[IC] Shelter

[Darcs]

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^{Location: Stockbridge Academy, Teacher’s Lounge}

^{Date: 3/6/19}

^{With: Bill, Tony, Dontae}

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Colmillo was still just listening to music on the counter-- one, maybe two songs later on the playlist? It felt like it had been weeks since she last moved, somehow-- but it had only been a few minutes! Colmillo listened to the lesbian in her ears wail about lesbian things for a while longer, before taking another nervous glance around the room. Dontae and Tony were talking, it seemed. And Bill was... looking in her direction, actually.

Oh.

Looking directly at Colmillo, as she noticed the lithe girl try to play it off by looking somewhere else, the shorter girl got up from where she was brooding...

Oh no.

... and began walking straight towards her.

Come, sweet death.

Bill opened her mouth to speak as she stood facing the counter.

---

After a small eternity of not being able to face the problem that is social connection, Colmillo did-- after long internal monologues, dialogues and musical numbers-- find it in her to speak back to Bill, after the girl came over and introduced herself. Initially all she had said was 'Hey.' clearly not knowing how to respond to what Colmillo had said either. But eventually Bill explained a bit more about what she had meant, what Colmillo saying meant to her, and actually properly introducing herself. Colmillo, for her part didn't run away-- not actively run away, anyway. She became a stiff board after the initial ' 'Hey.' ' She did sit up, after a time, and scoot in on herself, getting as far away from Bill as she could without actively recoiling. But she didn't run.

No... after an obnoxious few minutes, she even spoke back-- remembering that she could at least do that.

_{"Oh... hi. Sorry for the... weird shit a sec ago...."}

[Fabricant451]

_Hallway

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---

One step at a time. That was a good way to look at things. A better way would be to take more than one step given the situation but that was inching closer to mixed metaphors. Elliot shared the sentiment, at least, of focusing on specific, immediate goals rather than plan for other possibilities or eventualities. She assumed everyone in the group had read Of Mice and Men enough to know the significance of the title and how deviating from the idea of 'one step at a time' in a situation like this was just asking for everything to go tits up. Elliot wasn't going to bring that up, the last thing anyone wanted to hear was that planning ahead was just as likely to fail than succeed. Optimism was the name of the game. Well, that and survival, but optimism was slightly easier in the here and now.

"Right, I'm not keen on stepping softly or whatever, so stick close." Elliot was given the reigns to take point and take point she did, stepping out in front of the group and heading down the hallway with steps that could be described as 'striding'. It was stupid to break into a sprint or a run or even a jog when conservation of energy was of utmost import but Elliot was walking a bit above casual. There was a deliberate pace and had it been just a regular school day it was doubtful that she would even stand out - on any given day there were no fewer than five students trying to hurry to their next class or to lunch without any consideration for other students. There might've even been a similar scene but with panic and screams as students fled in terror down the halls but if Elliot thought of that she would only ruin the optimism she was trying to express.

The important bit was that while Elliot was making a beeline to her locker, she wasn't rushing there like she was running the mile in gym.

Thirty seconds. That's how long it took for her to arrive in front of her locker, but in this climate thirty seconds might as well have been thirty minutes. If some of the others were taking the time to check the classrooms en route and around the locker that was their right, Elliot hadn't looked back to see if anyone had followed until she arrived - and even then she just checked her sides before making one more request. "It'd be cool if nothing came up from behind and took a bite outta my ass." Sensible. Reasonable, she figured, and set to work opening her locker.

The inside of Elliot's locker was as plain as the outside. She never quite saw the point in putting up pictures or mirrors or stickers or whatever on the inside. It was a locker, it was meant to store shit not hang out in front of and gossip. "Ah, perfect." Elliot reached inside her locker and pulled out the thing she had made the group detour for: a simple black guitar case which she promptly slung onto her back, slamming her locker shut behind her.

"Right. What's the plan now?"