~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: Hangin’ in Jackson Square

Log Setting: Jackson Square -- Vieux Carre

Neatly trimmed grass radiates out in concentric circles from the statue of Andrew Jackson on horseback, the walkways in between bearing tourists, street performers, and vendors. The four corners each bear a statue signifying one of the seasons, almost lost in the clumps of trees clustered there. Around the square is a wrought iron fence, outside of which is the cobblestone mall where most of the street vendors sell their wares and mule drawn carriages wait to take tourists around the Quarter. Facing lakeside, you see St. Louis Cathedral flanked on the left by the Cabildo and on the right by the Presbytere. On either side are the Pontalbo Apartments and the riverfront is at your back.

Log Cast:
Walker
Jean-Batiste
Jason
Trace
Benjamin
Alysinde
Avril
Ayita
Stephanie
Corporal Styles

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walker leans back against the next step up, sprawling with expert boneless ease. He nods, observing the relative peace in the area. "I can see that. 'Sides... it's a livin', right?" Jason comes into the square from downtown Decatur.

Corporal Styles raises a brow at the newly arrived group. He positions himself so that he can keep everyone in his field of view. "Yeah, I suppose...gotta pay the bills somehow."

Jean-Batiste wanders alongside Trace in a sort of sleepy shamble, shoulders held at an awkward line, as if sore. He rubs at bloodshot eyes occasionally, looking like he's still waking up.

Walker is perched - sprawled, rather - on the stoop of a closed store front. As he spots the small band working their way into the square he lifts a hand to wave, a smile parting his lips. "Hey, guys! S'up?" And so he disturbs the relative calm that he was just remarking on.

Jason doesn't quite come in with the other two, rather he trots along from a different entrance to the square, hands in pockets and the two thin braids at each temple bouncing with each cheerful step.

Trace trudges along beside Batiste, looking just as tired, even if the whites of his eyes are clear. His lips are pursed, adding to the pensive, faint wince that pulls at his expression this fine morning. Okay, afternoon. But it still feels like a morning to him. "Hi Walker..." he greets distantly, and obviously doesn't see Jason yet.

"Walker..." Batiste echoes, plucking up a corner of his mouth into a weak smile. "Hey. How goes?" He yawns, steps slowing while he does - not coordinated enough to risk a full speed yawn-and-walk combination yet. Again he rubs at his itchy eyes, then blinks a few times. Bleary.

Benjamin has arrived.

Walker practically lights up like a one-hundred watt bulb as he spots a familiar thatch of red hair. "Jason!! Hey!" He calls, waving enthusiastically. The jewelry at his throat jangles dischordantly with the gesture.

Ben’s Desc:
Wandering through the world with foggy eyes and a furrowed if curious brow, this twenty-something young man bears the slightly dazed half-smile of one foreign to his environment. Although his thick, floppy brown hair is supposed to be styled out of his eyes, it often breaks free and settles impertinently arbout his forehead and temples. Thin brows frame large, girlish brown eyes, set in a face that could almost be feminine if the jaw wasn't a little too strong. Perhaps in an attempt to age his youthful face, a carefully-kept mustache and goatee cling close about his mouth and chin.

Hovering between styles, this man creates a look all his own. Tight, ink-black jeans cover his legs, ending in mid-thigh black boots that lace up through bright silver eyes. A white t-shirt is similarly clung to his torso and tucked in, a silver ankh on a chain hanging mid-chest. Overall is a fine garment, one of those bought on a whim, perhaps, at odds with the rest of his dress: a bright blue crushed-velvet topcoat, silver buttons all the way up, trimmed in a faux black fur.

Not imediatly involved in this little reunion, Styles grins faintly and continues his patrol across the square.

Benjamin wanders up through the Square, from the Park area toward the river. Poor man must be roasting in that coat, with as warm as it is this evening. But he doesn't appear to notice, just gazing up at the sky with a faraway look.

Jason pauses and lifts his head, leaning up a little on his tippy-toes to see where his name came from. It doesn't take long to spot Walker, and then of course Trace and Batiste who are wandering his way already. He gets a big, bright, typically Jason lopsided grin and hurries up, practically bounding over to Walker to intercept Trace and Bat.

Walker's hand lowers, dropping to his knee as his attention's distracted from approaching friends to something else - namely Benjamin. He blinks a few times, staring, before a slight pain between his fingers reminds him that he's holding a lit cigarette that has burnt its way to the filter. He lets it drop, looking away with some amount of relutance to smile at the merging group.

Hey... calling voices. Ben blinks slowly, head turning out of his fog toward the gathering forming nearby. His steps slow, for although he registers no recognition for any of them, the merging of so much singular uniqueness is enough to turn anyone's head. And so, rather rudely, he stares.

Trace turns with surprise, peering around for Jason's familiar figure and finally spotting that bright red mop among the crowd. "Jason..!" he calls, much of the weariness and discomfort melting away from his angular features as he starts more quickly towards his friend. "Jason, Jason... where ya been?" he smiles broadly.

Jean-Batiste looks from Walker, over to Jason, and his pale face brightens up into a smile. "Jason...!" he calls, barely loud enough to carry the distance. He doesn't run, or scamper though - he still seems too lethargic for that - but his mood is definately improving. He starts to speak, then lets Trace do it for him. He's closer to Jason by this point, anyways.

Corporal Styles heads out to St. Peter.

Walker pulls another cigarette from the black box nestled next to him on the top step of his roost, eyes moving again to Benjamin. He lights his cigarette, snapping the zippo shut as he exhales. Whoo... it *is* shaping up to be a damn fine day...

Jason giggles happily at Trace and Bat's exclaimations, glowing practically. He pauses somewhere equidistant from Walker and the two other boys and gives the latter pair an endearing, tilt-headed smile, letting his hair sort of blow across his eyes with the light breeze. "So, ya guys miss me or something?" he calls out. Sure he's digging, but it's playful, and it's obvious that he's quite happy to see everyone no matter what.

Benjamin's steps are very slow by now, about half-speed of a normal walk. Walker turns, the brief flare of his lighter glowing his face like daytime, and Ben watches that, eyes fogging again at a thought, even a memory perhaps. It's a moment or two before his blinking clears up that fog enough to notice that Walker is looking back, at which point he realizes he should smile in greeting.

Trace cheerfully tugs Jason into a quick hug, clapping him on the back, "Yeah... yeah, you oaf. 'Course we did. Where you *been*?" He's not letting the question go, and he releases his red-haired friend and looks at him with bright, beaming insistance. "C'mon, spill!"

Jean-Batiste grins drowsily at Jason, still approaching the flame-haired boy. "It wasn't the same without you," he promises - part teasing ego-stroke, part truth. "We missed you," he adds, in complete truth. Finally reaching Jason's side, he opens his arms to steal the next hug, mumbling, "Missed you," through a grin as he does.

Walker grins and favors Benjamin with a wink. He can't help it; it's been too good of a week to resist. He exhales slowly, scented smoke swirling up and around his face. He blinks as he catches some of the invigorated conversation nearby, forcing his attention back to the youths. "Even th' motel missed ya," he calls to Jason, tone merry. "Good ta have ya back!"

It's impolite to stare, Ben, didn't your mother ever teach you any manners? This would be a good time to find an excuse. So, he finds a nearby park bench nearish the group and drops gracefully onto it, throwing one leg over the other and leaning back. Now, just something to pass the time... poking around in his pockets, he eventually retrieves a box and a lighter, flaring up a clove-scented cigarette.

Jason quite cheerfully returns Trace's hug, pulling him close for a moment before stepping back as well to return the younger boy's bright look. He gives a small, one-shouldered, evasive-type shrug with a matching non-committal grin, then looks to Batiste with a proud, yet bashful expression, depsite knowing full well the ego-stroke was intentional. He likes ego-strokes, of course. He slips into the stolen hug happily, nodding at the mumble as he patpats Bat on the back, then slips back out again. Turning to include Walker (and, accidentally Benjamin) into his field of gaze (and grin), he says, quite sagely, "Never fall 'sleep on a freight car. Kay?" He nodnods to punctuate.

Trace giggles. "No way... What were you doing on a freight car, huh? How far off'd you end up?" Despite the initial disbelief, he now looks as though he could buy this, just because it's too bizarre and -- well, this is Jason we're talking about here. "And did ya have to hitch back?"

Walker chuckles softly, flicking his ash to the sidewalk. "I'll keep that in mind..." Not much danger of that happening to him; the worst he's done so far was pass out on the roof of a very non-moving building. Boy, weren't the WalMart employees surprised to find him there in the morning, though. His attention flicks briefly again to Benjamin... then back again. Stay focused, Walker. He motions with a hand to wave the small group over. "Hey... c'mere for a sec. I've got somethin' ta show y'all."

"No way, did you-" Batiste stops with a fond laugh aimed at Trace, as he tries to say almost the same thing as the blue-haired boy does. He impulsively grabs one of Jason's long, fiery braids, tries to tickle Jason's face and then dodge away towards Walker.

Benjamin tries, with all his admittedly weak might, to keep his attention (or at least his eyes) focused on some detail of architecture up on the second floor of a building near the other gathering. But, damn his eyes, they keep wandering back down toward the young men to hang there vaguely, half-seeing, until he reminds himself to look up again.

"Can I have a smoke?" Batiste asks Walker hopefully, having so far dodged Jason's retribution for the braid-tickling. He smiles a little at him, rubbing the edge of one eye again - the itch spreads, and he ends up using both hands to grind at his eyesockets.

Jason yelps softly and swats at Batiste's hand, ducking around the older boy to hide behind Trace as he heads to Walker as well. "No, I /walked/ back," he shoots sarcastically to the inquiry, then giggles cheerfully, forcing the edge off of the sarcasm immediately. "Actually, got kinda curious where I was goin' after the first day, so..." He shrugs to the three other young men (no, not boys, of course not). "S'fun!" So far, but not completely. When Bat's rubbing his eyes, Jason darts in and mercilessly tickles his ribs with both hands, then scampers back away out of reach.

