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Log Title: Tittyslash

Log setting: It is Sunday, August 5th, 2001, in Walker’s home the night of Marilyn’s party.

Log Cast:
Jean-Batiste
Trace
Holly
Ben
Starlight
Drew
Glass

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The door creaks open and Trace peers around it experimentally. "H'lo..?" Well, this joint ain't jumpin, that's for sure. He slips in and shuts it quietly behind him. The boy's been gone much of the day, probably out again trying to scrounge up cash. He's been fairly obsessed about it, as though he could earn it all back before the other two got it into their heads to pitch in. But now it's awfully late for drawing... light's pretty necessary. So he finds himself finishing up the long walk home. With him he carries a shiny, plastic yellow and blue bag with 'Blockbuster' stamped on the side in bold letters, and swings it from the handle a little as he strides into the living room.

Jean-Batiste lifts his head from the cushions at the sound of your voice, and is smiling at you by the time you round the corner. "Hey, you," he murmurs, leaning forward against his knees, then reaching out to bat at the plastic bag when you get close enough. "How you doing? Can you believe how quiet it is in here? It seems like another house." He grins a little, batting at the bag again, then grabbing it. Tug. Tug tug.

"Well, if I kin' do anythin', it's make a too-quiet house noisy," Trace smiles, clambering onto the couch with you. At your insistant tugging, he hands the bag over with a grin that borders on sheepish. Within is a single unpopped bag of extra butter popcorn, an orange bag of miniature Reeses Cups, and a rental tape. The lable reads 'Sorority Chainsaw Slumber Party 3'. But wait... Trace has a movie rental membership card? He shifts on the cushions and pulls a small brown wallet from his pocket. "Guy dropped it. I-I didn't give it back to him." He flushes a little, and smiles faintly. "Not like there were much in it, not even credit cards, but there was, um, the Blockbuster card, and it gave me the idea to rent somethin'." He lowers his head and grins. "I'm a terrible person, Bat."

Holly, Benjamin, Starlight, and Drew open the front door and step inside.

Holly pushes the door open, heels clicking softly on the wood floor. She inhales deeply, releasing a sigh of gratitude to be home. Now where's her cigarettes?

Trace is seated on the couch with Batiste, holding a wallet, while Batiste paws through a blue and yellow plastic bag that has 'Blockbuster' printed on the side.

Starlight walks in, holding Drew's hand, of course, and releases it, just long enough to close the door. He is carrying, in his other hand, a black duffle bag, which promptly gets placed on the floor. Not the lightest of things, really.

Benjamin slips in right on Holly's heels, still playing escort duty though that part of his evening is over. He simply can't help slipping arms around the beauty's waist for a brief hug and a quick nuzzle behind the ear. Isn't she scrumptious? Isn't he lucky?

Ben’s Party 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. Thick, dark brown hair is slightly long, and combed back from his face, newly washed and wet. It stays in place mostly, a few damp strands escaping to tickle his 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.

A quietly elegant suit of charcoal grey is tailored expressly for his slim form. The soft white collarless shirt lies smoothly beneath the buttoned vest, while the loose jacket settles over thin shoulders. Matching pants fit well, the crease crisp and well-kept. A pair of matte dress shoes accent the profesional look.

Jean-Batiste's sitting on the couch, unloading all the goodies Trace brought home with him. He grins at something in particular, then suddenly reaches up and grabs Trace by the waist and hauls him onto the couch. "-You- rented this? It's full of girls in underwear, I bet." He tickles Trace gently for a moment, then looks up as people start pouring in, blind relief melting over his face.

Star’s Party Desc:
No more glitter. No more lace. Raw beauty. This young boy? has his black hair chopped to rest upon narrow shoulders. He holds in his face, the images of anger and regret. No more the feminine gesture, this kid pushes through with unabashed resentment and strength. This, all the colours. And in his mind, so much power. Dark eyes, midnight, remain, mostly, little slits and always critical. Impress me. His skin, pale. Tight against blushed cheeks, but somehow remains rounded in feature. Exotic colouring. Deep brown brows and lashes on light, accent and contrast with the purpetual blood tint of his lips. Naked fresh.

Star is dressed up! Amazingly enough. He's wearing a pair of black slacks and shiny dress shoes. A navy blue button down shirt is tucked in and a dull, black leather belt is around his waist. A black tie finishes this off, and adds a bit of class to the otherwise trashy looking child. For this wear, his hair is tied back into a tail.

Pierced. Ring in his right eyebrow. Ring in the right side of his lip. Other adornments include a string necklace with a little black stone in the center and lastly a silver band on his right thumb.

