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Log Title: Meet Starlight

Setting: Starts at Walker's place, ends up at Hooper's market.

Log Cast:
Jean-Batiste
Glass
Trace
Starlight

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Glass is lying peacefully on the bed, looking at the ceiling as he smokes one of Walker's cigarettes. He looks as if he's thinking of something far away and pleasant, but not missed.

*Crunch*. Trace's ring pop is no more. Well, it's now shattered shards grinding up between his teeth anyway. He looks down at the sad de-jeweled Ring Pop, with just a lonely plastic nub now, and slips the sticky thing back onto his finger.

"You look comfortable..." Batiste murmurs with a quiet smile aimed Glass's direction as he settles on the edge of the waterbed again. "You want me to get you a drink or anything?" He looks back at Trace, watching him polish off the ring pop with an odd sort of relief.

Glass's eyes change their focus, and he smiles at Batiste, "Sure, if that's what you want to do. Something with vitamin C in it, maybe?" He drags delicately on teh cigarette, trying to hold it very steadily. Perhaps he's holding a grow-long-ash contest with himself.

Jean-Batiste watches Glass smoke the clove so delicately, and briefly considers rocking the waterbed just to try and jostle the ash - the impishness shows in his eyes. A second later it passes, and he nods, climbing back up to his feet. "Sure, there's some orange juice left, I think..." He moves past Trace, tousling blue braids on the way by, and disappears down the spiral staircase.

Glass mmms, smiling at his ash as he examines it. It's about first-finger-joint length and he seems pleased.

"Hey, if you bring me fruitopia, I'll be yer slave!" Trace calls, clambering up onto the bed carelessly, oblivious to any ash contests that might be taking place. He lies on his stomach, elbows to the bedsheet with his chin propped up in both hands.

Jean-Batiste's laughter can be heard from the base of the stairs. "Hey, don't tease me like that..." he calls back, footsteps vanishing into the kitchen.

Glass lifts his hand up, as if somehow getting his ash further away from the rocking bed will help at all. His action has the opposite effect as intended, of course - the ash at the end of his swaying arm tumbles off and lands on his chest. He murmurs, "Aww."

Trace blinks and looks over at Glass. "Huh?" He follows the older boy's gaze to the ash on his chest and smirks a little. "Uh. Want me t'get you an ashtray or something? Walker's got 'em layin' round everywhere... Don't gotta use yer shirt fer one."

Glass smiles, "Well, I didn't really mean to. But it's better than on the bed. I wonder if a cigarette ash could burn a hole in the water bed?"

Rummage, rummage. One glass of orange juice, with the rest polished off straight out of the jug. One grape Fruitopia. It doesn't take Batiste long to prepare the drink order, though he can be heard wandering around downstairs, calling quietly, "Jason? Hey, Jason...?" A few seconds later the front door closes, and footsteps head slowly towards the staircase once more.

"Jest probably if ya dropped the cigarette itself," Trace decides after a moment's consideration as he hops off the bed and fetches an ashtray, bringing it over to Glass and reclaiming his comfy spot beside him on the bed. He just props his head up with one hand now, watching Glass smoke. After a moment he murmurs, "I knew this one guy who had these awful burns on the insides of his fingers, coz he useta nod out while he was smoking, and it would burn down... burn his fingers, and he wouldn't even know." A little grin. "Maybe parta why I never smoke much. Makes me shudder, thinkin' of his poor hands.."

Jean-Batiste climbs up the staircase, looking back over his shoulder once he reaches the top. He looks a little puzzled, but tries to shrug it off and head back over to the waterbed. "Hey..." he murmurs, perching again on the edge of the waterbed. Trace's Fruitopia is handed to him - the lid already loosened, of course - and Glass's orange juice is held onto, so he can move into a position more conducive to drinking.

Glass nods, "Yeah, I have some of those, too, see?" He drags on the cigarette and holds his other hand out to you. Shiney burn marks scar the spot between first and middle finger. Not real noticable. Glass tucks the cigarette between his lips and sits up to take the juice, still holding his hand out to trace. "Thanks," he murmurs around the black-papered clove.

Trace looks at Glass' burn scars with slightly morbid fascination for a moment before looking up and flashing Batiste a broad grin as he takes the offered grape fruitopia. "Thank ya, master," he giggles.

Jean-Batiste smiles at Glass as he hands over the glass of orange juice. "Enjoy it, it's the last we've got, and it's selling for, like, eight bucks right now, so we won't have more for a while..." He looks down at

Glass's hand for a second, then grins up at Trace and ruffles his blue-braided hair. "Hey. Slaves don't giggle." He tries to sound serious, but his chuckling spoils it.Glass says, "I'll bring you some more."

