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Log Title: Most Precious Things

Log setting: Bourbon Street, then the Crossroads, then a nearby alley

Log Cast:
Puck
Alisynde
Trace
Mara
Starlight
Nadine

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Puck nods at Ali, and grins at Trace, nodding his direction, "Ask him..." He grins mischeviusly and dissapears into Dark Secrets

Puck steps through the large iron door and into Dark Secrets.

Alisynde is standing in the middle of the sidewalk outside of Dark Secrets, watching Puck with a tilted head and raised eyebrows. At his words, she turns to Trace, and beams a grin at him. "Trace! When'd y'decide to get in on the world domination gig?"

Mara looks amused.

Trace had been shuffling along the sidewalk, head down and hands stuffed into his pockets. He looks up now, and smiles at Ali. "Hey! I was jest..." A hand is retrieved to gesture vaguely ahead of him. Well, he was just doing nothing, really. Walking for strolling's sake. So he shrugs a little and says, "How you been? How's magic?"

Alisynde nods. "Awright. Been bein' hailed by strange men who're askin' if I see them in 3-D. Haven't had that one happen in...months." She turns to Mara. "Who th'heck /was/ that, anyway?"

Mara hmms, "Some guy that used to be on MTv i think...dunno for sure."

"Three-dee?" Trace murmurs, brows lifting with slight curiousity. "Yeah, I had that happen once. I did some weird shit and everything seemed kinda two-dee fer awhile, like paper doll people. It was weird." He looks to Mara with just slight suspicion. Older folk, after all. Can't trust a one of 'em. Hands back to his pockets.

Mara eyes the kid back, and shrugs, unperturbed.

Wanna laugh? Well, not sure of yer moods, but Star is, at the moment, walking with his head back, staring up toward the sky. Reflection? Sure are a lot of stars up there tonight. Kid is moving slowly, and the people that pass are rather polite, amazingly enough. His little body moves back and forth as they brush by. Upon stepping closer to the group, he pauses and dips his head down, eyes finding Trace no problem. Little boy takes in his breath and swallows. How's that for a greeting? Heh.

Alisynde mms. "Like comics. That'd be funky. I could go in my disguise as 'Maki Magic Madien'." She puts her hands on her hip and strikes a pose. Y'know, for one of those 'older people', Ali's a goof.

Mara shakes her head, smiling, she's goofy only under the right circumstances, evidently. "i think i hear a baby crying my name, see you alllater." and starts off down the street again.

Oh, Ali totally doesn't count as an older folk in Trace's opinion, specifically for that reason. He blinks as Starlight approaches, then smiles, but the expression is somewhat uncertain when the boy doesn't say anything. "Oh... Hey, Star." One hand reaches up to scritch through his braids briefly. "You ever get that tattoo taken care of, man?"

Alisynde waves to the departing Mara and the arriving Star, all at the same time. Ah, effeciency. "Latah. Hey, Star."

Mara pauses a moment on passing the younger boy, and gives him a very quick look, eyes lingering a moment on the key.

Star's head tilts to the left, then the right as he steps up to the two of you. His eyes dart between and he smiles, shyly at Ali. "Hi, Ali," comes out, quietly, and then attention slides to Trace. He lets out a little giggle? Jesus. It was. Seriously. "Um, it's all messed up, Blue. It is." His chocolate gaze drips toward Mara and he smiles, again shyly. Hi, Lady. Back to Trace. "Wanna see?" Odd inflection on those two words.

Mara nods again, head cocked, and hten shrugs, "Interesting." Okay, so she's one of those really strange older people.

Alisynde queries, "Tattoo?" Just that, nothing more.

"Maki Magic Madien?" Trace giggles, giving the blonde girl a look and shaking his head with amusement as she poses. "I'd be... I'd jest be Wildman Trace, but I'd have all them big bulgin' comic book muscles, and I dunno, a bright red thong or somethin'. And chicks." He grins, then looks to Star. What's this? He gets to see it? "Oh, you don't think it's gonna make me hate you no more?" he chuckles. There is a curiousity in his eyes as well, and they drop down to study that part of his arm curiously, all the strings and leather bands and such covering it. "Clever way to hide it," he compliments easily.

