Repose

( Left in the early morning. )

[It's the pie that sets him off, rather the proverbial straw that breaks the back of the camel. And while he would not describe himself as a camel, he is entirely aggravated by the world and his universe. And Shiloh is prone to dramatic reactions, but he thinks it's completely justified when he drives up to Audrey's new home and slams the pie in front of the door, at the landing, in a glorious explosion of colorful sweetness. Because, seriously, this town is mad with entitlement, and a person is allowed to remain angry if they so desire.

As for his next move, it's a stop at the bitter man's job. Shiloh isn't much of a reader, but this town is the size of a pin's head, and he knows Ren on sight. He storms in, leans over the counter (where Ren is working), grabs the condescending prick behind the neck and yanks him forward for a kiss that is nothing more than teeth and pressure and anger. When he lets go a moment later, it's to brush the back of his own hand against his mouth. He offers no farewell or explanation or introduction. He does not remind Ren that he, Ren, is a hater asshole. He merely leaves the way he came.

Lastly, he leaves a note on Mal's fridge, one to be found later:] I have been a very bad boy, and I refuse to allow this town to guilt me into apologies. Back in a week. [And with that, he drives out of town and toward the Capital, where he intends to spend an entire week detoxing from Repose's bullshit.]

It sounded like an explosion at the front door. Audrey had been untangling fairy lights in the front room to make things a little easier for Hannah and Marta when they hung them up. Then bam. It echoed through the otherwise empty house, causing Audrey to slide down the bottom three stairs and knock her tailbone on the edge in the process. Ow. Yet far worse than pain was her heart hammering inside of her chest, knocking about her ribcage haphazardly, a pool of re-tangled lights curling about her ankles.

What was that? She bit her lower lip as she pulled herself up, unwinding electrical cord from from her jeans and then promptly rubbed at her now sore bottom. God. This was the moment that she wished Hannah was home, or that Si was living there--he still wasn't--she'd have someone check the noise with her.

Carefully, so very carefully, she slowly opened the front door. She blinked. She smelled marshmallow--No way. Stepping out she nearly managed to slip on pie filling, sweet, delicious, handmade filling and not only that. It was everywhere. The door, the porch, the windows, the steps in a pastel mess. Like the marshmallow mermaid had detonated an epic murder of confection upon the house. Her jaw tightened. She knew exactly what happened. And in that instant? When she could cry, she could let anxiety tear her to pieces and over come her with tiny gasps and sobs, she merely took in a breath, her tiny hands became fists at her sides.

"....Well, maybe I wasn't wrong! Now I am glad I didn't accept your help!" She shouted out to no one the sensation foreign in her throat,she was red faced and embarrassed. Embarrassed she had second guessed herself, embarrassed that she had tried to reach out, take the blame, offer some peace. Embarrassed she kept doing this only to be metaphorically shoved down, down, down. But this time? She wasn't going down. Not completely. Her blood was blossoming hot under her cheeks, irate. She stooped down and took her note crumpling it up between her fingers. So he didn't have to accept the pie, but that didn't make it okay for him throw it at her and her family's house like a three year old not getting what he wanted. Jerk! Drama queen! ---suspicious, cantankerous, whiny little Holden Caulfield wannabe! Her eyes glanced about at the sugary disaster surrounding her. The initial vexation was fading--and maybe she'd feel a touch guilty later, maybe she'd regret shouting, but one thing was for certain--she was never, ever apologizing to that wispy haired, tantrum throwing brat again. He was allowed to be pissed off and feel whatever he wanted--he was not allowed to violate hers, or those who lived with her, space. And for once? She felt certain of something.

Rubbing her bum again she marched inside to get the mop and clean up the disaster before Hannah got home tossing the note in the trash along the way.

Link me to the song you're listening to on repeat, and I'll put your name in a drawing for a free latte.

[Group lock: Jamie M., Hannah S., Adrian M., Audrey C., Dante Z., and Rey S.]

I don't feel like I look like a person who can be easily manhandled, and yet.

[Text: Audrey C]

-- I'd offered Hannah to get the two of you tickets to come see Burn This if you were interested?