tea.

Glass murmurs, "I'm not cheap."

Trace bites his lip. "Well... well, I mean. Then we gotta wait longer than like you guys're talkin' bout now. I.. I don't wanna be drying out fer it. I wanna have a good time my first camping trip. So... so we gotta either do it 'fore the mural's all done, or wait some months." Or put off the kick date. He almost suggests it, but bites his tongue and reaches for his water. After a long, healthy sip, he decides, "Whatever you guys want." He blinks at Jason's exclamation and giggles. "Me neither, I'm 'spensive. Choice Grade A Meat, yep."

Walker brightens visibly at whatever he's hearing. "Ya did? Too cool! A-course I do. Like.. now, 'r what?" He shifts, cradling the receiver against his shoulder as he stretches for his water. The bottle safely in hand, he nurses it quickly, sputtering out a giggle at Jason's remark.

Jean-Batiste walks back over to the table, pausing by Trace to squeeze the boy's shoulder appraisingly. "Yeah, definately Grade A," he agrees, laughing softly a couple of times. He smiles a little but doesn't add any other comments, instead moving over to Jason's chair and leaning up against the back of it, chin on Jason's shoulder. He closes his eyes, looking a little weary.

Jason reaches back behind him with one hand, the other cradling his mug, and slides his fingers behind Bat's neck, beneath the braids. "Dunno, I think he needs a little tenderizin'," he murmurs over the mug, gazing at Trace. Then to Glass, "Whatta you think, Dougie?"

Walker grins, the look downright devilish. "What's th' address?" He fumbles the water bottle back behind him to set it on the counter, slopping a little of the cold wet over his fingers. "I'll be by in ten, give 'r take. See ya soon." With that he hangs up the phone.

Glass looks at Jason, perhaps a touch suprised at being spoken to. "Oui," he murmurs, "And he needs to be fed up on mince pies for two weeks before he'll be prime."

Trace blinks and gives a slow blush at the speculation. Serves him right, he figures, making a joke like that. He fidgits and mumbles around a grin, "Are mince pies good?"

Glass nods, "Yeah. I like them. You never had one?" He looks at Trace thoughtfully, "They're brown, and saucy, right? Spices."

Jean-Batiste sighs contentedly as Jason's fingers work into his braids, smiling a bit. "They're good, they're like...a mix between apple pie, raisin pie, and...something else," he answers. Well, -that's- informative. "I don't know if I could eat them for two weeks, though." He turns his head so he won't deafen Jason as he raises his voice slightly and calls towards Walker, "Hey, Walker, where you going?"

Jason mms softly, fingers curling amidst Batiste's braids. "Spicy, yeah... Trace needs a little spicin' up. Mebbe a marinatin' too." He giggles softly. "'N I'd say some brown suger, 'cept he sweet 'nuff." A playful wink Trace-wards. He enjoys making his friends blush, for some twisted reason.

Walker gives himself a quick once-over, checking to make sure he has everything. "Dev's settled inta his new place," he answers, raking his fingers through his hair to pull it back away from his face. "Gonna head ovva an' give th' place a look-see." The smile that accompanies the report is nothing if not innocence-and-light.

Trace beams at that, and yes, he's still pink-cheeked so Jason was indeed successful. He lifts a curious gaze to Walker and then nods a little. "Cool, well, see ya later. Hey, these chairs are nice and all, but if yer goin' out 'kin we take over yer waterbed in a bit?" He gives a big sweet-as-mince-pie smile.

Light, innocent Walker? -Not-. Batiste grins a little on Jason's shoulder, but doesn't comment. "Say hi to him for me, okay? And let us know when his housewarming party is...I want to see his new place, too." His eyes open at mention of the waterbed. Ooh. Waterbed sprawling would be wonderful right about now.

Glass smiles gently at Walker and toys with one of the cups at the table.

Walker considers Trace's request, weighing it against the chances that he'll actually be coming home tonight. "G'head. Live it up." He grabs his water bottle and starts for the door, giving the room a wave. "I'll let y'all know when th' pawty'll be," he assures. "Check y'all latah." And he's gone. Again. Swept away by the tide of an eternally fluctuating social life.

Walker opens the front door and steps outside.

Glass sighs gently.

Jason watches Walker leave with a slightly curious expression, apparently deciphering responses. And then when the man slips out the door, he leans back and murmurs something to Batiste with a questioning look, nuzzling blond braids a little.

