John
Only God and Margarita knew how much that single drag of a cigarette felt, although the last time she did, her torso wasn't stretched out from the sofa to one of the kitchen counters to where vance was. Which was exactly what she was doing now.

Freaky rubber girl.

"Oh *Gesù Cristo* That's so, so fucking good." She answered, exhaling the smoke ever so slowly as to cherish that one time she was gonna ever wrap her lips around a cigarette again. "*Grazie*, that did so goddamned much."

While a hyperelongated torso spanning one end of the room to the other was the weiredst thing in the room at that time, there would be a contender for that, and it would be Silas with his soot-covered face and straightened hair from whatever burn caused it. Of course it had to be him.

"And what in the goddamned fuck happened to you, Silas? Good God, are you okay? You look like you just threw yourself into a fire."
Christi
◆ "No shit, looks like you just walked into a fuckin' burning opium field." Silas dryly chuckled, laying down in the grass with his singed twin-tone hair against his flattened palms. "Also, mate, don't give me that face, I've been fucking around- oh, yeah, I should probably explain in more detail."

□ Without even asking permission Silas reached out, his grubby hand surprisingly free of all the chaos that had besieged his face and hair. With this hand he grabbed the cigarette, quickly puffing it and letting out a similarly pleased exhale, though instead of a thin wispy cloud it came out as rings, carefully popped out of his throat with the kind of precision that only a former smoker would have. With that done he held the cigarette out for the unknown lad to grab, and once it was out of his hands he'd begin to speak.

▪︎ After all, he felt as if he owed them an explanation.

◆ "So, I've been goin' shit fuckin' crazy around my dorm the past week or so. A part broke on my PC and I don't have money to replace it yet, so I've been in the lab fucking around with dangerous, illegal things. First it was crystal meth, but soon I found that the process was far too risky to do here, and then I wanted to make MDMA using peppercorns as a base, but fuck, couldn't get enough to make more than a single grain, so..." He chuckled, almost as if trying to build up anticipation. "I've been fucking around with rocket fuels! Can't get my hands on any of the common ones used today because they're controlled as hell, but aniline's an old-school one I managed to make on my own. It's cool shit, but... I shot way too much into some fuming nitric acid and sweet fuckin' Jesus I nearly blew a hole in my face! Boredom does some weird shit to a man... Or thing. Gender is a joke, wear whatever you want, kill a cop while you're at it as reparations for past injustices."
Marsha
"Non è un problema..." Vance replied, rubbing his brows as if to ward off a headache.
*'It looks like I won't be wanting it back,'* He thought, now seeing the female bum plucking the cigarette into her lips. It was a regrettable detail that he perceived that made him turn to pressing a fist to his mouth. He stood by the open window, not bothering to give the other a glance as he stared downward.

When the stranger stretched herself like a rubber band, her elongated torso span to the other side of the room, Vance cannot help but be reminded of a ribbon worm. She was talking to the sizzled haired kid who had their ass planted down on the grass. They were talking to each other with the familiarity that friends have. The usual buddy-buddy talk. And for once it was rather refreshing to see some people trying not to be mouthy assholes at this school.

*'Yeah, no, I don't think I won't be wanting it back,'* Vance thought, now seeing Sila's grubby paws snatching the cigarette from the stretch girl. 

When he received the cigarette back, Vance was just about to pass it onto the stretch girl but paused for a moment. He couldn't help tugging at his earlobe to feel the cold silver piercings when he started to hear the concerning antics. Now his mouth is pressed down against his fist, not saying anything while the two-toned nerd explained himself. The mention of attempting to create crystal meth, MDMA, using rocket fuel was enough for him to shift to another position: Vance buried his face into his hands.

*'What the living fuck is wrong with these people?'* He thought, messaging between his eyebrows as if to ward off another headache. Vance would never have thought that someone like this blabbermouth would be so open about their messed-up mischief. He hadn't made up his mind yet, but he certainly wasn't going to rat them out. This may be good information to use against Silas some time in the future if it's necessary to rely on it. This was rather weird because he is just some random guy trying to smoke when these bums arrived. There was no kind of friendship between them at all. 

Now pinching the bridge of his nose, he used his other hand to hold out the cigarette for the stretchy girl to take. "You can have it, think I'm done." His tone was ambivalent with a slight drawl.
John
"I think you do, Silas. You really do- look at yourself! You look like you went dumpster doving but you actually dived in it than look for stuff."

Snatch.

"That's not my cig-

Even before she could finish her sentence, Silas had already snatched the danger stick from her fingers and inhaled the thing too like there was no tomorrow. She could only look at the other person look both extremely possed off now that his cogarette was stolen from him, plus the look someone gives when she stretches her body out, which is namely a look of shock, curiosity, and disgust rolled into one. " Sorry about the stretch, uh... I got too used to it."

"So... You made drugs," She turned to Silas, stretching her neck towards the actual idiot. "Then can't, so you tried making drugs again, and when you realized you're not British Walter White you went ahead and began the British space program on your own. And then fucked it up. Ten outta ten, dude."