Trace blinkblinks. "Eight bucks? Fer orange juice? Fuck that... Get grape juice, it's better anyway. Was there some bad orange crop or something though? I don't get it..."

Glass says, "They're on strike, the teamsters and the truckdrivers and stuff."

Trace's brow furrows slightly. "Well... well, somebody oughta tell 'em to cut it out. People need orange juice. Can't go payin' no eight bucks fer it..."

Jean-Batiste nods a little to Glass, sighing quietly. It's hard to be the breadwinner when you're winning it at three bucks a loaf. "Everything's really expensive right now. Coffee's twenty bucks a can, can you believe that?" He glances towards the stairs again and murmurs, "Jason took off...d'you guys want to go for a walk or something? I guess Walker and Ben aren't showing, either..."

Glass says, "Maybe the army will come and give us free food." He smiles, "It'll be okay, anyway. And I can bring you some orange juice. I bet that guy will still give me $100 of free food."

Trace blinks and sits up, nearly disrupting his fruitopia. "Jason what?" He tips his head slightly to one side with confusion. "But.. I mean, he knew we were doin' the mural, and he was just going down to..." He sighs and breaks off, shaking his head. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." He guesses that, while Batiste blessed Jason the other day for his unpredictability, it also has its definite downsides. "A walk sounds good... Maybe we'll run into him, drag 'im back by the t--" By the what? He puzzles at himself. "By the ear," is his somewhat confuzzled correction. A look to Glass. "You feel like walkin' some?"

Glass has a long swallow of the orange juice, then looks at Trace, licking his lips, "Sure. Where you want to go?" He looks over towards the window, "Is it raining? Batiste thinks we should have a soiree in my canoe."

"Maybe he went to talk to his sister..." Batiste murmurs, looking troubled for a second. He stands up and brushes invisible dust off his shirt with restless hands, then sinks his hands into his pockets. "I just don't want to hang around here right now without doing the mural, that's all," he says. "Just...anywhere. I don't know." He smiles a little at Glass, though, thinking of floating around in a canoe in the middle of a lake. It definitely appeals to a part of him, right now.

Glass says, "He has a sister?"

Trace frowns a little. "I... I guess so. They don't *look* anything alike, though, so I think it's more like a adopted sister kinda thing, or like how I sometimes call Batiste my blood brother. It's like something just to show they're, y'know, close? Oh, who knows... But Batiste's right, he did say sister once."

Jean-Batiste nods a little, and draws out one of his licorice cloves, quickly lighting it up and taking a deep drag of spiced smoke. "Yeah, I guess. Jason says he's known her forever, she says she's known him for a year. I guess they've just adopted eachother, yeah."

Glass nods, "Well, that could mean anything." He downs the rest of the orange juice. "Lets just walk. We can go to Hooper's market and get free food and have a picnic in my canoe if it's good weather." He stands up and looks at Batiste.

Trace is just occasionally sipping at his own drink, making it last. Fruitopias are a thing to be savoured, after all. He picks himself up off the waterbed and stands idly, murmuring, "Sounds good to me."

Glass says, "How do you like coffee?"

Jean-Batiste 'packs' - cigarettes, lighter, a few select pieces of candy from Trace's treasure-trove bag, and then he's set. "A floating picnic. That'd be cool." He looks over at Glass, smiling again, then starts towards the stairs. "Coffee's okay, not at twenty bucks a can, though..." He laughs. "Why?"

Glass says, "I have a big thermos, and they'll fill that up too. If you like cream and sugar it'll be cool."

Jean-Batiste grins at Glass. "Sure, let's do it. That's be great. Can we go swimming, too?" He beckons impatiently to Trace, sharing his grin with the blue-haired boy. "C'mon, slave. Groceries are waiting for us."

Glass grins, "We can drive to the lake and I guess we could swim. But aren't there aligators or something?" His smile fades a bit as he considers aligators.

"Only on the telephone wires," Trace grins. He checks his pocket out of habit, and glances around. Anything to bring? Nope. Well, just candy. Following Batiste's lead, he gathers up some candy too and heads towards the stairwell.

Glass blinks, "Aligators on the telephone wires? What are they doing?" He follows down after you both, saying, "You should bring your bowl." Drizzling. -Again-. Batiste looks up at the sky and sighs. It's too hot for him to want to put on his flannel, though. He bows his head, watching the both of you from under his ballcap's brim. "Can I drive again?" he asks Glass with a grin. "Unless you want to..." Glass grins at Batiste, "You can drive."

