Chapter 2

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week 2, Day 5 - Week 4, Day 6
Summary: Chapter 2 prompts!
Restrictions/Warnings: Violence, blood, et cetera. For anything surpassing 'R' on a rating scale, please create your own log.
Notes: Please title your subject line in the following format -- Open / Closed | Date. OOC event information can be found here.

Quick Navigation
The Nine
The Company
Westies
True Leithians
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Poisoned Well

With the heir delivered and Lady Derrish returning to health, balance has been maintained amongst the Nine. Swift and efficient - and, some would say, unbelievable - medical attention administered may have steadied the Lady's life, but for those in the ruling houses, the atmosphere of tenuous peace only grows thicker. Land Kendry has launched an investigation - with particular focus on Land Hyponia - into the source of the 'attack' on Lady Derrish's health. Of course, that is only the surface, and some suggest, with hushed voices, that there may be more to Land Kendry's goals than to weed out an assailant. Land Hyponia has long since been in support of maintaining the Seventh Generation Accords, which it defends staunchly against any opposition. One of the most agitated among those in disagreement with the Accords is Land Kendry. Now is the perfect opportunity for them to rearrange the pieces in their favor, and with the information they've fabricated, they'll be able to replace the head of Land Hyponia with someone who is - at least hopefully - more pliable to their agenda. The Derrish have their own suspicions, the cure surfacing all too conveniently timed to have been a coincidence. When Land Kendry's investigation procures evidence pointing to Land Hyponia as the culprits, inflaming the crime with implied - yet vague - ties to the resistance, the Derrish publically accept the accusation. Behind closed doors, the solution seemed to have come as uncannily easily as the cure, and suspicions only rise. But for now, the two houses remain allied - ready to use one another for their own interests. For those among the nobility, it's the time to reevaluate alliances, assuring the old and gathering the new. The more support you have, the safer you are - unless, of course, you chose the wrong friend. Some turn to other members of the nobility, some to the RAC for hired guards, some to the Company to mandate investigations unsuitable for Killjoys, and some may even turn to the underbelly of society to accomplish anything necessary to stay on top. Or to simply stay alive.

The Company: Cleaning House

There will be no accolades, and no rest, for the hard working Company officials following the response to the True Leithan attacks. Assignments shift from one thing to the next, moving from bureaucratic nightmare to bureaucratic nightmare. While there’s always busy work to distract from the intrigue behind the scenes, it’s not liable to be any safer. Some officials will be charged with maintaining peace and order on Leith, as the outbreak of a pandemic slowly spreads over the moon. From helping the afflicted find their way to a place of treatment, to safe and efficient body disposal—burning corpses by the hundreds—to attempting to track down the source of the virus, it's best anyone assigned here take heed ‘lest they find themselves falling ill as well. Westerley, on the other hand, is a different kind of headache. With Harvest Week in swing, most company officials will be reaching for a drink of their own at the end of their shifts. Rowdy workers celebrating their time off, spending their hard earned Joy frivolously, and citizens whisked away by the atmosphere of celebration all mingle throughout Old Town. Property damage, fighting, less than subtle illegal activity, and crowding all become more of an issue than they usually are during this time. It's the perfect setting to lay down the law, or to not be noticed by it. On top of it all, each and every member of the Company's workforce can expect to have their documents double and triple-checked. Those with any suspected ties to Leith are likely to undergo a more serious investigation. One-on-one interrogations become common practice, and whether you're trusted or suspect, you may come face to face with a companion in your duties. True Leithan sympathizers are what the Company review is after, but anything else unturned will surely not be ignored. Cover your bases.

