bragnificent | IC CONTACT ➛ mask or menace.

hey, mister popular
i need your help with something
do you have any free time tonight? or tomorrow night? or on the weekend. or whenever else

yeah sure im free tonight
whats up

[ alright how does he say this in a way that sounds like the normal request made by a normal teenage boy. let's see ]

i had my first beer and it tasted like backwashed vomit. i sucked at drinking it
i need to
practice
drinking
to impress a friend i made
and i figure if i'm going to get wasted i should have someone there with me

if you don't drink do you know anyone who does

[ Oh my god. What. Reggie's glad this isn't in person so Michael can't see him stifling a laugh. ]

didnt anyone ever talk to u about not buckling to peer pressure
lol
yeah i drink
& dude theres way better tasting things out there than just beer

it's not peer pressure.

[ maybe a little bit of peer pressure, ]

if you have a rec i'll drink it. i don't care.
i just want to drink. all of it.
until i throw up or die.
and then i want to drink more.
are you in

kinda sounds like it
relax a little
the point is to drink so that u'll have more fun, not only to make urself sick
but as long as u dont throw up ON me or die while im still there then sure
count me in

making myself sick sounds fun enough for me.

[ but ok. ok. cool. good. now, the practical part. ]

do you know any bars that won't care that i'm 16
or
do you want to drink from paper bags under the overpass like a pair of homeless people

[ Making himself sick usually comes with the territory, but Reggie still doesn't see it as the goal, per se. Just a side-effect. ]

thats what fake ids are for
i can get u one but itll still take about a week
for today we can paper bag it

[ he could probably... use one of his stupidly OP powers to get into any bar he wants, actually, but he's trying to keep everything he can do on the down low. soooooooooo. paper bagging it is. ]

a fake id would be good. i'll pay you whatever you want. just let me know what you need
but uh, i'll send you directions to somewhere we can meet up?

[ Technically with Reggie's powers, they don't need a bar or a liquor store at all. But sometimes it's still nice to start the old-fashioned way. ]

deal
i'll let u know 😉
see u in like 20?

Edited 2018-11-22 07:02 (UTC)

[ Reggie's powers might actually need to come into play here, if he doesn't bring any booze of his own when he comes out. Michael's got a six-pack of cheap, cheap beer under his arm, the only thing he could swipe from his boss's fridge before he left work, but - it's about as shitty as one might expect. Barely any alcohol content, lukewarm, probably flat... just all around garbage. Certainly not gonna get them fucked up like turpentine hidden in a paper bag would. It's gonna be a pretty sad session if this is all they've got to work with.

Still, Michael sends Reggie a text telling him where to meet him - he's been hanging out in both Heropa and Maurtia Falls a lot, lately, so whether Reggie's at home or at the hospital, it's gonna be pretty close by. He's under an overpass, like he said he would be, and it's the kind of place someone would go to if they wanted to skateboard with their friends rather than get drunk. There are a couple of big tunnels and long storm drains cutting between a grassy bank for the two of them to sit on, and Michael'll be walking around aimlessly when Reggie shows up. Kinda nervous, honestly. He sees Reggie and stands a little taller, like he's trying to make a good impression. friends are haaaaaaard ]

Hey. Hi. [ He's shy, when he waves. ] I, uh - brought...

[ He lifts up his shitty six pack of beer. ]

I don't know if it'll be enough.

[ Reggie shows up in his car, as usual, parking it and hopping the railing as he makes his way down to where Michael is, a bag under his arm and a six-pack of soda in the other. He's come prepared, of course-- there's a bottle of vodka and some juice in the bag, plus solo cups, so they'll have options. ]

Doesn't matter. Now it won't have to be.

[ He doesn't judge the location too much; places like this were always underage drinking hot spots back in Riverdale and where you might go to skateboard with friends, even if a city like this has much better, more plentiful options. Reggie sits himself down in the grass, laying back on his elbows and stretching his legs out in front of him. ]

But you could've just left it up to me to bring the booze, you know-- I thought you didn't even like beer.

