Happy Days. (Kurai)

[Anonymous]

Liv was tired of the nicknames.

'Pisser,' okay, coming from Dail he could accept it.  Dail had all the sophistication of a leaky petrol engine.  'Baldie,' likewise, lacking in inventiveness or originality, 'Cueball,' same.  'Cow boy,' getting there, actually rather inventive.  It still stung.  'Flame-broiled rump roast'?  That managed to touch on a few painful areas.  How did Illio know?  But--never mind.  

"Hey, flamer."

"Rump roast!"  

Suggestive faces.  Liv twisted his own face into the least painful leer he could manage, flipped up the gray collar of his Candidate uniform for added protection, and stalked past the tables to get lunch.  Not sitting with anyone today.  No, it was a corner day.  He didn't want to put up with questions, comments, or helpful advice.  Fuck everybody.  His head was cold, and stung, but Hasdrubal didn't want him wearing anything on it once the dressing had come off.  

Tray in hand, he settled into a corner of the cafeteria and poked at his food, broken fingers posed on the table.  They had sped the healing, for which he was pleased.  Just a few more days with the damn splints.  At least it was his left hand.  At least!  He had no desire to think about what he'd learned.  What, precisely, had he learned?  He tried to lay it out, even strips of the analytic across a thick thatch of bristling anger.  He'd learned something about how the Pilot program worked, at least for some.  He'd learned something about Hasdrubal.  Yeah, he's a sadistic bastard.

He's a sadistic bastard who makes sense.

This was all just shit.  He glared out at Dail and Illio, who were now pretending to cry, then around the whole cafeteria.  He had to glare; it was much too pathetic just to look out at everyone, all lonely-like.  He stabbed at a bit of potato.  And glared.

[Anonymous]

"Running away again, Fala? Spineless bitch."

"If it'll get me the hell away from you, I'll take that title."

So she ran. Not because she was an idiot or a coward- though the latter could have been true- but because of one too many pushes from her mentor. Literal pushes. Cupped hands, a move forward of the rest of him, and she'd decked him squarely in the jaw and ran before he could catch her again. While she knew he would eventually catch her anyway, what the hell did she have to lose? She wandered around the ATC that she knew like the back of her hand and made her way through the corridors in order to get away, at least for a little while.

A fifteen year old girl had no business being felt up by a man nearly twice her age. Even though, being the ranks they were, respectively... it was technically perfectly acceptable. But it still made her want to knee him in the groin and get the hell out. Despite her overreactions to the brazen, open touches... she hadn't been really violated yet. Not in that manner, so to speak. Still pure and chaste, for the time being.

Perhaps pure was pushing it. But she was chaste. And she was running to make sure it stayed that way.

That was about six hours ago.

Picking up the bag of chips she'd procured from the vending machine- Alden would know instantly if she went to the Cafeteria workers, after all- Fala happily munched on the barbecued chips as she kept her eyes out on the crowd. Every so often, she'd stop whenever she saw someone brunette- and she would then fight the urge to dive underneath the tables to get away. After a dozen close calls and assuring herself that Alden never once passed through, and she allowed herself to relax as time went on.

A boy that looked like he was bald sat near a corner, somberly attacking his food every so often with a stab or two of his fork- the one that was made an example of, a few days back. Another Stage 2, the kicked dog, the show of the class... a real example of showmanship, on Has's part, and one that still shook her inside. To have someone's head shaved wasn't anything new, but to see and smell the effects of branding on human flesh was simply nauseating.

And yet the instructor had done it without so much as a flinch. As she shook off that unpleasant memory and the smell of burning flesh that threatened to rise from the thought alone, she remembered his name. Liv, or something similar. Sulo was what Has referred to him as, but Fala didn't feel the need to rub more salt in the wound. Proverbially speaking, of course.

Stopping in front of him for a split second, Fala merely gave a dismissive sound before sitting down directly beside him, following his eyes to where he was looking and munching dismissively on a few of the chips that still remained in the bag.

"...What the hell's so interesting? You keep looking, but there's nothin' to see."

Spotting the other two boys as they jeered at him, however, she gave him a tolerant smirk and stood up.

"'scuse me."

