what are you, cracked?

"Mm, yeah, love a tentacle," she said, joking but also not caring if anyone took it seriously. It was for that reason that she had been easier on Trevor than any other guy who had ever even looked twice at Sophia. Since Panic, and even before then, she'd seen that he seemed to share a similar mindset in that regard. "I'd literally throw myself off a bridge if I had to lick a toilet seat even one time." She then twisted her lips as if she was considering another option, "Toes though..." Her laughter that followed was the type of raucous that came with drinking, and she passed the cards over for Trevor to draw.

"It's the suction right," he joked in a tone that mirrored her's. "Toes?!" Trevor erupted with laughter and snatched the deck of cards from her, shuffling them. "I'm glad there's something for everyone y'know. Got me a little self conscious bout lettin' the dogs out now though. Alright-" Pausing for the drama of it all, he held Serena's gaze to let her know he meant business then drew the first card. "Sweat pickle juice orrr pee a little every time you stand up?"

A lot of people in Rosewood had dreams of grandeur, of changing the world or at the very least being an important part of it. Cam, however, kept his sights closer to home. Moments like that, watching Trevor try and figure out how he could possibly use the word 'subterfuge', reminded him that he was happiest in their smaller world, making a difference in his boys' lives before anything else.

Half the time Trevor just said things to say them so he didn't assume any deeper meaning to his comment about roads diverging, even if it did have him glancing down the street toward the woods. "The day you don't feel social I'll know you're a replicant," he commented, checking the street for the both of them when Trevor stepped off the curb. Trevor was good for him in that way too, keeping him from isolating too much if only because he wasn't concerned with pretending like he cared about having a social life. "Gotta be a party to crash somewhere," he raised his drink and smirked, clearly in the mood to cause a ruckus.

"I need to recharge sometimes too," he said in his defense, like Cam just called him the belle of the ball. He'd yap to just about anyone who'd listen, that was true, but with Cam he never had a problem shutting up and enjoying each other's company. That wasn't tonight's vibe, obviously, but it was nice sometimes, treating silence as a reprieve rather than something to fill.

"Oh yeah Soph mentioned something tonight." Why it still felt weird talking about Sophia with his friend he didn't know; it wasn't like him and Greg weren't sleeping together under the same roof, and whatever they had fizzled out ages ago now. He wasn't harboring any feelings like that towards him anymore either, at least he didn't think so, but it was this kind of... acknowledgement. He didn't know how it made him feel. Trevor spun on his heel to face forward, ironically only after they'd made it through the crosswalk. "What do you think, better luck headin' north or south?"

"I mean, some subsections of the internet might beg to differ on the arm snakes..." Serena suggested with a smirk. Perks of growing up in proximity with the Walshes, the everlasting trauma of that side of the internet. "Sensible choice. If you think about it, how many doorknobs do you really come across, right? Most places in public have automatic doors so you could probably skirt the system there."

"You know a lot about those," he posed as less of a question and more of a factual, of course, kind of statement, smirk mirroring her's as he reached for his drink again. "Lot grosser things you could lick too. Like, toilet seat." He started listing them off with his fingers, pausing not only to think each time but also to strengthen his point. "Bottoms of people's shoes. Here, let me draw."

"It means deception," Cam answered with a fondness, figuring he was probably going to be hearing Trevor parrot the phrase a lot over the next few weeks. If he could manage to stop overthinking things for a minute he probably would have seen it clear as day that that was where his devotion laid. Still, he couldn't be blamed for Ace getting into his head, it was what his brother was best at after all.

Mixing bits and pieces of what they had left in the kitchen was a dangerous undertaking for their livers but nevertheless they'd ended up wandering through the neighbourhood with something remotely drinkable in hand. "Woods," Cam slowed at an intersection and glanced to his left where a quiet street tapered off into trees, then to his right, "or town?" Either option was just as likely to lead them to adventure and he was easy, what mattered more was where Trevor's energy levels were at.