Holly’s Party Desc:
About 5'8 give or take, Holly is slender, her gentle curves softened by length of arm and leg; willowy would be the best way to describe her graceful poise. Eyes of deep jade are made smokey by the addition of artfully applied navy shadow, the thick, sooty lashes needing no help from mascara. Her delicate face is exotic... prominent cheekbones and strong jaw mingling with soft, large eyes and pouting ruby lips. Her long, lustrous blue-black hair has been pulled up into an ornate weave, riddled here and there with strands of pearls for contrast and pinned with two siilver combs.

Her slender form is sheathed in a crepe evening gown of navy, the long-sleeved top primarily composed of opaque crepe accented with navy lace over the shoulders and outlining the top of the sweetheart bodice. A swirling pattern of tiny faux pearls follows a fanciful play of lace down her side lending the sleek dress a genteel air. The skirt is long, flowing and slightly flared at the ankle. A slit in the cool fabric travels up to just above her silk-stockinged knee to allow for some amount of movement in the form-fitting skirt. Strappy heels grace her feet, adding further elegance to the ensemble with the smooth, navy leather.

A single-strand pearl choker hugs the delicate curve of her pale throat, matching the pearl eardrops she wears. A thin silver bracelet decorates one wrist.

Holly giggles, melting a little against Ben at the nuzzle. "Hey, y'all..." she lifts a hand to wave then slides the hand and arm back over Ben's shoulder. "Y'all did -not- miss a thin' at that pawty," she assures as gravely as she can while enjoying the closeness of Ben.

Drew teeters in, glancing at Star and running a hand through her hair as the boy shuts the door as a faint smile commands her mouth. Hearing voices, though, her gaze is soon pulled over to the pair on the couch. Her grin is sacraficed to some lip chewing, her hand moving out to find Star's. She folds her fingers in with his and remains by the door, waiting for the boy to take the lead.

Starlight notices Trace and Bat and smiles, then shakes his head, completely agreeing with Holly. Didn't miss a thing. Wrinkles up his nose and then looks down at himself. Dork International. He just starts laughing. Then looks at Drew. Adores the girl, that's for sure. He shakes his head and quiets down, leaning closer. "You need?" he says, softly. And a frown. "Do you wanna go home?" He'll do whatever she wants, apparently.

Benjamin squeezes Holly tightly for a moment, placing a soft kiss against her ear. Even tipsy, he's not really one for too much closeness among people. He releases his hold and takes just a couple of steps away, calling wickedly into the living room, "Don't bogart the girls in underwear?"

"It.. it might have *some* boys," Trace rallies, standing up for his chosen movie. "Um. Well, y'know, a few." He giggles, but people are piling into the house now, and he looks up with faint surprise. Whoa. Blink. A grin breaks onto his features as he takes in the lot of them. "Hi! So the party thing sucked?" He's been gone most the day, but he did hear talk of *some* sort of thing going on tonight. Not *entirely* clueless.

Drew’s Party Desc:
Shadows fall across a mirrored image, the figure on the other side of the Looking Glass dark and mute. Silence. Something has changed; something has shattered. She is a girl broken, the pieces glued back together but the whole never to be the same. Dark-plum coloured curls spray out in a frizzy, untended-to mess, her chaotic ringlets reaching just past her chin. Whispering against her cheeks and tracing along her jawline, locks of wild anarchy reveal a pale face. No make-up: bare, raw. Left open for all to see--pay the man a nickel to glimpse the freak show, honey. The only decoration she wears is the purple and black mark of violence. Across her nose, fading under her eyes of splintered midnight. Eyes which are cold in the depth of their emptiness.

Skinny. Look at her wrong and she'll break in two. Not very tall, she tops off at maybe 5'2"--if her hair is particularly spastic that day. She's dressed up a bit moreso than usual--a little, white sweater sans sleeves stretches over her small chest, a black skirt hangs off her narrow hips to sway about her thighs, and a pair of low-heeled, black shoes protect her feet. There are faint, criss-crossing scars which spiderweb up her arms and delicate scrollwork has been tattooed along her collarbone.

Jean-Batiste makes a playful, exasperated sound at Trace, informing him, "But they're always stupid and macho and they die first, so the girls get a chance to run around and get their skimpy white T-shirts soaked through." He laughs, giddy-soft, and ruffles Trace's braids. "Start it up?" he murmurs. Maybe they're stupid, macho, and -cute-, after all. "I'll get the popcorn ready." He climbs up from the couch, setting down the other assorted goodies, and heads for the kitchen. "So Marilyn didn't pull nothing?" he wonders. Curious, rather than suspicious. You all seem to be okay, after all.

"We don't have to if you don't want to.." comes Drew's hushed answer, although her eyes speak volumes of how she wants to go home. Her attention touches upon the other people's faces briefly, hazy and faintly uncomfortable in her regard. She's just not the type of person who falls instantly at ease with people she hardly knows. Lifting up a hand, she rubs the back of her neck before leaning in, imparting a few, soft words to companion.