Walker reaches back to grab the box, flipping it open. Seeing Bat's hands occupied, he takes one out, tossing the box back over his shoulder to land on the step. It skids a little bit but doesn't fall to the ground. Looking up, he grins broadly as Jason wreaks his vengeance, holding on to the smoke. The tickling provides ample distraction from the urge to ogle the guy sitting on the bench further. For now, anyway.

Jean-Batiste makes an odd yelped, warbled laughing sound, jumping violently. Definitely ticklish, this one. His backpack leaps for freedom off his shoulder as he squirms, and lands on the concrete with a solid *thud*. "-Hey-..." he protests, looking back at Jason with what would be a woeful look, if the grin didn't ruin it.

Jason just gives Batiste a big grin, eyes wide and innocent. If all of you weren't there, you could swear that some guy must have swooped in from nowhere, tickled Bat and left Jason there to take the blame that he didn't deserve.

Trace snickers. "Wow... man. I never been anywhere but my hometown near Baton Rouge, here, and the road between." He follows everyone over towards Walker to see what he has to show everyone, chuckling faintly into his hand at Batiste and Jason's antics. But he retreats a step, despite his amusement, because he remembers the blue dye fight and how quick and terrible a situation it is when fighting a two-front war against the two of them.

Benjamin flicks a long snake of ash to the ground, attention diverted to do that. The warmth of the night slowly begins to dawn, and Ben lifts his head, as if testing the direction of the breeze, testing if it's enough to really warrant a full length velvet coat. Apparently not, as he settles the cigarette between his lips to lean up, and slide the garment off his shoulders.

Walker pulls a last drag off his lit cigarette and drops it to the ground, smushing it under the sole of his boot, chuckling softly. "All right... now that you're all here," he declares in a voice that doesn't come close to the official-sounding words. Whatever he might've said next however is lost as his attention is demanded elsewhere. Where ever clothes drop, Walker's eyes will be. Like a cathode-ray-tuber hooked on the flickering television screen, he stares fixedly at the man on the bench, Bat's waiting cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers.

Jean-Batiste grins right back at Jason, not buying that innocent routine for even a half-second. He finally reaches for the licorice clove Walker holds, to light it up - as he does, he looks over at Benjamin, watching him shrug off his velvet coat with undisguised, intense envy. "What a great jacket..." he murmurs to his friends, hopefully softly enough nobody else overhears.

Well, okay, /that/ movement attracts Jason's attention (as dangerous as that may be at times). As Benjamin slides the coat off, Jason tilts his green eyes slide over to the slightly older man, head cocking at a slight angle with a sort of 'oh /really/' look on his face. After a moment, he looks to Walker, gets a huge smirk, then raises his eyebrows to his two other friends.

Walker isn't noticing the jacket... or really anything right now save for what he's looking at. Nothing short of a brick dropped on his foot would draw him back. Well, maybe a nudge would or something said directly to him, but he's pretty vacant right now. A slight half-smile tugs at one corner of his pale lips, him unawares.

Jason leans over and not-quite whispers into Walker's ear (loud enough for the other two boys to hear, probably), "What, did we just find out what ta getcha fer Christmas, Walk?"

Trace waits impatiently for Walker continue, just for a few moments, before looking over his shoulder to follow his older friend's gaze. He giggles softly and snaps his head back towards Walker. "Ya know that guy?" he inquires amusedly, soft enough for just his friends to hear. "Or just scoutin'?" Jason, of course, is grinning crookedly the entire time.

Wow, a guy takes off his coat and suddenly he's the Ringmaster. This is one of those times that being ninety percent clueless comes in handy. The coat is folded up neatly, fastidiously in fact, and rested on the bench next to Benjamin. Only when he's satisfied with its neatness does he lean back and flick off some more ash. Ample time for anyone to stare, and then look away, all with the object of attention unawares.

Jean-Batiste looks away from Benjamin as he finishes folding up his jacket, sighing wistfully. Imagine being rich enough to wear a velvet -jacket-...wow. He giggles softly, turning his attention to Jason, then Walker. "I think he's going to start drooling..." he comments, grinning around spiced smoke.

Walker blinks rather vacuously, grinning at Jason and then Trace. "Umm..." Such a smooth reply; who'd have thought Walker could be at a loss for words? "Nah... don' know him..." His cheeks take on just a hint of a blush, ducking his head as he reaches back to grab a plastic grocery bag camoflauging itself next to the trash can. His long hair falls forward helpfully, obscuring the flush long enough for him to collect his wits. When he straightens, his complexion's back to normal and so's his grin. "Here, Jason. Take a look."

Jason smirks crookedly at Batiste, then slides over to be beside Trace, elbowing the kid lightly. "So, I miss sumthin?"

Walker hands the bag to Jason, eyes dancing with muted humor.

Jason's ears would perk up if they could. He /oohs/ and leans forward, trying to peer into the bag. When Walker hands it to him, he practically stuffs his face inside to see, hair falling down all over the place. The thing inside the bag is wrapped thick in grey tissue paper. The bulk with the paper is a little under a foot long, give or take.

Trace tries to peer into the bag, but steps back when it gets handed to Jason. "Well, don't stick your head in... We wanna see too, so pull it out!" he demands with an eager grin, nudging.

Benjamin's lazy eyes wander over the offered sack, and the young man (right, not "boy", that's the ticket) so eager to see into it. A faint frown crosses his forehead for just an instant. Isn't it labelled 'This is not a toy' or anything? Jesus, Ben, staring -again-. He flitters his gaze away again, to a nearby tree.

Jean-Batiste grins at Walker, that 'ohmygod I saw -Walker- blushing' knowing grin, as he takes another drag off his licorice clove. He sighs as he exhales, turning curiously to look towards Jason, edging a bit closer to try and sneak a preview of the mystery item.

Walker leans back against the steps again, grinning like he knows something. Which - in this case - he does, that being what's in the bag. But he's not about to spoil the surprise by saying. So instead he busies his fingers with the quarter-sized pendant on one of his corded necklaces, watching.

Jason pulls his head out a little, brows furrowing. Then, after sweeping some hair back over his shoulder, he reaches inside and rustles around a bit. The crinkling of tissue paper can be heard, then Jason starts pulling out a wad of the grey stuff (tissue paper, that is). Apparently whatever's in there is all wrapped up.

How good it is to be a spectator, when the spectatees are as wrapped up in their doings as the ones that Ben watches now. He needs to be less careful of keeping his eyes averted, curious gaze somewhat more open, desirous to see what the fateful bag might hold.

Trace shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and scolds with a grin, "Geez, open it." He's surprised. One would expect Jason to tear madly at the package like a kid at Christmas.

Alisynde drifts up the street, the ribbons of her skirt fluttering behind her in the slight breeze made by her movements.

Jean-Batiste is standing near Jason and Trace, smoking one of Walker's licorice cloves - of course - and watching Jason with intense curiousity as he unwraps a mystery object wrapped in grey tissue paper.

Walker is parked on the steps of a closed storefront, watching Jason tug grey paper out of a plastic sack. A knowing smile graces his delicate features; and today seems one of those rare days as he's completely devoid of masking makeup.

As if that's a cue, Jason grins huge at Trace, then does exactly as one might expect: he shreds the paper in an attempt to get at its contents. It always takes too LONG to get to presents, dammit!

Benjamin lounges on a park bench well-removed from the group of the others, arms rested to either side along the back. His coat is carefully folded and rested at his side, and a black cigarette dangles in one hand.

What treasure does the grey paper hold? Warm golden, high-gloss wood, that's what. But not just any old wood... no this is a set of Pan-pipes, the length of the instrument woodburnt with Celtic knotwork, corded together with laquered twine.

Alisynde spots a knot of people, and changes direction to drift their way. Wrapping, people...present? Ooh. And people she knows, mostly. She changes from drift to sneak mode. Let's see if she can spot the prezzie before she's noticed.

Jean-Batiste's eyes widen with awe, the expression wiping fatigue and stress from his face as if it was never there. "Oh, -wow-..." he breathes, staring at the pan-pipes - he blinks out of his fixation, and looks over at Walker, a sunny grin spreading across his face.

Jason's jaw drops as he yanks the last of the tissue paper out, and he just holds the bag and stares into it like he unwrapped a human head or something. He just can't believe it. For all his playfulness and sneaky (and not-so-sneaky) plays for attention, he is genuinely... touched to the core. Slowly, he reaches into the bag and pulls out the set of pan-pipes, eyes rising to Walker. "For /me/??" he asks, disbelieving.

Walker nods, brows raising a little as he smiles. "A-course it's for ya... Wouldn't've handed ya th' bag just ta tell ya that ya've gotta give it back." His dark green eyes sparkle, the charming expression of mirth completely unhindered by eyeliner. "Enjoy..." His smile sags a little as it starts to drip - again! - and draws his feet under the awning.

Alisynde stretches on tip-toe. Lemme see, lemme see. And as she does, her eyes widen, and her mouth forms a silent ''O'. Beautiful, those pipes. And Jason seems to like them...after all, isn't that what giving presents is about? She lowers herself back onto her heels, still watching the group.

Trace looks over at Batiste brightly, trying to convey without words his surprise and relief. Because honestly, he'd felt rather bad that they'd fled the park before getting Jason a set of pipes. And after all, this set is nicer than anything *they* could have afforded. "Ohhh.... Oh, they're really *really* cool, Jason. D'y know how ta play that kind?" That last asked hopefully.

Jean-Batiste looks to Trace...and shares that look. Blissful relief. Jason got his pipes. His smile's almost brilliant enough to dispel the drizzle, cast its own little pool of golden light. "Yeah," he echoes his blue-haired friend. "Can you play those?"