Jean-Batiste nods a little to Jason's murmur, leaning against the redhead's neck, and replies in a soft voice, "Yeah, I think so. They're old friends..." He nuzzles back for a second, then starts to straighten up, announcing to all of you, "C'mon. Let's go crash out, smoke a pipe, and be lazy somewhere -comfortable-, okay?" He grins blearily.

Glass murmurs, "I'd like to smoke a bowl."

Jason murmurs, "I'd like ta smoke /sumthin'/..."

Jason then proceeds to get a subdued, wicked little smirk.

Glass looks at Jason. "Or maybe I should go away," he says quietly, watching the redheaded boy's face.

Jason blinks out of the wicked look and peers Glass's way, head tilting. "Huh?"

"Comfortably lazy sounds *perfect*," Trace agrees, then peers at Jason curiously. "Like... not a bowl?" He gets up and to put the remainder of his water bottle in the fridge for later -- or more predictably, to forget about it and let it sit for ages, but glances back at Glass puzzledly. "Yeah, what're you talking about?"

Glass shrugs to Jason, murmurs, "I dunno. Sometimes it seems like you'd like me to." He smiles a bit, his eyes still mirthless and gently thoughtful.

Glass blinks and starts to stand up, "I just thought you were making fun of me." He smiles a bit, "Don't worry about it, Jason. I think everybody hates me. Well, sort of."

Jean-Batiste's mouth purses up as he chews on the inside of his cheek. He stays rather quiet through the conversation Glass and Jason have, hands dug into his pockets where they can fidget relatively unnoticed. "I'll go get the pipe ready..." he murmurs, smiling a little. He turns and heads for the staircase, ambling along with no particular haste.

Jason blinks again up at Glass, as if he can't quite process that Glass said that. He looks from Trace to Batiste and then back again before just giving Glass a /look/. "Kay, now... All these people that hate you let you tag 'long 'n eat their food 'n smoke their dope 'n..." And then he just lets out this frustrated sound. "Geez, Glass, what planet you jus' drop in from??"

Glass picks up the thick manila envelope from where he'd set it on the table. He looks at Jason, "Yeah. I know it's crazy. I won't mention it again." He looks after Batiste, "Lets just go upstairs. I brought some of my pictures."

Jean-Batiste's footsteps stop at that, and he looks back into the kitchen at all of you, smile returning to his face. "Oh, yeah! C'mon." He beckons to Jason and Trace, smile upgrading to a grin. "Glass offered to take pictures for us and then blow them up to be, like, posters for the apartment, wouldn't that be -so- great?" His eyes light up as they tend to do when talking about the apartment.

Jason lets out a small cry, hands thrown up in the air as he gets to his feet. And then he trots to catch up to Batiste, sighing softly.

Oh, good. Trace had *just* been about to suggest that: everybody needs to just get upstairs and pile on the waterbed. He hurries after Jason and Batiste, giving a little 'come on!' wave to Glass before ducking out of the kitchen. "That *would* be cool... Wonder what kinda pictures he took?" He passes up the sighing Jason and whaps at his arm, calling out "Tag!" and suddenly bounding for the stairs, and once he's reached them, skipping steps.

Jason blinks! What was that fo-hey! Jason suddenly realizes he's been tagged and yelps, then suddenly spins on Bat and smacks him on the arm, giggling out, "Tag!" In a flash of grinning green eyes and red hair, he's speeding up steps as well, almost running over Trace as he goes up the spiral.

Like a chain reaction, Batiste yelps, and reaches for his arm, rubbing it with much drama. "Hey..." he protests, laughing. He looks back at Glass and ducks in to pass the tag along with a gentle slap, dodging away to the staircase afterwards with not quite as much pep as Jason and Trace.

Glass doesn't seem to into being it. He just starts up the stairs.

Upstairs - Grey House

Glass walks over to sit on the edge of the bed. He gestures a little with the envelope, "Most of these are for you guys anyways. I just put in a couple others. I never did any colour before."

Jean-Batiste gets to the top of the stairs and starts coughing, hanging onto the railing for a second before he pushes up the final step and heads for his backpack. He clears his throat a couple of times on the way, frowning at himself. His knees pop quietly as he crouches down by the backpack, digging around for the pipe and baggie of pot.