A taxi pulls up, dropping off Walker, Benjamin, and Walker.

Walker has arrived.
Benjamin has arrived.

Walker strolls up the rain-dampened sidewalk, chatting rather light-heartedly with Ben. Completely heedless of the drizzle from above, he is. Trace scowls faintly at the weather, hanging close to the porch for a moment, though he casts a grin at Batiste. "Hey, wow. I didn't know you could drive either... Wish I could. Oughta teach me sometime, kay?" He spots Ben and Walker heading out of the taxi and gives a little wave.

Benjamin comes walking up along the street, mostly listening to Walker talk, now and then interjecting a quiet comment. Both are rather dampened by the drizzle, but it doesn't affect Ben's lightheartedness either. At least he isn't wearing the Coat tonight, so it can't get ruined.

Glass turns up the collar of his coat as he steps out of Walker's house. He starts to head towards the Dodge Dart, saying to Trace, "Okay. I will. We can go out on river road or something if you want?"

Glass says, "If it keeps raining we won't want to canoe."

Jean-Batiste flashes a wider grin at Glass. "Awesome. Hand 'em over." He holds his hands out, cupped, towards Glass. "Yeah, I had my learner's...was gonna get a car for Christmas before everything went to hell." Batiste, former rich kid. He laughs. "Sure, we can teach you, it'll be fun."

Walker waves to the gathered group emerging from the house. Oo. Looks like an outing. "Hey, y'all... s'up?" He calls as he turns up the sidewalk. An errant, warm breeze stirs the willow to life and for just an instant it almost seems as though the overgrown tree reaches out to hug Walker in a welcome home. But it's a mere trick of the wind. Glass digs in his pocket for his keychain. He tosses the keys to Batiste and says, "Go for it," before turning to grin at Walker, "Hi. We're on a quest."

Trace giggles. "Kay. Cool.. Hope I don't kill everyone." He looks to Walker and smiles. "Yeah, we were *gonna* go canoeing, but it's like there's this rain, so um." He looks to his two younger friends. "We still getting some munchies and stuff? A car picnic doesn't sound to bad.. a good plan B. And... Batiste, you got a bowl on ya?" Benjamin gives the younger men each a quiet smile as he approaches, busying one hand by running it through his hair to keep the damp tendrils off his forehead. "A quest for what?" he ventures.

Jean-Batiste catches the keys and opens the driver's door, grinning over the hood of the car to Walker and Ben. "If Jason comes back, tell him he's in shit, okay? He took off on us." He starts to sit down in the car, then looks over at Trace. "A bowl? No...? Should I get one, what for?"

Glass says, "A quest for food."

Glass nods to Jean-Batiste, "You should get one. But I bet there's stuff to fill it with in this car."

An outing becomes a Quest. Walker brightens perceptibly, dims for a moment then brightens again. Is he having a bi-polar episode, or what? "Rain don' mattah," he declares. "Y'all won't melt." He blinks at Bat, expression waxing befuddled. "Why's he in shit? An' are there any frozen bananers left?"

"It's also just, y'know, a quest for fun," Trace adds. "Since Jason skipped on us, we don't wanna just sit 'round doin' big fat nothin', y'know?"

Glass shakes his head, "No, Trace. I'm Lord Douglas of the Silver Ornament, and we're on a quest for food, and questing's sake. It may be perilous." He smiles.

Trace giggles. "Yes. Dangers abound. But I'm a brave Second Beast..."

Jean-Batiste leans against the windshield, fidgeting with the keys. "He's in shit because we were going to work on the mural. He said he was going downstairs to get something to eat, and then he took off." He shrugs a little, then smiles. "Yeah, there's still four or five left, I made a whole bunch when I did them. We'll see you guys later, okay?" He drops down into the driver's seat, and unlocks the other door, if it needs to be unlocked.

Glass says, "One of which is Batiste's driving. Get in the car."

"SHOTGUN!" Trace croons, scrambling for the preferred seat.

Glass clambers into the back.

Glass climbs into the Dodge Dart and slams the door, creating a small avalanche of rust.

Benjamin glances at Walker, blinking in surprise. He's offering to stay home, when there's a Quest going on? Ah, well, perhaps the true royalty doesn't go on the quest, and just stays home with the royal door-opener. Walker waves to the battered car at large and hops up onto the porch. Who needs to go questing for food when bananas await? He steps inside, leaving the door standing wide open for Ben as he goes on his own Quest for frozen fruit.