Pretending to leave, she dipped her hand in the once thing she could use as a projectile that wouldn't kill the others- one that would undoubtedly get their attention without getting her TRIM'd. Kicking a guy while he was down wasn't okay in her book- they reminded her far too much of her mentor, who she really wasn't pleased with at the moment.

So the moment Dail opened his mouth...

"Fla-- ugh!"

Fala had thrown the healthy handful of potatoes with a fair bit of accuracy, some of it hitting his eyes, but the vast majority of it going straight down the gullet. Talking and swallowing not being exactly compatible, he soon fell into a fit of swearing and coughing as the fluffy, buttery mess was wiped from his eyes and his friend came to his rescue.

Naturally, she tuned them out.

"Look, fuckers, I'm sure you have somewhere else to be. Screw off and pick on someone your own size."

[Anonymous]

Liv's mouth dropped open.  Hey, now--  He couldn't quite get the words out.  Sure, he was pleased she'd decided to sit down with him (take pity on him)--or whatever she was doing.  But did she have to be demeaning, too?  Not that he'd ever play the gender card.  Not Liv Sulo.

Not that he didn't notice the gender card.  Or the gender.  She was really very pretty, this one, a bit younger than he was, a bit--oh, blast, she was better, wasn't she?  Some people were just better.  She had that verve business people were always talking about.  Well, Liv had verve.  Sometimes.  Did he look as cute verving it up?  Maybe.  Almost.

She threw potatoes at Dail.  Oh, fuck.  Really?  Really?  Liv had to live with this guy, he'd never hear the end of--

"Look, fuckers, I'm sure you have somewhere else to be. Screw off and pick on someone your own size."

Now that was just insulting.  That just defeated the whole purpose, right there.  It was okay to step in and save someone, right, but the 'your own size' thing?  That just cut both ways, that did.  Liv sniffed.  He was on the edge of a growth spurt, honest, that was just unfair.  And she'd made them angry.  Liv figured Dail and Illio didn't want to think he had someone on his side.  Not that they were likely jealous of his success for the ladies--he rather thought they had a thing for each other.  It would've been cute if they hadn't both been sadistic bastards.  

"No, I like picking on this one."  Illio stepped around the table, smirking.  Dail followed, after he'd spat the last of the potatoes into a napkin and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  "You're dumb enough to get on our bad side, I figure it doesn't matter how big you are."  His eyes went up and down Fala.  Liv stood up, broken fingers carefully held out from his body.  Gods fucking damn it.  Now he'd have to do the Right Thing and help her out.  Clearly she had not quite gotten the point of Hasdrubal's latest Object Lesson.  Even with his head right there as a reminder.

Dail somehow got him into a headlock in point-five seconds--arm around his neck, drew it in--fuck that hurt.  "Hey, roomie."  

"Flaming," Liv grunted, twisting around in his grasp.  He caught a glimpse of Illio, going for Fala.  "About that--"

"Oh, I'm sc--"

Liv twisted again and brought up his heel, hard.  Right to the groin.  Dail's grip suddenly loosened.  Aaand elbow to the face.  And then Dail shoved him forward onto the table.  He faceplanted into what remained of the potatoes.  Oh well... worth a try... fuck, he hoped Fala was okay, because--ouch.  Dail picked him up by the neck and--into the potatoes again.  Ouch.  Ouch.

[Anonymous]

Fala could have sworn she heard something pathetic behind her, but Liv really wasn't where her attention was. Not with Illio moving in on her, a predatory smirk plastered onto his stupid face. While yes, she should have been intimidated, she knew full well she had no right to be. She threw the first stone (or, rather, the first spud), and knew from the moment that she'd done so that there would be repercussions. There would always be backlash. She'd take it, make sure he felt some too, and move on.

It's just how she worked. And from the way he was coming at her and talking to her...

"No, I like picking on this one. You're dumb enough to get on our bad side, I figure it doesn't matter how big you are."

"What's the matter? Like his ass?" Even as she said this, she stepped back. It sounded more and more like that's how it was going to work out.

"Cheeky little girl, aren't you?" Every step he took closer to her had her leaning back ever so slightly- a good thing, too. As he stepped close to her, moving his hand and fingers roughly under her chin to pull it up so she would be sure to see him, she fought the urge to gag at the stench of his stale breath. Toothpaste and mouthwash weren't exactly new inventions.