"Pull nothin'?" Holly drifts into the kitchen, mind set on something to drink. She glances at Drew with mild concern mixed with curiosity then is heading to the fridge. "Th' only thin' I saw her come close ta pullin' was Erick's shirt up outside th' pawty." A devilish giggle floats up from the refrigerator as she fishes a wine cooler out. "Anybody want anythin'?"

Starlight shakes his head and says, quietly, "Okay, I'll be right back'n we can go. Just wait one second." He glances at Trace, but makes his way toward the kitchen. "Um, Holly?"

Benjamin shrugs out of his jacket, too warm to keep up the three layers of formal clothes anymore. Somehow, he has to survive for ten minutes away from Holly while he changes. Making for the downstairs bathroom where he left his things, he calls back, "I heard him say he loved her, in German." There, Holly will appreciate that bit of gossip.

Holly sure does appreciate the tidbit from Ben's end of the grapevine. She -lives- for those, collector that she is. She straightens, propping an arm on the fridge door as she smiles at Star. "Yes..?"

The kid in blue braids smiles at Batiste's words and bounces up off the couch with his usual Trace-like exuberance, as near everyone else piles into the kitchen. First he flips on the TV, then he's off to the VCR, sliding it in and fiddling with the buttons. "Previews, previews..." he mumbles as he fastforwards and images fly quickly across the screen. Oh wait. Credits. Rock on. He hits play and bounces back to the couch.

Jean-Batiste snorts quietly. "Huh," he comments. "So when she's not debating aphids and rosebushes, she's getting a little rockstar on the side? Huh." How -very- apropos. He laughs out loud at Ben's tidbit of information, looking towards the source of the voice, even though it's now around the corner. "Oo-OO-oo," he replies, then snorts again. He looks to Holly and murmurs, "Yeah, get me a cooler, too?"

Starlight steps, near soundless, into the kitchen area and peers toward Holly, a look of expectation invading his expression. Brows up high, the child licks at his upper lip and leans back against the counter, head down a bit so as to hide his face as he speaks, quietly, "I gotta take Drew home now, but," a little peek toward the woman, and one hand sweeps up to brush back dark strands, offering a clear shot at mischievious. Gaze flickers to Bat and the well-dressed waif narrows his eyes, momentarily. Batty's hard to figure out, ya know. All of you are. Anyway, attention goes where it belongs. To his employer.

Benjamin disappears into the downstairs bathroom for a few minutes. Get him -out- of these damn clothes, he's too interested in being comfortable to be buttoned up and sucked in anymore. Damn, the pants are getting tight, he should start working out again. Mumble-mutters from the bathroom.

Holly's expression drops just a smidge but she nods. She mutters to Starlight. she murmurs. "Sorry y'all can't stay around... tell Drew ta get some rest an' get bettah. Need some aspirin 'r weed 'r somethin'..?"

Starlight frowns a little as Holly speaks, and steps closer to the lady. Confused, and perhaps a little hurt, he whispers back.

What's this? Star's narrowing his eyes at him? Batiste pauses, not moving towards Star and Walker, frowning mildly in confusion. What'd he do -now-? He replays the events since everyone's arrival, trying to figure it out. He looks back towards the living room, and calls softly with a grin, "Don't watch it all without me...!"

Trace opens up the bag of Mini Reeses Cups while he's waiting for Bat and popcorn and whoever else feels like watching 'Sorority Chainsaw Slumber Party 3' with them. Rattle, rattle. He works the wrapper off two and pops one peanut butter cup into each cheek. Then, with a squirrelish grin, he tentatively holds out a third to this strange new girl of Star's, the candy's wrapper still in tact. "Want..?"

Damn, it's hot. The combination of New Orleans' dog days with the warmth brought on by a bit too much to drink are starting to put Ben into the uncomfortable range. He gets his suit hung up nicely on the shower door, and gets as far as his shirt before he's tired of getting dressed anymore. Not wishing to interrupt, he pokes his head out the door and calls hopefully, "Holly?"

Holly smiles at Star, a look somewhere between dewy and warm. She murmurs something meant only for Star's ears, brushing fingertips lightly over his shoulder. Then she's digging for drinkage in the fridge again. "Yah?" Again from the depths of the fridge.

Drew licks her lips, growing more and more uncomfortable by the moment. Remaining rooted to her spot by the door, she clasps her hands back behind her back as she rocks on her heels. Oh look ... there's the floor. Fascinating. Really, the most amazing thing she's ever seen and deserves very close inspection. So wrapped up in peering at the floorboards, it takes a few moments for her to realize someone is offering her something. Something. Candy. Peering up, she slowlt tilts her head. "Um..." Ack. She glances about before focusing on Trace again. "...no thanks." She bites on her lower lip, her brow furrowing. "I'm not a big peanut butter person." She shrugs.