Nodding, he let the word roll around his head, absorbing it into his vocabulary, then sounded it out, "Sub-ter-fuge. I like it." He didn't know how he'd use it in a sentence but that'd never stopped him from trying.

Sipping on what he'd call a tolerable concoction, he stopped at the intersection as Cam presented their options, the next step on their hero's journey. "This is that roads diverging shit." He wiggled two fingers in either direction, vaguely familiar with the phrase but not at all its meaning or origin. "Hm. Town. I'm feeling social." With a big playful shrug of his shoulders, he walked backwards ahead of Cam, just barely checking for oncoming traffic before crossing the street.

"Okay, pick your poison..." Serena took a suspenseful mouthful of her drink and leaned forward, slapping down one card after another, "Have snakes for arms or... have to lick the doorknob every time you enter a room?"

"Doorknob," Trevor answered easily, taking a swig of his own drink. "Just build up the ol' immune system, not like I can do shit with snakes for arms. Unless the snakes can bite- then," he paused to reconsider then shook his head, "nah, doorknob."

It was one of those questions that wasn't meant to mean anything, its only purpose to elicit a small knowing laugh and maybe an eyebrow cocked daringly. Nonetheless, Cam couldn't help but wonder– what exactly was he devoted to? Yet again he was painfully aware of how thin he was stretching himself between his boys, the gang, and school. Something was going to have to give eventually. He just hoped that the first crack wouldn't spring in the thing he needed most. "Yeah, I guess. Never gonna compare to you though, basically the Guy Fieri of foolishness. Schemes, shenanigans, and... Sin? Subterfuge? Sexual activity?"

"Careful, gonna make me sweat with all that talk about legal documents," Cam fanned his face with his hand. "Right, now that I got my fuckin' boot on... Roll out." Where they were rolling out to they hadn't exactly figured out but that was beside the point. They'd long been experts of making their own fun. "Sly beverage?" he suggested with some sort of unplaceable haughty accent, his pinky finger held up in question.

Trevor knew what interested him, the things that made him tick: his friends, a bit of adventure, Miguel, a cold beer... Those were his devotions, he guessed, and while they weren't grand causes necessarily, they were his. And that was enough. He'd probably go to war for the south side too but maybe not in the same way someone like Cam would. "Subterfuge? You're makin' that up."

Already up from fixing his pants, he nodded at Cam's direction to roll out, happy to let him take the lead or just see where the wind carried them. "I think we shall," he agreed in his own indistinguishable accent, wiggling a pinky in the air as he started towards the kitchen. "I say we mix whatever we've got." Which wasn't much, but enough to make something disgustingly potent.

As much as he'd always be there for Trevor when it came to his dad it also wasn't something they ever really spoke about so the brief silence left enough space to read between the lines for both of them. The small hum of curiosity he let out when Trevor called for his attention turned into a chuckle of success when he caught the shoelace. In return he handed the twine over in case Trevor needed the help keeping his pants up. "Depends what you're devoted to I guess. Being devoted to your mortgage and two and a half kids is boring." He snorted a laugh, stomping his foot to show off his now properly secured shoe. "Man, you sure you were born here? You got some Florida Man genes swirling around in there for sure."

He took the twine from Cam and stood up so he could run it through his belt loops, about as effective at keeping his pants up as the shoelace had been. "And what you are devoted to, schemes and shenanigans?" His head immediately went to Ace and his gang but he didn't dare to even make that joke, not when he always assumed his loyalty to their friend group came before all that. Naive thinking on his part, maybe, but some things were better left unsaid anyway. "Could get you a copy of my birth certificate if you want, hang it in your room. Yeah, now that I think about it, that says sexy and dangerous too."