"Ya sure?" She asked back to the elf-wared boy, pinching the cigarette between her fingers as her neck returned to its original length, her neck undulating as it returned to its original, un-alien form. "Well, sorry about this moron, but I'll make sure to split a pack with you if I get my hands on one." She replied, dragging on the cigarette again, her need for nicotine satisfied once more since her departure from Italy.

She still remained stretched, her torso resembling a thick pool noodle, if anything. Weird sight.
Christi
◆ "Aye, I know I look like I just headbutted a bonfire, but that's just my own stupid ass mistake."

□ Laughing, he took a few moments to settle down, mostly looking up at the clouds as they softly drifted by, carried by the jet streams way up in the great blue beyond. It was a refreshing change of scenery from being in a sterile lab from sun up to sun down, and one that he was taking in with every breath, every faint breeze, every bird chirp. Of course, though, he eventually looked over at the elf, and though he couldn't read his thoughts he could see from his expression that there was something going on in his head.

▪︎ However, he wasn't about to make assumptions.

◆ "Moron? Fuck do ya mean, moron?" He scoffed. "Would a moron be able to make rocket fuels from scratch? Must be loose in the skull if ya think I'm a fuckin' moron!" He playfully shot back, his brown eyes alive with mischief. "Anyways, uh... Elf boy, what's your name? Don't think I've seen ya around."
Marsha
Vance raises his hand at the stretch girl and shakes his head at her. "There is no need to repay me," He said, his voice slightly gruff and yet mild. He was able to find work at the facility as a part-time janitor to earn his pay. It wouldn't be that difficult for him to afford cigarettes downtown. He still wore his black janitor coveralls that he paid for weeks ago for his job position. It always bothered him how the long sleeves irritated him during cleaning, so he had them rolled up to his elbows. The utility maintenance no-slip shoes he wore were just as new as his outfit. Unlike a lot of students in Newton Cradle, he somewhat stands out, appearing as if he was part of the facility itself. 

He was mostly ignoring the two nerds when he walked to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. "It's Vance, I take up night class and prefer to keep to myself," He said, placing one scoop of sugar into his coffee before stirring it. "Usually I just work."

The name Vance may be recognized by some other wealthy criminal families due to his parents being held responsible for having many skeletons in their closets. It was all hazy information about what exactly happened since it was strictly covered by his parents and their partner's authority. His last name was changed to hide his identity due to his mother insisting since it's all to keep him "Safe" From becoming a target. From his point of view, it was her way of disassociating herself and saying that he's not her child. 

Vance was born differently with a resemblance that doesn't match his mom nor his dad, except for his blue eyes was the only trait that he inherited. Something happened to him before he was born. It wasn't an easy life growing up under strict rules, isolation and crushing work that his parents pressured him to do.

*It became a habit to work hard.*

And it is beginning to show by his tired eyes with faint dark circles and his pointed ears slightly drooping.
John
"Ya sure then? Alrighty." Margarita took another long (haha) drag from the cigarette as she retracted her torso to its normal length and let the chemicals run through her body, giving her a sense of relief and calm she hasn't felt for a long time, even if it wasn't on par with cheap cigars.

Ah, you're a night shift kinda guy. Nice to meet you anyways! I'm Margarita." She said as she elongated her freez noodle arm out at almost the same length her torso was a while ago, her palm opened and expecting a handshake. She smiled warmly at Vance, his tired blue eyes meeting her energetic ones. 

Except towards Silas.

"Yeah, you, who else then? You're making damn meth and drugs on top of fuel? Goddamn that's a science project if I've seen one. *Grazie Dio* I wasn't in the same room as you, you madman." Sticking the cigarette in her mouth, she stretched her other arm out at the lying down Silas and flipped him off at a close distance.
Christi
◆ "Vance, huh? Gotcha." He sat up and leaned against the wall, one knee bent up and his arm leaning over it. "Also, this is baby steps, mate. My lab back home, fuck, it nearly killed me several times. Then again, maybe that's just... Heh, a skill issue."

□ Diagnosis: gremlin. He didn't want to out himself any worse than he'd already done, since simply admitting that he'd been messing around with synthesizing drugs and rocket fuel on prison grounds was tantamount to accepting a sentencing to a proper British prison. Instead of confessing any further he let out a sigh and looked up at the clock, noting the time. *Five hours. Five goddamned hours.* He'd been in the belly of the beast for longer than he'd thought, and all he had to show for it was singed hair and ash in his face.

▪︎ Oh well. That was just the life of an aspiring mad chemist.

◆ "Hey, I didn't actually make *Either* Of 'em, so off my case with you." He'd chuckle, before the middle finger slinked into his face. With a playful groan he'd attempt to grab the hand upon which the finger was affixed, the roughness of his hand easily felt. "I'm just an aspiring chemist, and... I guess my focus is off in some weird fuckin' spots. This happens. I spent over a month trying to recreate that one NileRed video where he made moonshine from toilet paper last year, so maybe I'm just a mad chemist. I dunno. Anyways, uh... Vance. Why are ya even lighting one in the building? Boutta set the damn alarms off at this rate."