Edited 2018-11-22 19:46 (UTC)

[ Vodka and juice goes down better than shitty artisinal beer, yeah. Soda, too. Michael's visibly impressed by the haul, looking at Reggie like the guy just fucking walked on water, obvious admiration sparkling in his eyes. He rushes to take the bag from Reggie and set it down on the bank next to them, dropping down beside him with a thud. ]

I... stole it from work. Didn't have much of a selection. [ He shrugs, picking at handfuls of grass, suddenly shy. He wonders if Reggie would get what it feels like, sitting next to someone who just radiates cool. Michael feels like a bit of a dork, in comparison. Gotta work to make sure he doesn't look like one. ]

But, um - hey, so, you look good. Your shirt is nice. [ Michael sits up on his elbows, too, in an imitation of Reggie, and scratches his hand through his hair. "Your shirt is nice". Sounding cooler already. ]

Caaaaan we get drunk now?

[ The way Michael is looking at and praising him Reggie eats right up, enjoying the attention. These are the kind of friendships that he's missed the most here, for sure; dumb boys who will listen to what he says and treat him like he's a genius. Reggie brushes a hand through his hair, glancing down at his shirt as a way to indirectly acknowledge the compliment, then smiles at Michael in a slow, warm way. ]

Yeah. Hold on.

[ Reggie sits up just enough to reach into the bag, plucking out a solo cup and mixing together vodka with some orange juice. He passes the cup over, then makes himself one. ]

But you should start slow so you don't just puke it back up. [ He takes a sip from his. ] So what is this about, again?

[ Michael watches Reggie drink and absorbs his intsructions, eyes hovering over his lips for a second too long. He takes a sip of his own drink, and he pulls a face, but the juice makes it go down easier than he'd expected. Might've been smart to call Reggie out. ]

Oh, uh... I... [ He hesitates, hiding behind another sip. ] I met someone? He's... he looks like he's around our age. He offered me a beer, and I took it, but I choked, like an idiot. So... yeah.

[ He doesn't want to look like an idiot again the next time he drinks, essentially. Certainly not in front of whoever it was he met, at least. He takes another sip, bigger this time, and he still pulls a face, but that doesn't stop him from taking a fourth right after. He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth when he's done. ]

Plus - I mean - I'm somewhere new. All on my own, and - I'm not a kid anymore? I wanna do all the stuff sixteen year olds are supposed to do when they're alone. Get wasted, be kissed. Get laid, make friends, get high, get in a fight. [ Another sip. ] Should learn how to drive, too. That's a... sixteen year old thing. I haven't done any of it.

[ I met someone tends to have very different connotations than how Michael's using the phrase now, which Reggie only catches onto the more he speaks; he looks over, trying to grasp the other boy's intentions. He seems simple and sincere, definitely sheltered, not trying to hide or hint at anything, whereas with anyone else Reggie would be certain they were flirting right now. It reminds him a little bit of when Matthew was still around, except...

Well, he's not sure. There's definitely something edgier about Michael, something aggressive and uneasy behind those innocent eyes. Reggie saw it when they first met and saw shades of it again in Michael's network post, and still doesn't know what to make of it besides find it morbidly intriguing.

Reggie takes another slow slip, mirroring Michael's gaze with a brief glance down to his lips. Then he looks forward, semi-contemplatively. ]

Well, I wouldn't worry. This place is perfect for sheltered first timers like you-- like, there's people here who can help you with all of that. [ He glances over again and shrugs, gesturing to himself. ] I do pretty much all of that on a regular basis.

Maybe I can just keep hanging out with you, then?