Cam recalled a joke his dad always used to make, one of the few memories he had of his childhood that didn't involve some sort of traumatic incident; that he would check the obituaries to make sure he was still alive. As one could imagine that joke never surfaced again after Sid's death, but he still thought of it involuntarily every time he came across a newspaper. "I mean, the dickheaded ones probably don't get put in the paper cause everyone's glad they're gone," he pointed out, "ain't no way I'd be puttin' my pops in there. Gonna make sure the prick fades away unnoticed." Snapping himself out of his head before he started down a path that had him feeling more like his brother than he was comfortable with, he sat up a bit straighter. He'd been re-lacing his boots (with twine because that was all he could find on hand that would do the job - thanks Miguel). "Dunno, guess I'd just hope someone thought I turned out to be a pretty good person. Devoted and loving aren't the worst things to be called, if only uninspired. Not everyone can be you, you know. Died as he lived– sexy and dangerous."

Before the words left Cam's mouth, he thought about his dad and whether or not he'd put him in the paper. The whole town would probably celebrate if he did, but his feelings remained complicated at the best, unsure if he'd really be able to write him off like that when it came down to it, even after everything. "Yeah. Mine either." Noticing the twine on Cam's boot, he undid the makeshift shoelace belt around his waist and pulled it through the loops on his jeans. Hey, catch," he called out so he'd look up, tossing the shoelace to him. "Doesn't sound so uninspired when you say it. Oh I like that. Makes me hope I go out in like a high speed motorcycle chase, or wrestling sharks."

"Pretty sure it's considered in poor taste socially to talk shit about the dead. Going off of what i've seen around here you're either supposed to save that trauma for therapy or work it out through a midlife crisis. Whichever of the two we can afford before we explode, I guess." Arden responded, mostly joking around. "Is it too cringe if I want it to say town hottie?" She asked with a laugh. "I don't know. I mean....i don't do a whole lot out of work and beauty pageants. What about you? What would yours say?"

"I'll stick with the crisis I think, 'least that's fun." He dropped the paper on the Mallrats counter, which he was sitting on, and spun around to dangle his legs off the other side. "Nah I was thinking I'd write the same thing," he joked back. "Or beloved member of the community."

"He had his whole life ahead of him. You really don't start living until ninety so I'm told." sophia gave trevor a lighthearted smile as she watched him with a softened gaze. "well, no one wants to hear how awful someone was if they've died. no speaking ill of the dead or whatever." if only her mother had been given that courtesy. "it's sometimes better to remember someone in a good light and sugarcoated rather than their faults." her lips pursed together in thought, head tilted. "hm, something along the lines of 'she had a great left hook and miguel's favorite lady'."

"I don't even mean that, it's just always about the wife and the kids. No hobbies? Maybe dude was a really good bowler, would've loved to read about that." Then again he wasn't sure he if had any hobbies of his own either, or if his interests could be counted as hobbies. "Left hook?," he scoffed, grinning back at her as she set the paper down and leaned forward. "You use that a lot? Probably right, with all the street fights you get into."

"Don't disrespect a classic," she warned him with a wag of her finger. "Nothing is more romantic than red roses on Valentine's Day." Her nose wrinkled at the idea of a secret boy and she shook her head, "You think I could keep a secret like that from you? Or like, at all? I just figure why should the cuffed girlies get all the attention... I can get flowers delivered to myself in public and act surprised just as easily. Don't ever let anyone tell you I'm not a genius." Kirby grinned to herself, smug, as she took a screenshot of the flowers they'd been looking at and set her phone down. "What about you? Palms sweaty yet or are you all across it?"

"They don't even last that long. From me? Definitely not, that's why I was so surprised. Valentine's is about all kinds of love though. Like friendship," he pointed out, nudging her with his elbow. "You can't act too surprised, it's gotta be like you kinda knew they were coming, you just didn't know when. What about me, like me and Cami?" He shook his head. "I'm not stressing that. But- fuck, maybe I should be. I was just gonna cook her dinner or something."

"Orchids? Okay bougie," Kirby scoffed, though she was definitely tucking that information away for later. As far as she was concerned it was a given that she would gift her friends with flowers, the task just made that much easier now that she knew what wouldn't go to waste on Rufus. "Good choice, by the way," she zoomed in on the picture he'd picked, definitely within her colour palette. "They'll look cute on my dresser."