"Only a little. Let's see you do somethin' about it."

As that grin began to break out on his face again, she quickly let him know how she felt, quickly leaning forward and smashing her head into his nose. Fala felt his hand fly back to cup his bleeding nose as she cradled her head, pain ringing through her skull as she moved away from the table. Nononono, that wasn't how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to hurt him more than her...

"You bitch!" Illio was quick to return to the offensive, grabbing what hair she had and pulling it sharply back, making her hiss from the pain but not totally immobilizing her. Using the momentum from the pull, she aimed a blind fist back, hitting nothing but air as the stronger boy moved his leg forward between her feet. With one swift motion, she lost her balance, inadvertently letting him take full control of the situation. Forcing her down, kneeling over the table, he held her hair still in his hands even as her clawing fingers tried to loosen them.

It wasn't until he hit her in the back of the kidneys with a sharp jab that she stopped struggling, merely groaning with the sudden shot of pain. Pulling her up by the scalp, Illio scowled at her and readied to slam her head into the table adjacent to Liv's. Thinking quickly, she spat out a quick challenge... hitting the table head-on would send her to the hospital, at the very least.

"Hittin' a girl. A smaller one, at that. How sporting of ya. Can't take her on without a cheap shot, eh?" As she hoped, he paused.

"Think shit like that matters in the military?" As he drew back for a split second from the absurdity of her accusation, she was finally able to strike back- one swift, albeit blind kick to his shin.

While she would have loved to have bragged about such a hit being born from skill and strength, it was only luck that let her wiggle away- very, very quickly- and let her move back. Now, not only was her opponent positively livid, but she'd hit both his pride and his body.

Oh, fun times.

Shplek.

As he approached, Fala stood her ground- not out of pride or courage, but out of pure necessity. Okay, so maybe this fight was a little stupid--

Shplek.

And maybe she didn't have the grounds to start it--

Shplek.

But she had to end it, right--?

Shplek!

Turning finally to see the source of the noise (The nice little rendezvous of starch and skin), Fala sucked in another breath. Great. Now the one she was trying to defend was getting his ass beat. As if saving her own hide wasn't enough--

Shplek!

She had to stop Liv from having half his face become more mushy than the potatoes his face was being plunged into. She owed him that much.

When Dail saw her fist approaching, he almost got Liv's head up in time to use as a shield...

Almost.

And for the second time that day, she had her hand rushing straight into someone else's face. And this time, she didn't hurt nearly as much as her opponent did.

[Anonymous]

"Break it up, newbies."  Thea, Stage Four.  She waded in, telekinetic shields up.  She sounded supremely annoyed.  "Do you want the Pilots on all of our asses?"

Her disdainful stare flickered over Dail, who was clutching at a bloody nose and lip, and Illio, who'd come back up from a pained crouch and, now, lowered the fist he'd raised to Fala.  Liv staggered backward into a sitting position on the cafeteria bench, brushing bits of potato off his face.  He could feel puffy swelling welling up along one cheekbone.  His eye, lashes matted with warm starch, throbbed and wouldn't open all the way.  He picked up a napkin and rubbed at it.

"Who started it?"

There was a general flurry of finger-pointing, but blame at last settled squarely on Fala, who had begun the spud-sparring.  Thea didn't wait for a more conclusive explanation.  "That's it, get out and let the rest of us eat."  Her telekinetic shield pushed at the girl, nudging her doorward.  "And you, Sulo..."

Liv supposed he really ought to follow--anyway, lunch didn't look so appealing.  And Thea probably remembered his first week, when he'd gotten everyone banned from the VCN over some 'controversial'--it hadn't even been--anyway.  Best not to overstay his welcome.  Best not to let her finish that sentence with I'll be telling your mentor about this.  "Not to worry.  I'll just go and clean up," he said, swiping again at his face, avoiding Dail's eyes.  He hurried out after Fala.

"Hey," he said, one hand still cupped over his sore eye, half out of breath from the tussle.  "Hey, look--thanks, and all, but--"

[Anonymous]

Fala was an upstart, riotous bitch. When it came to rebelling, she was generally very good at it- loud, rambunctious, and not one to back down. However, as soon as Thea approached, looking about as calm and pristine as a charging dragon with PMS, Fala shrank back. Not physically, but psychologically. She could respect this older woman, this member of the more rational sex. And, in the presence of the Stage Four candidate, she actually had the decency to be just slightly abashed at what she'd done.