Mara heads uptown.

Alisynde's mouth twists - perhaps at the thought of Trace in a thong. But then she comes out with, "And here I thought y'd have chaps on, too." Chaps and a thong. Oh, my. Her eyes flick to the same portion of Star's arm the bluehair is contemplating, and she nods in agreement with the younger boy's statement.

Star turns his head, watching Mara for a few moments, after the woman comments on him. Or whatever she just did. He licks at his lips, wetting them, then looks back to Ali. "Yeah, um, just got a stupid one and got it covered up. Well, kind of. It's not all the way, but enough so that no one will know what it was." Isn't that cool? Anyway, he brings his attention back to Trace and lifts his shirt sleeve, exposing his upper arm. The right one. And there, you'd both see a tattoo! Surprise. The letters, in block: DR and then some numbers: 0/89 ..and that's it. The entire thing takes up about three inches of his upper arm in width, and about an inch and a half in height. Definately this boy should be more sure of himself before getting anything else inked on his arm. He motions toward the cafe. "You wanna get something to drink? I'll buy." That's to both of you. He will buy. "Or eat. Whatever you want." His eyes drop down to stare at the damage on his arm. Wrinkles his nose. Big mistake.

Trace squints, studying Star's arm and trying to make sense of it. "Doctor... zero eighty-nine?" He looks at Star with confusion, then back down at the tattoo, trying to figure out what it might have said before it was inked over and rendered incomprehensible. Hmmm, what starts with DR? Drew? That Doctor guy Star used to be in good with? But nothing strikes him as definite, so instead he just nods and murmurs, "M'kinda hungry I guess. Sure it's no problem?"

Alisynde gives Star a sympathetic smile. "Happens. I could use a drink, but y'don't have t'buy or anything. I'd just be happy for the company."

Star looks down at his feet as Trace tries to figure out his tat. He's in a good mood, and surely this isn't going to put a damper on anything, but fact is, he's mighty embarrassed about what used to be there. "Just someone's birthdate, it was stupid. I didn't know what I was doing. I was a little fucked up." Well, he was. But he's not now. "And, I was getting Drew put on there, but that didn't go over too well, um, so I'm just gonna get a band. Like an arm band around it and over it all up." He lifts his chin, looking first at Ali, then to Trace. Yeah. His cheeks are bright red. Stupid kid. Anyway, he nods and makes to step toward Dark Secrets, but then pauses, eyes widening. "Ali?" he says, quietly. "I can't," he admits, quietly. Tips his head back and peers up toward the stars, his own reflection. "Do you remember?" And he whirls around, grinning at Trace. "I think we should go somewhere else," he laughs out, looking goofy as all hell. And yeah, it doesn't look like he's on /anything,/ if you can believe that!

Alisynde arches her brows slowly. "Can't? Not even coffee?" Cause, y'know. That's what she meant. Ali may be old enough for certain beverages, but she knows the others are. IF that's even what Star means, because, well. He's confusing her again, and it shows. Sometimes this woman just thinks too much. And her brain explodes. Fortunately, the goo that leaks out is invisible, or she'd be a right mess. Still...the goofiness is contagious, and Ali smiles.

"Yeah, I'd just want coffee or somethin' too," Trace agrees with a shrug, looking at Star a bit oddly. Remember what? A glance is cast heavenward, as if the answer lies there, but he just sees the usual spattering of dim lights on New Orlean's velvet sky. So back to Star. "I doan' mind goin' someplace else at all. Ain't this place a club, anyway? Dunno, let's hit someplace calmer."

Nadine has arrived.

Alisynde shrugs a little. "There's a coffee bar in there, too. Kinda neat, but I'm flexible." Ali, the Amazing Pretzel Girl. "Whatevah y'guys want."

