LOCATIONS

[farrowday]

(placeholder-- will have toplevels for common locations, players welcome to add their own for private spots like dorms)

Comments

gardens, for about two weeks? a month?! WHO KNOWS

[broil]

[After the New York trip with John, Petre kept his promise and took all the blame. He's serious about those promises, the same way the faculty is serious about laying out his punishment. Suspended from classes for two weeks, forced to work around the institute for a lot longer than that, and not going anywhere outside the institute until the end of the school year. He's either locked up in his room and not allowed to go anywhere without supervision or stuck outside doing some hardcore gardening.

If you catch him around the first week, you'll find him chewing gum (can't smoke when they're watching you closely) and staring at the tools like a dog that's been instructed to learn how to use a computer. Eventually he'll stop doing that and actually work.]

[ineedyou]

[ so there is one (1) harry osborn adjusting his sunglasses and strolling on over. LOVELY DAY FEELING GREAT LOOKING GREAT.

he's going to hover a little, watching petre with a curious look. this is how they do punishments for sneaking to new york with john? (he could've shown them a seriously good time if invited but whatever he just met them. no fucks given.) ]

You look super lost.

[ ...not that...he would know anything about gardening either. he'd be lost too. ]

[broil]

[Nice sunglasses. I'll have to steal them sometime.]

I'm trying to decide what I'm going to tell my shrink.

[... not a shrink. A counselor. But that's what he calls him/her/it anyway.]

[ineedyou]

That's a tricky one.

[ where's the person monitoring petre right now? he glances around. ah. there's the teacher. he looks back to him after spotting them. ]

How long have you been out here? If it hasn't hit thirty minutes yet, I can save you.

[broil]

[Brows are arched when he finally gives Harry more than a glance. His tongue toys idly with the gum in his mouth.]

Can you?

[ineedyou]

Of course, I can.

[ he flashes a smile then glances over at the teacher - who is temporarily distracted by something. harry moves next to petre and takes a hold of his hand. draining. he's pointing at something in the garden. ]

You're terribly allergic to that flower right there. Look how sick it made you. All you need to do is go tell your supervisor and make sure to sneeze.

[broil]

[Petre reacts like he doesn't know what's coming when Harry reaches for his hand, eyes pressing tightly because he's forgotten just how strange it feels. This part's unpleasant, and he reminds himself it's the aftermath he liked, making an effort not to just snatch his hand back like his instinct is telling him to do.]

And then they - [Ugh. Blood pressure.] Stick me with a couple of pills and I'm knocked out for the rest of the day.

[He opens his eyes again, takes a breath.]

Tell me you've got a better plan than that.

[ineedyou]

[ he doesn't let go yet. he's going to make it stick this time. leave him with it until harry gives it back. it has to be convincing. he has to be sick when they check. ]

Please. [ a roll of the eyes ] Like I can't work around pills. Don't insult me, Petre. I'll come find you right after.

[broil]

[Awfully generous of him, which is enough reason to make Petre suspicious. His eyes would be narrowed if he didn't look outright exhausted, lines deeper on his features, lips parted because breathing through his nose suddenly isn't enough. He's probably more pale, too. And he thought he'd finally catch some sunlight and get that elusive tan everyone loves so much.]

And what happens right after that?

[bakegarasu]

[Otoha wanders over. Oh. Right. That's why. He looks down at Petre and smirks slightly.]

Those weeds aren't going to pull out on their own.

[He doesn't agree with the punishment, but it's not his call. Unfortunately.]

[broil]

Are you sure?

[the tool dangles from his hand. He lets it swing back and forth.]

Could be my new power.

[bakegarasu]

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not true.

[Come on kid. He doesn't like this either.]

[broil]

I'm thinking.

[Using his brain. That's highly valued here, isn't it?]

[bakegarasu]

[Depends on the subject.]

You're supposed to be working, not thinking. Or at least thinking about what you did wrong.

[It is not s convinced tone, though.]

[broil]

I'm stuck here for the next weeks. Work's going to be slow if I wanna make the most of it.

[He's saying that with a perfectly innocent tone, too.]

[bakegarasu]

True. I'm sure they'll come up with something else for you.

[broil]

Like what?

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[Three days in. Ryan comes to "study" and slips him the lighter every day, so his own tension about his work assignment is starting to dissipate. It's that act, his own intense gratefulness for it, that makes him eye Petre's pack of cigarettes on his bedside table thoughtfully and formulate a new plan.

They're nasty addictive, he remembers that much from his mom. And Petre's got pretty much zero opportunity to smoke right now.

He walks down the path to the gardens, finding where Petre is working and ducking behind a bush to light one of those cigarettes. Blech, disgusting, but he knows better than to inhale this time. Once he comes into view, he just holds it out to Petre with his head cocked. That choking blue-grey smoke rising temptingly from the ember.]

No one's around right now. I'll keep an eye out; if anyone gets close, the whole thing'll be ashes before they see anything, right down to the filter.

[broil]

[If nothing else, by the third day Petre's actually working with the tools he's given, rather than just frantically chewing on stale gum while he picks them up and lets them drop down again. He's at the stage where everything he does is wrong and is told to repeat until it's done right, which could really just be a way of him stalling and irritating his supervisors into giving up hope that he'll ever be a passable gardener. No doubt they'll arrange worse punishment for him if that's the case, but history will just repeat itself until it's no longer fun.

When John shows up and hands out the cigarette, Petre stares. His eyes aren't alert - quite on the contrary - when they narrow, lip twitching slightly. He isn't suspicious as much as he's just bemused.]

And you're doing this because...?

[ex_outofcontrol435]

You did it. You took the blame. [He shrugs, like that'd be enough to coax a truly selfless gesture out of him and not a fierce about fucking time.] I can't be appreciative?

[broil]

[Well.]

You can, I just don't see why you would.

[It was a fair trade. John showed him a good time, Petre took the fall for it. Fair's fair.

But he takes the cigarette anyway, after removing one those awful bulky gloves and tucking it under his arm. John certainly isn't going to smoke that for him.

Out goes the chewing gum, and in goes the cig.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Yeah, I can. Every day for as long as they keep you out here. As many times as we can pull off without it looking suspicious.

[Yes, he's very deliberately angling for something now. And Petre can probably guess what it is. Bodily autonomy is well worth a few mouthfuls of disgusting cigarette smoke and keeping lookout for a few minutes every day, after all.]

[broil]

You realize we're not supposed to be seen together outside of our bedroom, [he takes a drag, tilting his head bag easily to exhale smoke. There's a slight shine of sweat on his throat and forehead when he does that, skin already blushed from spending such a long time under the sun.]

I'm not taking the fall for you again.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Dude, don't insult me. I can pull something like this off without getting caught.

[His eyes flick downward, catching that rosy sheen on Petre's throat as it works around the exhale, but he pulls them back up.]

Just depends on how bad you need it.

[broil]

[He hasn't forgotten this time, John, just how their drunk night finished. Not on good terms, if there ever were good ones between them, so much that John's sudden act of generosity leaves him wondering just how it's going to backfire on him.

One can't say there's remorse for what he did or the things he said. Petre doesn't get remorse. If anything, he can just recognize that he could have played things out differently to have a more agreeable result.

(And then he remembers how John taunted him. The thought of Harry's hands and mouth on him.)

So he tries a different angle other than engaging on suspicion, tilting his head with his tongue on his lower lip, wetting it slowly.]

I need it pretty bad.