Kyle
"Is that so?" He laughed.

Ares was slightly surprised at Finley's lack of hesitation to join him up on the ledge. Although, it didn't last long. The thought left his mind as quickly as it came.

"Yeah a lot warmer, but hell, Puerto Rico is hotter than California." Ares turned his head up to the sky once more, letting Finley respond. 

"Vancouver? France? Damn I bet you're used to the cold then." A small laugh left his chest, and he let himself lean farther back on his arms. The cold wind less intrusive the longer he stayed out, despite nipping slightly at his nose. 

Ares looked at Finley through his peripheral vision. The features of the blonde lit up against the cold blue of the night. The stars danced in their light eyes. Ares turned his attention back to the sky above the two. An itch of a question persisted in his brain, but he felt no need to pay attention to it. 

With Finley's words Ares tilted his head to the side, resting against strong shoulders. He frankly had no clue what they were talking about. 

"Oh?" Ares leaned slightly to the side, trying to follow Finley's finger up towards the constellations. Ares knew very little about the stars, he never took the time to notice. 

"You mean the giant spoon." Ares cackled in response to Fin mentioning Ursa Major. A small smirk pulled on his tan features. Truth is, despite the fact he never cared for the stars before, and even now couldn't bring himself to, there was a certain charm about the vast heavens above he couldn't deny.

Ares let out a small short hum, this was totally better than doing nothing in his dorm.
Teri
"The giant spoon?" Finley asked.

 A hum of amusement pulled back their usual stoicism to reveal a smile, their voice softened and rounded out as they briefly met Ares's dark eyes. Outside, in the midnight-black of Sweden, his eyes looked even darker, the flickers of light thrown out reminding them of some line from the Aeneid, long ago, about Pallas Athena. 

"We've been studying the stars for thousands of years," Explained Finley, voice still quietened. "And we've never quite been content with it. That's the thing - there's always something more to find out there. I like the vastness of it all. And the constellations all have stories behind them."

They thought about his remark about the cold. It must be some stereotype about Canada, that it was always cold. They'd visited America exactly once, though, Washington, and found it bearable, so who even knew? They thought about California, the pictures slapped onto touristy guidebooks and images idolized online of white sandy beaches and glowing golden celebrities, and shrugged. 

Silence sat in the air for a moment.

"Thank you for inviting me up here. I know we don't talk much, except to argue, but this rather beats laying along in my room."
Kyle
"Yeah the spoon. I dunno." He let out an amused scoff. "Thats what it looks like."

Ares could admit Finley knew a lot more about the sky than he did. Of course they did. Through the back and forth bickering Ares knew the other was definitely smart. He would never use such a term to describe them, much preferring nerd. For once Ares was actually taking more than a few seconds to look at the deep sky, connecting the pinhole stars with imaginary lines in his head as Finley highlighted them with their finger. The many stories were lost in his brain.

"Yeah." Ares' voice didn't quiet unlike Finley's. His voice remained confident and sure. It echoed across the empty roof and carried along with the wind. 

"It *Does* Seem like it just never ends."

Ares had almost forgotten about the dull pain throbbing up his fingers and throughout his nerves. He could admit his fingers needed the break, but was making quick progress without. His rough hands stayed pressed against the almost equally rough concrete of the facility roof.

With Finley's next few words, Ares' furrowed brow raised for less than a moment. It was a surprise, and the dark haired boy wasn't expecting such a thing. 

"Yeah, no problem." Ares stretched his arms up above his head, pulling his back tight before pulling them down in front of him. The relief unmatched. 

"I guess not but yknow, teasing you is a lot more fun." He nudged Finley in the shoulder with a small laugh, clearly amused by his own words.

"It really does." Ares returned to his previous resting position. "For me, it was this or tearing my fingers up even more on my guitar."
Teri
"For you, I'm sure it is," Laughed Finley, nudging him back. They caught his eyes again. The darkness seemed to envelope the very spirit of the cosmos themselves, some kind of void contained in so small a place it may have been easy to miss if they hadn't looked twice. "You're dreadfully prickly at times, you know."

They had only spared another glance towards him when he'd stretched, before turning their head up towards the stars above once more. A cold wind blustered across the roof top, sending them instinctively curling into their coat. Even some things got to them, at times, it would seem. 

"Your guitar?" They asked. "You've mentioned it a few times, you and Owen. I play drums - I think I've mentioned that, as well."