Star bites down on his lower lip, trying to keep his smile from like, taking over his entire head. Works, too. Teeth are cool for things like that. He shakes it. His head. Back and forth, then releases. "I can't. Ali?!" he whirls on the woman, eyes huge and his face practically gleeful. "I /can't/. Remember?" Doesn't she remember? "If I don't help Mr. Etoile, I'm going to /die/." The boy has lost it, folks. Plain and simple. But, no, really, this does make sense, if you have all the facts, which you guys don't, so, yeah. Back to Trace. "I can't go in there, I just feel it. Inside." He scoots forward and puts his hand on Trace's shoulder, eyes sparkling some. "Do you understand?" Touch of Brit to that last one. Does Trace get it? Probley not. "Can we just go somewhere else? You guys can pick." Peers over to Ali again, then back to Blue. "Anywhere."

Taxis drive up and down the street, letting passengers off at various locales. Just shy of Dark Secrets, Nadine eases out of a cab. The usual crumpled lot of currency is tossed at the driver. Really, with the attitude she gives cabbies it's amazing that any of them stop to pick her up any longer. You'd think back at the Taxi Driver hangout they'd all gab about this bitchy blue haired broad that gave tude instead of a tip. But whatever, you snooze you lose and if they ain't talkin, Nadine's sure not walkin. Fingers dip into a pocket of her shorts, cigarettes drawn forth seemingly at the same time as a booted foot connects with concrete.

Alisynde blink-blinks, something like recognition dawning in her eyes, immediately followed by confusion. Part of the pieces makes for a very puzzled Ali. She pushes her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose, going all inscrutible. Headachy'll come later, after she's peered through the frames for a few hours. Another shrug for the boys and, "Trace, y'pick. I can't think of anywhere specific."

Well, despite earlier poses to the contrary, Trace is fairly certain Star's been dipping into SOME kind of happy juice. What the hell's he talking about, after all? The returned look is somewhat baffled, but he just grins and shrugs. "Guess so. I mean, whatever you want, y'know? Les' jest walk down Bourbon til' we come cross someplace we wanna stop really? Coz dunno, nothin's really comin' t'mind. I think I been fryin' all my braincells too much lately, r'somethin." He grins.

Alisynde hms, slender fingers tapping at her leg. "Hey. I've a thought. How 'bout Crossroads? It's got decent food, good coffee and /nice/ servers." Who have something on their brains other than sex. Yup. "Whatdya think?"

Reproduction..reproduction, but your ciggie to the test. So okay, Nadine is certainly no Michelle Pfeifer. Ali could be a Pink Lady. SHe probably looks good in pink. And Trace, well, hell, greaser all the way baby. Star is pretty enough to be Sasha Mitchell, but well, Sasha is such a chick name and well we all know what a /man/ Star is. Anyway, so Nadine fertilizes the tip of her cigarette with a nice dousing of fire. An orgasmic release of smoke billows upwards, twisting in the night's skyline. Dark eyes peer over towards Dark Secrets. Look, a crowd...and she knows 'em. With a shuffling step she begins in their general direction.

Star shrugs up his shoulders, still grinning. "Wherever," he says, quietly. His eyes spot that cigarette, tho. Nadine's. "Yo, come." Bark. Sit? Roll over? And he laughs. "Nadey, come with us." Yeah, you don't wanna go into that place. The boy couldn't be happier, ya know? Completely. But then it's like, I dunno, a dark cloud descends over him and he closes his eyes and takes in his breath. His face scrunches all up and his eyes dart aroun dunder his lids as if having like, some kind of wicked flashback. Bad. Eyes open slowly and he nods. "We should probley go now." Quiet, now. Sober.

The Crossroads. Trace glances down, giving this brief consideration. Batiste always warned him of the dangers of this place, after all. The bluecap is fairly certain it was just paranoia, but.... "Sure," he finally decides, looking up. After all, Bat's gone. Halfway across the world. And Trace has been taking care of himself. "The only waiter y'gotta look out for's that Raoul guy. He'll give ya dirty looks, but that's all. Well, he coulda been givin' us looks coz Jason was gettin' us free food, but anyway.." He shrugs and looks to Nadine when Star points out her presence. "Yeah, cool, let's go. Nadine, come." A glance to Ali, as he mumbles with pride, "She's the chick what did my steel."

Alisynde blinks. "Really?" She grins at Nadine. "Trace looks really cool. Y'did that?"