Jean-Batiste honks the horn three times at Walker and Ben, grinning and waving (and veering) as he drives off down the street.

1972 Dodge Dart comes along the street, spewing black exhaust. It parks in front of the market.

Starlight is standing outside the market, back against the wall of the building. Looks to the left, then to the right and as a man walks toward the establishment, Star straightens and dips his head down, offering a shy little smile. The man glances down at the child, but continues on his way toward the store. "Excuse me, sir," the little boy/girl says, quietly, and begins speaking in soft, secret tones with the older gentleman. The scam. (OOC I am posing gender, but it is impossible, when clothed, to tell which Star is.)

Trace scrambles out of the car, cheerful enough, and loiters about waiting for his friends to pile out as well. He glances towards Hooper's eagerly.

Glass climbs out after Trace.

Starlight�s Desc:
Glitter and lace surround this thin, smallish creature. Black seems to be the colour of the week. Lines surround eyes of midnight, and silvery lashes, subtle, create an artistic expression when matched with purple/black lipstick and shadowy rouge. Hair is dark, brushing past the shoulders and looking rather fresh considering the unabashed attempt at gothic misery. Glittered strands fall around a face androgynous. Wearing black PVC pants, heavy and buckled boots, and the shirt. Its sheer, the material, very sheer lace. Dark, and the sleeves drape down almost like a cloak, far past the fingertips, giving it an almost spidery look. Under, a small black tank where one might conceal, yet this one boyish? Pierced. Right lip, barbell in the tongue, small ring in the eyebrow. Usually appears the watcher. Quiet, yet can speak volumes in expression.

Jean-Batiste's laughter can be heard after the car gives its death-rattle upon being turned off. He climbs out, rolling the window up after he does, grinning towards Trace and Glass. "I wasn't going fast at all," he protests, bumping the door shut with his hip.

Glass grins at Batiste, "My car doesn't -go- fast. Besides, you'd knock the canoe off."

Starlight's attention is caught by the car and then by the man who shakes his head, smirks and walks on. The child frowns and sighs, sinking back against the wall. Hopeless. Mumbles something under his breath and then licks at his lip-ring. Dejected. His dark eyes move to the older boys who have just arrived and narrow, ever so slightly.

Glass looks at Starlight as he heads toward the market. He pauses, murmurs, "Hey. You doing better?"

Trace giggles, "An' even if ya did, danger's all parta Quests and Adventures, y'know? Hehe." He trots on towards the market ahead of the other two, but slows and falls back when he sees the young girl watching him. Young girl, in his head, because -- well, she's pretty. So that's the gender she gets in his head. He looks her over, then glances back to his friends, Glass particularly. He knows her? Then he looks to Starlight again. Oh, he knows where he's seen her before! The alley the other day... The memory's a little fogged. He'd had a lot on his mind that night.

Jean-Batiste grins, distracted by a search for cigarettes, as he ambles along after the other two. "It can be a canoe with big, nasty, sharp, pointy teeth." He makes the little tooth-wiggle in front of his mouth, just like Monty Python did it, laughing at his own joke. His attention comes back up as he lights his licorice clove, mouth setting in a thoughtful, mild frown as he looks from Glass to Starlight to Trace, then back to Starlight again.

Starlight's gaze finds Glass as the man speaks to him and then he shakes his head, hair moving to conceal part of his face. "Nah, wanna help'n then I'll help you?" the boy whispers. "Got sumthin'," he confides, eyes moving to Trace and then JB. Humility creeps up as soon as JB looks the kid's way. Yes, remember that night? Back to Glass. "N'ya wanna help me, an'I'll help you?" Brows lift. Please? Little Glitter lifts a slender hand and pushes dark strands behind one ear, tilting his head some. Trying cute. Hopeful?

Glass looks at Starlight, a faint thoughtful frown crossing his features, "How long you been without?"

Trace smiles. Cute works terribly well with him. "Tell us what ya need? I mean, if it takes bein' legal age, s'like I can't help ya. Maybe Glass can." He tilts his head to the side slightly. "And also, like what ya got that'd help us?"

Jean-Batiste moves over near Trace, dragging pensively on his clove as he looks between Glass and Starlight again. He bumps shoulders with his blue-haired friend, a protective, reassuring jostle, and stays silent for now. He's not as openly wary as he was the other night - of course, the situation's much happier right now, so that explains much.

