InsaneJournal

“Now soften the edges to capture how the early morning light kisses the flower!”

Charley stared flatly at the perky instructor at the front of the room as the woman picked up her paintbrush, demonstrating how the yellow splotch on their canvases would ultimately turn into a beautiful sunflower. Her gaze darted back down to the yellow blob on her own canvas.

Close enough.

“Unleash your inner Picasso or Monet. This is your time to express yourself.”

Charley snorted and reached for the bottle of wine between herself and the woman on her left. “There is not enough wine in this room for me to survive this,” she muttered as she dumped half the bottle in her solo cup.

“Yours looks like an egg yolk,” Bellamy snarked, holding out her own cup for more wine with her nondominant hand, her significantly more artistic one ‘softening the edges.’ She wondered how Charley was supposed to be able to soften any edges. She was as soft as a cactus. “Shouldn’t you be better at this? You’re left handed.”

“My creativity lies in different areas,” Charley pointed out, waving the bottle around to see if anyone else wanted wine, “like how many different ways I can take down a man, not how I can paint a damn flower.”

“Honestly, the best way to use your creativity,” Ilana agreed. Bellamy nodded in agreement, with one last flourish to her blob. If you asked her, it was definitely the best one.

“Me too, please,” Talia also held out her cup, while staring at her own artistic interpretation of a sunflower patch. She was frowning, and pulled a knee up onto her stool to rest her chin. “Picasso and Monet would both probably skin me alive for whatever this monstrosity is.”

“You look like a true artist, though,” Bell supplied helpfully as Talia set her chin on her knee. “A real...Bob Ross.”

Talia glanced over at Bell, grinning. “I feel like I should have a beret. Think I could pull that off?”

Ilana was surveying her blob with a frown, still stuck on how, exactly, she was supposed to conjure the feeling of morning light kissing flowers (or what, exactly, that meant). However, she tore her gaze away to give Talia an appraising look. “Oh, you totally could. You would look adorable in a beret. The real test is whether you can pull off the Bob Ross afro.”

“Oui, oui, ma belle amie,” the older of the two blondes chirped, tilting her cup for another sip of her wine.

“Take a moment to let the paint breathe. We’ll start again after it dries!”

Thank the good Lord.

Charley leaned forward, her paintbrush abandoned in favor of her drink. “I’ll pay you twenty bucks to show up to Mike’s next staff meeting as Bob Ross,” she quietly cracked over the rim of her cup.

“Make it forty and we’ll talk,” Talia smirked, and slid off her stool to stretch her legs. And perhaps grab the other bottle of wine from her bag. “And I like being creative through music.” She added, pleased with her contribution to the conversation.

“You get an invitation to talk to a senator on HeroTV and suddenly you think you’re hot shit,” Charley snarked with a roll of her eyes.

Bellamy snorted into her cup with an eyeroll of her own. It wouldn’t be helpful to bring up Charley’s lack of finesse with the press, but all the same, she shot her a look anyway. “You think you’re hot shit all the time, C. Let Talia live.”

“At least I don’t try to swindle my friends,” Charley easily countered, poking her tongue out at the other blonde.

“First of all, I am hot shit. Second of all, I’m not trying to swindle anyone -- you’re trying to undersell me and feed me to wolves for a measly twenty dollars.” Talia said hotly (in jest, of course) and took her seat again. And flashed Charley a smile so she’d know she was kidding.

“It’s true. She can’t even buy us all Starbucks with twenty dollars,” Bell interjected with a wink, happy to play both sides.

Charley held up her middle finger in return, a wink indicating that she wasn’t offended.

“Well, I for one, will happily double Charley’s offer, as long as you promise to film it, because yes, sure, you’re hot shit and you’re worth it.” Ilana gestured with her paintbrush without thinking, spattering small flicks of paint across her canvas but she couldn’t pretend to be disappointed. “But aren’t we all worth it? That sounds hilarious, and this is the kind of content we deserve. Or whatever.”

Talia awarded Bell’s and Ilana’s loyalty with more wine and a smug smile.

“Y’all are a bunch of traitors,” Charley grumbled, icy gaze turning to Bell and missing the smile shared between the brunettes, “Especially you, Tinkerbell. Starbucks? Really? I’m washing my hands of you.” She arched an eyebrow and turned back to her canvas, debating if it was worth setting in on fire to set off the fire alarm and put them all out of their misery.

“And who would you get to replace us? You already broke us in the way you like us.” Talia pointed out as she settled back into her seat.

“I’m just going for overpriced and convenient to get to,” Bellamy defended, glancing back at her own canvas. It still looked like a yellow blob to her, softened edges or not. “Plus, everyone else is scared of you, Charley. We’re the only options left.”

“That’s their problem,” Charley smirked, picking up her paintbrush as their instructor made her way back up to the front. “I’m a fucking delight.”

“Alright, everyone! Time to bring your flowers to life. Let’s add dimension by pretending the yellow disc is a princess and we’re giving her a crown.”

Charley dropped her paintbrush. “I’m out, y’all.”

“I was made for this.” Bellamy rolled her shoulders back, her brush held very carefully between her fingers. She always knew she was royalty. “Oh, crap,” she muttered a second later as the paintbrush fell against the canvas sloppily, a streak of paint somewhere in the background of her wannabe flora.