Walker gives Ali a finger-wave as he finally notices - no, he's not the most attentive individual right now - adding a: "Hey, Ali.... s'up?" Before looking back to Jason and his new prize. notices _her_

Alisynde stands, getting drizzled upon and not caring one whit. She smiles rather brilliantly at Walker. "Not too much. You got those for Jason?" Hey, she actually remembers! "They're simply lovely.."

Jason really does look like he's about to cry. He never would have expected this in a million years. Never. He doesn't even notice as the drizzle comes. He just lets the bag and paper fall away completely and fingers his present, then looks with huge, grateful eyes at Walker again, smiling softly. A very tiny, very quiet, very whispered, "Thanks..." And then he laughs brightly and grins to Trace and Bat, showing off his prize. "I can learn, can't I??"

Trace bobs his head eagerly, blue braids tossing about. "Yeah, yeah.. course! I think I even saw a book for learning different kinds of old flutes, ocarinas and stuff... Saw it in a store window. But you're so good with those other pipes, I bet you could figger it out pretty quick on yer own."

Whups. Direct question. Oh, well. "Yeah... since th' Faire's in town, I just figured... well..." He shrugs, either not quite sure what he wants to say or unwilling to share it. "I also picked up a shitload of incense an' this..." He digs in his necklaces, pulling one out. It's a round pendant, marked with the sign Virgo. He grins to Jason, kicking the bag away. "You're welcome, Jase. But I expect ta hear ya play it for me frequent an' often."

Avril comes out of Pontalbo St. Ann.

Alisynde grins. "I have to swing by there and get incense. Any good candlemakers there this year?"

Jean-Batiste leans in closer, hand on Jason's shoulder, to gawk at the wondrous pan-pipes. "They're -so- beautiful...it'll be so wonderful to see you play them, Jason." Smiling between Jason and Trace, he murmurs, "Magic," then grins almost ferociously. "You'll pick it up in no time at all, I know it," he promises Jason, completely convinced of this fact.

Avril comes ambling out of the apartment building courtyard, hands crammed in the front pockets of her jeans and a lit cigarette smoldering, held between her lips. She heads for Walker, coming up on his left and raising a hand in a small wave when she pauses.

Avril’s Desc:
She stands only about 5'4", small by most standards, but lean and well-developed, efficient power in a compact size. A heart-shaped face and almost elfin features lend to her youthful look, even though her eyes seem to contradict that impression. In contrast to her black lashes, her eyes seem an uncommonly pale shade of gray, almost icy in their clarity. Only full garnet lips manage to balance her sharp gaze, and while she might be considered 'unique' she'd never be thought of as a classic beauty. Her skin is too dusky a shade, indicating mixed heritage, and her black hair entirely too curly, though it has at least been tamed into a silver barette at her nape, falling to the middle of her back.

Casual and unpretentious, she wears clean but slightly baggy blue jeans, the extra length at the ankles falling over the tops of black leather engineer boots that shine with chrome buckles. A sheer black chiffon top hugs tight around her ribs, but is tucked in neatly just the same, accentuating the smallness of her waist. Easily transparent, the shirt clings hungrily to her very erect nipples.

Walker nods slowly, trying to remember the layout. Since it changes minutely every year, it's always hard to keep track of where everything is. "Yeah. Down near th' leather shoes booth, I think. But don' quote me on that." And he was just there yesterday. Swiss cheese memory; what glory. He looks up at Jason, delicate features pulling into a thoughtful cast. "Think ya could learn ta play 'em by th' time they," he nods to Trace and Bat. "Are ready ta do th' mural?" And another shift of moods; he waxes excited again, reaching for his kilt. "Damn! I almost forgot again!" He fishes a slightly battered envelope out from the folds of his kilt, holding it out to Trace. "Here. It's th' front money for th' mural."

Jason glances sideways to Alisynde - where'd /she/ come from? He blinks, then shrugs, then goes back to grinning broadly at Trace and Bat and Walker, holding the set of pan-pipes close to his chest, his new treasured item. "Oh, I dunno, they're so /complicated/ though," he giggles out, obviously joking. "You all..." But then he just smiles, a softer, more intimate one.

Jason's brows furrow at Walker, then at Trace. "Mural..?" he asks lamely.

Trace blinkblinks... "Front money?" He hesitently takes the envelope and peers inside.

Avril tips a silent nod to Bat and Trace and Alisynde, inhaling off her cig slowly and exhaling through her nose, that waving hand soon subdued into her front pocket. She seems quite content to just stand around listening to everyone else talking for now.

Alisynde smiles at Jason, Trace and Bat. "Hi, guys." And she slips over to join Walker, a faint smile still playing about her mouth. She nods to Avril, then, "Shove over, Walker. I want to sit." She starts to turn her head away, to look back at the group, but something about Walker catches her attention, and she does a double-take. "Did you cut your hair or..no..that's not it.." She stares, puzzled. What's different?

Ayita comes into the square from St. Ann.

Ayita panders into the square in the pre-dawn light, carring a pack over one shoulder and a guitar in one hand. Her style of dress is a good indication that she's just come from the Ren Faire.

Walker obediently scoots, moving closer to Avril in the process. "Hey," he greets her with a warm smile, the expression unhidden by his regular death makeup. "S'up?" He looks back to Ali, turning the smile on her. "Try again, Ali-girl."

Benjamin has been lounging on this same park bench, removed from the clutch of people who all know each other. His attention has wandered off once more, this time truly, studying the rise of the Cathedral against the backdrop of the river.

Jean-Batiste looks away from Jason's preciously snuggled gift as Trace opens the envelope that apparently contains money. It's the streetrat in him - maybe he can count it by the rustle it makes?

Avril flicks a glance down to Walker and looks him over at Alisynde's remark, saying nothing as she plucks her cig from her mouth and exhales a slow tendril skyward. Walker looks the same as he ever did to her, makeup or no. She just sorta shifts her weight from one foot to the other, focusing on Trace for a while. It's entertainment for her to watch him get excited.

Alisynde sits, and peers over at Walker. Different, different. Something's different. And the realization suddenly hits her with all the grace of a Mack Truck. "Makeup! That's it! Wow. I've never seen you like that before..."

Trace chokes as he thumbs over the top of the bills, peeling the corners back and realizing they're mostly 100 dollar bills. *Lots* of 100 dollar bills. He just stares a moment, then looks up to Walker with a very faint, dazed protest. "But... but we ain't even drawn it yet..." Apparantly he doesn't quite get the concept of front money. Still looking very much distracted -- or rather, in a state of shock -- he glances up between the girls as they arrive, blinking a little and offering weakly, "Hi Ali... Ayita... Avril." Then he looks to Walker.

Jason murmurs, "Doesn't he look awful?" playfully, but his attention is on Trace and the money now too. When he sees just how MUCH money, though, his jaw drops again and he crowds closer to the other kid. Partly to peer in and be a part of this money thing, but, well, also partly to shield the view from anyone outside. Women? What women? There's /money/ here.

Avril quirks a soft smile to Trace and gives one of those silent nods of hers as she inhales yet another deep drag. Yeah...Hey Trace. Dont spend it all in one place, use it on chalk and paint, and avoid smack, okay...maybe a little for some pot to get the creative juices flowing. Yeah, he's a good boy. She just keeps thinkin' that.

Walker chuckles, one arm wrapping around Ali's shoulders to give her a brief hug. "Ya got it. Didn't botha puttin' it on this mornin' afta breakfast with th' agent." He turns his attention back to the guys, grinning. "I know. Th' front money's for two reasons. First: ta get ya inta an apartment; you'll need first an' last month's rent. An' it's ta get ya any supplies ya might need that ya don' have in th' stuff stored in m'closet." He favors Jason with a playful wink as he fishes behind Ali for his black box of cigarettes. "Y'all're gonna do what ya did ovva there," another nod, this time directed at the pavement of the square. "In m'bedroom."

Ayita glances over at the group of folks gathered and flashes a bright, if smiled smile. "Hey, guys," she murmurs. She heads for a bench not to far from Benjamin's and flops onto it, setting down her guitar case.

Jean-Batiste's eyes start to widen - an expression like that on Trace must mean -beaucoup- bucks. He steps forward, grasping the envelope and staring down into it. "Fuck," he breathes, stunned. It's...goddamn. A -lot- of money. He echoes Walker reflexively, "Yeah. Rent, and supplies, we'll need lots to cover all the walls, and..." Ohmygod. -Ohmygod-. A place, and maybe even a couple pieces of shitty furniture, and... Batiste looks dizzy, all of a sudden, at all the options radiating from the simple paper envelope.

Benjamin finally has had enough of taking in the Cathedral, as beautiful as it might be, and the rise in conversation across the way causes his head to turn and look over the increased gathering. Oh my... women have appeared. Several of them, in fact, two flanking Walker, where his gaze lands first. A few slow blinks clear his eyes, remembering that the flow of people through a public place is a fully normal occurence.

Walker's attention finds Ayita, welcoming her with a warm smile that echoes the week's good cheer; it's been great to be Walker these last few days. Anything better comes along and he might just explode from joy. He gives her a wave and her own: "Hey... s'up?" before his eyes invariably wander over to where Benjamin sits. Oops. Not again; he's not staring this time. Bat's overwhelmed enthusiasm catches him again, pulling another smile up.

Avril glances down to Walker, muttering hoarsely, in one of her driest tones, "Well shit, Walker. If you put it in your bedroom, I'll never get to see it." First words out of her mouth: A complaint.

Walker looks to Avril with a downright perverted leer. "I'll show ya m'bedroom any time ya want..." he purrs, finally finding his box of cigarettes. Pulling one out he waggles a brow at her and lights up, chuckling.