Yo? Come? Christ, demanding little shit and Star's just learning what a clitoris is all about. She's coming, she's coming. Nadine saddles into position over by Starlight - gravitational pull and all kicking in due to the demanding little yip of an order he gave. A slow grin slides loosely across her lips for the trio, an amiable flit of the eyes finding each in some recognition of their presence. "Yeah, how's the stuff healing, Trace?" He better be keeping her handiwork all nice and clean. Would suck to have to do it again cause someone was a little careless. "Yeah, I did it. It's what I do. So where are we going?" Probably should ask that because Nadine's a newbie here folks. She didn't hear the rest of this conversation.

Alisynde says, "Crossroads it is then, by the large apathy vote." Damnit, people, you don't choose, and the hippie chick's going to do it for you. Next thing you know, she's gonna drag y'all to the Further Festival. "Shall we away? If Raoul gives you dirty looks, Trace, I'll smake him disappear."

"Look, check it out!" Trace croons, lifting his braids off the back of his neck and leaning over a little so that all may behold the wonderous nape peircing. "It don't hurt," he informs them proudly. The two balls glint, settled against skin that's just a little red. It does look as though it's taking very well -- better than it probably should, just a few weeks set. The kid really does pierce well. "Been cleanin' it with the stuff from the first ones you done on me." Then he looks up at Ali, straightening and letting his braids fall back into place. "Yeah, les' go."

Starlight starts down the street, looking at little miffed. He's going, okay? So, yeah, if you guys are coming, it might be wise to do so now, considering. "Yeah, okay," he says, quietly, to himself and then starts laughing. Not quite as real as last time, tho. Ya know? Something is wrong, but fuck it. "Wanna get something to drink, or eat. I'm buyin'." Too quiet to be to any of you. And all of the sudden he whirls around and peers toward Dark Secrets. "Um, I'll meet you guys there, okay? That okay? Here." He takes out his card and hands it to Trace. It's Gideon's, actually. How nice of Star, eh? But, wait, that's not a very good idea, is it? No. He chews on his lower lip and puts the thing back in his back pocket. Nah. We should all just go. "I mean, nevermind." He smiles, and turns back around. Really gonna go this time.

If Trace keeps his teeth as clean as his piercings, he must have one hell of a happy dentist, cause he sure has a happy piercist. Well taken care of holes means holes that don't necessary have to be punched again and that's all good. "Looking good, Trace." Approval rings true in Nadine's voice. She can't help but look over at Starlight, though, as he does the hokey pokey all over the street. Should he stay or should he go now? "Yeah, let's go." There, Nadine's coming along. That means Star has to come since he only 'ordered' her to tag along. And almost as an afterthought, she pries the cigarettes from the faded ebon of her short's pocket and offers up the well worn package towards Star. Smoke for the walk?

You go through the iron gate, entering Crossroads.

A high iron fence and aromatic jasmine hedges block out most of the street, concealing the large patio that makes up the cafe, while the branches of huge oak and cypress trees filter the sunlight, providing copious shade. The restaurant is mostly outdoors, split into four sections by a cross-shaped path of white marble tiles in the brick patio. Three of these sections hold a table each while the fourth is where the small stage is. Inside the building is the bar and the open kitchen, from which the smell of Creole cooking wafts out into the establishment.

Raoul with bug antenna on his head rushes to take people's orders.

Trace slips in after Ali and glances around. "Dunno what Bat's problem with this place was," he mumbles to himself, taking in the surroundings with appreciation. This is his kind of place. His sneakers scritch softy on the brick patio beneath him as he makes his way over towards one of the free tables, but stops. He eyes up Raoul, the server currently waiting on a table across the room. Now he's the one who looks to be seeing ghosts. But he shakes it off quickly and finally just laughs, rolling his shoulders in a shrug. "Over here work f'everyone?"

As Nadine drifts into the place she gets one of those faces folks experiencing deja vu often do. Been here before? Trying to place when she might have been here or even imagined a place. Think...think. Eventually, shoulders hitch upwards, birthing a shrug and the expression fades, replaced with a more neutral guise. Miss Scarlett here, will just think about that tomorrow. Without argument, she walks over in the direction in which Trace headed. Seems 'over here' works well enough for Nadine.