Jean-Batiste looks back into the kitchen, still unwilling to venture in further towards Star and Holly. He frowns for a moment, watching them, then leans into the doorway, hands dug loosely into his pockets as he waits.

Benjamin covers his mouth to stifle a giggle, eyes bright. He simply cannot -believe- how bad he's going to be. But this would be even worse if he asked while Drew and Star are still around, so he calls back, "Uh... just a second."

Starlight's having a moment. One of those personal, reflective moments. The ones where you go, uh, am I human. Or am I alien. He just stands there after Holly's done whispering and doing that fingertip thing, looking like he's stupid as hell. The duh kind of look. "Uh," he begins, immediately showing off his intelect. And he peeks over to Bat. Blink. And a tiny, embarrassed little smile. "Heh." Bat can see right through him, Star just /knows/ it. Gulp. Shit. He dips his head down, chin almost to chest and says, "God, I'd love that Holly. Really would. Really. So, um, not to be lame or anything, but.." Okay, this is the hard part. Batty gets another little glance, but inevitably Star's dark gaze returns to the woman. "Can," and he pushes back some of his hair, then sniffs. Cheeks are bright red at this point. "I don't have, I need, um, some," A pause and a deep breath, "Can I, did you want to pay me?" Shit.

"Oh." Trace looks down at the candy, then unwraps it. A little grin, "Well, 'member them old peanut butter cups commercials, how they all told how they ate their reeses cups, and that one vampire..." He brings it up to his mouth abruptly and sinks invisable fangs into the chocolate most fiercely. "Shhhhlllppp..." He makes vampire sucking sounds, or crudely slurps anyway, and then holds it back out to her with a big grin. "See, now we oughta be sharing Reeses Cups *all* the time then. Coz I like to eeeet zee peanut buttah... vurst..." He giggles and doesn't really expect Drew to take the slobbery, partly melted chocolate from his hand at this point, so it joins those two pleasantly melting away in his cheeks.

Holly nods, having the grace not to giggle at Star's awkward moments. "Yeah, sure. Hold on a sec." She lets the refrigerator door swing shut, extending Bat's bottle of refreshment toward him as she tip-tips past. "Let me run upstairs real quick.. I want ta get outta these shoes anyhow." She glides out of the kitchen, pearls winking softly in the light change as she heads toward the stairs.

One of Drew's eyebrows arches up, climbing toward her hairline slowly, as the girl unconsciously leans back away from Trace. Just a little bit--it's not as if she jumps away from him or anything. But it is a faint opening of distance between them. He's strange. Like, really wierd. "Um..." she replies after a pause that was too long to mask her surprise. Looking over her shoulder, a momentary glance is paid to the door and then she turns back to Trace. "Do me a favor? Just tell Star that I'm taking a bus home. He doesn't need to leave just to take me back." The girl gives her head a shake as she squints up her eyes. Why's her head have to be so foggy? "Anyway, yeah, thanks for the offer. Enjoy your candy. See ya."

Jean-Batiste watches Star a second longer, then turns his eyes up to Holly and smiles as he takes the bottle. "Thanks," he murmurs, twisting the cap off and tossing it towards the sink. "You look..." But she's already glide-glide-gliding away. He just chuckles a little, shaking his head in admiration. The unsinkable Holly.

Benjamin finally decides that hanging out with Irene and Mr. Zippy is less attractive than sitting around fully clothed. "Don't eat my cufflinks," he whispers with a giggle to the snake, and pulls on his jeans after all. Barefoot, he wanders back out into the living room, coming up to squat near Trace. "Can I have some?" Quick glance up at the TV and Sorority Slasher Girls, or whatever. "Ohh, is this 2 or 3?"

Trace's grin falls away, and he glances back at the kitchen. Shit, he's scaring off Star's girl. "I, I mean, wait!" He takes a step forward, then a step back, so as not to seem like he's advancing on her. "You oughta tell 'im yerself, he's right in there..." Sigh, he's *so* bad with girls. Even when he's trying to only make friends with one. He looks to Ben, and the question calls a smile closer to his lips again as he answers easily, "Three. Coz I seen two before, but not this one..." He sucks at his brown-stained fingers. Being a chocolate vampire is messy work.

Benjamin pokes his fingers into the bag of peanut butter cups, fascinated by the standard shrieking pillow fight in panties on TV. While the slasher watches menacingly from the trees. "Mm, me neither," he agrees with Trace, thoughtless. "I couldn't tell, cause I swear they use the same extras in this one that they did in Two. But I've never gotten both to compare." Mmm, chocolate. Who knew the professor was a bad horror movie buff?