Westies: Harvest Week

Harvest week is in full swing throughout Westerley - visa workers have been shuttled back in droves from their time on Leithian farms, many of whom were willing to take some of their observations to information brokers for a price. Most had superficial information to sell (the state of unease on the average farm due to the impending Accords, the increased suspicion that the migrant workers were forced to endure, the fear of retaliation by the rebellion for the True Leithian attacks), others with reports of increased security and weapons caches on the farms of those whose sympathies lie with the “heroes” of the attack in Old Town. Old Town, however, is even more of a chaotic mesh of humanity with the mass influx of returning bodies. Bars stay busy day and night, the hokk and ale flow almost faster than most can keep up, and many Enforcers and Killjoys alike can make a good bit of extra joy (or free drinks) by moonlighting as security at the more popular locations. Despite all of the fun to be had, there is still the undercurrent of unrest, because Company checks have increased even more and Intake has become a revolving door of petty criminals being held for the smallest infractions. Everyone is on edge as the Resistance grumbles and the Nine search the shadows for something or perhaps someone. The unrest only worsens once Leith is placed under quarantine. And through it all, criminal activity is on the rise. Somehow, despite the strict regulation and transport of migrant workers, there is an increased access to Jakk and Bliss. Norn has an ever growing market, and weapons dealers are in high demand both in Eulogy and by private buyers alike. Something is brewing beneath the revelry, and no one wants to be caught unable to defend themselves, it seems. Not that any amount of firepower can defend against disease when P43X shows up on W3D7--but it can certainly make the symptoms worse.

True Leithians: Second Stage

Wounded and pressed to a corner, the beast rears its head and bares a maw of teeth and ruthless pursuit. The True Leithian organization does not take pause to mend wounds left in the wake of last week’s retaliation, no. They do not seek the comfort of safe haven and recovery. Instead they turn their anger and fear inward, sacrificing their own for what they believe to be the greater good. On Week 2, Day 6, three individuals slip into the crowds of Leith, mingling with the revelers and the families celebrating Harvest Week. They share smiles and laughter, they share conversation and drinks, but most importantly, they share infection. Each of the three is responsible for disseminating P43X, a viral bioweapon designed by Zan Nikora on behalf of the military in years past. During its conception, the aim of P43X was simple: to create a weapon which could demoralize and destabilize an entire population within a matter of days. To create madness that builds in the blood and eats into the brain, spreading through every tier of society. And though its use has long been out of commission, its engineer has lingered. Zan Nikora, kidnapped and held under threat of death not to himself but to those he holds dearest, is made to choose between the lives of his family on Westerley or the strangers on Leith. His choice is obvious, though far from easy. Reassembling the buried curse takes time, supplies, and testing. He is provided amply with the last two but scarcely with the first. But still he complies. When his madness maker is complete and his existence becomes a potential loose end, it’s not freedom that Zan Nikora tastes, but the poison of his own medicine. Only once the voices in his head have risen above whispers and turned to screams, when his mind can no longer hold secrets worth sharing, does he see his family again. It takes six days*. Six days and Zan Nikora stumbles through Old Town, eyes unseeing, mind riddled with disease—infection spreading. Mod Note: *W3D6. Cure and vaccines will be developed and disseminated beginning on W4D3, but will not be fully administered to all locations until W4D5.

