Re: Theater Drunkheads: Eddie/Sasha
Sasha did not like Reece. Not in the typical second-grader 'check this box for yes or this box for no' sort of way. There was no yearning. She'd respected Cat's claim on the man, not that she could have competed anyway. Cat was Cat, and the nerd stood no chance. His infatuation had been apparent over every single forum post he made, you know, before those posts disappeared. Reece very often forgot about Sasha, blew her off, and generally was not the greatest friend in the world. But those few times he actually remembered her and reached out to see how she was? It made her feel special. And wasn't that fucking sad?
So, no. Sasha didn't want to think about Reece.
Drunk Sasha was in the middle of mocking Eddie's formality with a childish repetition of his words by means of a shitty nasal Beaker impression when she heard what he asked. No. Demanded. "Huh? What? No." It was a knee jerk reaction. Sasha had her own morals, no matter how fucked they were, and this was all some weird taboo subject because she felt like it bordered on betraying Cat somehow. There was always a punch of guilt to the gut when she had a thought that even bordered on positive when it came to Mister Roboto.
A responsible business owner would probably have stopped this whole chalking nonsense, but vodka had a way of altering priorities.
The rune sat in the slight concave of open palm held by Sasha in front of her skeptical gaze. As long as it wasn't groaning, she could deal with the spinning it was making her arm and the room do. Or was that the alcohol? The alcohol was absolutely responsible for the steady side to side sway she was fighting to keep from stumbling over. She leaned in to bring blue mark up to those narrowed green eyes, and scoffed what sounded like the most important truth in the world to the rune, "He has stupid socks." It was as good a fact as any, right? Not his terminator arm or techy eye.