Trace blinks a little and peers back at Ben as it occurs to him, ooh wait. Ben knows Sorority Chainsaw Slumber Party flicks? How odd. And cool. But he grins and keeps quiet, just nodding. "Didn't bring back Kelly from Two though..." Apparantly this is something to be disappointed over.

Shrieking, giggling grrlthingies, writhing around in a fit of frilly femininity. Oh, yes. This is certain to draw Batiste. Actually...it does. Well, sort of - he waits until the giggling -seems- to over, then ventures into the living room, giving the TV a quick glance before heading for Trace. "Kelly? I thought everyone died in these movies." He grins, settling down in a heap as close to Trace as is possible without squashing him.

Holly disappears upstairs, first ditching the shoes before hunting up her neck pouch. That takes a bit of looking. That found she pauses on her way back to the stairs to dig up a pack of cigarettes from the dresser drawer. She can't help but give a glance around at the furniture, idly wondering what's going to need moving where... back down the stairs she goes, slower than the ascent as it would really put a large damper on the evening if the stairs claimed another victim. She drifts back down the hall to find Star again.

Starlight is still in the hall, yes, having stepped from the kitchen before Bat.

Drew just really looks as if she wants to go. Lingering by the door, her frowns off in the direction of the kitchen--a fretful, 'what should I do' kind of expression. And then Trace is distracted by Ben, being pulled into a discussion on the finer points of titty-slasher flicks. "Just let him know, please." she says, words which are really too quiet to be heard over the other voices in the room. She just needs to get out. Depart. The air in here is suddenly stifling. As if pressing on her lungs so she cannot breath. She opens the door and slips out, shutting it oh-so-softly behind herself. Bye.

"I *know*," Trace whines. "That's the problem. Kelly was the best ever, an' they had'ta go an hack 'er up jest like the rest. Big axe right through that nice set of..." Sweet smile as he searches for a less crude way to put it.. "Feminine bounty." He giggles, just as though he might as well have blurted it out, boobs! He's pretty well forgotten the girl at the door, who seems skittish as Star himself when it comes to sticking aruond. He flops back onto Batiste, "But now my Kelly, she's *gone*..." O lament.

Drew opens the front door and steps outside.

Benjamin stays in his crouch, for he's waiting for Holly before he actually gets comfortable. "Cause she was... yeah." He nods knowingly to Trace. Hard to bring back someone with a gash through her the size of Delaware. "But I guess they could have brought her in as a twin sister or something. I mean..." He looks to Batiste, seriously, "She did have some nice bounty on her, Bat."

Starlight looks odd. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. He looks intimidated and like he /really/ wants to get out of here. As a matter of fact, when the woman steps into the hallway, he's heading toward, as if to leave. Stops as he notices Holly's here and swallows, then drops his eyes away from her and says, "I think I should go now, Holly." Quiet. "But, thank you for everything." Seems he's forgotten about the money.

Jean-Batiste gives Trace a gentle noogie-ing accompanied with a heavenward roll of the eyes. "Tits? Titties? Boobs? Boobies?" He chuckles at his last suggestion - such a silly word. "So what'd she look like, anyways?" He shifts around a little, arranging Trace just -so-, then reaches for one of those peanut butter cups before they're all gone. As he melts the chocolate against the roof of his mouth, he looks towards the hall, watching Holly and Star for a few seconds. A rather neutral look, there.

Holly hasn't forgotten about paying the youth, even if he has. "Thanks, Star... g'take care-a ya girl." She glances to the door Drew exited, not quite sure whether to feel guilty or not. She settles for not seeing as how she's never much liked guilt. "Gimme a call," she reasserts softly, pushing a few slightly crumpled bills into his hand. Then a quick hug if allowed and she's drifting away to the living room in search of a lighter.

Starlight lets Holly hug him, but doesn't really return it. He's not on this planet, as far as coherency goes, it would appear. And he steps after, toward the livingroom. Okay, first he looks where the girl was. And she's not there. He inhales, aubily, and takes a step back, eyes wide and darting around the room. Near panic, now. Where is she? First he looks to Trace, "Is she in the bathroom?" Hopeful.

Trace ponders. Hmmm... This takes a moment, bringing Kelly's *face* to memory. "She's, um. Her hair's brown... That's one thing I liked, I think, coz most've 'em 'r all blonde 'n dumb lookin', y'know? But Kelly, she was *sexy*. Big dark eyes..." He's tugged out of the reverie as Star addresses him, however, and blinks a moment before looking sheepish and murmuring, "She, um, she left. Said she hadta... take a bus 'r somethin'. Sorry..." He ducks his head and sets his jaw defiantly. Weren't my fault, neither! Only tried to share chocolate. Okay, in a slightly peculiar way, but the intentions were the same.