Star steps in and looks around, eyes wide. Cool place. And yeah, he took a smoke from Nadine before and finished it on the way. He glances toward Trace and shrugs up his shoulders. "I dunno, man. Different people got different quirks and stuff." Star sure does. About that Dark Secrets place. Shiver. Bad Bad Bad. Anyway, he heads on over after Trace and nods. "Yeah, s'cool, man." Cool. A glance to Ali. What is she doing?

Alisynde smiles, looking contented. Apparently she likes this place. And her favorite table's even free. "C'mon. Let's go sit here. Best view in th'place." She drifts towards the table without even waiting for a response, much like she's been doing since she decided everyone was coming here. Alisynde sits down at the large center table.

Yes, Ali is our leader and we must follow. Trace is all for that. He trots after her, and joins her at the table, sliding into one of the chairs and resting his elbows on the smooth surface. "I doan' even need to look at a menu," he announces with a grin. "Already know what I'm getting. Atomic Gumbo, man. It rocks."

"Been here like only once before." Ahhh, Nadine recalls the place. "But well that was a long time ago. Just drank." So she's going to need the menu even if Trace doesn't. Well that is if she opts to eat. Lord knows the girl doesn't do that task near enough otherwise she might look a hair above skeletal. Trajectory is changed, large center table her final destination rather then the little nook and cranny picked by Trace. So it's follow the Ali now.

Alisynde mms. "I'm all for a Turkish Coffee, myself. Suppose I should eat somethin', too." Ali's rather twig-like herself, although she's closer to the edge of healthy than skeletal. "Don't think Atomic Gumbo's gonna go with th'coffee, though." And Ali ponders.

"Atomic Gumbo goes good with *anything*," Trace informs the magician with a knowing grin. "So I jest want coffee with whipped cream an' cinnamon sprinkles on top, an' Atomic Gumbo, an..." Okay, so maybe he DOES need to look at the menu. "N'somethin' for dessert," he mumbles thoughtfully, scanning the choices. Hey, if Starlight's livin' the high life enough that he gets to pass around credit cards, he can let Trace get some freakin' dessert.

"I'll just have some vodka or something." Girl need more starch in her diet. Vodka is always a good place to start. Nadine shifts about in her seat, prying the cigarettes from her pocket anew. This smoking thing never gets old. Probably why it's stayed so hip all these years. Sure isn't because it's addictive or anything. Right? Another glance ferrets about the place.

Alisynde flips back from The Leader to Ali the Aimable. "Well. Suppose it couldn't hurt t'try. Haven't had anything since that apple for breakfast. And Turkish coffee. And then I'll see if I have tastebuds left for dessert after." The really sucky thing about getting older, Trace, is that your tastebuds go to hell in a handbasket. Which means one of two things, oddly enough. Either the Atomic Gumbo's gonny crispy-fry what's left, or it's not going to do diddly. And despite Ali's words, by her expression, it's diddly all over.

"Tart-dee-pancakes-ah-la-mode," Trace drawls out the french words without practice, deciding a dessert at random, then peers at it again, and repeats, "I mean, pecans. Is that pecans?" He holds the menu out to Ali, shoving it right up in her face. Hey, she's been here all her life, she must have picked up SOME french. A voice from behind answers instead, a quiet cajun accent tinged with amusement. "Indeed petit, it be pecan tarts with ice cream. Only heah' f'dessert, or y'wantin some dinnah onna side?" The bluecap whirls to regard the tall server and smiles up at him, chirping politely, "Nossir," and rattles off the rest of his order. He looks to Nadine and then grins impishly before adding, "Nadine, she want Atomic Gumbo with her drink too. Promise." He nods sagely at her. You do. Trust me.

Alisynde smiles up at the server, and adds her order as well. Then she looks back at Trace, and her mouth curves up into a playful grin. "Pancakes. Hee."

Sure, Nadine could protest until the cows come home or she turns as blue in the face as the hue of her hair, but well she doesn't. Bring on the gumbo. Doesn't mean she has to eat it. Maybe she can just absorb some of the nutrients via osmosis by peering down at the bowl of ricey stew. The latest cigarette in her long series of serial murders of tabacco sticks fires up, hoisted against her lips so that lungs might rape the ciggie of it's natural resources.

