[color=darkgray][i] Banjo released her hand and waved goodbye as the lean blonde boarded the ferry for her shopping day amongst the other Blackjack girls. [color=darkgoldenrod]"I told you. Don't worry about it. I got the clothes all taken care of already."[/color] She murmured something. It hadn't helped things when he'd shown her the tuxedo t-shirt as a joke. [color=darkgoldenrod]"What's the matter? You don't trust me?"[/color] The scrutiny never left her eye, but she gave an okay. If she didn't have complete faith, she seemed to trust him at least until she saw he'd gotten it wrong. [color=darkgoldenrod]"You just have yourself a great day out with the girls, and don't worry about things. It's all under control. I got it."[/color] Too far. If the repeated reassurances hadn't already had the wrong effect, they certainly had now. She walked up the gangplank and the pair waved each other off. [hr][h2][color=white][b][sub]Six Years Ago[/sub][/b][/color][/h2] [color=darkgoldenrod]"It's baggy. I thought this stuff was s'posed to be fitted."[/color] [color=white]"Yer still growin', mate. And I don't know when yer gunna be wearin' it. Or even which school you'll be wearin' it for, tabefair. Make it a bit big and you'll grow into it. Make it a fancy one, and you'll never be underdressed."[/color] The Butler said, watching on with no small amount of amusement from his chair as the teen turned and surveyed the suit in the mirror, for once looking the more underdressed of the pair due to the nature of his own dishevelled dress. [Center][img]https://i.imgur.com/vtQY6g9.jpeg[/img][/center] Banjo wasn't wrong. The suit was big on him. It looked a little ridiculous, in fact, given it was a full tuxedo. [color=white]"Besides. It's a tux and you're seventeen."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Sixteen."[/color] [color=white]"About to turn seventeen. It'll play off as 'cute' at this age. You'll win over the mother. It'll trickle down. Trust me, it'll work for you, kiddo."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"You reckon my appeal to girls is in my ability to win over the mothers..?"[/color] A leer crossed his face. [color=white]"I... really don't want to think about it. I regret sayin' anything. Honestly, please don't say anymore. And for God's sake don't go knockin' up some poor girl. The last thing I need to think about is you leavin' a string of bastards behind us in our wake."[/color] Banjo turned and looked at himself in the mirror again, frown on his face. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Don't care what you say, mate. This looks ridiculous. And the bow tie--"[/color] [color=white]"It's a tux. It's gunna come with a bow tie."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Do I look like I know how to tie a bloody bow tie..? if I did, somebody'd be flushin' my head down a toilet. And tabefair, its a strong stance they'd have on the issue, but I'd support it."[/color] [color=white]"Alright. C'mere..."[/color] He put his glass down and got up from his seat. And beckoned him with a finger, despite covering the entire distance between the pair himself. Banjo did up the top button and popped the collar, waiting for the older man. [color=white]"Alright, so this crosses with this, ya flip this like so..."[/color] The Butler flipped a loose end of the bow tie across his nose with a cheeky grin, making the younger boy flinch as the silk pinged off of his nose, and scowl at the treatment. [color=white]"...then you put a fold here, you take this through here, you start foldin' here... then when you pass it through here-- Bob's ya bloody uncle, and you just pull here and here to make the two sides match and slide it to centre. Ya got that?"[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"No..."[/color] [color=white]"Well then find me, or better still, find someone else who does on the day. It's easy enough. You know how to tie a regular tie. Hell! You know how to tie a double windsor!"[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Yeah! Cos I've gone to bloody private schools for years! We don't wear bloody bow ties! Frankly I'm curious how you know how to tie a bloody bow tie!"[/color] [color=white]"Because, I'm cultured, mate."[/color] The older man replied calmly, returning to his seat and swirling his glass with a sniff of the contents. [color=white]"And quite frankly it wouldn't hurt you to get a bit of culture up you, either."[/color] He looked at himself again in the mirror. He pulled at the baggy sleeves and trouser legs. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Cultured, eh? Bloody ridiculous..."[/color] He shook his head in disbelief. [/i][/color] [center][color=darkgoldenrod][sup]________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/3mPJHVpCvzykoxmWnYdnFq?si=KDUrel_LS1ms_PLq7w4sDQ][img]https://i.imgur.com/fnUOHKB.jpeg[/img][/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Myriad locations - PRCU[/I] [I][/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][b]Dance Monkey #4.035:[/b][/COLOR] [I]Angry And Alone - [url=https://open.spotify.com/track/2ZgKs2gWOv4zMmfGcCgJGP?si=hC30RpbzRbamWnDrlBi83A]Be Good Johnny[/url][/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][SUP][sub]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][indent][sub][color=darkgoldenrod][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]NPCs[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [color=white][I][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/1vmOWok3n7VAWh08KpEB4y?si=aipIvy-lTnuy1WcBqEuyFQ&context=spotify%3Aplaylist%3A37i9dQZF1DZ06evO0FCKJ2]By My Side[/url][/I][/color][/right][/SUP][/indent] [color=darkgray]Banjo looked at himself in the mirror. Silver linings. Somehow, despite everything, the tuxedo fit perfectly. It had been six years, he'd grown a lot. But the weightloss he'd experienced from his peripheral neuropathy diet had left it fitting so well it was almost as if there was a divine hand at play. His limp was still there, his recently discovered rage was still there, his girl wasn't, but