Avril then turns on Bat, offering raspily, "Keep breathin' man...in'n out, in'n out..." That's how to deal with a possible sensory overload. Little pearls of wisdom.

Ayita lifts a hand and blows a kiss over at Walker. "Been working the Faire," the cloaked woman replies, from her perch on the bench. Her voice is a little hoarse, for some reason, as she speaks. She reaches into her pack and pulls out the sections of her flute, fitting them together in an idle fashion.

Alisynde oblingingy scoots forward so Walker can retrieve his smokes. A snap of her fingers, and she's balancing one from her own stash on the tip of one finger. She quickly snags it with her mouth before it decides to stop defying gravity, and tilts her head at Walker, giving him big puppy dog eyes. Light a lady..well, light my smoke?

"It's just... I..." Trace's frozen expression suddenly melting away, brightening, blooming. "Aiiiieehehe!" He laugh/yelp/squeals, and leaps forward to hug Walker. Even if Walker doesn't usually like that if he isn't Xing, Trace doesn't seem to be keeping that in mind right now. He bowls right on past Ali and her cigarette.

Jason blinks a little, still staring at the envelope, then looks to Walker (much much belateldly), and murmurs, "Always in yer bedroom, huh, Walk?" And then Trace flashes past him and tackles the poor man. Jason just starts laughing.

Walker flicks his flame for Ali, moving the fire to the end of her cigarette. "Workin' th' fair? Cool! Playin' your flute, I'm guessin'?" Damn. He should've agreed to work this year... he could've basked in her music. Oh, well. Always next year. He startles as his arms are suddenly full of Trace. He gives him a hug, giggling, careful not to burn anything with his cigarette as he does so.

Avril takes another deep drag off her cig, evidently choosing to pretend that she was struck stone deaf for the three seconds that Walker invited her to tour his bedroom. She didnt hear that. Nope. She just keeps an eye on Bat 'n Trace, making sure they're still breathin'. Be a pity for such talent to expire on her in the middle of Jackson Square, so close to Beltaine.

Oh. Batiste has a smoke, too. He remembers to raise it up and take a drag...only to find it burned away to the filter and smouldered out. What a pitiful waste. In penance, he draws out one of his Marlboros to light it up. He laughs through the first mouthful of smoke as Trace whoops and hug-tackles Walker, bloodshot eyes bright and happy.

Ayita laughs softly. "Actually, I only played this old thing when David needed backup. Well, that and just for general busking. I've been playing this baby here and singing during my sets." One hand pats the guitar case sitting next to her, as she speaks.

Walker would answer Ayita but as he tries to do so nearly inhales a mouthful of Sharkadelic braids and so holds off, content for the moment to squeezle Trace.

Jason slides up next to Batiste and leans lightly against the young man while everyone's occupied by Trace's ebullant pouncing of Walker. Just a little moment of sharing of quiet joy.

Alisynde inhales and pulls away about a whole second and a half before Trace decides to turn into the irrestible force of nature to Walker's unmoveable object. She chuckles at the sheer exerubance. "Well, well."

Benjamin starts somewhat at the joyful shriek from Trace, and for the first time his faraway expression takes on an unconscious actual expression. A light smile lifts up the corner of his lips at the young man's enthusiasm, even though due to what he hasn't caught onto yet. He watches for a few discreet moments, then wanders his gaze deliberately off again.

Trace bounces back quickly to start sending his hugs and joy elsewhere, first Batiste, then Jason, the envelope still held tight in his hand. "We're getting a place, oh my god...! Jason.." He smiles so bright, brushing away a stray strand of red hair. "Jason, you gotta learn to play those pipes, inspire us some, when we draw for Walker, kay...? It's gonna be your home too..."

Jean-Batiste looks over at Jason, sharing a ferocious smile with him, and murmurs, "Yeah. The mural will be magic if you'll play for us, while we paint it." He leans back, draping an arm around Jason's shoulders, playing with one of the fiery braids he plaited days ago, laughing as Trace bounces over to hug him.

Ayita grins at the sight of Trace's excitement and raises the flute to her lips, playing a bright little melody that she seems to be making up as she goes along. Her eyes face towards the east, and you might almost get the idea that her song was greeting the sun as it rises.

Avril mutters softly around a mouthful of smoke, in Walker's general direction, "Pity I only got three bedrooms, or I'd put em up." She taps her ashes off to the side with a gentle flick, going back to watching Trace. Cant be beat for quality family entertainment, that kid.

Jason bites his lip and nodnods with a broad grin at Trace. He's infected with the hope going on here, and hugs back happily. He swats at a blue braid and steps back. "Don' worry none 'bout it, Trace..."

Walker laughs, the soft sound bubbling up silkily at Trace's exuberance. He's not making a whole lot of sense but it doesn't matter. His meaning's understood. He looks up at Avril, foot tapping to the music's beat as it stirs the air. "Well, they're gonna have their own place now... an' with how popular their work is gettin', they should be all right." He pulls a drag off his cigarette, looking over to Ayita where she plays. She looks so pretty like that, poised with her flute at her lips... a sigh and Walker melts. Over the steps, against Ali... meeeelt.

Trace just shakes his head with amazement. "Y'see, Batiste, y'see...? Just like I said last night, things're so good right now...Everythin's happenin' so right!" He flips through the money again, as though to check and be sure he didn't dream up the two zeros tacked onto the end of all those ones....

Avril nods silently to Walker, finishing off the last dregs of her cigarette before dropping it to die a slow death on the pavement. Her hands slide back into her front pockets before she goes to looking for a place to park herself.

Ayita closes her eyes as she plays, a look of utter peace falling over her face, letting the melody drift on, softening somewhat, notes rising through the branches of the trees that dot the square. A faint breeze picks up and ruffles the girl's long hair, blowing her skirt and cloak against her legs.

Alisynde says in an aside to Walker, "Y'know, if getting apartments is going to make you that happy, maybe it's time I got one of my own..." And then she has a lapful of melted Walker. She holds her arm up, getting the cig out of the way, so he doesn't turn into singed melted Walker. An impish grin springs to life on her face, adnd she looks down at him, eyes twinkling. "Well, fancy seeing you here."

Jean-Batiste tightly hugs Jason around the shoulders, leaning into him, temple to temple. He might not be bouncing or skipping, but the impossible levels of hopeful happiness and glee still gleam in his eyes. He laughs, and tries to snatch the envelope away from Trace, grinning. "Give that here, you...I'm going to spend it all on beignets."

Benjamin's cigarette is long since smoked to its end, and long since gone out. But of course, he hasn't noticed. Anyone sensing a pattern here? He lifts it to his mouth again to draw, but only gets a quick choking cough for his efforts as the smoke fails to fill his lungs. Rather disappointed, the man peers at the spent butt.

Trace giggles, handing it over and echoing blissfully, "A jillion, bezillion beignets..!" His expression straights a little, though not entirely (nothing's going to iron out that grin for at least ten minutes), as he recalls. "Oh... Yeah, I really do need some beignets or something though. Wow. We never got the turkey leg, remember? That makes three days..." He looks only faintly concerned, having decided to tag along for the walk to the pastry cart.

Alisynde calls over to Bat, "If you get me a cup of coffee and a beignet, I'll love you forever.."

Avril wanders over in Benjamin's general direction, leaning down slightly as she gets further away from the group, as if checking something. It aint quite light enough yet. Maybe if she ran all the way up five flights, she'd get her camera in time to get this. Naw...fuck it. She plucks her pack of Newports from her pocket and fires up yet another one, watching the goings on from several paces away.

Walker chuckles, nudging Ali playfully with an elbow. "Does that mean ya love me forevva? I've bought ya coffee before..." A long drag is pulled off his cigarette, savored and released.

Ayita's song rises into a crescendo that's almost triumphant, and there it ends, fading away to silence as the woman lowers the flute and sets it into her lap, golden eyes blinking open as she sighs contentedly.

Benjamin hrmphs to himself, and flicks away the spent cigarette with a frown after it. All the damn little thing's fault after all, for going out just when he needed it most. Movement nearby draws his eyes as he leans back, glancing up at the almost-approaching woman. A vague smile flickers over his face, just in case she ends up coming closer. Now he needs just one more excuse to stick around and watch the scene not too far away. Real life, way more interesting than TV.

Jean-Batiste just holds the envelope stuffed with insane amounts of money, blinking down dopily at it. A home. He's holding a home in his hands. He sighs, exhaling a cloud of pure happiness, then looks up to smile at the world. Even the nasty winos sleeping across the square under newspapers. He hugs Jason again, then tries to coax him along towards the beignet cart. Ever sensible, he says to Trace, "You should get a sandwich, and beignets for dessert." A bright, crooked smile is radiated at Ali as he nods and calls back, "Deal."

Alisynde beams. "Great! Just black is fine.." She turns that beaming smile on Walker. "Well, of course I love you forever. Didn't you notice?"

Jason doesn't need coaxing, really. He reaches out and grabs Trace lightly by the wrist, gently pulling the kid after him and Bat as they start for the cart. And a nudge to Bat to move faster.

Walker claps for Ayita's song, not the least bit abashed about showing his appreciation. In the spirit of the Ren Faire, he even adds a: "Huzzah!" and grins at her, chin lowered a little as his teeth gently press against his lower lip. He bumps shoulders with Ali, eyes slipping to her. "I noticed. I just wanted ta hear ya say it."

Avril glances toward the east when the light gets full fledge in that sudden way that dawn does. A slight shake of her head, and she turns to head back the way she came, unable to take much more. Pretty soon it'll be all over, with nary a shadow to slide into. She turns just in time to see Benjamin's vague smile, stopping dead in her tracks. Whoa...Mona Lisa in Jackson Square. How'd she miss that? She just stares at the dude, rudely, openly, actually approaching a half step just to see if he'll do that again. Maybe...maybe he'll get up and punch her in the nose. No matter...she's always got a firearm handy.