The server's pencil scritches as he jots down the orders, and then he turns and heads back into the kitchens. Trace takes a sugar substitute packet from the little holder at the center of the table and opens up one end, sucks on the tip of his forefinger, and dips it in. It comes up dusted, pixie stix style. Mmm, Sweet and Low. He sucks it off with relish, then looks to Nadine and murmurs, "Yer house get fixed up yet? I dropped by the other day an' it was lookin' pretty gross... Nobody was home."

Well there's a sure fire way to sour any mood, bring up the shithole (quite literally at this point and time) of a house on Gov. Nicholls. Nadine's lips curl with distaste. "Nah, public services still haven't made it out to clean up the mess. I've been staying elsewhere and stuff until it's all cleaned up. It's a fucking health risk in there." This she says as she chows down on her cigarette. Uh huh. Just a little bit on the double standard side there. "In fact the only person staying there right now, I think, is Lloyd." Not like anyone would take that boy in.

Better not to protest, cause those cows might come home as blue as ther other's hair, triple headed and screaming obscenities. Ali starts building a creamer castle, upending the bowl onto the table and plucking a victim at random. You be the base, you be the walkways, you be the tower...this space here for the murder holes...You all can see it, right? She listens idly to the conversation as she creates, having not word one to add.

"So where you stayin'?" Trace wonders, then adds casually, "an' Grace there with ya, or did she head someplace else?" Hey, hidden motives. Well, they're never too hidden with a transparant boy like Trace. He catches sight of Ali's creation and turns to study it before blooming into a grin. "Oh, wow! That's too cool." He knocks back the rest of the Sweet 'n Low, then hands her the empty pink packet. "Need that fer anythin'?" Every castle needs a family crest, right?

Alisynde considers the packet. "Well, I can make a moat with it, or a flag from the battlements...ooh, that's it." She gets a swizzle stick and thrusts it through the packet, then pokes the stick into one of the creamers. She bends the tip of the stick so the packet doesn't slide down, and voila! Flag from the battlements.

"Just some friend's places." Nice and vague, that's Nadine's style. An automatic deposit is made in the ashtray atop the table. "Grace's been going around with me." See, Trace, they made up. Grace can stand to be in Nadine's presence once again. Then again, keep your enemies closer. "We stayed at that guy Nelson's the other night. You see him lately?" A curve - enigmatic in tilt - finds her lips, "We gave him a makeover."

Alisynde looks up and gives Nadine a slightly narrowed-eyed look. "Nadine. What kind of makeover?"

Trace opens his mouth slightly to protest, when he isn't given the exact latitude and longitude of where he can find Grace. But he's distracted by the mention of Nelson, and laughs softly, grin resurfacing. "Naw, I ain't seen him but f'once, when I mushed a danish inta his shirt an' wrote idiot on his shirt an' he yelled at me an' stuff. But then we went and got beignets and now we get along." He glances to Ali, then nods and asks of Nadine, "Yeah. Yeah, so what'd ya do to him?"

Yeps, Nadine walked /right/ into that one. What did Grace and she do to poor little, geeky Nelson. "Gave him a dye job." And my the way she says that, she almost makes it sound kinky. Well almost. Nothing seductive about hair dye really. Ooooh baby, the smell of that wella sure makes me feel swella. Nopes, no real kick there. "Got him to wear contacts, gave him some new clothes. Nothing too big." No, they didn't put a leash on his neck, tutu about his stomach and then drag him around city showing off his new look.

Alisynde hms. "Well. Alright then." She rubs her chin for a moment. "Wonder if he's still made over or if he chickened and went back to engineer-dress..."

"Seriously..?" Trace's brows lift, and he grins and demands, "What color?" Maybe he's picturing Nelson with neon pink day-glow hair. A nudge to Nadine's bony side. "An you gotta tell me where Grace is stayin' still. C'mon, it's been too long since I seen her." Not blue-haired piercing chicks nor swampy sewer houses shall come between he and his.... well, his good friend. Always just a good friend. The starstruck boy pulls a hopeful look, chewing at his lip. Pleeease tell?