Starlight swallows and pushes from the wall, eyes first on Glass, then to Trace and finally on JB as the older boy moves closer to Trace. Cautious. Just a few feet from Glass when he stops, Star pulls a little baggy full of what looks to be a brown powdery substance from his pocket. Subtle. It's quick, this little show, and then back to saftey. "'N, just gotta get it in," he whispers. Newbie. Big time. Another little frown creases the child's brow and he confides, again, "Showed me, cept," gaze sliding up to Trace, then to JB, "'cept, I don'know no one." Cheeks blush, slightly, and his eyes drop away. Embarrassed. To Glass, "'Nuff for ya too?" It's a question. He just doesn't know.

Glass winces a little. He frowns at Starlight, murmurs, "Jesus. Don't wave your shit about." He looks at Jean-Batiste, then to Trace, falling silent.

Jean-Batiste's mouth puckers up into a troubled moue as he chews on the inside of one cheek. "Jesus," he murmurs, glancing down, blowing out a line of smoke at his boots as he stares at the cracked sidewalk. He watches Glass from under the brim of his ballcap, eyes darker than usual. He comes to some sort of decision after hearing Glass's answer, and straightens a bit, taking a deep breath. "What's your name?" he asks Starlight, looking towards the frail, black-clad creature.

Glass sighs, nods to Batiste. He looks back at Starlight, "You want come come with us? We're gonna have a picnic."

Trace casts a glance to Glass. Hoo boy. Then right back to Starlight. Softly, "Well, it's just.. it's just Glass is stopping for a time." His eyes are hungry on where that baggy disappeared. Finally it occurs to him to add, "Me too, in a few days, though," with a self-conscious glance to the protective Batiste. Finally a nod of agreement as he tunes into his friend's words, "Come with us."

Starlight takes a step back from the older boys and shakes his head, looking highly intimidated. More than likely isn't used to people being nice to him, from the looks of it. "Uh, jus' wanna get it in's all." The kid looks up the street, then down and finally back to the three of you, ending on Trace. "I seen you before before," yes, apparently saying it twice means something. Whatever. And to Glass, "Do you under-," licks his lips, "..stand me? Do you," a pause and a frown, looking down, "Not ok, because," he swallows and looks to JB. "Um, Star," he mutters, then shakes his head. "Will you help me?" Any of you. Looks at all three.

Jean-Batiste looks down the street, dragging hard at his clove, hard enough to make it flare an angry orange and set the clove oil to crackling and popping. He frowns to himself, looking back sidelong to Starlight, a smoky sigh escaping him. "Yeah," he murmurs. "We're getting some food, going to get out of the city for a couple hours." He pauses when STarlight starts to speak, nodding at the end of the youth's words. "Star? I'm Batiste, these are my friends, Glass and Trace." He gestures to each of them in turn. Quieter, "You can't fix here. You come along with us, we'll help you out, okay?"

Glass nods to Starlight, murmurs, "Yeah. Just wait. Come inside the store with us and help us pick food." He looks at his hands, then looks at Batiste, "Got any more of those cigarettes?"

Jean-Batiste nods a little to Glass, and draws out his Marlboro softpack stuffed full of licorice clove, snaking one out and pressing it and his lighter into Glass's hand.

Glass nods to Batiste and starts to light up, then looks at Hoopers. "Except they won't let us smoke in there. Come on, finish yours and lets get outta here."

Trace blinks once and looks back at Batiste and grins. He'd expected his friend to veto the idea and get them away. "Good to meet ya, Star," he greets politely and somewhat shyly, turning back to the slender goth. "We won't be long gettin' food, n' then we kin help ya, kay?"

Starlight runs his finger over his eyelid, then down his cheek, smearing the dark liner downwards. Then his hand pushes upwards, into his hair, head tilting that way-- fiending. He scratches at his face and rubs his cheek some more, then looks up at Trace and nods. Nods to all of you. He just keeps on nodding, it's slight, but definately the kid /is/ going to go in and get food, or whatever, then go with you and get junked. Yay.

Jean-Batiste takes two more drags off his clove, and crouches down to grind the ember off on the sidewalk before tucking it back into the softpack. "Okay, c'mon. Let's do it." He takes a deep breath, as if grocery shopping was something he needed courage to do, and starts for the door.

Glass leads the way in, frowning.

Glass enters the store, which slowly closes behind them.Glass has left.

Trace heads in after his friends, hurrying to catch up with Batiste, but glancing back once to be sure Star follows.

You open the door and enter Hoopers Market.