Trace doesn't let up on his full out run, scrambling up the remaining stairs and across the bedroom, making a great, flying *leap* for the bed. "Safezonnnne!" He cries and lands on his belly, sending a violent wave to ripple and fall back across the mattress. You know, if he wasn't such a slight boy, he seriously might have popped it. He giggles and rolls onto his back. Wow.... just like a kid again. He props his chin up on his hands and peers out at Batiste fussing with the weed.

Jason starts to race to dive behind the bed or something, but when he realizes no one's really chasing, he pouts back over his shoulder at the party-poopers and slows to a walk. Fine. Be that way. But then his brows furrow and he turns and pads up behind Bat, resting his hands lightly on the crouching boy's shoulders. "You been feelin' alright, Batty?" he asks softly.

Jean-Batiste locates his trusty silver pipe and the little baggie of weed, and closes the top flap of his backpack. He leans into Jason's hands a little, and smiles up at the redhead, murmuring, "Just got a cold, I think. Stuffed up a little. It's okay." He seems to be in a good enough mood, just slightly drained. He reaches for one of Jason's hands as he stands up, tangling fingers with him if he allows, offering the pipe and weed to him. "You want the honours?"

Jason curls his fingers in Bat's, nodding slightly with a still-concerned smile. But the offered goods makes him forget that and just grin brightly instead, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet. He nondods and snags the stuff, then scurries to bed and nearly flops on Trace as he throws himself down to get started with the packing.

Trace considers Batiste's cough and murmurs, "Batiste? I wanna talk to the Nunan guy soon, kay? I got no reason t'be scared've him anymore, and maybe he can help yer cold or somethin'. Who knows. But can we do that soon...?" He turns and grins as Jason flops down onto the bed.

Jason rolls onto his side, facing Trace as he unrolls the baggie and starts prepping the pipe. "Who's the Nunan guy?" he asks, bright eyes curious.

Glass opens the big envelope, saying, "You need a doctor, Bat?"

Jean-Batiste sinks down on the edge of the waterbed, near Glass, waiting for Jason to finish with the pipe before causing any more waves by sprawling out. "Dr. Nunan," Batiste murmurs. "He's got an office down in the projects, I saw him a couple of times before I headed out to the coast. Marco and a couple other people I used to know see him, he's pretty great. I'm gonna go and get a couple tests done, and Trace and I are gonna get some vitamins and stuff to make sure we're healthy and all."

Glass murmurs, "Do you have to pay?"

Jason starts to ask a question, but Glass seems to beat him to it. He just nods instead, packing the pipe silently, expression a bit vague.

Trace smiles and muses, "Hope they aren't really gross vitamins, like chewables. Unless they're Flintstones, then that'd be okay, but somehow I don't think that's the kinda stuff Dr. Nunan'll be givin' us."

Jean-Batiste shakes his head a little, pulling a bit of thread off one ripped knee of his jeans. "Don't have to pay, no. Though they take donations...I always pay when I go, because it's worth it, and...well, he's a big supporter of the local AIDS hospice, right? And a friend of mine stayed in one of those, so...it's helping him to keep the place going, if I pay, even if it's just ten or twenty bucks or something." He shrugs mildly. There he goes again, answering a yes/no question in as many words as possible.

Glass smiles, "Oh. Sounds okay."

Jason ohs quietly, looking down at the pipe as he finishes packing it up and then goes about patting his pockets for a lighter. Was around here somewhere. Oh well. He sheds his coat and probes one of the pockets. Coming up with the lighter, he shoves the coat over the side, then offers the pipe and lighter to Trace.

"I get first hit?" Trace blinks. "Naw, you 'r Bat take the first. After all, s'his weed, and you went and packed it... I just sat here like the lazy thing I am," he grins. "So go on, you two fight it out."

Jean-Batiste smiles a little and nods to Glass. "Yeah. Dr. Nunan's pretty great for a doctor." He looks over at Jason and sees he's finished with the pipe, and promptly sprawls himself out on the mattress, stretching his hands towards one end and his feet towards the other, making wordless stretchy sounds. "You take first hit," he murmurs to Jason, smiling up at the redhead.