Leith: Pocket Posies

Harvest Week in Leith marks a period of joy and relief. Bazaars are open longer, the ordinary bustle of the business day replaced with celebration and festivities throughout the evening hours. Vendors offer games for adults and children alike, the sky is a constant wash of soft pinks, purples, and greens from holographic firework shows, and music fills the air from different stages. All walks of life are welcome to join in the merriment, just so long as they have the right to be there. Anyone suspected of an invalid visa or citizenship papers are dealt with harshly, but quietly. Tucked away into the darkness of a holding cell like all of Leith’s more problematic elements. It is a time of peace and relief, this week, and they will not abide disruption. But within the hallowed days of celebration, a sickness grows, incubating. Spreading. First, it begins with an ache deep within the muscles. The body tires too quickly, the flesh burns with a blanket of rising fever. Whispers skirt at the edge of hearing, unintelligible but audible, filling the audio cortex with illusions and lies. Food loses its appeal, though the body yearns dearly for energy it cannot hold, and breathing becomes tighter, harder. Next the tide of high fevers, of lethargy. The brain devolves into paranoia and mania, the mind races with delusions and hallucinations. Pain follows, a pain that seems to emanate from every nerve without relief or pause, seeping through the muscles and aching within the very bones of a person. Some may wish for death, and for many, that wish will be granted in an unending sleep when the fatigue pulls darkness across the mind, plunges the last thoughts of a person into static slumber. But not all will succumb so readily, and therein is the weakness that ultimately shelved P43X during its initial creation. Its impacts are not uniform—while much of the population suffers dearly, most are sustained with timely medical interventions, and many others recover with the prowess of their own immune system. For Leith, bountiful in money and supplies, most of P43X’s more fatal properties are circumvented or delayed. But even in this lush world of affluence and peace, there are the poor, the underprivileged, and the weak. They are not afforded the same haste of care, the same salvation. Instead, they’re given graves of sanitizing fires, and their bodies turn to ash.

Resistance: Sleeping Dogs

The chaos of the festivities that go along with Harvest Week provides the perfect cover for the Resistance to begin moving once again. New cells need to be formed in the wake of so many executions and new members need to be recruited. Info brokers with Resistance-leaning sympathies have an opportunity to make a little extra joy by putting the disconnected sympathizers in contact with one another, aiding the vetting of Company insiders that need new handlers within the organization. For Resistance members already embedded within, they need to work now to find new locations to store what supplies remain and to begin rebuilding the stockpiles of weapons and supplies re-confiscated by the Company. Some may have heard of abandoned mines or facilities that can be retrofitted out in the Badlands while others are needed to track down rumors of Company made fallout shelters located within the under-city tunnels. For this, Company moles are essential - the only hope of accessing these shelters is with long forgotten Company passcodes. And the Scarbacks, well. Everyone’s heard rumors that there are many within their ranks willing to help with recruitment and contraband transportation, though there’s little the Company can do to restrict their movements at this time. Because of this, Scarbacks may also be the only ones that have a chance of getting into Leith once the quarantines go into effect. Those already aligned with the rebellion will be tasked with coordinating supply movements, making a deal or three with the devil on behalf of those unwilling to back down from the promises of the Accords. Caution and purpose should drive their movements because if the True Leithian attack is any indication… those nationalists are not going to let go of their precious land and status without a long, bloody fight.

The RAC: Holding Pattern

Warrants still flow in with a regular consistency - enough to keep the average team or agent quite busy. Every harvest season there are visa jumpers that need to be caught and low-level warrants claiming petty theft from farms by Westie migrants. The increasing number of disturbances and crimes in Old Town guarantee a plethora of local warrants to capture criminals across the moon or those that managed to escape an Enforcer’s arrest. Some, however, have either been requested by Seyah Kendry herself or volentold by their seniors within the RAC to conduct investigations into the attack on the Nine. And not all of these investigations are on the Lady’s behest. Some of the Nine aren’t quite willing to take Land Kendry’s word as law and have quietly requested their own investigations into the attack in Old Town and the Land Derrish misfortunes. (MOD NOTE: There will be a comment thread for teams to sign up for the specialized plot related warrants on the monthly warrant post, located HERE. Once teams have posted for a plot warrant, the mods will give them a location and focused assignment.)

Comments

[rhygret]

You are old though. I checked your file after I got back. Forty-two's getting pretty up there Jack. [ See Rhys can compromise, look at him using Jack's actual name here like he acknowledges him or something. "Handsome" is a ways off from ever, though. ]

I still can't believe you got the system to change that. Who even calls themselves Handsome like it's a name? [ That's rhetorical mind you, Rhys isn't expecting an actual answer as he brings his drink up to his lips again for another sip. ]

[refactor]

Ha ha ha. [ It's a pretty dry, and sarcastic laugh, but Jack continues smoothly. ] Twenty-eight isn't exactly young either, kiddo. Two can play at the checking files game.