[ He asks this the second Reggie finishes talking, rushing over himself to get the question out between them. It's-- overeager, maybe a little desperate, but he wants to spend more time with Reggie. This funny, smart, kickass dude who egged him on Halloween and got him to break anonymity on his creepy network post. He's cool and he's nice and he's hot and he's normal and he seems like a genuinely good person, and Michael's stupidly, insanely drawn to that. He wants to be like him. He wants to be liked by him. ]

Just - because, like - out of all the new people I've met since coming here, I like you the most.

[ That didn't sound any less desperate. Michael winces, pulling up more grass, all anxious and unsure of what to do with his hands. He pushes himself up the bank, sitting a little straighter. ]

Not that-- I mean, I don't... I'm not asking you to do all that stuff with me. Just to... hang out... with me. Sometimes. But - if you don't want to, that's okay, too? If this is just a one time... drunk... thing, that's totally... [ Ugh, hold on. He takes another swig of his drink, much bigger than before. ]

Nevermind, fuck. [ He rattles his empty cup at Reggie. ] Refill me.

[ There's a briefly extended silence after Michael finishes talking, where Reggie just watches him with a slight curious quirk of his brows and a smirk just barely present across his lips. Overeager or desperate doesn't really bother him most of the time, so he's still enjoying himself. ]

We'll see. [ He finally says, ambiguously-- not clear on which point he's responding to. ] But at least you've got good taste-- I can appreciate that in a person. What do you like about me so much?

[ Reggie sits up again, moving closer to Michael and putting his hand on the cup to hold it steady as he pours in the juice, then the vodka. ]

Just say "when."

[ Smirks and we'll sees only make Michael more anxious, so he doesn't answer Reggie's question at first. Just shakes his cup at him impatiently. He cuts the juice off earlier than he should and doesn't say when until his cup's nearly full with vodka, and when he takes another sip, it's a little too strong for him to handle. He coughs wetly and nearly spills his drink, hunching forward and trying to stifle the noise. Doesn't do anything but make his eyes water. ]

Fffuck.

[ He gets over it, though, angrily taking another sip out of spite and digging his heels into the grass. He takes another sip. Then another. Not going half as slow as he should. ]

You'll just make fun of me if I answer that. Ask me again once the drinks kick in.

[ Reggie glances down at Michael's cup, wondering if he should touch it again to pull out some of the alcohol and make it easier on him, but he decides to let Michael do what he wants-- he's the one who wants the authentic teenage experiences, and apparently getting nauseatingly wasted is #1 on his list. Every time Reggie even half-assedly flirts back(?), it seems to go right over Michael's head.

He sips his own drink, shrugging again in a more nonchalant fashion this time. ]

Why would I make fun of you?

[ Which isn't to say he wouldn't, but... well, he might not if he likes the answer enough, even if he still likes to give people, especially his friends, a hard time just for his own amusement. ]

Though I will if you keep choking that down every time-- if you can't handle it then slow down a little, bro.

[ Why wouldn't he make fun of him. Reggie's popular. Knows what he's doing. Knows how to flirt, doesn't miss obvious cues. Michael's just some boring virgin with no friends who likes wrecking cars and getting into trouble without getting caught. He doesn't answer.

Being told to slow down is annoying, though, so... competitively, Michael makes the decision to finish his drink as fast as possible just to show that he can. Closing his eyes and trying not to breathe, he throws back the vodka left in his cup, and it's-- again-- a little too much for him. Even putting aside the horrible taste and the scalding warmth it coats his throat with, he feels sick as hell the second he's drained it all back. He grunts, dropping his empty cup on the bank, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Blegh. Mistake. ]

I can handle anything. [ Obviously. And if he can handle his drinks, he can handle explaining why he likes someone. ] Look, you're-- you're nice. You're fun. You're... cool. Being around you makes me feel cooler.

[ He drops onto his back and looks at Reggie from down in the grass, letting his eyes drop away from his face and down to his chest, his arms. Lower, even. Lower than they should go. He swallows. ]

And... just - yeah. I think you're... yeah. [ Deep breath. He tears his eyes away, dragging his gaze back up to Reggie's. ] Can we talk about something else?