the tuxedo fit like a glove. Cruelly comedic. There was an assassination attempt on her scumbag father, her brother got caught in the middle, and now a fractured family was coming together, seemingly. He wanted to go, he didn't like the thought of her being left alone with him. But she said his presence would be antagonistic. He didn't have a counter for that. Because he almost certainly would be. With very little provocation required, even on his best behaviour... She had the Butler's phone number and would check in to announce she'd get there safely. Saved as just that as well. Because there's trust, and then there's stupidity. He got changed again, safe in the knowledge that the suit fitted. A little frustrated that he couldn't send her a picture, but he was pretty sure he'd probably show up in the group chat for her anyway. A hand on the door, he stepped out of his room and-- [color=dodgerblue]"Getting excited for the--"[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"No."[/color] He flatly replied before the question was completed. Too much. Waaaaaay too much. [color=darkgoldenrod]"You still goin'?"[/color] [color=red]"Said I could use the laugh."[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Prob'ly the right call. Fuckin' dog's breakfast in waitin', eh? My bird'd have a handle, but I wouldn't trust these other two to handle a piss up in a brewery."[/color] Big Steve nodded blankly, oblivious to what was just said. Smiling and nodding was a regular response to some of his more regional colloquialisms. Particularly when he double-stacked them. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Don't wait up. Shit to do."[/color] [color=dodgerblue]"Oh, what time are you coming back, we could--"[/color] [h2][color=white]SLAM![/color][/h2] [color=dodgerblue]"Or not..."[/color] [color=red]"I don't know why you keep trying. He's just an asshole."[/color] [color=dodgerblue]"He's not an asshole. He's just sad. And he's going through some stuff."[/color] [color=red]"He is an asshole. And assholes also go through stuff. The two things aren't mutually exclusive."[/color] [color=dodgerblue]"So what are you doing today?"[/color] [color=red]"Just have CC stuff, then I'm free all day. You?"[/color] [color=dodgerblue]"Same. Finally got on Destiny 2, do you want to call some of the others and--"[/color] [color=red]"I think we both know the answer is 'Yes'."[/color] [color=dodgerblue]"Well, alright then."[/color] [hr] Banjo made his way to the gym, by way of the Mess Hall, his Community Contribution once again finished. The fleece was coming in on the sheep, and there weren't that many, but he was supposed to leave them for the 'Ag group' who had classes. Fences needed mending. He supposed that was typical of all things in his life. Wouldn't be happening any time soon though. That was also typical of all things in his life. He'd have to fire down some diet friendly grains and tasteless boiled chicken thing (and even then only after he lost his shit over the constant tuna and salmon he was getting inundated with), and go off to the gym for mind-numbing exercises. Other people had devices and headphones to break the tedium. The no-phone rule worked against him here, yet again. It took him a half an hour to realise that Katja wasn't anywhere to be seen in or around the gym. This was out of the ordinary for them both. It fell outside of her Community Contribution hours. She wasn't obligated to be there. But she was generally an omni-present sunny vision in the place... well, Banjo assumed she was. Of late that had seemed to start to wane, since the Trials her demeanour had been noticeably shifted. And for the first time he'd really been struck by some kind of deep low feelings from her. Loneliness. Which... she'd sort of always been alone, but he'd never really viewed her as lonely. [i]'How long had that been the case?'[/i] He thought to himself, over regular reps on the adductor. Had he been so absorbed in his own bullshit, or was this something new? Just how long had he been failing to notice? He tended to leave people to their own devices and trust they'd come to him if they needed anything. Was that the wrong way to handle this? She'd said something about trying to hit things off with the French bird on their team. He'd always given her a wide berth as well. So that didn't help with his blind sport on this one either. The night before the Trials something had almost certainly happened. He'd seen other people getting in her business and she certainly hadn't cared for that shit at all. Probably whatever happened was still fresh at the time. He tried to rack his brains over what he'd seen from her here in the gym over the past few days, but it was like his head was in a fog. A steadily increasing haze. His anger and loathing just bleeding into everything? The leg infecting more of his life? Seemed stupid, but everything in his life had kind of sucked across the board since then. Even at the school. He was actually finding some of the classes difficult, a challenge, and half of the team seemed to skip out altogether. And the frustrating thing... the fact that it was now becoming somewhat challenging, it made him actually kind of care. Which only made things more irritating that he was struggling to keep up. The Trial itself had done nothing to him... but this leg. It was like he had been poisoned in it ever since. Everything just-- He stopped. [i]"Thirty fucking reps? The fuck are you doing? You're supposed to stop at six. More sets of lesser reps. How's this throw your sets now?"[/i] [color=darkgoldenrod]"Fuckin' God damnit!"[/color] He got up and got a drink, trying to figure out how he was supposed to adjust for his rehabilitative routine after losing count, or if he was even supposed to. [i]"The Doctor said more is less... Maybe this isn't the worst thing. It's the adductor anyway, that's the inner thigh, to counter-balance the actual work you're supposed to be doing."[/i] He justified to himself. He drank more water and he sat back down in the next machine in his rotation. [/color]