[ Granted, Jack went looking into files a bit more deeply than is actually allowed, but. No one needs to know about that unless Rhys gives him a reason to dig into the juicy stuff. For now? He's being friendly. Though actually, this back and forth is surprisingly not terrible. He'd figured that once his ass was out of the proverbial file, Rhys would be looking down his nose at him. Which, granted, he kind of is, but not nearly as badly as Jack expected. ]

I do. Duh. Like I said, it's all about notoriety!

[ That's where the explanation tends to stop when Jack gives it, since it's far from the first time someone has asked. He figures if they get it, they'll read between the lines to see what Jack means, but he decides to elaborate just a little more. ]

I mean, would you have remembered my name if it were just "Jack?"

[rhygret]

Well...maybe not. [ .. ] Okay no, I wouldn't have. But I'm kind of wishing I did now, you are so annoying. [ But oddly when he says that it's more of a drawl than a formal complaint. He's had just enough Hokk that Jack's actually tolerable for the time being, and the reverse is probably true for himself too. Being judgmental is easy. Not being a smug, pompous asshole with classism issues when that's all you've ever been raised to be? A little harder without some liquid "I don't even care anymore."

It might help that he's trying to forget his whole family "situation" at the moment though. He's not here as a Kendry tonight; he's just here as someone who wants to drink some expensive Hokk. A lot of it.

He decides to flag the bartender for a refill. ]

I could've had you reported for that 'friendly routine' of yours. Which totally didn't work by the way.

[refactor]

[ Jack's response to being called annoying this time is nothing more than a snicker and a wide, toothy grin. His point was made, and being called annoying is something he can swallow easily in the face of that. Plus, admittedly, it's kind of true. Jack's charisma tends to come more from harassing people until they learn how to put up with him, so that obnoxiousness becomes a bit more charming. In theory, anyways. This definitely isn't something Jack is quite aware of, since he thinks his charm is perfectly reasonable and natural. ]

Oh, that? Yeah, you would not be the first, you realize that, right?

[ Jack snickers into his glass as he pauses to drink from it, but then motions to Rhys with the cup still in hand. ]

Anyways, bullshit. Totally worked.

[rhygret]

Phahh--in what way?? They didn't buy it and then you just pulled out your gun and started shooting them. [ Rhys lifts a brow with the wryest of amused and incredulous looks. There is never going to be anything about this man that doesn't totally surprise them is there? Rhys knows ego. He's Kendry. Ego is practically their middle name as a family. But Jack is just...Jack. Has no reason to be as smug and sure and confidence about himself as he is, it's astounding.

And he still somehow pulls it off? Which is the most frustrating thing. ]

How is that selling them on us being all..."friendly" with one another, exactly?

[refactor]

I mean, they didn't buy it because you didn't play along. If you had? Who knows! They-- Okay, well, they probably still would've got a bullet in 'em, but not right then.

[ He laughs as casually as if he'd just heard a funny joke, and it rolls off his tongue like it is. To Jack, that's absolutely the case. There aren't really very many people around anymore that know the difference, because maybe once, Jack wouldn't have found that funny. But not anymore. It felt good to hurt bad people, and he never shied away from that. ]

So, y'know, get better at going with the flow, bucko. But I'll forgive you for not going with my totally awesome plan if only because no one got shot. Except them, I guess, but that's no one we care about, right?

[rhygret]

You're lucky that's how things played out. [ Rhys also doesn't deny that he couldn't have cared any less about the two men Jack had shot. His ability to care about people who aren't himself or other royals is severely stunted on a good day, and that they'd been dirty Westies doesn't really help endear him to them by any measure. If anything it serves them right for thinking they could even think about laying a hand on him. ]

And for the record, I'm pretty sure any of the Nine would have been just as insulted as I was about being grabbed. You really need to work on that whole "charm" thing you keep trying to pull off.