Their glance dropped to his hands, the red, angry skin on his fingertips. They raised a brow. That surely wasn't good for his hands, they thought - even though, knowing Ares, any suggestion of slowing down would be brushed aside in the wind. He was frightfully stubborn. For Finley's own effort, they hadn't been able to play the drums often enough lately - they often just got side-tracked and forgot to.

"You should be kinder on your hands," They said. Their voice fell softer again, gesturing to his fingers. "They're starting to look worse for the wear, *Oui?*"

The wind twinkled the stars above their heads, glittering the stars like jewels. They thought of their mother's diamond ring, the one she kept in a box beside her bed. She'd showed it to them once. She'd explained it had been the ring their father meant to propose with, before he'd gone and cheated. 
Translated from French, she'd said, with a note of satisfaction, "So I stole that bastard's ring, and his baby in tow."
And she'd ruffled Finley's hair, and handed them a pastry.

"I think I've got some sort of lotion for them, if you'd like. Healing balm."
Kyle
"Ahh am I?" Ares paused and faked a moment of concern. "I forgot the part where I was supposed to care." 

He laughed, a sound that rocked his chest and made him tilt his head back ever so slightly. His smile was paired with a bastard expression, an ever-furrowed brow, but something about it was tinted with genuine amusement. 

As their eyes met once more, Ares couldn't help but wonder why. Why on earth was Finley looking at him. He gave a half smirk in their direction and turned back forwards. Ares wasn't the biggest fan of eye contact, he didn't care enough to hold it. His gaze, now stationary in front of him, scanned the roof briefly. A tag drawn messily in dark ink caught his eye, he was still proud of that one.

"Ah yeah, electric guitar specifically." Ares pulled himself forward, off of his hands, and surveyed his palm. Lighter than the rest of his tan skin, his hands were rough, his fingers tips even worse. The texture of the concrete had imprinted on his lower hand, tinting it red. The silver rings wrapped securely around his fingers reflected the stars above, and his messy black nail polish was chipping. "You have mentioned. Drums are sick as fuck." 

Ares tilted his head to the side to look at Fin, a raised eyebrow and the same cocky smirk on his features. "Why do you care so much blondie." He snickered. "Callouses look cool." Pulling his gaze back forward, it almost seemed as if he was avoiding Finley's eyes. 

"Not needed. They'll fix themselves whenever they get around to it." He didn't sound concerned.

"Got any hobbies other than drums?" Ares questioned, after quickly adjusting his septum piercing.
Teri
The shadows of the starlit sky concealed any semblances of pink that may have prickled upon Finley's freckled face. They cleared their throat, looking up towards the stars again. If they tried, and craned their head, they could almost pick out the Crown constellation, nestled among it's brothers and sisters in the stars. If Ares's eyes reminded them of it, then, none the wiser should anyone be, for they were none inclined to share that.

They silently cursed themself in French. Now was no time to romanticize. 

"You're my friend," They said, giving a one-off-shrug of sorts. They gestured to his hands. "Not the closest one, but still - I'm serious. I know you say you don't need it, but the lotion is there, if you need it."

They did notice his septum piercing. It looked nice - they always wanted something like it, but gold, maybe double-piercings in their earlobes. Gold and silver, almost. They were a mismatched, but well-fitting pairing. They bit back the inclination to clear their throat again, looking back up at the stars, and then, followed Ares's gaze up to the roof to pick out an inked tag jagged across the concrete in swoopy scrawls of black. It seemed to be his color, that, and silver.

Finley caught his eye again, wholly by accident this time. The pair was dodging, weaving a set of strings around each other, their conversation fluttering and fluctuating by the movement of their eyes, clearing of throats, flexing of hands and muscles, the inequities of human colloquialism focused on avoidance, distraction, and nervous tics. Their interactions grated against each other's in a way that wasn't uncomfortable, but was unspoken, new tenacity plaguing their mannerisms. The newness sat between them like a third, uninvited guest, and the stars bore down their holy eyes in audience. 

"I, ah - I was a dancer." Finley flexed their hands into a prim, ballerina like fashion in front of them, their fingers splayed in a pointed, beautiful array usually held in *Tendus* And *Rond de jambs*. A memory of spinning around and around on their pointed feet fluttered through their mind.

"For ten years. And, ah - violin, as well, and piano. My mother insisted on it, even if she barely scraped the money together for it."
 Their voice softened again, looking at the concrete. They thought of their mother, so unlike them in so many ways.

"I branched out a bit in high school - got into rock, started drumming. Still can't cook though," They laughed. Jostling themself from memory, they looked back up at their companion.
"What about you? What do you do besides talk smack and play that guitar of yours?"
Kyle
"Yeah okay. I'll keep that in mind." 