Just a little bit.

That didn't mean she showed it on her face to the two boys she'd hit (and gotten hit by), of course. Whenever she met their eyes, she could see that she'd gone and made two very vicious enemies. And yet, she refused to give way to those pigs. Even when their fingers pointed at her (though they started pointing at Liv, initially), Fala merely crossed her arms like a brat and refused to point at anyone. What good would it do?

But then Thea turned on her.

Well, damn it. Already, she was turning on Fala and bumping her more than a little rudely with her psychic barrier, leaving Fala to stumble clumsily away from the intrusive but not at all painful wall. It was like being thrown sideways into a bouncer- it was hard to get her balance back once she got bumped the first time, and pushing against it would only result in more harm than good. Better to go with the flow and get her balance back on her way out.

"Hey! Hey! Okay, okay, fine!" Walking off dismissively, she fully expected to go back to hide in some Training room or something to kill a few hours before heading back to her room to nurse her throbbing forehead and sore cheek. Though she knew, of course, that what she went through was nothing compared to what she'd put Sulo through, her kidneys still hurt and she felt she could dwell on that for at least a little while more.

"Hey... Hey, look--thanks, and all, but--"

Turning back at the sound of scuffling footsteps and a voice she'd gotten to know a bit from the past few minutes, Fala arched her eyebrow at the piece of work that she'd pretty much thrown into the shredder.

...He was thanking her?

"You some kinda masochist or somethin'?" Squinting as if trying to figure out some serious mystery, she paused and looked at his covered eye. He was sure cradling it like some kind of precious gemstone, but hey, maybe that was just there to mark a target for his masochistic tendencies? Maybe he knew about her slightly sadistic ones.

For a split second, she considered punching it to test her theory.

"I raised hell 'cause of some jackasses, you got the crap beaten outta ya, and now you're thankin' me? You're an odd bird." Smirking bemusedly at Liv, Fala extended a friendly hand and a very odd laugh.

"The name's Fala. Not sure y'know. Liv, right?"

[Anonymous]

Liv slowly, stickily peeled his cupped hand from his face and blinked through a pink haze.  Blink.  Still staring.  She had the sardonic brow-lift down admirably, and the hip-jutting stance.  Really more a girl thing, that was, but he would get there.  

"Well spotted," he said at last, reaching into a pocket for his handkerchief.  It was orange, with pink stars.  He liked the splash of throat-searing color after a steady Candidiet of everyday gray.  He dabbed at his stinging eye while he spoke, and watched her out of the corner of the other.  He'd seen her before.  Damn.  That class.  Of course she was (collar color--azure) a Stage Two, too.  

She seemed angry she'd found him out as a masochist, closet or otherwise.  Well, really.  "I must like pain, I've stuck around here.  Then again, you'd have to be a masochist to be a sadist 'round here, too, the opportunities for successful sadism are so, um, quickly punished and--"

Babbling, Liv, babbling.  He liked her hair.  Green hair--that had been the next dye on the Liv list, before all the hullabaloo.  

"Anyway," he said, sniffing, blinking his way back to clarity, and tucking his handkerchief away.  "Fala."  He took her hand in his uninjured one and shook it vigorously, up and down, then let go.  "Anyway, you're a jerk, but luckily for you I like jerks, so I forgive you, this time."  And she was really very pretty.  He could forgive a lot from pretty.  What a consistent life philosophy, Liv.  The mentor would be so proud.  He ran his hand self-consciously over his tender scalp.   "Are you a masochist, or just a stupid sadist??"

[Anonymous]

"I must like pain, I've stuck around here. Then again, you'd have to be a masochist to be a sadist 'round here, too, the opportunities for successful sadism are so, um, quickly punished and--"

"Well, masochism sure ain't a bad thing, in the program... Can't say it's my cup of tea, though." She stared at him for a few seconds, almost not sure whether to take it as a joke, or a remark that was so honest that it was... well, weird. No one just out and said things like that. No normal Candidate, anyway. Normally, a smart masochist would go and hide such an apparent advantage, waiting for the most sadistic mentor possible before showing a 'weak' side to make them all the more appealing. Only after the mentor got attached would the masochist let him/herself truly enjoy it for what it was...