[refactor]

[ Jack is about to argue that it isn't luck so much as his own skill (which is not exactly true), but Rhys's addition gets him to shut up. It's only for a moment, but that reminder of the difference in their social statuses is like putting up a wall. Jack stares at Rhys for a moment, but then scoffs. It's not bitter, exactly, but it's dismissive. ]

What, you prefer the whole "yes, sir" "no, sir" act? Because I know this is gonna be a shocker, but I hate doing that crap. Only time any Westie is going to call you "sir" is when they're being a kissass of the highest magnitude or they're planning to put a knife in you the second you turn your back. Just, y'know, protip.

[ stop using outdated memes jack ]

Besides! It worked out. [ His grin returns, and it's cheeky ] And here we are, sitting together, kinda sharing a drink. More like drinking in each other's general presence since I'm not footing that tab, but. You're charmed. Totally.

[rhygret]

Clearly you don't know Qreshi royalty then, because those guys? Allll about brown-nosing. They love it. [ Don't take it for more than it's worth of course because they're above being swayed by the words of the under-privileged etc etc, but he's never seen a single one of them not soak up the praise of their subjects in some manner or form.

Because really, who doesn't like validation, unfounded and false or otherwise? Rhys certainly does. Guy practically craves it in a pathetic, desperate sort of way. ]

And--and for the record I am not charmed. Or anything even close to that alright? You can thank the drink that's going to get me mugged later for all... [ Rhys gestures vaguely at his general person. ] this. I'm in a good mood. And for some strange reason you're not being as annoying as usual.

[ "Usual" after one meeting. Yup. ]

[refactor]

[ He laughs and shakes his head ]

Uh, nope, you're totally right that I don't. Like, c'mon. Qreshi don't exactly come down to Westerley like, uh, ever. Hell, you're probably the only one I've talked to who wasn't looking at me like it was a friggin' honor that I got to be graced with their presence. Kinda nice, actually.

[ And he does mean that, though it does soun like it treads close to that brown-nosing they're talking about. There were more than a few reasons that Jack had his sights set high in the Company, and one of them was how much he hated being at the bottom. He could have all the respect on Westerley (which in his mind, he's close to, or at least among anyone whose respect was worth having), but it wouldn't mean a thing to anyone on Qresh or even Leith until he had the Joy and the power to go with it. ]

Anyways, screw you, because you can't say "as usual" when you've only met me one other time, you know that, right? [ There's no bite to that either, and he just laughs good-naturedly ] What, maybe this is normal. You don't even know!

[rhygret]

[ It does sound the part, but it's also a compliment directed at him which Rhys is admittedly weak to. It's not the usual sort anyone in his standing would get "Oh hey, you're not as much of an elitist jerk!" Those don't usually tend to go over that well normally, but Rhys takes to it because it sets him apart from the rest. And that's what he really likes. ]

I'm going to ignore that "screw you", just because you actually said something I liked before that. [ Goddamn look how generous he is. He's the best Kendry ever. ] And even if I don't know, I do know that I've had enough Hokk to make even Delle Seyah seem like nice company so you'll have to wait on the charming bit until next time.

[ If there is a "next time." He tries to make a habit of avoiding Westerly if he can help it. ]

[refactor]

Good, because I'm not stopping. Probably can't stop? Look, these kinds of things just roll off the tongue is my point here.

[ He says, as if he weren't in control of the shit that comes out of his mouth... Of course, he can totally pull it back when needed, but Jack just also generally doesn't want to. That, and Rhys isn't giving him much reason to do so. The friendlier mannerisms seem to be going over better, which is why Jack scoffs lightly. ]

Next time, huh? You planning on coming back to this dive bar already? [ He looks up and holds up a hand to the bartender as if in apology ] —No offense, Jerry.