Ares felt something flicker in his brain at the word friend. Were they really? Seemed awfully soon. Ares always felt as the kind of person who floated around from person to person, not staying around any longer for a quick joke or laugh. He never stuck around, never set down his roots, constantly on the move. A part of him knew he liked being free, his wrists weightless from the lack of shackles holding him down. The dark haired boy bit the inside of his mouth, and didn't respond. 

Leaning farther back on his hands, Ares listened to the blonde ramble in response to his question. He wasn't annoyed, if anything the sound of their voice was pleasantly nice against the whispers of the wind. A conversation heard only by the two of them and the bright spring moon. The trees surrounding the facility shook and waved along with the push of the deep morning air. The very low horizon trickled with shades of lighter blue. Ares wondered if the sun would rise while the two were still awake. 

"Dancing? Interesting. Suits you." He watched Finley's hands twist into a display of refined practice, obvious years spent on the art form. Ares' voice kept its usual sure tone, but genuine intrigue pulled at his words. "Violin too? Wow talk about a show off." Ares snickered and laughed, he was obviously teasing. It seemed impossible for him to take something seriously.

"Aha can't cook? Neither can I." His mouth fell into a relaxed smile. "I mean, I know how to make arepas from my father, but those are easy." A short memory of Ares, Safya and Caleb being forced to stay in the kitchen and watch their father make traditional Puerto Rican food jumped out in his mind. The warm tones that danced on the sun soaked kitchen felt comfortable. He couldn't wait to go home after he was done at this stupid place.

Finley's snarky words pulled Ares back into the conversation. His deep auburn eyes raised to meet the other, a tug of amusement on his brow. 
_ _

"Wowww real nice of you. Is that all you think I do? Im hurt really." Ares placed the back of his palm to his forehead in a dramatic display of faux anguish. Before dropping the act and laughing. His hand fell back down into its respective place. 

"I draw occasionally. I also like skateboarding and doing dumb shit. I like piercings, and almost every one I have was done by yours truly." 

Ares' hand rose up to his chest, gesturing at himself with a flourish. Clearly dramatic and playing up his pride in himself. He let out a small laugh and ran his hand through his hair, tucking back the loose strands that the wind jostled out of place.

"Graffiti and theft are both good pass times as well. *Definitely* A hobby for me." Ares seemed very unaffected by his lack of a good moral code. He did what he pleased, and that was that.
Teri
If Ares truthfully asked them about attachments, they might not be able to answer him. Not yet. 

"Thank you," They said. 

A genuine appreciation wrapped around their words, something hinged on a dangerous beginning of friendship. Friendships hadn't often served them too well - often ending in upheavals, betrayals, the sorts of catty, nasty fights only dancers or performers could get into. But, the people at Newton's Cradle, perhaps because they were all each other had and they were all a little screwed up, seemed less inclined to partake in that sort of thing. Really, if Finley had to guess, they were all more focused on going home than who had what class. 

The wind blew their hair up and around their head, across their face like some sort of fragmenting, crumbling halo around their cheeks and temple, and they had to pluck a few caught pieces out of the hooks of their glasse and set them free to the wind. They looked back down at Ares.

"Hardly a show off. I never play it anymore - I doubt I'd be any good, really."

His gaze seemed almost magnetic. 

"Arepas, hm? Never had one."

*Don't get attached, Finley.*

They looked back up towards the sky.

He was most assuredly trouble, this sharp-tongued, crooked-smile boy with the dark eyes and the calloused fingers. If Finley had ever learned anything in their life, it was how trouble seemed to find them. And here it was again, sitting beside them, and they were only smiling at it. Their sister would call them foolish, and they knew it. She'd even be right to do so. They most assuredly knew that. 

"Graffiti, thievery, art, skateboarding, and piercings." Fin ticked them off on his fingers, popping out their thumb at the end for emphasis. "That fits you a bit too well. You remind me of me just before I left public schools in that sense. I ah - I once was kicked out of a chemistry lab for daring a guy to drink a beaker full of something-or-another. Silas could tell me, now, I think. I don't even remember why. I think it was something to do with my gender, if I had to guess."

They glanced at Ares from the corner of their eye. Their gender had turned away more than one friend, or relationship, for that matter. They passed as masculine, most days, and many people didn't quite understand "The whole pronoun thing". It was starting to become an asshole meter of sorts, how people reacted to them. 

They waited, pretending they weren't dying to analyze every part of his reaction to them.