Ayita laughs softly, inclining her head in Walker's direction, a warm grin playing about her lips. "Glad you approve."

Trace stumbles on after his two friends, towards the beignet cart. "Yeah... yeah, okay, so long as I can eat my dessert *first*. Coz it's like, I don't see a sandwich cart close by, but beignets are right here and my stomach is feelin' all wobbly suddenly like 'ooh, food'." He rambles merrily, still unable to lose the permagrin.

Alisynde applauds, as well, then sticks her tounge out at Walker. "Why am I not surprised?"

Jean-Batiste laughs, nudging Jason back, and breaks into a jog to cross the distance to the beignet cart. He pulls out one of the twenties inside the envelope, slapping it down proudly, and says, "Fifteen beignets, a large black coffee, and..." He looks to Trace and Jason, to see what they want. All those beignets are, presumably, to share around with everyone. "Fruitopia? Yeah, Fruitopia for me, the Passionfruit whatever one." He nudges his friends to hurry up and decide.

Walker's smile shifts cherubic (and damned if he doesn't look just the sweet cherub; dark makeup sure can hide a lot), a flutter of lashes accompanying. "Because ya know me too well?" He pulls a last drag off his smoke, dropping it to join the ranks of other discarded butts quickly piling on the sidewalk.

Alisynde says affably, "Yeah, that could be it." She pulls on her smoke, then decides now would be a good time to blow smoke rings over Walker's head. So she does so.

Benjamin's brows come together a bit, just as vague as the smile before. The light, foggy serenity is too difficult to disturb for actual expressions, so he just tries these little hints at emotion. Here's an excuse worth of sticking around: non-verbal wits-matching with the woman who seems so surprised to see him.

Jason adds, "Coffee!!" to Bat's order, trotting up behind his shoulder. "'N.. 'n... more coffee!" He giggles brightly, then spins on Trace. "You! Eat! Now!"

Avril goes from surprised to damned near stunned. Jesus H. Christ on a popsicle stick! He can do it at will. Oh man, what a find. She heads for the dude with purpose in her stride, glancing toward the east furtively while licking her lips quickly. Now would be a bad time to be so hoarse she couldnt talk. Upon approaching Benjamin's side she quirks a slight grin, one that fades when she rasps softly, pointing toward the apartments nearby, "Hey, can I talk to you for a minute, over there?" She looks like she aint taking no for an answer.

Trace mmmms. "Fruitopia! I want... I want kiwi-cherry-lemon-apple-strawberry-banana-mangofruit!" He giggles and shakes his head. "Okay, okay, that purple lable one right there," he mumbles around a big grin, pointing out The Grape Beyond.

Ayita takes her flute apart again and stows it back into her leather pack. She gets slowly to her feet, brushing out her cloak and dress, then stretching, back cracking if you're close enough to hear.

Walker catches one of the smoke rings, squishing it between his fingers. Opening his hand shows nothing; smoke is so fleeting. His attention meanders to Avril as she heads over to Benjamin, curious. Maybe she'll find out his name and share with the group. A phone number would be really great; he looks like the sort that would be fun at any one of the various types of parties Walker attends on a regular basis.

Alisynde grins at Jason. "Good choice." Her gaze drifts while the rest of her waits for breakfast, and alights on Avril and Benjamin. She murmurs under her breath, "Da-amn.." Sweet, sweet, sweet.

Walker nods to Ali in agreement with that. "I was thinkin' just about th' same thing," he murmurs, feeling just a tiny twinge of envy. Then it's gone, replaced by his inflated mood once more.

Jean-Batiste laughs, and turns his grin to the vendor, adding, "The grape Fruitopia...yeah, that one, and...uh...yeah, just another one, and another large coffee. And that's it, thanks." Trace and Jason each get a beignet, as soon as the order's filled. "Eat up. We're gonna need our energy."

Ayita scoops up her guitar case, once the stretch is ifnished with, and starts heading out. "Night, y'all," she calls, voice drifting back. "I need to get a few hours sleep before things start up again at the Faire."

Benjamin blinks a few times, very slowly, trying to clear off the ever-present dreaminess that encroaches on his eyes. "Over... there?" Another blink sends his gaze to said apartments, and a final one back up to Avril. Those first words all night, carefully pronounced in a quiet timbre, markedly different from the careless and carefree voices populating the Square just now. Slowly, he rises, scooping his jacket up over one arm. "I suppose."

Jason's beignet is already is being stuffed into his mouth even before Bat starts speaking, inhaling the thing. Munchmunchmunch, crumbs, munch.

Walker waves to Ayita as she readies to make her departure. "When're ya workin'? I'll drop by an' see ya."

That beignet Batiste hands Trace is just... *gone*, crammed, two seconds at the most.

Ayita glances back at Walker. "I'll be in the Celticbard tent all afternoon. Probably doing another set onstage tomorrow night. Look for me."

Avril glances up to Ayita when she announces her departure, waving to her absently in the microsecond that her attention is diverted from Benjamin. She turns back to him with an emphatic nod, pointing the way one more time, just to make it real clear, "Yeah, over here. Wont take up but five minutes of your time." She straightens herself up and sorta beckons for Benjamin to come along with her...yeah, there's lotsa shadows over there...sorta creepy lookin'. But she'll protect him...she's got a gun and all that.

Trace swallows hard, eyes going watery-bright because he tried to swallow too much at once and it catches someplace uncomfortable on the way to his stomach before easing off... He just grins though, scrubs at his eyes very briefly with the back of his hand, and chirps, "Kin I have another?"

Jean-Batiste laughs, and stuffs down a beignet himself, just for the sheer gluttonous pleasure of it, before starting to carry the bag of sweet fried dough and assorted drinks back over to the gathering. "We'll come see you tomorrow afternoon, Ayita!" he promises, trying to wave and hand another beignet to Trace at the same time.

Alisynde waves to Ayita. "G'night." She turns her gaze back to that lovely vision being chatted up by Avril, and sighs. "Figures. Always seem to be distracted and lose my opportunities." A faint grin appears as she looks back over at Walker. "You too, huh?"

Stefanie hops out of a taxi and looks around, watching the large group of people suspiciously for a few moments before walking across the square.

Ayita grins, waves at all she knows, and continues on down the street.

Avril pauses in her little stroll with Benjamin to holler at Walker and Ali, addressing the former with, "Walker, man, you got a watch?" She reaches out a hand toward Benjamin's sleeve to make sure he doesnt wander off. It'd be such a bitch to just 'lose' him while walking...

Trace snatches up that beignet too, and ambles on back towards the others gathered in the square. He takes a *little* more time with this one, packing it away in, oh, eight seconds. He sucks on his fingers greedily as he takes his seat.

Walker grabs up his cigarettes again, tugging one out but not lighting it just yet. He leans closer to Ali to whisper something in her ear, long hair falling to curtain off his words nicely. He waves a hand to Avril, signalling that he heard her and will respond shortly when he's finished gossiping.

Benjamin, thankfully, has no idea about the gun. He sweeps one arm out obligingly for Avril to lead the way toward where she pointed, and falls into step behind her. Could it be that he adds just the slightest swing of the hip, just in case there's an audience. No, must be a trick of the light. Or he's got a limp. Discreetly he keeps his sleeve away from Avril's questing hand, his personal space almost glowing neon for a second there.

Stephanie’s Desc:
Stephanie is a diminuative girl, standing no more than 5 foot 3 inches tall. Her long dark hair is usually tied into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. Her brown eyes are constantly moving, wathing every corner of the room and jumping at shadows, but also unnaturally bright, drinking in every detail. She is an attractive woman in her late teens, or at least would be if she took more care of her appearance. She wears no make up, or anything to heighten her beauty, leaving everything up to nature.

She is currently dressed in a pair of oversized jeans, that fall in folds at over her feet almost hiding the sneakers she wears. On her body she wears a white t-shirt that has been stuffed into her jeans, judging by how long the sleeves are on this shirt it is probably way to big as well, but she has pulled it tight across her chest.

Alisynde laughs, and nods. "Oh yeah. Makes life very, very interestin'.."

Walker giggles and leans back, searching through his necklaces. He produces a black disc on a chain which he flips open to expose a tiny, digital clock. He delivers the current time in a tone not unlike that heard from bored college professors or voice mail.

A wave. Good Sign. Avril hollers again as she returns to her little trek, "Call my house in one hour, man. Dont forget...remind him Ali. And dont let Trace eat nothing but sugar, that boy needs protein or some shit." She turns back toward the apartment complex, ushering Benjamin in with a wave and a final drag off her cig, which gets tossed away behind her as she slips into the courtyard beyond.

Avril crosses St. Ann to Pontalbo Apartments.

Benjamin wanders obediently after Avril, dark brows just beginning to lift in question. It occurs to him to wonder just why he's following her as he disappears into the complex.

Benjamin crosses St. Ann to Pontalbo Apartments.

Walker feels very much like his mother just walked through Jackson Square. And what a peculiar look is brought on by that impression. Somewhat between sour and confused. "Damn... she must be a motha or a teacha or somethin'... Folks can't normally get that tone without bein' one o' those," he comments in regard to Avril's passage.

Alisynde blink-blinks. "My. I think I'll have to agree with you there, Walker-m'lad." She pauses, for a whole 5 seconds, and says, "Don't forget to call her in one hour." Then she grins.

Walker snorts, giving Ali a gentle poke. "Aw, gee... thanks for remindin' me." He rolls his eyes, smirking. "You're so funny, I don' know what ta do with ya." He sticks the fresh cigarette between his lips, sparking it up.

Jean-Batiste settles down cross-legged in front of Walker and Ali. He hands one of the coffees to Ali, the other to Jason, then opens Trace's Fruitopia bottle for him. Whadda guy. He folds down the rim of the bag of beignets, so everyone can feast on them.