Hoopers Market
This is a Quaint store, kind of like the place your parents must have shopped, it is a moderately sized grocery store, about the size of your smaller A&P or such type of store. It has a homey atmosphere, and it is the kind of place that mostly caters to local residents above visitors. There is a row of pictures on the wall of "special Customers", and you recognize a lot of the faces there. There are 8 aisles, and there is a freezer along the back wall, and a Fresh Vegetable section in the front right hand corner. (You also notice a counter for regular customers to sit down at.)

Glass murmurs, "We can get whatever we want here." He goes to the counter to have the spun aluminum thermos he's been carrying filled with sweet light coffee.

Starlight looks around, eyes a little wide and begins wandering. Suspiciously. He glances over to the three of you, but seems content to be alone, for now. Walks over to the candy isle.

Jean-Batiste gently nudges shoulders with Trace again as he starts to look around, then gestures discreetly towards Star and the candy aisle. "Why don't you go see if he wants something? I'll meet up with you at the counter." He fuzzles a few frizzy blue braids, then heads off towards the fresh fruit and vegetables, attention as keen as if he was robbing a mansion instead of picking out food.

Glass follows after Batiste, carrying the filled thermos.

"It's so cool how yer all connected n' shit, Glass," Trace giggles, and at Batiste's comment opens his mouth in protest, because he'd been in the process of working his way over to Batiste for some reason, but sighs and decides it can wait. He doesn't catch the pronoun Batiste uses, luckily, for his player is having some OOC fun with this and plans to keep it up for a bit, thank you. He moves shyly over towards the candy isle and looks over some chocolate bars. He softly murmurs as he plucks a Caramellow from the rack, "This is kinda weird... just takin' this stuff so open, y'know?"

Jean-Batiste roams the fruit bins, considering. He grabs a red plastic basket, and starts adding things to it. A little green box of strawberries. Eight oranges. "What fruit d'you like?" he asks Glass, looking between the apples and grapes.

Glass grins at Trace, "The guy who owns this store is a real nice guy. An' he says I'm an angel." He smiles warmly over at the guy behind the counter. "Well, y'are, Glass!" Trace pipes sweetly, plucking at a packet of Shock Tarts. Glass laughs at Trace's comment, then turns back to Batiste, "Peaches, man. And plums. Soft fruits. Mangoes."

Starlight looks up at Trace, utterly confused. "Takin'?" he says, quietly, then glances over toward the guy behind the counter. The boy stares for awhile, then looks back up (yes up, Star is even shorter than Trace, believe it or not) to Trace.

Jean-Batiste decides on the grapes, those wonderful red crunchy kind, and adds them to the basket. It's going to be a fruity picnic, if Batiste has anything to say about it. "He's right, you know..." he murmurs to Glass, smiling at him for a second before heading over to the peaches and plums. Four peaches and a dozen plums later, he shows the spread to Glass and says, "Think that's enough? Get something to drink, and we'll be set?"

Trace nodnods. "Didn' ya hear? Glass knows the guy, so just, y'know, take what ya likes. I'm not gonna go all overboard though, coz I mean, guy's bein' nice 'nough t'hand over this stuff to us, so we might's well not rob him blind, y'know?" He works open the end of the Shock Tarts and pops one into his mouth, a green one, before holding out the opened wrapper towards Star.

Glass shakes his head to Batiste, "Naw. He doesn't know." He smiles. "Okay, sure. And a baguette?" He turns and starts back away from the fruits, "Maybe some cheese?"

Glass nods to Trace, "You have to take it and have him ring it up. I have like a hundred dollars a week in credit, right? I can't get more than that so he has to know what I took."

Jean-Batiste's face suddenly lights up, and he trails after Glass. "Yeah! I want those little...baby cheeses. Babybel, in the red wax? You can use the wax like modelling clay after you eat the cheese inside, they're great." Leave it to Batiste to find artistic uses for everything. "I'll go find them." He jogs towards the dairy aisle. Glass grins and walks more sedately after Batiste.

Starlight looks down at Trace's offering and shakes his head, but mumbles, "No thanks," then wanders away from the boy, walking to where the drinks are. He glances over his shoulder toward the three of you, then goes back to spying the selection. Hmm. So many choices. But, alas, who can resist? Star pulls open one of the refridgerators and gets himself a Yoohoo. The child looks at the bottle, studying it, then moves out of the way letting the door close.

Jean-Batiste makes a little noise of discovery when he locates the little mini cheeses, and grabs two packs. One's the Babybel, in red wax, the other Bonbel, in yellow wax. Art before everything, see? "So what do we want to drink?" he asks the store at large. "Something cold's all I care..." Glass says, "I got coffee."