[ Though Jack just gets a "none taken" in response, and Jack turns his attention back to Rhys. ]

But, hey, at least you're probably least likely to get stabbed here, so good choice.

[rhygret]

Ugh, god no. [ but unlike Jack Rhys doesn't bother with the "no offence" part, mostly because he's knocking back another sip immediately after. And also because he's a Kendry and he shouldn't have to. ] I mean, for what you Westies get it's not bad. But the real Hokk comes from out-of-Quad. That's the stuff you want to drink.

[ The sort that's more than Jack's annual salary a bottle. Even if personally Rhys can't really tell the difference in taste between this and anything else he can get on Qresh or Leith. Booze is booze--but Rhys likes it better when it comes with a hefty price tag. It feels more important. ]

Anyway what I meant was that since you work for the Company and my family happens to be the majority share holder, your name's probably going to pop up again. Unfortunately. [ But Rhys looks smug and amused all the same time--probably because of all the liquid courage he's been ingesting the past hour. ] A lot of people know you up th....ugh, gods, why did I even tell you that, you're just going to be pleased about that.

[refactor]

Yeah, and you know that sometimes that's the exact same shit in our crappy bottles, right? Not always, since yeah, sure, bet some of those expensive bottles really do get more, but. C'mon. Totally had a guy come through last year that was selling Hokk for triple the price to Qresh and it was totally the swill they sell as bottom of the barrel down here. Hilarious, honestly, but— [ Jack laughs ] Yeah, he's dead, basically.

[ Whatever that's supposed to mean. Jack doesn't elaborate, because once his story is done, Rhys is dipping into one that he likes way more. By the time Rhys realizes how this is going to go and says so, it's already too late, since Jack is grinning with delight. ]

Ohhh, you are right, I'm pleased. Why wouldn't I be? I have made sure to make a name for myself, and look! Paying off.

[rhygret]

[ "He's dead, basically." Rhys is almost sad to make the comparison to some of his more vocal relatives when it comes to their distaste in that sort of thing, but he's not sure who it would be more offensive to at this point. They're both intolerable in their own ways. ]

I shouldn't have said anything. You're going to look all pleased for the rest of the evening. [ That's filled with a wry, amused sort of sarcasm as Rhys rolls his eyes, leaning back on the counter so he can shake his head without worrying about the brief feeling of lightheadedness that comes with it. ]

[refactor]

You're absolutely right, and you have to deal with it. You've made my friggin' night.

[ He reaches into his jacket at this point to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and unless Rhys objects, he's definitely going to smoke. It's probably not related to his day being made by Rhys's offhand comment, but he's wearing that smile all the more easily now. But before he lights it, he does point to Rhys's drink, which is getting empty. ]

Refill? I would say I'm buyin', but that's- Well, that's a lie. On the house, since everything's on the house for me.

[rhygret]

You...realize I could buy this place twelve times over if I want, right? You don't need to pretend to pay for me. [ This is weird??? Like. Really weird? No one pays for anything for him beyond his parents, and that's less them consciously doing it and more them leaving him money to do stuff with so he occupies his own time instead of theirs. Everyone else he keeps company with is rich enough on their own and there's just no need.

This is literally the first time anyone's tried to buy him something and Rhys has no idea what he's supposed to do with it. Like, is Jack making fun of him or...what, here? ]

[refactor]

[ He hadn't exactly paused to wait for Rhys's approval, but his cigarette is left dangling between his lips, unlit, once he gives his answer. Jack looks incredulous, and he pauses in liting it to pull it away from his mouth. ]

Wow. Just— You gotta be friggin' kidding me. You're telling me you're so rich that you don't like free stuff anymore? What the hell. That's stupid.

[ Also, it kind of pisses him off, but he's not going to get into that one. ]

Two, it's a friendly gesture, dumbass. What, you don't have those either on Qresh?