Sitting down indian-style on the concrete, Trace has a beignet in each hand and munches alternately on each.

Stefanie walks across the square aiming for the apartment buildings.

Alisynde snitches up a beignet, and takes a big ol' bite before indulging in her coffee. A very satisfied "Ah..." escapes her lips. Walker gets waggled eyebrows and the line, "Well...you can always use your imagination..."

Jean-Batiste sneaks one, and only one, look towards where Benjamin and Avril vanished. He doesn't comment...rather obviously. Too busy wondering, maybe.

Walker takes Ali's wrist and directs the beignet toward his mouth, stealing a bite if allowed.

Alisynde lets him steal the bite, then claims the rest back. Mine.

Jason plops down between Batiste and Trace, making sure he's in contact with both. Personal space only applies when you don't know the people. He cheerfully munches along.

Trace blinks, looking over to regard the girl crossing the street. "Hey..." he nudges Jason gently, then looks to Batiste, to include him too. "Hey, y'know, I think I know that girl..." he nods vaguely in Stefanie's direction. "But... wow, it was a long time ago. I could be wrong." He squints, wishing she'd turn a little this way so he could get a better look at her face.

Walker munches happily; there's no food quite as tasty as that stolen from a willing friend. Unfortunately it has the effect of making him want more. And something to wash it down with as cottonmouth couples with sugar. He steals a look at the beignet cart, considering. A few puffs on the cigarette and dry mouth overcomes laziness. "Be right back." And he's up and ambling toward the hapless vendor.

Stefanie looks at the buildings, appreantly trying to remember or decide something, but finally she stops and turns around, muttering to herself as she heads back the way she came.

Alisynde inhales the rest of the beignet, since there's no mooch there to try and steal anymore. Even if he is one of her favorite mooches. She sips the hot java, and follows Trace's gaze over to the girl, brows knitting in speculation.

Trace nods a little, nudging more. "Yeah, yeah... that's her, you guys. Whoa.." He takes another huge bite of the fried pastry and just watches her thoughtfully. He's too shy to call out. It's been over a year, after all, since he last saw her.

Jean-Batiste pauses mid-nibble of a beignet, licking powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth. "Huh?" he says to Trace. "Who is she?" He opens his own Fruitopia bottle, and gulps down some of it, watching the stranger over the rim.

Stefanie doesn't seem to notice the attention she is getting from the group, either that or making a good job of ignoring it for whatever reason.

Walker resists the urge to try to haggle with the vendor; unfortunately outside the Faire, business doesn't often work that way. He forks over the money for his own pasty and juice and heads back over to slide up next to Ali once more, nibbling. He looks over at Stefanie as his attention's called to her, mumbling around the beignet: "R'name's Shtef." An extra phonic got thrown in their thanks to powdered-sugar square treat. there

Alisynde looks one more time. Muzzy memories obviously aren't helping, as she still looks rather puzzled. So she gives it up as a bad job, letting her eyebrows relax before they turn into a permanent 'v' shape or somethin. Instead, she contemplates Walker's beignet.

Okay, everyone else is looking, so Jason should too. So he does. Head tilted, beignet munching, he watches the girl. Hmmm...

Stefanie seems to finally notifce all the stares she is getting, half turning her head to peer at the group a little nervoulsy perhaps.

"Yeah, yeah.... Stephanie. She used to draw with me. Show me stuff, techniques... I always thought she was so much better. She'd sit right here, in this square... She was on the street too." Despite the fact that he sounds very sincere, this girl Trace is pointing out just -- well, doesn't look like a street kid. She's quite clean, even.

Jean-Batiste leans comfortably into Jason, and starts playing with one of his braids again, after licking powdered sugar off his fingers. "Mmm?" he replies to Trace, looking back at Stefanie. "Yeah? Hmm." He tickles his own nose with the tufted end of Jason's braid, looking thoughtful for a second.

Stefanie gets a little more nervous now that they are pointing too.

Walker swallows, gulping down some Peach-Lemonade Harmony to clear his airway. "Cool. I know she an' Cherry are friends..." He doesn't know much else that would be very enlightening; he hasn't really hung out with her aside from that party. "Hey, Stef! S'up?" He calls out. He then takes another tiny bite of pastry.

Glass slips into the square.

Stefanie blinks as Walker calls her name, probably forgotten about the party or something..."Um..."

Alisynde snaps her fingers. That's it. Party. That's where she saw the girl. She leans back, sipping on her coffee: apparently having decided not to gnaw Walker's arm off for a return bite of beignet.

Walker is perched on a step next to Ali, nibbling a pastry and looking over across the square. Today's either a lazy day or an important one as he's not wearing any makeup.

Jean-Batiste blinks suddenly, and looks over at Walker, the lightbulb firing up. Aha. -That's- where she's familiar from. He glances back at Stefanie, making a face of mild distaste, then busies himself polishing off the rest of his beignet. "Yeah, she and Cherry were crawling all over Ryan last night, before we found you, Trace," he comments.

Walker falls into a fit of giggles at Bat's comment, teetering a little on the step. He nods, trying to settle some before he splashes cold juice everywhere. "Yeah. That's her." He starts to nibble again but fails, falling into another giggle-fit.

Trace flinches a little as Walker calls out, and shrinks his shoulders a little. He munches more beignet and peers over the pastry at her, though uncertainly, like he's ready to drop his eyes at any moment. He swallows the mouthful. "Yeah..?" he mumbles to Batiste. "Like I said, we just drew together sometimes. She looks different now. But then, I prolly' do too." He giggles a little. "M'hair wasn't blue then."

Jason giggles softly at Bat as he plays with a braid, then seems to get it in his head to play with one of Trace's. Blue rocks. He just wrinkles his nose slightly at the Cherry references and smirks, but then goes back to listening quietly. So much cool stuff has happened in just the past few hours, it's like he's afterglowing or something.

Glass drifts over to the group, "Hi, guys."

Stefanie finally settles on offering a small wave in the direction of the group, something is making her even more nervous now, can't tell what it is, but it seems to be Walker, or maybe all of you.

Walker gives Glass a weak wave, grinning hugely as the last of the giggles wind down. "Hey, Glass... s'up?" He indulges in a large bite of beignet, needing to make up for failing the last attempt at eating it.

Jean-Batiste shares a 'you have -no- idea' look with both Trace and Jason, seeming to think they were quite lucky to miss the festivities. He looks up at the sound of Glass's voice, and waves to him. "Glass, hey! Come have some beignets, we're celebrating."

Glass says, "Celebrating what?"

Alisynde waves to Glass, her mouth currently being occupied with a large cup of coffee, then shoots a sympathetic look Bat's way.

Trace giggles and nearly holds up the envelope, but decides against it. "We're getting our own place!" he supplies with renewed cheer.

Glass grins.

Jean-Batiste sucks some powdered sugar off his bottom lip, contemplating Glass's question. "It's a...pre-housewarming party, yeah," he agrees, flashing a brilliant grin.

Glass says, "Cool. When do you move in?"

Jason's afterglow turns into a beaming light again, grinning broadly to this unknown girl. A place! He bounces a little where he sits and crams another beignet in his mouth, leaning back and forth so as to irritate both Trace /and/ Bat by bumping into them.

Walker lifts his bottle to Glass with a smile. "Have a sit," he gulps down a swallow of the pale pink Fruitopia and sets it between his shins on the next step down. "House-warmin'!" He brightens visibly, dark eyes aglitter with prospect. "We're gonna have one helluva bash ta celebrate that!"

Glass says, "What should we do?"

Stefanie seems relieved now that the attention is of her and turns to scurry across the square trying to flag down a taxi.

Alisynde says, "Bigger than th' bash at the motel?"

Walker grins impishly, the look rather cute without the stark makeup. "Bring whatevva ya want ta th' party..." He nods enthusiastically to Ali, long hair sifting to drape over his necklaces. "Hell, yeah! It's a house-warmin'!"

A taxi pulls up, picks up Stefanie, and spirits her away.

Trace giggles. "Yeah, yeah! This is so much cooler'n a motel. I mean, okay, it'll prolly be smaller, but it'll be OURS... Y'know?" He just beams, and it hurts his face a little at this point, along the sides of his mouth. Doesn't matter though, he smiles anyway.

Glass says, "We shouldn't make a huge mess this time, though."

Jean-Batiste laughs softly at Jason, and bumps shoulders with him, flannel jostling around like streetworn pennants. "It'll be great..." he murmurs, to nobody in particular - then he grins up at Glass. "We probably won't have any carpet to get dirty, or any furniture to trash." He giggles, grinning back to Trace and Jason.

Alisynde says, "Unless we're willin' t'clean it up afterwards and the apartment's tenants.." She looks at Trace, Bat and Jason. "...don't mind a temporary mess.""

Glass says, "You want furniture?"

Jean-Batiste looks up at Glass, eyes wide. "Well...uh." He blinks a couple of times, then drinks some of his Fruitopia to stall for time. "Yeah, of course we will. I mean...yeah." There he goes again, answering in fifty unnecessary words. He looks down thoughtfully at his knee, thinking over furniture options.

Glass smiles, "Cool."

Walker chuckles. "I'm bringin' bean bags. They're already at th' house, stuffed in m'otha closet. So don' get those, Glass." He leans back against the stairs, polishing off his beignet.

Trace frowns a little. "Furnature from where, like Shay's house? I mean, not like she don't got plenty to spare, but.." He looks up and grins broadly. "Beanbags!"

Glass laughs, "I'll get what's free and will fit in my car."

Trace giggles. "Oh yeah... yeah, okay." He picks up his fruit drink and sips at it.

Alisynde thinks for a moment, then bounces rather suddenly. "I can make y'guys rag rugs if y'like."