Benjamin allows Trace to explain about the phenomenon of Kelly, because here's Holly again to distract his attention. Real breasts are nice and all, but fake... well, anyway. He presses up to his feet, digging into his pocket and padding over to offer Holly his own lighter. With a devilish little smile he leans in, whispering for a few moments, his talent with brevity seriously impaired now.

Starlight looks really, like, confused. It's almost as if Trace's words take a great deal of time before registering. Afterall, Star just left her here for a few moments, why would she take off? What happened? Okay, he swallows, then wets at his lips and looks down at Ben. Very quietly, "I'll see you later." And to Trace, he tries a little smile that never quite touches his eyes. But for Bat, just a look. Soft and ever-so-apologetic, tho it seems as if the child is just kissing-ass because that's what he thinks is expected of him. There is no guilt to be seen. And no words for the older boy. The child steps up to the door, all dressed up in his stupid slacks and dumb shoes and retarded shirt and god, icky tie. Was excited as he got these things on. A new beginning. The night didn't turn out so well, tho. Nope. Depressed. No longer welcome. Back to uncomfortable.

Holly plucks the lighter up, lighting her cigarette. The cigarette lowers as a grin parts her crimson lips, a soft giggle bubble up at whatever it is Ben's whispering. The grin flags only a bit as she turns to finger-wave a goodbye to Star. "See ya soon... Walk safe." She's not oblivious to the air of dejection about the youth but what can she do but feel for him? She pulls another slow drag off her cigarette and turns to whisper something back to Ben.

Jean-Batiste seems a little relieved that his fears about the faceless Kelly - that she was the vacuous blonde-haired, blue-eyed cheerleader girl - weren't true. "She sounds...kind of pretty," he murmurs. Shriek! Girls can be pretty, according to Batiste? So it would seem. "It's too bad she got killed too, then. They don't have cool characters on these movies, too often." He ruffles Trace's braids for a moment, then looks up at Star again, flashing a brief smile. "See you around, Star," he murmurs.

Starlight steps outside.

Benjamin breaks into a fit of giggles at whatever Holly whispers to him, and he steps back to bow with a flourish to her. "As you command Riene." He straightens up, eager to head off to the kitchen, but the motion is a little too fast and he ends up weaving all over the living room on his way to the entry. Bare feet slide a little on the smooth floor, but what does Ben care? Hmm, where's the fridge. Oh, right there where it's always been? Wonderful! He pulls it open and gleefully discovers a Wild Berry B&J cooler, uncaps it, and trots it back to the living room. His other hand he crooks into his waistband and apparently gets ready to shed his jeans.

"She was, she really was..." Trace nods, then snickers and reaches up to play with some of Batiste's braids. "Not that blonde ain't an awesome color," he assures with a big grin. "S'jest... Some girls gotta have that blonde *act* too, y'know? 'Specially in these movies." Then one of those mentioned blondes bounces across the screen, parts of her bouncing more than others, and he almost reconsiders as he murmurs, "Well, got their good points. But y'know what I mean, right?" He smiles, drawing his eyes away from the image.

You hear a knock on the door. (from Moss Street -- Bayou St. John)

Holly moves to claim her favorite chair, figuring to sit for a little while now that she's been on her feet all night. She's going to have to change soon as - though the dress is lovely - it's not very practical for curling and cozying. But first a cigarette. Mmrrr? Bouncing blond? "Gawd, looka that hairdo!" She chirps, eyes rounding. "But th' tight t-shirt makes up f'it..." There's always some good to be said about grade-b slasher flicks. The casting agents know the film's a bomb so they hire chicks on breast basis. Holly glances toward the door, feeling way too lazy to get up right now. So.
Holly shouts "Entah at ya own risk!"

Glass opens the front door and steps inside.
Glass peeks his head in, looking a little nervous.

A chorus of Follow The Bouncing Breast, anyone? Well, okay. Breastses. Batiste absently wonders why they can't at least bounce at the same -tempo-, then gives that line of thought up. Shaking his head down at Trace, he forces out a faux, chirpy giggle and says, "Like, ohmygod, there's this, like, chainsaw murderer? And he's -sooo- gross. Like, what should I do?" He bobs his head around in a brainless manner. What a welcome for Glass. Whee!

Glass blinks, "There's a chainsaw murderer? Where?" He looks around, wide eyed. Good plan. Feeling nervous and unsure? Be silly.

Here's another warm welcome for Glass: Ben's stripping. Not in any sort of shake-your-money-maker kind of way, he's just undone his jeans and let them slide off into a pile near Holly's chair. Yes, he wears underwear. That taken care of, he takes his wine cooler and settles himself onto the arm of Holly's hair, turning to the lovely one for permission to take up space on her lap.