"Yeah, when they're kinda that blueish-purple. Way cooler than fucking roses," he scoffed back at her, though he was hardly ashamed to discuss his flower preferences. "See, for a second I thought you were wasting those on some secret boy you hadn't told me about."

"Which of these looks more impressive?" Kirby scrolled through some pictures of flower arrangements on her phone, each option impressive in its own right. "It's almost Valentines Day so I have to be prepared, obviously."

"Go back- That one," Rufus made her stop on a flower arrangement he liked most, or rather, one he thought was most up his best friend's alley. "I like orchids though personally, and I'm not seeing any of those here so...," he trailed off, insinuating the flowers weren't for him and not so subtly trying to figure out who the lucky receiver may be then.

"Yeah, you love takin' it," he laughed, in the midst of one of those moments where he found himself grateful for his people. They understood that life wasn't black and white and even if they all knew he didn't want to have to rely on his brother they all remembered the days where he'd had to steal literally everything he needed to survive. Trevor best of all, considering the help Ace had given him with his dad. "Pulled my blade, threatened to cut his tongue out. What, you think I couldn't pull off one of them aprons? Actually, you're right, I'm a shit cook anyways– and yeah what business in this place isn't a money laundering front? Worst comes to worst I'll dress you up like an elf and send you and Miguel around doing sleigh rides. That should get some coin this time of year."

"And that freaked Greg out? Sounds kinda hot to me...," he trailed off with a purse of his lips, joking in the way friends did and nothing more. Well, maybe a little more but that had less to do with their personal history and everything to do with the general homoerotic vibe of their friend group. "Now why am I the elf? You're the shortest. Could be better than my petting zoo idea though.... Miguel's a biter, as you know."

"I was talking about taking the drug money allowance from my brother but I know you're full of shit too," he laughed, acting like he was going to splash Trevor with beer for being a shithead. It felt dangerous to hope for too much especially considering there was no guarantee they were even going to leave, it was all a pipe dream until they decided with the others if it was worth looking into. "No pool? You sayin' we don't get a butler either?" he scoffed, then grimaced at the idea of wearing a tie. "I mean anything that isn't running errands for Ace. I, uh, I scared Greg the other night I think. Some dickhead pulled a blade on him trying to be a tough guy and I maybe wasn't very cool about it so... maybe I get a job flipping burgers at St Elmo's or tutoring kids or somethin'."

"Hey I'll take it if you won't," he joked back, dodging Cam's faked attempt to splash him. Though they could laugh about it, Trevor stood on his own morals enough to not take anything from Ace and his gang either if he could help it. He still owed Ace though, from what he'd done with his dad, and so his feelings towards the eldest Claymore were complicated at best. Lukewarm even. "Oh yeah? You bust his knee caps or somethin'? Fuck St. Elmo's, there's probably drug money runnin' through that kitchen too. You should do the tutoring. Kids like you."

Cam waved off Trevor's offer, if only because he knew when he said he could get new boots his methods of acquisition might not be all that lawful. While stealing had been necessary for them in the past he wasn't about to encourage it; he had other shoes now, it wasn't a matter of life or death. "I gotta get a real job anyways, the allowance from Ace just feels like nepotism and I've hit my limit I think. Plus, you know, starting law school they make you take an oath that says you won't do anything illegal and you'll uphold the law and all that shit so–" Cam inhaled sharply as he stepped after Trevor, ready to shut hi's idea down the second he mentioned guns, but figured he'd humour him for a moment at least. Still, his answer remained the same when he did eventually get to speak. "No guns, no threats. Fire pit would be dope though."

"What? I just said I'd get you some new boots, there's nothin' unlawful about that." They both knew he was full of shit though, so he dropped it there, saving his monologue on the day they outlawed meaningful gestures between friends. He let out an exaggerated sigh as, despite his best efforts, Cam shot down his idea, and took a swig of beer. "Fire pit's cozy," he agreed, nodding. "Pool's definitely askin' for too much, but we get one of those blow up ones in the summer, same shit. Now when you say real job, you mean like, put on a tie everyday or the bullshit I do?"