"Blackish blue." Yes, now there is a Brainy smurf in the blue haired faction of New Orleans. Go on and jump around and give an 'amen', Trace. Nadine's converting the masses to the joy of blueish tresses. So no, no day glo pink. Nadine don't do pink. Pleeeeeeeeease. "And well not sure where we are going to stay tonight. But like I'll tell her you are looking for her and stuff." Still not much help, damn woman. But hey, she's not all bad..remember the hair dye thing before judgement is passed.

Alisynde sighs. "I always loved that color. Can't do it to myself, though. I'd look positively dead." A smile at Nadine. "Just tell Grace I said hi, for my part."

"Like black, an' it's blue where it shines? That's awesome," Trace admits with a grin. "Seriously, I gotta find that boy and check out his new doo. That'd be somethin' t'see." His shoulders hunch a little, and he looks down at his hands clasped together upon the tabletop and mumbles, "He's friends with Ben, y'know. He's goin' to their party. That one they're havin'." A glance up. "TooFar's goin' too! An' he's a good friend'a mine." He purses his lips and asks, "You goin, Ali? Seems like the whole resta the world is."

"Yeah I know he's friends with Ben. Ben and Holly were over there when Grace and I came over." Cue that little grin again. Girls is just teaming with something tonight. Some of Too's cheeriness must have seaped into her cheerios or something. "And yeah I know about the party. I'll be there." And a little bone for the bluecap, "Grace will too." Mr. Cigarette finds an early grave in the ashtray. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Alisynde pulls on her lip for a moment, looking at Trace's hunched shoulders, then simply nods, not looking wildly happy.

Trace is quiet a moment, as Nadine speaks. Shoulders forget to be tense, and he rocks back into his chair, steadying himself against the wood backing. "Everybody..." He murmurs, then finally focusses his distant eyes, looking up at Nadine, pained and stricken. "Why would she be there? Didn't she... I..." He sighs softly and looks down. A quiet, polite drone of words to buzz over his sudden sadness. "I'm not hungry. I'm sorry. Tell the waiter guy not to bring my food, or if he's already made it and it's too late, have 'em put it in the fridge and I'll come by fer it tomarrah. I'll be hungry then. Scuse me." His chair scrapes in protest against the brick, and he rises, turning and striding out of the cafe.

Alisynde's eyes grow dark with worry as she watches Trace leave. A moment of indecision, and Ali stands. Murmuring to the waiter, she follows Trace out of the cafe.

You go out through the iron gate.

Alleyway -- Somewhere Off Bourbon Street
Dark, dirty, and dank, this alleyway is a narrow strip of filthy concrete walled in on both sides by unforgiving brick. Crates, scattered trash and things less recognizable pile up against the walls, making progress a cautious undertaking at best. Drunks, homeless and prostitutes are the usual occupants of this darkness, finding protection from the wind behind a heap of crates, or furtive seconds of privacy behind a dumpster. During Mardi Gras, partiers choke the alleyway - even months later, discarded beads can seen, tangled up with the rest of the trash.

Alisynde pauses, looking quickly down the street to see if she can spot the bluehair.

Trace doesn't realize he's being followed. He'd been pretty sure his exit had been dignified enough, if somewhat abrupt. Now he's free to vent, and aims himself for the alley leading to the Lafitte apartments, ducking inside. Two small, ink-stained fists are slammed against the brick wall there, and then he sags against it, pressing his cheek to the cool red surface. Braids hide most of his face, but you can still see the pale fan of lashes, and the folds of eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Alisynde gets a brief glimpse of blue hair disappearing into the alley, and she follows it, silent for now. She watches her friend with concern, wincing a little as he slams his fists into the wall. As he presses his cheek against the brick, she calls out, softly, "Trace.."

A sniffle, and Trace glances up, one shaky, scraped hand lifting to shove braids out of his eyes. He stays clinging to the wall of the alley, and doesn't speak, but looks at you.

Alisynde sighs, and rubs the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry." She doesn't really know what else to say. And she does feel sorry that things have degenerated to that point.

