<div class="floatleft">(https://www.reservoir-media.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/SWFT-3-jpg-version-sq.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Name:</strong> Reese Wilder (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=341089.msg16147118#msg16147118)<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong> Orange plaid button-up, jeans, dirty cream converse. [Pictured (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/31/aa/20/31aa20a56318fe7521c4b3520bd5e9bf.jpg)]<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong> 2 April 2050 | 8:30 PM<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Streets of the Oriental District<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Destrian<br/><strong>Content:</strong> Spiraling</span><br/><hr/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><em>Or he’d what? Burn her to ash?</em> Reese raised an eyebrow but continued to smile up at Destrian. He must be <em>joking</em>. His humour was always so dry and moody and admittedly… kinda bad. <em>Hm.</em> And besides, everyone — Earthlings and Dragon Slayers alike — got lost on the subway, and the subway was the least of their dinner problem’s right now. Hell, top of <strong>that</strong> list of problems would be the upcoming bill for the dinner itself, and perhaps Brett the other, younger, <em>shinier</em> Dragon Slayer Babysitter, and of course, most importantly… “I need to find you new shoes.”  <br/><br/>But then the fire dragon repeated himself, as if he already <em>knew</em> that Reese wasn’t listening the first time. And this time… This time it was clear <strong>he</strong> was the one with dangerous, threatening, powerful fire magic and Reese was <em>just</em>… Just Reese. Her smile dropped and disappeared off of her face, and her grey eyes glazed over in hurt. <em>Wow. Okay then. It was fucking crystal now.</em> Even at a party full of magical, alter-dimensional beings, Reese Wilder was somehow still the only weird one who still wasn’t good enough.  <br/><br/>“I’d <em>never</em> embarrass you in front of your comrades, Destrian. I thought we were gonna be like, friends, or whatever. And — <em>really</em> — if your comrades ask why you’re late, you can just tell them that Reese <em>fucked</em> up again, because that’s the truth at least.” She knew she was bad at this, okay? The ew-gross-babysitting or whatever. She had even <em>told</em> her new roommates that there would be better options than her. But at the same time… <em>she</em> was the one who <em>left</em> the dinner party that <em>she</em> organized, somewhat! She was the one <em>standing</em> on the street, with Destrian, right now! All of his <em>comrades</em>? They weren’t the ones out looking for him. They were all inside Catty-Wampus, having a great time, and even making jokes at his expense.   <br/><br/>“I need to find you new shoes.” Her words were like an echo. Soft and stuck, as if her brain couldn’t get past them. She… fix this. She could still… fix it. Right? Reese never expected credit for helping others. She liked helping others, or <em>trying</em> her best to help others. But Dude! She didn’t expect to feel like fucking <em>shit</em> for doing it.<br/><br/>  “Oh — <em>here</em> —“ suddenly her hand dove into her jeans pocket and retrieved two small, black ear buds and held them out to the Dragon Slayer, in spite of his motherfucking tense grip on her shoulder, “<em>these</em> are for you. They’re <em>headphones</em>. Like the ones at the Garage, but smaller, so they can fit <em>inside</em> your ears, and <em>underneath</em> your helmet. You can play music in them, later, but like for now they can dim noise just by being <em>in</em> your ears. The restaurant will be very loud. And, like, I <em>know</em> you might not wanna take your helmet off to eat in public, <em>right</em>, so there’s this thing called take-out. <em>Take-out</em>, okay? The restaurant gives you little boxes, and you can fill them with food, and then you <em>take</em> them <em>out</em> of the restaurant and eat them later, someplace privater like the loft, where you don’t need your helmet. Then you can actually fucking <em>enjoy</em> your meal or whatever but I think you need rubber boots. They aren’t fashionable, but maybe, I dunno, we can cover them with your jeans mostly and that <em>obliviously</em> rude yet gorgeous hostess won’t give a fuck as much and then if <em>another</em> motherfucking Dragon terminates more of my <em>Home</em> you’ll at least have fucking footwear…” Reese felt dizzy and overwhelmed, but she tried to keep looking up at him.</span>