Jason frowns just a little as Bat heads him off before he can offer it away again. A glance at Glass and then a slightly larger frown. /He's/ sure as hell not going to accept it. Jason sighs a little and shrugs, then lights it up and takes a deep hit, holding it in as he crawls over to curl up against Bat, offering the pipe to the older boy as he rests his head on the other's back.

Jean-Batiste wriggles around a little as Jason gets comfortable, smiling over his shoulder at him. "Thanks..." he murmurs, and takes a shallower hit than usual, not wanting to provoke a coughing fit. As he holds the smoke in, he passes the pipe to Trace, exhaling a few seconds later. "Mind if I flip over?" he softly asks Jason.

Glass looks down at his hands.

Jason lets out his hit, shaking his head slightly to Bat, but doesn't really move. Batiste can roll over with Jason there if he wants.

Trace clambers closer to the pile and takes the silver pipe, pulling on it and then holding it out for Glass to come take it. He smiles but keeps his lips pressed tight, holding his own hit in still.

Glass glances at Trace after he's been the pipe there for a little longer than he'd like, surely. Doug blinks, appearantly shaking a daydream off. He smiles a little and takes the pipe, murmuring, "Merci," before he hits it and offers it back to Jason.

Jean-Batiste twists around a little as he rolls over, trying to support Jason's head and shoulders until he's stretched out on his back so Jason can lay back down with his head against Batiste's stomach. He folds one hand behind his head, reaching the other down to play with Jason's hair. "So d'you all want to do when we go camping? I want it to go perfect. What d'you all think of, when you think of camping?"

Glass bites his lip, exhaling smoke through his nose. He stays silent.

Jason crawls up Batiste a little so that he's kinda laying on the older boy, head on Bat's chest and his arm draped across the other. His eyes fall nearly shut as Batiste plays with his hair, but he reaches out with his free hand and takes the pipe from Glass as it's offered. He toys with it a little bit, then takes a smaller toke before holding it up to Bat. Looks like he's going to be quite content to lay there for now.

Trace blows out his smoke once the burn starts to bother him and crawls back to the pile, trying to think up some way he could add his own embrace there somewhere. At the question he murmurs, "I think of what all you talked bout, mostly. And, y'know, the usual... nature 'n trees. A little fire. Stories." He smiles faintly, looking down at the two of you. "Sounds real nice..."

Glass slides a stack of eight and half by eleven photographs from the envelope. He flips through them and takes a smaller stack off the top, handing them to Jason. They're in colour. Jackson square. The one on top shows Trace and Batiste chalking off a rectangle of sidewalk.

Jean-Batiste stops petting Jason momentarily, craning his head up to take another hit and pass the pipe on to Trace. He gives the blue-haired boy a bit of a hopeful look. Say something? Pretty please? He goes back to playing with Jason's hair as soon as the pipe is taken, fingers a bit fidgety. He smiles close-lipped when Trace speaks up, then closes his eyes as he exhales in a languid sigh. "C'mon, everyone. Sprawl out and get comfortable." Everyone being Glass, in this case, since Trace is in pre-sprawl maneuvers already.

Trace lifts the lighter to the bowl and takes his second hit, eyes crossing just a little as he watches the flame catch and then to admire the orange glow of the embers as they brighten and then dim again. The distraction makes for a longer hit than he'd planned, and he sputters a little as he passes it towards Glass, but does keep most of it inside. Then he gives his two sprawled friends a final, considering glance before curling up to rest his head on Jason's back and reach a hand up to lace around Batiste's fingers if he can find them There... comfort. He tilts his head up to blow out a blue cloud and then nestles his head back down again, braids tossing out to mingle with Jason's red mane.

Glass takes another hit, two delicate intakes on the pipe. He holds it and passes the pipe along to Jason, silent.

Jason isn't much in a condition to receive photos, unfortunately. His eyes flicker a little as Glass presses the pile into his hand, brows furrowing. He glances at the top one, murmurs, "Cool," and then passes the pile up to Batiste. Here, you deal with this. As Trace snuggles up though, he lets out a soft, contented sigh, the hand not around Bat reaching out to lazily play with the front of Trace's shirt. Mm, friends, two hits, and a puppy pile and he's in heaven. And if he wasn't really in a position to get photos, he's /definitely/ not in a position to get the pipe once Trace snuggles up. "Mmm, Bat, y'wanna nuther?" he asks lazily, eyes almost closed.