Trace shrugs a little, watching her walk off, and takes the next Shock Tart for himself then. He heads back over towards Glass and Jean-Batiste, murmuring, "Coffee ain' cold, though."

Glass nods, "Yeah, but it's what I want. Pick something else."

Jean-Batiste nibbles his bottom lip for a second, reaching out to absently hug Trace around the shoulders, fidgeting with the tuft of one braid as he looks around for Starlight. "Mmmn," he murmurs distractedly. "Chocolate milk?" he suggests to Trace. There he goes, trying to sneak more nutrition into the boy.

Trace looks into the refridgerated shelves consideringly from where he's getting hugged, pressing his cheek close for a moment affectionatly before pointing out, "Milk's gross, 'member? Let's get.. hmm. Not fruitopia, somethin' new. Let's get... Cran-apple juice?" He looks up at Batiste with a small, hopeful smile.

Glass wanders down an isle and plucks a loaf of french bread off the top of a stack of them. They look fresh, packed in brown paper-bags with the end of the loaf sticking out.

Jean-Batiste releases Trace and ambles towards the refridgerated shelves, looking through them. "Cran-grape, Cranberry Cocktail...Cran-apple. Okay, I think that's it. Let's go." He offers the bottle of juice to Trace to carry up to the counter, scanning the aisles as he moves towards the front.

Starlight watches the three of you, from beneath a thin wall of midnight coloured hair. Expression mostly hidden. He holds his Yoohoo to his chest, fingers wrapping around the neck, abscently. The boy begins, near-weightless footfalls bringing him closer to the counter.

Glass goes back to the counter and presents the bread to the man. He smiles at him and murmurs, "These guys too," indicating his young friends with a wave of his hand and a little pause at each. The counterman nods and smiles.

Trace sidles up close when he's reached the counter, about to murmur something softly to Batiste.. But then a self-conscious glance alerts him that Star's coming back, and he steps away and pretends to study with interest some packs of chewing gum set out for impulse buyers. He asks softly of Star, "Z'at all yer gettin, jest Yoohoo?"

Jean-Batiste unloads all the fruit and baby cheeses for the clerk, smiling shyly to the man as he moves to stack the basket back with the others. He steps back towards Trace as Starlight approaches, giving the youth room to get to the counter unhampered, gesturing towards it.

Starlight looks up at Trace as the boy speaks to him, then shrugs and looks down, but steps closer and says, quietly, "Kin I get some smokes?" He continues to wring his fingers around the neck of his 'drink', and still appears cautious.

Glass murmurs, "Have to pay for smokes. I only get food free."

Trace shrugs, "Glass'll haveta pick those up fer ya, too. None've us got the ID."

Starlight glances up to Glass, shyly, and steps back, looking down. Fine. Just the YooHoo then. He shakes his head as Trace speaks, then mutters something about not having any cash.

Glass smiles at Starlight, somewhat sympathetically, "I don't have any money either. I'm sorry."

Jean-Batiste waits by the counter for the clerk to finish bagging up all the fruit, eyes straying to Starlight as the youth wanders away to look at the rows of cigarettes. He rakes his teeth against his bottom lip, looking between the two of you, then murmurs to Trace, "What is it?" He's noticed the aborted attempts to say something to him.

Glass looks at Trace with gentle curiosity, but says nothing.

The blue-haired kid blinks, and smiles embarrassedly, glancing quickly back at Starlight, then up to meet Batiste's dark eyes again. "I.. Well, it's just..." He looks down and scuffles at the tiled floor. "Star's lookin' kinda.. gray around the edges, and, uh. I mean, it's obvious she's sick and tryin' not t'show it, so I thought I'd jest take her somewhere quick, if you guys didn't mind, to help her myself..." He peeks up once, just briefly. "I mean. I mean, also, she's kinda..." he chokes it out, "well, pretty, and uh. It would be neat. To fix her myself." A tiny smile at his shoes. "I know I nearly fell so deep in love with like any girl who ever helped blast me... For a little while, anyway."

Glass looks at Trace. He murmurs gently, "You wanna give her a shot so she'll like you? How could she be sick from junk-hunger if she don't know how to fix herself?" He bites his lip after the little speech, perhaps wishing he'd stayed silent.