“Nailed it,” Talia deadpanned, before accidentally dipping her own brush into the wrong color and painting a broad stroke before realizing her mistake. “Ah, fuck.” Clearly, she was doing just as well. She glanced down their row of easels, clearly weighing something in her mind. “I’m making a rainbow,” she decided. Because fuck sunflowers.

“Wow, Talia, much artist, very Picasso,” the older blonde said with a scrunch of her nose as the instructor circled back, her chipper demeanor dampened by the fact that the quartet were, while not completely awful, pretty bad at this.

“And remember, my artists, there is no such thing as a bad artistic vision!” Talia exchanged a glance with Ilana at this, but otherwise said nothing in earshot of their instructor. Timing was everything, after all.

“Disagree,” Bellamy muttered.

Charley nodded, eyes narrowing in a challenge as the instructor paused to look at her canvas.

“It was a virgin. Couldn’t handle being kissed by the morning light,” she said with a completely straight face.

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Talia intoned while plugging away at her own canvas, which was already shaping out to be its own thing. But at least her rainbow was visibly a rainbow. Unlike some individuals’ flowers.

---

“Much better,” Charley declared, falling back against the cushion and reaching for her glass of wine with a satisfied sigh. It was unclear if she meant the cool spring breeze that had picked up as they settled around the fire pit in her backyard, the full-bodied Cabernet in her glass, or the way the flames leapt with the recent addition of sun-kissed kindling.

“At least we won’t run out of kindling,” Talia glanced back towards the house with an amused snort, thinking of how horribly their paintings turned out and the pained expression of their teacher at their finished products.

“I still think you should have gifted yours to Mike,” Ilana remarked with a wistful sigh. “I’m sure she would have been happy to decorate the halls of WonderCorp with your masterpieces.” She almost managed to keep a straight face.

Charley snorted into her wine glass, and Talia kicked Ilana’s chair with a smothered laugh. Ilana smiled innocently in response.

“There are some things that just aren’t meant to be long for this world,” came Bellamy’s voice from the chair across from Talia. She drew up her legs to sit criss crossed, hands loosely cradling her glass. A mischievous glint was in her eye as she continued, “But doesn’t that make them all the more precious?" Ilana clamped a hand over her heart as if touched by Bellamy's wisdom.

“No, it makes them better kindling,” Charley bluntly countered. Bellamy laughed into her wine. She balanced her glass on the arm of the chair and leaned forward to rummage at the bag at her feet. Moments later a bag of marshmallows flew over at Talia, followed shortly by chocolate to Ilana and graham crackers to Bellamy. She wasn’t a Girl Scout by any means, but there was something about gooey chocolate that paired so nicely with gossip.

“Alright, y’all,” she said, topping off her wine and sitting back as packages were torn into, “Entertain me. What’s our bitchfest topic of the night?”

As Talia busied herself with skewering the marshmallows onto the rods, she gave Charley’s request some thought. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I’m boring right now and kinda glad about it.”

“I mean,” Ilana shrugged as she opened the bag of chocolates. “Now that you’ve made the mistake of giving me the chocolate, my simmering bitchiness is dying down.” She, obviously, popped a piece into her mouth. "Hurry up, Talia, before I eat all of these."

“No, I want one,” she held out an expectant hand, and Ilana dutifully handed over a chocolate.

“Lame. Y’all are boring me. I demand a refund,” Charley groaned, holding her hand out for a marshmallow, which Talia supplied her with as soon as the chocolate fee was paid.

“Magus abdicated and PI is weird,” Bellamy offered, snapping a graham cracker in half. “I don’t know who the hell is going to move into Rosie’s former spot.”

“Why not you?” Talia raised an eyebrow.

Bell took her graham cracker and shoved both pieces into her mouth at once, giving a shrug. “I’ve been middle-high since I debuted, but it’s not really why I got into it.” But a tiny voice whispered, why not me? She covered her mouth, preventing her crumbs from falling all over her lap. “We’ll see how things fall.”

Talia shrugged. “I think it should be you.”

“You’re biased,” the blonde pointed out, motioning for some chocolate from Ilana. “Hand me a rod, I’ll help you roast them,” she directed back at Talia, setting the box of crackers near her feet. “Why aren't you helping, Charley? We could have had s’mores already if you took marshmallow duty.”

“Because I’m selfish and like making y’all work for your food since the gossip tonight is well-done at best,” Charley said, her fingers toasting her own marshmallow to the perfect golden hue. She intercepted the chocolate as Ilana extended it, unabashedly breaking off two squares for herself. She happily sandwiched her marshmallow between the pieces and popped it in her mouth before Talia could strong arm it away from her.

"For what it's worth," Ilana began, stealing a marshmallow from Talia and skewering it. "I can't think of anyone who deserves it more. You've worked hard, and besides, the fact that you didn't get into this for the fame and glory or whatever is a point in your favor. It should go to you."

“Exactly,” Talia nodded, as if that settled that, and held out a hand to get her own graham crackers ready for her toasting marshmallow.

Bell glanced over at Ilana, scrunching her nose instead of smiling. “Thank you,” she told the darker haired woman sincerely, tossing the box of crackers in her direction. “Sorry your long awaited gossip sucks, C. We’re all very mature adults tonight.”

Charley shrugged and eyed her fingers, trying to determine if she was adult enough to reach for a napkin to wipe the chocolate off of them. “Current slash future ranked heroes or not, I’m trading y’all in for newer models,” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she grabbed a paper towel.

If she couldn’t beat them in their maturity party, she might as well join them.