"Mwua-ha-ha..." comes honerary chainsaw murdering Trace's answering cackle for Glass, then to Bat as he intones, "You should run for your life! But only after I make a grab for you and rip your blouse mostly open." He settles back with a grin that tries to hide some concern as he shifts his gaze to Glass. "Um. How's it going?"

Glass smiles at Trace, "Um. I'm okay. Cleaned up. How are you?" He steps into the room and drifts over towards the group. "Looks like you're having a good time, huh?" He glances at the TV screen.

Holly waves to Glass, a bright smile lighting her face. "Doug!" That simple word's delivered with such joy that one might think she'd been waiting all night to see him. "C'mon in an' get comfy. We're watchin' movies. Sorta." And making fun of them. Her eyes move to Ben as he makes himself real comfy, slipping an arm over the fellow's legs since he's using the armrest. A wicked little urge seizes her and she presses the chill bottle of wine cooler to Ben's thigh, petite smile brushing her lips.

Jean-Batiste chimes in reply to Trace's cackle, "Of course. 'Cause, like, I have pretty tits." He primps the phantom breasts for a second, then gives up with a soft laugh and looks towards Glass with a shy, warm smile. "Glass. Hey," he murmurs. "C'mon in, come watch movies with us. It's Attack of the Killer Breast, I think." He grins at Trace, shoulders hunched, expecting a swat for that.

Glass grins, "Cool. The Killer Breast." He goes over to sit beside Batiste, "Does it suffocate you? I can see it. It's like the blob, but opaque and more pert. And with a nipple." Looking around, he finds his gaze back on Walker, "Gotta smoke, beautiful?"

Benjamin looks up, he himself not having heard the knock. "Hey there, Doug," he calls pleasantly. Look at this now, all sorts of happy people together and stuff. Sigh... eek! Ben starts at the feel of cold bottle against his skin, and he narrowly avoids shrieking. But no, silliness won't get him as far as he assumes adorableness will, so he pouts out his bottom lip and nudges Holly's calf with a foot. "Be nice, make room for me. I won't hurt your dress, I promise."

Holly giggles; at Bat's proposed title and Ben's wonderful reaction. Sliding up to a stand she brushes a light kiss to his lips. "Why don'cha keep m'chair warm f'me while I go change. I don' want ta get anythin' on this dress." And rightfully so; she's notoriously careless with beverages -and- ashes. She turns to aim that same completely tickled smile at Glass, motioning to the box on the coffee table. "Help yaself, han'some. There's drinks an' stuff in the fridge if ya want somethin'."

No, Trace isn't swatting because he's in perfect agreement -- those are some killer breasts. He drags his eyes away and blinks over at Ben. Wha..? Well, who knows. Cutesy couple stuff that probably shouldn't be pried into.

Siiiiigh, Ben's to be deprived of Holly's closeness for a few more agonizing minutes, is he? He smiles into the quick kiss, and slides down into Holly's throne, sprawling out all over in order to keep as much of the seat warm as possible. Long pulls off his wine cooler, and happy sighs he probably doesn't realize are audible.

Glass grins at Holly, bright and honest, "Drinks. Wow, thanks." He leans forward to pluck the cigarette box off the coffee table. Once he's extracted a smoke he lights it up with a white bic and leans back, dragging with evident satisfaction.

Jean-Batiste smiles up at Glass as he sits down on the couch next to him, leaning in to bump shoulders once. "I'm glad you came by," he murmurs, smiling more. Relieved or hopeful, maybe. "It's good to see you." He grins down at Trace again, then comments drolly to Glass, "Fear the Killer Breast with Mutant Jiggle-Powers!"

Holly heads back upstairs again, footsteps light on the stairs now that said feet are nice and shoe-free. She's gone all of maybe five minutes when her voice filters back downstairs. "Ben... Come help me with m'hair..."

Glass pokes Batiste in the ribs and smiles at him, "You too," he says, then grins, "Yeah, I do fear the killer breast. It'll jiggle me to death." He pauses, and blows two smoke rings, one through the center of the other. As the pretty little rings tear and dissipate he says, "I brought you a present." He turns to face Batiste more fully and gives him a look that's a caractature of deep seriousness, "I found it in my car."s

Trace giggles. Mutant Jiggle-Powers... heh. He stays on the floor though, unwrapping a Reeses Cup and popping it into his mouth. Then he tosses one to both Glass and Batiste without any more warning than a, "Catch," as he tosses. And peers at the two boys even as he sprawls out on the floor a bit more, propping his head up with one hand as he wonders about the present curiously.