[rhygret]

[ There's a pause just long enough for it to be obvious Rhys is actually thinking this over as he stares at Jack, one brow lifted. Trying to figure out if this is some sort of weird Westerlyn humour or if Jack is honestly asking him that.

He doesn't wind up shaking his head, but it looks like he wants to for a minute. ]

No one...buys anyone anything. Not to be friendly. [ Maybe if you want to sabotage someone, sure, but this...doesn't exactly seem like that? Rhys squints a little. ]

This is weird.

[refactor]

[ The longer Rhys stares at him, the more Rhys is going to get his expression mirrored back. Jack's brow knits together tightly at first, but then it turns to a raise of his brow and a shake of his head. The fact that Rhys is being so... Judgey? This definitely feels judgey. Yeah, it's definitely reminding him that Qresh might as well be aliens. ]

Nuh uh. You- You're the weird one here. Definitely.

[ that's it that's his whole argument ]

What, do you not have friends?

[ jack, a friendless loser, should not be allowed to ask this question ]

[rhygret]

[ Westies are the aliens here, excuse you. Qresh is perfectly civilized and clean and you don't need to worry about catching something anytime you breathe the same air as someone else. ]

Uhh, yeah? What's your point? [ He totally has tons of friends, like Crowley who he talks to because they are unimportant to their respective families and has pity parties with, most of which they spend snarking at one another? And Vaughn who was paid to be his friend if he joins.

Oh and your daughter wants to go inside his body does that count ]

None of them have ever bought me anything.

[refactor]

[ no it doesn't HE'LL KILL YOU IF YOU MAKE EYES AT HIS DAUGHTER RHYS!!!! ]

My point is that I buy my friends stuff? That's- I mean, hell, that's normal. Like nothing big because— [ He laughs ] I mean, I don't like my friends so much I'm gonna shell out for their lazy asses, but a drink is like, no big deal.

[ Of course, there are a few things here that aren't quite accurate. Jack probably hasn't bought something for a friend in a long time, because he's pretty tenuous on who he'd call a friend anyways. And also, what he's not realizing here is that he just implied that Rhys is his friend. He will be appropriately horrified. ]

Man. That's. That's kinda sad? Like I'd heard it was a stereotype that Qreshi were all backstabbing bitches to each other, but you're making that sound like a stereotype that's totally true.

[rhygret]

[ Rhys gives Jack a long, suffering look before he straightens in his chair and sets his drink down. ]

During student council elections my cousin put green dye in her opponent's swimming pool. So her opponent put Dilex-12 in her shampoo. It took two years for her hair to grow back.

[ Sometimes stereotypes are entirely valid and not at all exaggerations, Jack. Welcome to Mean Girls: Qreshi Edition. ]

[refactor]

[ Jack's eyebrows definitely go up in surprise, but his expression still purses into a smile all the same. As he counts off his points, he raises the appropriate amount of fingers to match. ]

Okay, one, that's messed up. Stereotype: confirmed. You Qreshi are crazy, holy crap. Two, crazy, but hilarious, because I mean, she didn't die, so that's— I dunno, good? Not having hair for two years, eh, whatever, you lived. And three—

[ This one is clearly the most important, since Jack snickers before getting to it. ]

Three, student council elections? How old were you? Are we talkin' like, college here, or what? Because that definitely changes the "holy shit" factor if you were like, five or something.

[rhygret]

Try high school. [ Rhys snorts, smile turning crooked as Jack goes about his points. He's just not going to mention his specifically odd circumstances around the age of five, because that's a whole other can of worms. Family politics exist even at that age and it's dumb and annoying as all heck. ]

When you're in the primaries it's more a game of who has the least wealth to flaunt. [ Which is as petty and destructive as it sounds. ] You know, 'accidentally' breaking each others' Living Platinum toys.

[ a.k.a programmable platinum that's more expensive than Jack's annual salary and can be programmed to move and take the shape or form of whatever one chooses. It's hot shit. ]