Jean-Batiste murmurs, as he reaches for another beignet, "A big mattress. Like, a queen size. And pillows, and blankets." Geez. Is he always so sensible? "And a little fridge, unless we find a place with one, but..." He shakes his head at that thought - probably too expensive to hope for a room with appliances. "And a lamp. And-" He looks up, grinning at Ali. "Really? That'd be great."

Walker nods to Ali, thinking that sounds a good plan. "Rugs're always good ta have around. Extra insulation from th' damp." His attention wanders over to Bat as he sips at his juice. "I've got some spare blankets ya could have that I don' use. They're pretty torn up an' probably have that old closet smell, but they're yours if ya want 'em."

Alisynde grins. "Smoke a lot an' th' smell goes away after awhile."

Jean-Batiste keeps adding to the itemized list. Lamp means electricity, means electricity -bills-...hmm. Hmm. He tilts his head to the side a little, nibbling thoughtfully on his beignet, zoned out to his little practical world again.

Walker nips his lower lip, grinning at Ali as he manages to meld a little more with the steps, lean form draping. "With th' cigarettes I smoke, evrathin' smells th' same in m'house. Parta th' reason I have so much incense around th' house."

Alisynde grins back. "An' here I thought you just really liked incense."

Glass chuckles.

Jean-Batiste blinks out of his cost-totalling session, and grins up softly at Glass. "D'you want a beignet?" he offers. "I got fifteen, there's plenty left for everyone..."

Glass says, "Yeah. Thanks."

Trace nods, not half so practical as Batiste in his own musings. "Yeah... yeah, we need lots of incense, and candles too. And like a couple plants coz I like plants." He scritches at his chin thoughtfully with sticky, powdered fingers.

Glass says, "Pictures you have, hm?"

Jean-Batiste notes to Trace, as he picks up the paper bag of beignets and offers it up to Glass, "Ferns. Ferns are the best plants to have." He nods sagely to this, very convinced of this fact.

Walker shrugs, pulling out an after beignet-cigarette. "I do like it a bunch," he confesses. "I just bought a twenty-four ounce bottle-a Midsummer Night's Dream oil down at th' Faire an' a hundred sticks of those hand-dipped incense sticks."

Glass takes a beignet from the bag.

Trace giggles. "Kay, ferns then. Say, hand that here when yer done, eh Glass?" he smiles sweetly, quite ready for his sixth beignet.

Glass hands the bag to Trace.

Alisynde finishes the last of her coffee and gets up for a moment to toss it away. When she returns, she says, "Some of the best things about hand-dipped incense are, in my opinion, the fact you can get types you can't find in the store, and the fact it's so amazingly cheap."

Jean-Batiste leans forward, reaching for one of Walker's cigarettes while he has them out. He steals one away, and immediately sets to lighting it up, in case Walker should try and steal it back. Around the cigarette he asks, "How much was it, for a hundred sticks?"

Trace snatches the bag and paws through it eagerly, coming up with another. He sets the bag down on the concrete and munches contentedly. "Mmm." He glances over at the question, fond of the idea of incense smoke wafting its way through the air of their new apartment.

Walker nods devoutly to Ali's statement. "I *know*! I hadda guy come ta th' door sellin' world peace propaganda an' hand-dipped incense a while back. Got ten sticks offa him for a dollah..." He pulls a drag off his smoke, not minding Bat's theft. In fact he prefers it that way; saves him from having to go through the motions of permission. "A hundred sticks're five dollahs. Th' oil costs a lot more. Th' bottle I got was twenty-six bucks."

Alisynde mms. "But th' oil'll last a lot longer than th' sticks. Unless they're real high-quality sticks, they tend t'burn pretty fast. Not packed enough, I think."

Jean-Batiste takes in a slow, deep breath of spiced smoke, and exhales contentedly. -So- much better than his Marlboros. "Wow. We'll have to get some, then. What kind of incense do you like?" he asks Trace. He twists around, stretching out on his side on the concrete, head propped in his hand.

Glass says, "What do you put the oil on?"

Walker inclines his head briefly, glossy-dark hair sifting over his shoulder to follow the motion. "Th' sticks from th' Faire are pretty good. They're m'favorite." He pulls on his cigarette, blowing out a pluff of scented smoke as he answers Glass. "Anythin', really. Bits-a cloth... In oil burnas... on rings ya put around lightbulbs. On yourself a-course... Wherevva you've a mind ta put it."

Glass smiles gently. "Around lightbulbs?"

Trace considers, sucking the sugar off his fingers from that sixth beignet. Finally he decides, "I like that sandlewood stuff okay. Y'know, anything that's like earth, or dark and sweet, like india... Patcholi, opium. All that kinda stuff. I hate, like, lavander and flowery shit, or anything that tries to smell like the ocean. Smoke can't be like an ocean, they need to get over that."

Ayita comes into the square from downtown Decatur.

Walker nods, flicking an ash to his side. "Yeah.. they make li'l styrofoam rings," he circles his hands to demonstrate, cigarette left between his lips. "An' when it warms, th' oil scents th' room." He grins at Trace, approving of the choices. "Y'all should swing by th' incense booth when ya go ta th' Faire. They've got all that an' more. An' ya can sniff before ya buy."

Glass says, "It doesn't break the bulb?"

Ayita wanders into the square, minus the guitar this time. Guess someone didn't make it to bed, after all. She wanders over just in time to catch Walker's words, and murmurs, from behind him, "Might I suggest the Celticbard tent? Heard they sell incense.." Her voice is amused.

Trace chuckles a little, casting Jean-Batiste a small glance, then Glass. "We, ahh... we went to the faire just not so long ago.." He looks over and grins. "Hey, Ayita! You want a beignet?"

Glass nods, "Yeah."

Jean-Batiste looks over at Trace as he exhales licorice smoke towards the sky. "Sandalwood's my favourite. And opium incense is pretty good, too." He shifts around, rolling onto his back, head pillowed on his forearm, his other hand resting on his stomach between puffs of smoke. He just nods a little, when Trace mentions their last trip to the fair, looking up at the sky.

Alisynde shakes her head. "Nope. Doesn't break th' bulb. Made so it doesn't do things like that."

Walker shakes his head, taking the cigarette between his fingers again. "Nah. It's a product beyond physics," he grins. "I've got one at home; use it now an' then but it's more trouble'n just puttin' th' oil in m'burna." He grins and waves to Ayita as she returns. "Sleep well?" he jests.

Ayita laughs softly. "Hey, hon. I'd love one." She ruffles Walker's hair, and murmurs, "Too keyed up from the faire to sleep, apparently."

Trace smiles and hands Ayita up a fried dough pastry. "They're good. I had lots already." Alisynde sighs happily. "I like sandlewood, an' patchouli, an' vanilla, an' musk, an' cinnamon, an' opium, an' honey, an' strawberry, an' rain an' pine, an'..."

Ayita accepts the beignet with a grin, then laughs softly. "My. Such a group of incense lovers. Sandalwood's always been one of my favourites, actually. Burn it a lot in the shop."

Walker smiles up at Ayita's ruffle like a contented kitty, one step short of purring. "I like muskier scents... I like th' earthy ones too. But musks an' spicey scents're more me. Nothin' floral; that clashes too bad."

Glass shrugs, "Shay likes it. I don't care."

Jean-Batiste's thinking again. You all know that expression. He takes a slow drag off his licorice clove, studying the orange gleam of the ember as he exhales, then offers the smoke up to Glass with a little 'you want?' gesture.

They'd started off pretty good, but Trace wrinkles his nose at those last three, especially rain and strawberry. "What cracks me up most is 'cannibis' incense. S'like, the most popular reason kids buy the shit in the first place is to cover up the smella what they been smokin'. I just don't get how they sell that stuff," he giggles.

Glass borrows Batiste's cigarette, smiling and looking grateful.

Ayita settles down to a seated position, smoothing her long dress idly. "I like oils, too. Anything scented is good, really, so long as it's not too strong. I prefer subtlety." She nibbles at her beignet, trying not to get sugar on herself.

Walker can answer that one, having thought long and hard about it too. "They sell it cuz then if someone gets a whiff, they can blame it on th' incense an' have proof." He gives a small stretch, dropping an elbow back on the top step to prop himself with.

Trace snickers, considering the notion, and coming out impressed. "Oh. Yeah, hey, I guess that makes sense. So long as they keep the lable."

Of course, Walker would never know about covering drug odor with other scents. Not him! "I knew a guy who used Febreeze... he swore by it but I can't stand th' smell-a th' stuff."

Ayita leans back on one elbow, pulling her hair over one shoulder so it doesn't brush against the pavement.

Glass says, "I never used anything."

Trace nods a little, glancing at Glass. "Me neither. I never did nothin' till after I left home."

Glass says, "Yeah?"

Jean-Batiste reaches up to take his licorice clove back from Glass, taking two puffs from it before handing it back again. He looks around to each of you as you speak, but seems content to stay quiet.

Glass drags on the smoke, with relish.

Ayita finishes off her pastry, licking the remnants of sugar and crumbs from each figure, then puts that arm behind her as well, leaning back on both elbows now.

Glass hands the cigarette back to Batiste and devours the remains of his beignet.

Trace nods a little, and takes another beignet from the bag. "Yeah... Yeah, I had to keep my shit together at home." He toys with the notion of eating this seventh beignet, but instead just runs his finger over it, and starts working a design into where he scrapes away the powder. He nudges Batiste with one gentle elbow and asks vaguely, "How 'bout you?"

Walker grinds his cigarette out on the side of the steps, dropping the butt without a second look. With Ali gone he now dominates the steps once more. Bizarre that such a slight fellow can manage to take up so much space by himself. "I did... until I started smokin' theses," he motions to the black box on the top step. "I nevva did smoke in m'parents' house. They'd've put me in juvie so fast I wouldn't-a seen 'em comin'."