Benjamin smirks to himself when the call from upstairs comes, and he glances to the boys first for their reactions to the transparency. His cooler is so light and fruity, just like Kool-Aid, he hardly realizes that it's mostly gone already. But alas, alcohol is hardly enough to hold him here when he's required for handmaidenly duties upstairs. So the nummy drink is set aside on the coffee table for later retrieval, and he's up and loping upstairs.

Glass startles when a Reese's cup lands in his lap, then finds himself laughing at Ben's quick retreat as he unwraps the candy.

Holly and Benjamin head up the steep, winding stairs.

Jean-Batiste catches the miniature peanut butter cup against his chest and grins down at Trace. "Thanfs," he says, thanks to the aforementioned candy already being stuffed into his mouth. He chews a couple of times, looking back curiously at Glass, and asks, "Preffent? Whaf-" He stops, swallows repeatedly, and makes faces as he licks melted chocolate off the roof of his mouth. "What is it?" he wonders.

Glass pops the his peanut-butter cup into his mouth and lifts a finger to Batiste, "Mmph," he says, chewing as he reaches into the pocket of his storm-coloured raincoat. When he draws his hand out again he holds it out to Batiste. A closed fist is good wrapping paper in a pinch.

What could it be? Batiste wonders to himself. All sorts of ideas fly through his head, curiousity bright in dark eyes as he mulls them over. "It's not...alive, is it?" he has to ask, as he cups his hands and holds them underneath Glass's to recieve the mystery gift. Mice are cute, but rabies shots most definately aren't.

Trace is getting as sleepy as his player, but when there's presents around and people are being secretive about them, you've gotta push upright a little to be sure you don't miss it.

Glass grins, and speaks in a peanut-butter and chocolatey sort of way, "Nope, not any more." He rests the back of his fist on Batiste's hands and opens his fingers. Resting on his palm is a shell. It's pointed, spiraled like a unicorn's horn, and a little shorter than his thumb, but slimmer. It glows almost, semi-translucent and moon-white, pale lilac at the smooth curve around where it opens and in the tiny grooves of its spiral.
Glass manages to lick the rest of the peanut butter off the roof of his mouth. He speaks more clearly now, saying, "There are a lot of them, on the floor of my car. But that was the best, I think."

Jean-Batiste's eyes widen a little as he sees what's inside Glass's hand, and carefully picks it up in his fingertips to examine it with great care. "It's...wow. It's beautiful," he murmurs admiringly. "Where did you find it? Them, I mean...it's like...pearl, almost. A mer-unicorn's horn," he decides, a moment later. He smiles up at Glass for a second, pleased, then lets Trace admire the shell too, holding it down for him to see - or grasp, if he wishes.

Trace hauls himself up to his feet and moves in closer to peek over shoulders and see. "Oooh.." A grin flashed up at Glass. Good gift! He takes it, but just a moment, to run his fingers over the smooth pearly surface. Then he hands it back with a smile and settles back on the couch, taking over the spot Ben and Walker recently vacated. He settles against the arm rest, hugging it a little with his chin pressed down into the folds of his arms. He lets his hazel eyes drift back to the bouncy sorority girls running all the wrong places to escape their killer. Whoops, poor silly boyfriend Greg got hacked to bits... Trace chuckles drowsily. The boyfriends are always doomed. Tits extend life spans in these kind of films.

Glass smiles, happy his gift went over well. He says, "I found it in Florida. I got that car and drove there, and then all the way up the coast to Virginia, right? And DC. When I walked on the beaches and found shells I'd put them in my pockets. And then I'd lie on them when I curled up to sleep in the back seat, and they'd poke me. So I'd drop them on the floor back there." His smile gets a little shyer and he shrugs, "I was sitting in my car for a while before I knocked and I saw that one. Musta slid all the way forward under the seat."

Trace is quiet after that, apparantly absorbed in the movie, until he's nudged and proven to have drifted off... Poor kid. Asleep before he even gets to see that Ben, the closeted bad horror flick buff, actually called it; 'Kelly' is back after all! Only she's Stacey this time, who is actually the masked killer and, indeed 'Kelly' from the second movie's evil identical twin. Alas, Batiste can't even enjoy the usual male killer in this film. They get in plenty of great scenes at the end with 'Stacey' and the heroine struggling about hand-to-hand, tussling on the floor. Tragically sleeps through it all, poor Trace.

A good pair of tits and a willingness to make out at a moment's notice - it's good to know what really matters when faced with a life-or-death situation, isn't it? Batiste gives a few blue braids a gentle, affectionate tousling, then looks around for somewhere to set the shell down temporarily. He turns back to Glass when the young man speaks, fingers absently memorizing the shape of the shell while he listens. "Guess it wanted a new home," he murmurs. "Thanks, Glass. It's beautiful."

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