"It....it's okay," Trace sniffles again, rubbing at his burning eyes with dirty hands. "Yer... yer their friend. From before, I mean. So it's not.. I mean.." He's not making much sense and he knows it. He sinks down against the wall, and it pushes his t-shirt up in the back and scrapes gently against his bare skin. Arms fold around his knees in a huddle, and he says, "It's jest... Grace is *my* friend. I, I never done her no wrong. An.. an TooFar too. And they already stole my whole life, n' all my comfort, an' why can't they leave me the few friends I got left, hu h?" His voice is so young, his eyes begging you closer. "Why they gotta keep on taking?"

Alisynde does step closer, sliding down to sit with you, heedless of the refuse that litters the space around her. "Just because they're going to one party doesn't mean they're still not your friends, hon. It means that they're going to a party. And does Nadine look like she's got 'Property of Holly Walker-Ashley' stamped on her head? Or TooFar? Grace certainly didn't, last time I saw her. I know things are nasty at the moment, and that people are going to have to split themselves between two groups. But it doesn't mean that they're going to leave you for the other."

Trace shakes his head with denial. No, no... "They're my *friends*," he insists childishly. "M-my most... precious things have all been taken, and broken, or pointed out they were never real t'begin with." He pulls in a shuddery breath, but it's steadying, and during the quiet moment that follows it looks as though he's not going to break down. Glassy eyes watch the opposite wall of the alley. "They broke everything," he says again. "An' we broke things back, but it weren't enough t'make up fer my pain. They still got each other. An' half my friends, 'parantly. An' they gotta home, an' food, an' a security I might never know 'gain." He sighs miserably and drops his chin down against his knees. "Or maybe my whole problem is I'm jealous, like I'm gonna get replaced with new 'rent-a-kids'. Come on in, enjoy our home... Hope a few of ya put out." He winces. Okay, so that was probably going too far. "Anyway, they was my parents. So I dunno whether t'feel betrayed by my friends, or jealous." A soft laugh. "Well, they'll have a good time, anyway. Walker 'n Ben... They always did throw good parties."

Alisynde winces as well, and is silent for awhile. Then, softly, she inquires, "Do you think that everything's broken permanently? Or do you think that there's a chance - even a small one - that things might be able to be worked out, with time? Not everything that's broken needs to stay broken. Things can be mended. Or remade. If you're feeling that much pain, Trace, maybe it's a sign that you need to fix things." Or distance yourself from them forever, including getting rid of the feelings of betrayal and jealousy. "Because obviously, this path you're on isn't working. Maybe it's time for a new path."

"I dunno, I dunno," the bluecap moans softly, shaking his head. "Everything's so fucked up. They made it pretty clear that they was willin' t'risk our family fer some stupid sex." His words take on a fierce tone, teeth gritting. "They *knew* it'd break Jason's heart. An' now it's torn me right between my two best friends. An' I still love Batiste, and I miss 'im so much, an' if he comes back what'll I do? Jason needs me. But what if they stay mad at each other? We were meant fer always... And Bat was never for them. He's a kid like me. They were our *parents*." He knuckles at his eyes, his voice limping again, strength sapped. "I oughta go find Grace. I gotta see if it's true. How could she go there, an' laugh with them an' drink in their hospitality, knowin' an' carin' f'me? I don't unnerstand. How good kin' a party be?"

Alisynde looks hurt at that, and pushes herself abruptly to her feet. "Maybe it's the same way I can. I know and care for you, but I know and care for them, too. You are all my friends, and I've room in my heart for all of you. A lot of people generally do, even if the friends don't get along. It's not as cut and dried as you'd like to think, Trace." She pulls out her key, and unlocks the door. "And speaking of friends, I need to go take care of my animal friends. Go see if you can find Grace. If I see her, I'll tell her you want to talk."

"But s'different," Trace calls after you. "You was their friends b'fore. Grace weren't. She got no reason like you might, an' it don't make no sense." He makes a small, trapped sound and looks away, finally pushing himself up off the ground. "M'sorry if I offended," he finally whispers. "My head jest ain't on straight right now. I'll leave y'be." He escorts himself out of the alley, head down, pace quickened.

Alisynde opens the steel door, a bell chiming inside, and steps through.

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