Jean-Batiste turns his head and looks over at Trace as he finishes off the final puffs of the licorice clove and grinds it out a foot or two off to the side. "Huh? Oh...well, I smoked dope a couple of times at a party, but that was it. I didn't do too much at home, either." He shrugs a little, and folds both arms behind his head.

Glass says, "I did, sometimes."

Ayita grins, turning to look at Walker from where she sits at the foot of the steps. "Gods. I had _such_ a sheltered upbringing, in some ways anyway. My and my sister were the youngest of eight kids. So we had the other six as well as our folks looking over our shoulders. Not that it stopped her any, but still. Never even had a ciggarette until I moved here."

Benjamin comes out of Pontalbo St. Ann.

"I was sheltered too," Trace admits. "My ma didn't tell us shit, I had to learn everythin' from my friends." A small giggle. "Facts 'o life 'n everythin."

Glass says, "Yeah?"

Benjamin wanders out of the apartment building back out into the street, squinting slightly glazed eyes at the new brightness of daytime. Has morning dawned already? He pauses just outside the door, glancing around and getting his bearings, jacket slung over his shoulder and held by one finger.

Walker chuckles softly, lifting an arm to tuck under his neck as he leans, long hair a sheet between forearm and concrete. His position can't possibly be as comfortable as it looks. "An' then Nawlins ruined ya," he grins at Ayita merrily, eyes dancing. He looks to Trace, shaking his head. "M'parents didn't tell me shit eitha... had ta learn it all from th' outside influences-a school an' th' theata."

Ayita has returned to the Square in Benjamin's absence, and is now stretched out at the foot of steps, looking oddly comfortable on the ground as she chats with the remaining guys. She grins at Trace. "Well. That's the area I _wasn't_ sheltered in. Was lucky enough to have a very open-minded family." She chuckles. "Which is good, really. They never had any problems with me going pagan on them when I was fifteen."

Jean-Batiste looks over at Trace, stretching a bit as he giggles almost soundlessly. "When a mommy bird and a daddy bird love eachother very much..." He rolls his eyes a little, laughing more, then looks up at Ayita. "Really? Wow. You're pretty lucky." His expression says it more clearly - you're -really- lucky.

Ayita pauses to wink back at Walker. "Riiight. I'm just the soul of corruption." Then, turning back to Batiste, she nods, eyes turning serious. "I know, chere," she murmurs. "I was lucky... my family was great. I miss them, a lot."

Walker looks to Ayita, a notion dawning. "Can ya read runes..? I mean... read' 'em like writin'. Not castin' runes-r nothin'." Hope springs eternal in those dark green eyes.

Trace giggles and baps Batiste on the stomach. "Nah, nah... my friends were crude." He nods then, "If I'd started doin' witchy stuff, or told her 'bout Daniel, or... or dyed my hair blue..." He grins broadly. "Shit, she'd've let in on me. You really are lucky, Ayita, man.."

Benjamin wanders out aimlessly into the Square, with no destination apparent as he goes. If he was confused earlier, the man is positively bewildered now. Though not one hair is out of place and he is not in the least marred of his poise, he's definitely at least got something different going on in his head at the moment.

Glass says, "Daniel?"

Ayita shakes her head. "No.. kept meaning to learn. One of these days, I will." She brushes a finger against her dagger. "I'd like to be able to read this." She pauses, glances to Trace. "I was, yeah, hon." Odd, that she uses past tense.

Walker isn't even going to go into what his parents thought when he showed them his rather dire true colors at the tender age of thirteen. He looks to Trace as well at the name, curious but willing to let Glass' question stand for him.

Jean-Batiste sucks his stomach in, shooting a faux-injured look at Trace. He smiles a little, crooked and thoughtful, when Trace mentions Daniel - he knows the story already, maybe. He stretches again, then closes his eyes.

Trace nods a little at Glass, but doesn't feel like going into the whole story again, so just abridges it with, "Gay kid I hung out with fer mosta freshman year, 'fore I dropped out." And shrugs. No big deal.

Glass nods, "Oh."

Benjamin wanders, eventually past the collected group and out of the Square without so much as a glance. How lovely it must be to live so fully inside one's own head... ?

Benjamin heads out to St. Peter.

Ayita leans her head back, resting it on the lowest step as a sort of make-shift pillow, and looks up into the sky, eyes a little distant.

Walker perks a little as Benjamin walks by, watching the fellow pass with a good deal of attentiveness. It's only when he's past the wrought iron fences that Walker settles once more to sip at his juice.

Jean-Batiste opens his eyes, and asks out of the middle of no where, "Anyone want to go do something?" Not only is it out of the middle of no where, it's -vague-. He props himself up onto his elbows.

Walker pulls out another cigarette, tonguebar clicking softly against his teeth till he brings it up to be lit. "I'm up for somethin'," he replies, having been thinking the exact same thing. He exhales a few smoke rings, thinking some more.

Ayita sort of slowly drifts back to the present, and mmms? "Any ideas?" she murmurs, in a soft, far-away sort of voice.

Trace grins oddly at Batiste, lip lifting with amusement. "Like...?"

Glass says, "Like what?"

Walker always has ideas; they're just not necessarily what the general crowd may find interesting. "Well, we could do th' Faire... Or maybe head ta a club..." Again with the clicking tonguebar.

Glass says, "The fair was bad news."

Jean-Batiste shrugs bony shoulders, looking around at all of you. "I don't know. Just...something. My back's too sore to lay around like this. We could, uh..." He goes silent when Walker speaks up, considering - he looks at Glass, silently agreeing with him. "Well, what club?" he asks Walker.

Ayita shrugs. "I'm up for about anything. I'm easy." She ponders, then laughs softly, adding, "And not a _word_ out of any of you."

Trace nods a little at Glass, biting his lip as he remembers. "Real bad news. Hey, y'know what would be great?" He brightens a little. "I'd love to sneak inta someone's pool. It's hot as hell out here."

Walker looks up at Glass, brow furrowing a smidge. "What d'ya mean?" He pulls a long drag from his cigarette, turning to address Bat's question. "Don' know.. maybe.. shit. I can't think-a any places that're all ages." He looks to Ayita sharply, grinning. The grin flags as he physically deflates. People are getting too quick around here.

Ayita grins suddenly. "Sneak hell. There's a pool at Dunross. Y'all want to go? I'm allowed to have guests." Oo! Swimming in the rain! Score! "Hell yah! Party at Ayita's!" He sucks down the last of the juice, dropping it into the nearby trashcan. "Where's Dunross at?"

Glass says, "Stan has one."

Ayita gestures uptown. "Garden District. I've got enough on me to pay cab fare."

Trace beams up at her and waggles his brows. "So do I!"

Jean-Batiste's eyes light up a little. "Swimming? Yeah, that'd be-" He stops short, faltering. "Can we wear street clothes into the pool? I-" Another stop, this time to look over at Glass. "Stan, from last night?" He looks troubled for a moment, frowning.

Glass smiles, "Can I ride along?"

Ayita makes a face at Glass. "You're invited too, y'know. Of course you can. And you all can wear whatever you like. Or not wear whatever you like. Dress codes are.. uh.. well, there _are_ no dress codes there."

Trace blinks. "Oh, wait. Wait.... We can't, if it's THAT Stan." He gives Batiste a fretful look. "We, uh. We had sort've a, um, disagreement with his girl..."

Glass says, "We'd have to really sneak, 'cause it is that Stan."

Ayita shakes her head. "My place, not Stan's."

Walker giggles, sliding fluidly to his feet. "Let's get movin', then!" He bends to scoop up his cigarettes, slipping them into his kilt. "No dress code," he grins wickedly, eyes dancing over to Ayita again.

"Well, I mean." Trace still looks nervous, if this pool has anything to do with Stan. "It's just, I mean... He won't *be* there, will he? I mean, he won't see us at all? He's pretty pissed at us."

Ayita says, "Or the place I live anyway. I don't own it or anything." She pushes herself to her feet, and nods. "No dress codes. And nope. Stan doesn't know where I live."

Glass says, "We won't go to his pool, we'll go to the other one."

Walker rocks on his heels, boots creaking softly. "Let's *go* then," he puts in impatiently. Now that a plan's here, he wants to go.

Jean-Batiste climbs up to his feet, gingerly rolling his shoulders. He nods to Glass and smiles a little at Trace, reassuringly. "C'mon," he says, and heads towards Ayita.

Trace ohs. Confusion. But it's clearing up a bit. "Okay, like we're talking two pools here... I though... Okay." He grins uncertainly. "Sure, I'm all for Ayita's pool." He gets up to his feet, trotting after the group.

Ayita leads all of you across the square to where the taxis wait, and pulls open a door. "Pile in." She counts people, and laughs. "I'll have to sit in one of your laps."

Jean-Batiste pipes up, "Trace's!" just to be difficult.

"You can have my lap," Walker volunteer's readily at the same time.

Glass follows after Ayita, "Who's lap do I get?"

"Walker needs someone on his lap," Trace coos at Glass, then giggles. He remembers that display at the party.

"Pick a lap, any lap," Ayita counters, grinning at Glass as she shoos you all into the cab. She laughs, and settles into Walker's lap, since he offered.

Jean-Batiste's remembering something - his face is a bit pink. Chronic blusher.

Walker looks at Glass, lips curving up again. "You can have m'lap," he agrees in a velvet tone. A flicker of come-hither in those dark eyes and then he's hopping into the cab.

Glass grins at Walker.

Trace clambers into the cab eagerly.

Jean-Batiste climbs in, too, and slides off his backpack into his lap. He tucks the envelope of money into the backpack, checking to make sure it's securely closed about four times before looking away.

A taxi pulls up, waits as Ayita, Glass, Trace, Walker, and Jean-Batiste get in, and spirits them away.

Back to the Roleplay Log Archive