[ Emptying his own cup, Reggie grabs one of the sodas next, taps the can with his fingers, then leans back on his elbows again as he cracks it open and takes a swig. He folds one leg over the other so its balanced on the opposite knee, still looking at Michael and trying not to feel too confused by his continued oddness.

Honestly, either drink or don't. Either flirt or don't. This guy clearly doesn't know what he wants, and Reggie has never been patient enough for guessing games; he turns onto his side, propping his face up with his fist. Closer, but not by too much.

"Nice." "Fun." "Cool." The latter two he hears a lot; the former? Not really ever. ]

Sure, I guess. [ His gaze also drops, then slowly returns to meet Michael's again. ] So after you learn how to drink, what comes next on this teenage experience agenda of yours?

[ Reggie shifts closer and Michael just - watches, not sure if it means anything or not. Maybe it's true, that he doesn't know what he wants, but that's just because he's inexperienced. He knows he wants to grow up as fast as he can, and he knows he wants to be with Reggie tonight, and he knows he wants to have fun, but. Still trying to figure out what all of that means. ]

I... I guess I'll... go on a date?

[ Once he figures out how to ask someone. Again, he hasn't even learned how to flirt yet - he doesn't think he's ever even been flirted with, any attempts made by present company having gone unnoticed or misinterpreted - so finding someone to play lasertag with or to suck his dick in the backseat of their car after prom seems like an impossible mountain to climb. Again, he rubs his eyes, and even though he thinks the effects of his booze are starting to catch up, he gropes around for his empty solo cup and holds it towards Reggie for a refill. ]

Three-part mission statement: make out with someone by the end of the week, at least smoke weed by the end of the month, and find someone dumb enough to fuck me by the end of the year. And... after that... [ He shrugs. ]

I'd like to make a friend. I don't think you and I are friends yet, and I know I'm not friends with... the guy who offered me a beer. Tate. [ HE SHRUGS. ] So. Yeah. Find a friend. That's end game.

Edited 2018-11-25 06:47 (UTC)

Not a bad place to start. You definitely sound like you need to get out more.

[ Reggie drums his fingers against his knee idly, tipping another sip back from his soda before he slides his gaze back over to Michael, slowly settling his eyes on Michael's eyes.

Then they drop again as he leans to pour some of his spiked soda into Michael's empty cup, and they stay focused downward. ]

Tell you what. If you still haven't found anyone by Christmas, then maybe we can-- [ Fuck, is how that oh-so-obviously-casual sentence was supposed to conclude, but something else Michael said just finally processed and throws off Reggie's affected nonchalance. His eyebrows furrow. ] Wait, did you say Tate? Why the hell would Tate be giving you beer?

[ Michael's not sure if that's supposed to be an insult or not, so when he bristles, it's an aimless sort of irritation, one mired by that same awkward self-consciousness he always seems to carry around with him. He says nothing, though when he swallows, steps out of his thoughts and sees the way Reggie's looking at him, he finally notices a crackle of something in the air. His heart skips a beat when Reggie starts talking, dropping the word Christmas and making Michael's eyes widen, but--

But then he cuts himself off. Michael just keeps staring, lips parted and breath held, like he's hoping Reggie will just... go back to that sentence and finish what he was going to say. "Maybe we can"... what? What was he going to say? Michael tenses, sitting up straight again, his cup of soda dangling precariously in his hand. He's - interested. Visibly interested.

But - he's just as interested in knowing that Reggie's met Tate before. Maybe even more interested. He lets himself breathe again. ]

He's... uh. [ His voice cracks, and Michael laughs. When did he get so sweaty? ]

I had a delivery for him. He invited me into his house, offered me a drink. He's really nice, just like you. [ He takes a sip of his drink, buying time. ] Are you two friends?

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