<div class="floatright">(https://orig00.deviantart.net/74aa/f/2015/359/1/0/amanda_seyfried_light_study_027__by_razaras-d9lexlf.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Gilda Lockhart / Goldilocks<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Mansion by front door<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Black cardigan, jeans, ugg-style boots, school bag<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Madeline, Gregg, Lisa, Tim<br/><strong>Extra Information:</strong>Phone spying on any other devices nearby<br/><br/>Gilda looked over Gregg and the motorcycle alike while he spoke. Her eyes twinkled to acknowledge his upping the ante of her earlier entendres, and she replied, “Might take you up on that offer to feel that chopper between my legs...guess it’s one more reason to hope this extracurricular doesn’t last too long.”<br/><br/>She felt Madeline’s shoulders stiffen under her arm, and realized she was being too familiar. She let her arm slide off as casually as it had slid on. Anyway, her hand had other things to do, with the gathering students, it was getting time for a few more swipes on the phone in her pocket…<br/><br/>Nonetheless, Gilda’s mind, ever whirring, felt a curious mix of aesthetic appreciations for the girl’s looks, and yet empathy for her obvious introversion and discomfort at the situation she was suddenly thrust into. Gilda made a little promise to herself to somehow, some time later, see if she couldn’t bring the girl out of her shell. But how...<br/><br/>She waved to Lisa when she approached, recognizing her classmate. “Lis! Hey...looks like you forgot a bike lock? This mansion seems remote enough to be safe, but, if you want you can lock your bike in the backseat of my car.” She gestured to the gold beetle that was her car, a round compact thing with its stylizing of golden curves. “My backseat might be at tight squeeze, but, I’m sure we can make this fit…”<br/><br/>Gilda jingled her keys towards Lisa, happy either to go with Lisa to the bike and car, or let Lisa take the keys and do so herself.<br/><br/>Gilda belatedly remembered that she had a few pieces of racy lingerie that’d somehow ended up on the floor of the backseat (a mix of her own, and another girl’s), but it didn’t cause Gilda to rescind her offer. Far from it; after giving Lisa a second look-over, Gilda decided it was just as well if Lisa happened to run across something in the car that might put thoughts in her head...<br/><br/>While she spoke, she had a hand in her pocket. Once again swiping to activate Breadcrumz. She hoped to get some juicy crumbs from the phones of Madeline or Lisa, maybe both if she were really lucky today, as well as that of the gentlemen who’d just come up.<br/><br/>Gilda got a mischievous and no-fucks-given vibe from this fellow, like he had some mystery and secrets about him, a tough nut to crack in his own way...which only made Gilda of course all the more curious for a little snarfing. Like she always told herself, it was just some harmless getting-to-know-you lubricant in this modern digital age.<br/><br/>She greeted him, “Hey, it’s James Dean! Glad to see news of your death was exaggerated. I’m Gilda.” She realized she hadn’t yet introduced herself by name to everyone.<br/><br/>When Madeline bent over to pick up the fellow's glasses, Gilda took the chance to glance at at the girl's backside. She smiled, and gave Tim a wink, wondering if he was having any similar thoughts as she was.<br/><br/>Her phone meanwhile, was doing some much more subversive socialization of its own. Breadcrumz was running again, sniffing about like a bear of wolf in the woods, for tasty treats. Gilda herself was looking forward to whatever she might have from Gregg’s or Lisa’s so far; she would have to wait until she had a moment to check her phone discretely. Maybe duck into a bathroom once they were all inside.<br/><br/>Unbeknowst to Gilda herself, though, her phone was finding itself in a dark forest of hacking and counter-hacking software now...like a tide changing, bits flipped and Gilda’s phone<em>sent</em>packets to Tim’s at the same time it got a certain prepared picnic basket of dubious digital bites from his.<br/><br/>Some of the goods from Gilda’s phone were mundane - family photos, message exchanges with group project classmates, and the like. Others were racier; Gilda had a naughty habit, it would turn out, of taking compromising photos of herself with other girls she’d experimented around with. Part of her shtick in opening the minds (and legs) of other girls, was plying on the natural look-at-me female vanity which Gilda would admit to having more than her own share of too: in dorm rooms, bedrooms, hot tubs and the like, Gilda liked to affect silly European accents and play the part of ‘artsy photographer’ to warm other girls up to horseplay that involved increasing amounts of bodily contact and decreasing amounts of clothing. Gilda herself had originally gotten the idea from this game from a certain art teacher, in turn.<br/><br/>As a result, Gilda’s phone had quite a few little ‘photo shoots’ still on it, photos of herself, other girls, or both together, in various poses and positions. It also had quite a few accompanying message exchanged - flirting with these same photography subjects, talking about how perfectly natural it was for two coeds to experiment, and so on. Gilda had also taken some more conventional duck-face mirror selfies in various states of undress, in past attempts with various degrees of success to catch the eye of certain guys. Gilda even a few exchanges with profs on her phone….Gilda was a straight A student, after all, whatever that might entail.<br/><br/>And now a lot of those not-so-completely-private messages and photos were flitting like radio wave faeries through the air from Gilda’s phone to Tim’s. And some of the cheerleader-laden pot of gold Gilda’s phone had just snarfed off Gregg’s was copying itself on along to Tim's as well.<br/>