"Yeah, one more, 'n that's it..." Batiste replies in an equally lazy murmur, again craning his head up to accept the pipe and the slow, deep hit before passing the silver pipe on to Trace. He turns his face a little against his arm, smiling at the two of you, one hand twined with Trace, the other lost in Jason's hair. Bliss. He relaxes all but visibly when Glass leaves, his sprawling seeming less restrained, somehow.

"No one else wants any...?" Trace murmurs with a tiny smile as he takes the pipe with his free hand, lifting his head to bring it to his lips. Nope, needs to be lit again. He untangles his fingers from Batiste's with reluctance and sits up a little more to light the pipe. Not much more til' it's cashed anyhow... He gets two good hits off it and then it's just sucking at char and ash, so he gives up on it and just moves over to set the lighter and uncleaned pipe down on the dresser before hurrying back to his lovely warm spot among his sprawling pile of best friends. There's less hesitation in Trace now too... He can enjoy the triangle, which seems full to bursting right now, without having to worry about excluding anyone outside it or feel self-conscious about the beautiful level of comfort he shares with these two and now others. He settles his dreamy head down and sighs contentedly, reaching out again for Batiste's hand.

Jason, unfortunatly, doesn't restrain himself around others. Which is probably why Glass /does/ get a distinctly left-out sensation around Jason. He makes a small noise of protest as his warm Trace pulls away and starts making waves, but he's soon calmed by Bat's fingers running through his hair. He shifts a little, getting more comfortable on his self-heating Batiste, cheek pressed against Bat's chest, listening to the blond boy's calm heart beat. His hand slides up to tangle fingers amongst the blond braids, the other seeking out Trace's chest once again when the smaller boy curls up again. Yes, perfect bliss.

Jean-Batiste mumbles some sort of general negation to Trace's request, trailing out smoke as he does. His fingers twine with Trace's, his face resting down against the inside of his forearm. "This's so nice..." he murmurs unnecessarily, smiling a lazy, languid little smile at the both of you. "Hope Walker stays at Dev's place...just want to stay like this 'n fall asleep..." He coughs twice, heart speeding up and breathing going raspy for a moment under Jason's ear before settling down again. He nuzzles into Jason's fingers, resting his cheek against them. In a gust of warmth he murmurs into Jason's hand, "D'you guys think maybe tomorrow...we could work on the mural a little?"

"I'd love it," Trace agrees contentedly, squeezing at Batiste's fingers. "An' I was wondering if I could do th' portrait of you, like the dancing Jason you made on his wall..? I had an idea fer it. And you could do mine...?" He gets a wisp of Jason's hair in his mouth and giggles a little, and softly tries to get it out without shifting and moving his hands around. "Pt-tt!"

Jason murmurs into Batiste's chest, "Dunno, Walks sounded too happy ta leave ta come home tanight, y'know?" He smirks slightly, nuzzling more into Batiste's chest, his fingers gently stroking Bat's cheek. The other hand, meanwhile, toys lightly with the collar of Trace's shirt. Something to do. Mm, mural talk. He leaves that to the two of you.

Jean-Batiste nods a little, eyes closed, smiling against Jason's fingers. "Yeah, I'd like that," he murmurs. "I want to see...what you paint for my picture." Admittedly, he's scared, too, but curiousity is currently winning out. "I have a couple ideas for yours, but I have a while to think some more on them..." He sighs, a bubble of nervousness welling up then fading away. "My wall's next, Jason, because I lost the coin toss, so...think of music that reminds you of me, I guess..." He chuckles softly, sounding a little nervous again.

Trace just smiles and snuggles in close, squeezing again at Batiste's hand with slender, pale fingers. He's quiet for a time, thoughtful, but finally breaks into another smile and nuzzles into the red mane beneath his cheek and murmurs muffledly, "Hey, Jason...?"

Jason mrrs?, his eyes opening partway. Fingers curl against Trace's collarbone. He gets a soft smile at the nuzzle, wriggling slightly between the two of you. "Mm, yeah, Trace?" he asks faintly, his hand sliding up to tangle up in blond braids. "M'still 'wake."

"So'm'I," Batiste chimes in obediently, opening his eyes for a moment, just to prove it. He sighs contentedly and squeezes Trace's fingers back before lying still once more, blinking in slow motion.