But that was just useless conjecture. A theory she could never prove, nor was she ever really interested in trying. It was just weird, really.

His response amused her so much that she laughed for a moment, stopping when the motion made her side ache but still offering him a firm handshake in return as she grimaced through the pain. What the hell, she couldn't make heads and tails of him, but he was a funny duck that had gone through more in one day of class than all of her running away from her own mentor.

"Flattered that ya like jerks, then! I'd like to think I'm not the nicest kid in the park." Fala smirked bemusedly, looking at the scrawny boy in front of her. He wasn't really anything special to look at- though he did look a lot better with his hair and when he didn't have his face covered in swollen or bruised parts. She'd give him another look when he felt better, she promised herself.

"I consider myself a stupid sadist. And proud of it, mind you."

Now that was a stupid thing to say to a masochist. The thought hadn't crossed her mind, though- speak first, and if something didn't come out quite right... then punch 'em until they forgot that they wanted you to apologize at all. Granted, that only worked on people smaller than her.

Which... Liv wasn't.

"So, Sulo. There's gotta be a reason why your roommate-boyfriend... whatever he is, if you're a masochist like you said... wanted to punch your face in so bad today. The hell did you do, piss in his cereal?" Fala kindly left out that it was her doing altogether, and started walking away- however, she was waving for him to follow. Se didn't like standing still- it made her nervous. Better to feel like a moving force, rather than prey that cowered in one place, constantly paranoid that something bigger was lurking just beyond their line of sight.

"And who's his friend? Sure gave us a bruising, but it was fun, wasn't it? Man, the rush!"

Again, she ran off at the mouth, conveniently tuning out the fact that she had weaseled out of a great deal of the pain she should have been sharing with Liv, at this point. There was some salt to rub into the proverbial wounds.

[Anonymous]

"I consider myself a stupid sadist. And proud of it, mind you."

There was an awkward pause.  From the look on her face, Liv deduced she'd taken his masochism comment seriously.  He caught the sudden relaxation of her facial muscles and the flicker of her eyes, up--down--up.  Something he recognized more from movies than anything else.  It was a simulacrum of the 'checking you out' look.  Which--really?  He was an utter mess, but then, he supposed, possibly the object of... possible sadistic fascination.  Lovely, Liv attracted exclusively sadists.  

At least she was pretty.  He had no idea how to respond.

Luckily, she filled the silence in herself.

"So, Sulo. There's gotta be a reason why your roommate-boyfriend... whatever he is, if you're a masochist like you said... wanted to punch your face in so bad today. The hell did you do, piss in his cereal?"

She'd begun walking, heels clicking on the floor's slick shine.  Liv, who had nothing better to do, followed, rubbing his good hand over the bruised side of his face.  His eye had already stopped stinging.  It was probably the lingering hormonal stimulants they'd given him the other day, for his fingers and scalp.  

"Well, uh, some green-haired girl threw potatoes at him," Liv said, dodging the question.  "Other than that, I think it may be that I told him he was a moron during our first week.  In my defense... it was true..."  Liv was a terrible roommate, admittedly.  And, admittedly, an arrogant fuck.  

"And who's his friend? Sure gave us a bruising, but it was fun, wasn't it? Man, the rush!"

"Gosh, hasn't anyone told you to ask names first, throw potatoes later?  --Illio, he's just an asshole gracie.  And, uh..."  No, actually, you insane green-haired person.  Not that the green hair wasn't nice.  The unorthodox coloration had only perhaps... leaked through to the brain.  "Next time you want that kind of fun, maybe do it when I'm not around.  Shit."  Their headlong journey down the pale-gray corridors had wound up dangerously close to Hasdrubal's favorite training classroom.  

"Not this way.  Thanks.  Come on--"  He sped up, half-skipping, and then stopped.  She'd follow him, wouldn't she?  He had these sudden sinkholes of insecurity.  The bottom shifted, sifted, and funneled away.  It had been, what, some sort of flirtatious interaction, but that didn't mean it would end in furtive making-out in an empty classroom.  That was just too tropey.  He was ashamed.  "--or don't, um--"

He feinted toward classroom 107, stopped, half-turned.