Jean-Batiste looks over towards Starlight for a few seconds, considering. He's a -she-? But she's so uncurved and androgynous and ungirly... He shrugs it off and looks back to the two of you, murmuring, "Clothes like that wouldn't last too long on the street. Maybe she just got away from someone who used to fix her. Pimp, or something." He shrugs again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Should ask her, maybe? I don't know." He reaches out, fussing with a few of Trace's braids. "If you want to...okay. Just...once we're out of town, okay? And..." He trails off. Trace doesn't need to be warned to be careful, to watch the dose - he knows all this stuff already.

Glass murmurs, "Why wouldn't she know? If she's hooked she's watched a hundred times before."

Trace opens his mouth, but doesn't answer for a moment. Well, damnit Glass, there went most of his argument. "But it's just..." he finally counters. "I mean, she *does* look like she's fiendin', y'know? I guess I just figgered she was useta snortin' it like Batiste was, and that junk she's got's too course, couldn't you tell? Or maybe she chases like I useta, and she broke her pipe or something. Who knows? I just figgered she was useta junk, but not spikes, y'know...?" He looks to Batiste and smiles. "Sure. Whatever you think's best."

Glass nods to Trace, murmurs, "Yeah. That could be."

"Well..." Batiste sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just...it's weird, okay. Like Glass said. That she's jonesing but doesn't know how to fix." He keeps his voice down, nearly a whisper. "So just...she'll probably be out soon as you fix her...what are we supposed to do, let her pass out and leave her somewhere?"

Trace shakes his head. "Well, no! No, we can't do that, that's wrong..." And fixing a girl to get her to like you isn't? Not to Trace, it seems. "Here, tell ya what. You two go canoeing. I'll take her someplace safe I know not far from here... A dealer I usedta know 'fore I met Keats. The guy rips you pretty bad, 'specially when I can get filled for twenty or twenty five with Keats, but this other guy's close and his crash spot's nice... We could stay the night there. We'd be fine. It's just..." He bites his lip a little. "Don't say where I'm at to people." He means Jason, but doesn't want to say it. 'No secrets' and all was his idea, but there are moments when you need a little hypocracy. Of course Jason won't be happy with *either* of his motives for doing this. "Just, like... I mean, okay. Don't lie if yer asked direct. But if ya can, don't say?" he pleads softly, clasping his fingers together.

Glass glances down, saying nothing.

Trace gets the two-forehead treatment - Batiste looks down as well, chewing hard on the side of his cheek. He says nothing for several seconds, then sighs heavily and look up at Trace again, hands digging into his pockets. "If she likes you for the junk, Trace, she's not going to like you without it," he murmurs. "But...okay, fine. You just...be careful, all right?" His eyes are hooded and dark, no light flickering in them when he tries to smile a little at Trace.

Glass murmurs, "Trace. In my car. Open the glove box and pull out the cardboard liner. There are fresh works taped up under the dashboard in there. Okay?" He starts to pack the groceries into paper bags.

"I'll be real careful.." Trace breathes the words out like a sigh of relief, reaching out to clasp Batiste's hands if his friend will allow. "I know... I know this way is kinda fucked up. But I mean, this isn't like to get her in some kinda immediate full-out love, y'know? Maybe.. maybe in the morning she'll just... remember me. S'a start, y'know? Just get her to see me without avertin' her eyes like she does everyone right now.." He looks to Glass and smiles gratefully. "Yeah? I mean, you seriously don't mind? If she didn't have her own, I was gonna get her one.. I'm not so stupid that I'd share with some stranger girl. But if you'll let me..." He glances towards the door of Hooper's Market.

Glass nods to Trace, murmurs, "I don't mind. I have a lot of them. I got a big boxful when I was dealing and sold 'em or gave them away if you bought a teener, shit like that. I have a lot left."

Jean-Batiste dredges his hands out of his pockets and grasps Trace's small, bony hands for a moment. "Just be careful," he murmurs again, smiling weakly. "If you're not back by tomorrow afternoon, we'll start worrying, all right?" Well, okay, so he's worrying -now-, but that doesn't count. He smiles at Trace a moment longer, then turns to help Glass bag up the last of the groceries.

Trace nods and turns once his hands are released, calling softly, "Thank you! Thank both of you.." And then he's walking over to Starlight, murmuring softly to her. The two converse for a short time, no more than two minutes, and then he's escorting her out the door.

Glass watches the two head out. He sighs gently.

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Trace doesn't come back with Glass and Batiste that night. In fact, he doesn't stumble in until about 5 or 6 the next morning and tries very hard to slip in unnoticed and curl up -- probably on the couch, or somewhere he's not going to wake others. He offers up no explanation as to where he's been the following morning.
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