Trace stretches a little, his thin frame stiffening for a moment with the arch of his back, his fingers flexing once in Batiste's hand, before he settles back down in a happy, boneless heap. "I know y'ar... I just, well." He pauses to consider how to phrase his request before continuing, "Sometimes ya ask me t'talk 'bout India... And sometimes Batiste talks 'bout the coast, or Ben talks 'bout Boston... Everybody's got magic places. Sometimes they're real, sometimes just real in yer yead, I guess, but I was wonderin' if ya'd talk bout one've yers, if ya can think of one?" He peeks up at his friend, with a smile that's muzzy-sweet and hopeful.

Jason seems to freeze for a moment, his breath stopped, his eyes looking out at nothing as Trace makes his request. Tell of one of his magic places? That would require two things: 1, opening himself up to you two to share that place; and 2, opening himself up to... well... the place itself. And then he takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods slightly, his eyes drifting shut. "There's a place in the hills south of the bay, not too far from the highway, but far enough that the world seems to be like a lost continent, /way/ across a sea of golden grasses..." His voice, as he begins, takes on a different tone. A storytelling tone. This is something he hasn't done in a long, long time. "There's an island on top of one of the rolling yellow waves, surrounded by a wall of green, a fortress that allows all entrance... though none come." He breaths deep, face wrinkling a little as the.. place returns to him. "In the middle, there's a pond, surrounded by the tall grasses, grasses perfect for laying in all day, to watch the cloud-ships race across the blue sky. And it wasn't ever any color but blue there. And it wasn't ever any season but summer..."

Jean-Batiste's face smooths out, looking younger than its years, as he listens to the story unfold. His fingers absently smooth through Jason's hair, in cadence with the redhead's words, his other hand occasionally twitching in Trace's hand to remind himself of its presence. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, such a deep smile that it barely surfaces on his face at all.

"Wasn't ever any color but blue..." Trace sighs, "And always summer." He glances up again at Jason, then flickers his eyes to Batiste before following his younger friend's example and closing his eyes. "Oh, Jason... I could live there. Batiste could be there too, and we'd trade off guarding the fortress from dreary people who'd jest go and spoil it, and watch cloud-ships..." Another very fond, very stoned smile and sigh as he nuzzles his cheek against Jason's back again. "Your magic place is beautiful.."

Jason nods slightly against Batiste's chest, his hand slipping from Trace's shirt to wipe at one eye, but then going back to curling up in the fabric of the shirt once again. "Was a place no one remembered... Even time fergot ta visit." He smiles softly. "A calvalry scout, all dressed in blue, stopped by to water his horse. Tipped his hat to me. Went to the wall to wave to him, but he was already lost to the sea... A wolf came the very same day, they were /all/ the very same day, we laid across the pond from one another and talked with our eyes for hours. But then she stood and padded away. And then I lay and basked in the sun and pretended I could fly..." His voice goes soft, then silent, his face half-buried against Batiste's chest. "I bet it's still summer there..." he whispers softly.

So sweet and so sad, like the fairy tale stories you heard as a child and wished so hard could be true... Batiste listens, now and again hitching in a tiny, sharp breath as some word or phrase of Jason's makes his heart ache with childhood memories or half-remembered dreams. He strokes Jason's face, now, slow passes over the side of the redhead's cheek with his thumb. "I wish..." he murmurs, faltering there. What exactly is he wishing for? He swallows past some odd constriction in his throat and finishes, "...wish we could go there."

"Me too, me too..." Trace nods, his eyes still closed. This state of peace, safety, and comfort, so removed from reality, with Jason's story slipping into his mind and weaving about, it all effects him. Some of the Cold Iron curtain that's wrapped about his heart in the year before meeting the two of you parts just a little. And though assuredly doomed to have fallen again by sunrise, for now he *believes*. Of course there's places like the one Jason speaks of now; why wouldn't there be? Just because he's wandered too far, they're still out there. "Did you never touch her, the wolf?" he wonders softly. "Always stayed on your side of the pond? Were you scared of her getting closer?" He nudges very gently, and pleads. "Tell more!"

Jason murmurs, his voice now very distant from him, "Oh... she came back, and often. We used to curl up just like this... Her name was Eve." A very soft, sad laugh. "But she's running somewhere else now..." His voice grows even softer and more distant with this last.. and then you realize he's moved on as well.. into sleep.

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