PROM NIGHT!

[techno_mancer]

Who: ALL OF MAYFIELD for the most part
What: Mayfield Prom 195X
When: Fri., April 29, at 7PM
Where: the gym of Mayfield High
Warning: hijinks of all kinds! Drinking! Dancing! Making out?! And maybe some action tags. We're cool with that.

Comments

[deaths_heritor]

[Susan takes a moment from patrolling the gym to take a breather. Ruining children's fun was her forte, but trying to manage a hundred of them plus a dozen or so who fit into the category 'man-child' was a bit tiring on the legs. So she leans back for a moment. And relaxes.

...Why is she holding a fireplace poker?]

[strike_you_out]

[She's soon joined by her not!son who is still without his ball cap and whose white suit jacket is miraculously free of stains or blood splatters. Slugger's gaze lands on the poker.]

Used it yet?

[deaths_heritor]

[What an adorable suit and hairstyle that is, Slugger. Who could have forced you into it? Susan will refrain from patting him on the head.]

Just once. I'm hoping the swelling goes down before tomorrow so he can still hand in his paper.

[strike_you_out]

[While they're on the subject of individuals in need of punishment...]

Edward's drunk.

[And possibly crazy.]

[deaths_heritor]

Somehow, I'm not surprised.

What is he doing? Is he picking fights with madmen again?

[strike_you_out]

[A nod. No one's been mad enough to take him seriously but it's only a matter of time.]

I could always break his legs.

[deaths_heritor]

Could you? I hear alcohol dulls the senses, and I'd rather not have to play governess with a grown man tonight.

[strike_you_out]

[A dutiful nod.]

Then we drag him under the bleachers. Leave him until morning.

[deaths_heritor]

He might scream. Keep him inebriated as long as possible.

[strike_you_out]

[In other words, let Edward continue what he's already doing.]

Right.

[deaths_heritor]

And remember to roll him to the side so he doesn't choke on his vomit.

[have_your_lives]

[Edward seems to be developing a trend of bringing up bad things right before they happen. In this case, it appears to work even when Edward is merely being referenced.

A much shorter, younger version of a telepath Susan may be passingly familiar with walks up to her, giving her a careful once-over as if assessing her as a potential danger. He probably can't be too careful in this place.]

Edward's outside. He passed out. [He just seems to be passing this information on.]

[deaths_heritor]

What?

[Susan is not taken off-guard very often, but this strange child out of the blue was a bit unexpected. She'll cast a skeptical glance in his direction.]

. . . And was this loss of consciousness assisted, in any way?

[have_your_lives]

[Keane's look turns slightly sullen, and he crosses his arms over his skinny chest.] No. He's really drunk; he didn't need any help.

[deaths_heritor]

. . . I'll take your word for it. Well. Show me to him, then.

[have_your_lives]

[Keane shrugs his narrow shoulders and will then lead Susan to the door outside, from which he can easily point to Edward's sprawled form.] Are you going to take him home? [It's hard to tell what his interest in any of this is, though he doesn't seem to have any particular alterior motives.]