#o.event06

[containatrocity]

"No, what I think is I'm going to have to have a lengthy talk with Raziel and Quinn about what my duties are here, because babysitting was not among them- now shut. the fuck up. for thirty seconds." October is... more agitated than usual, by the look of him, the wadded remains of a missing person's poster being used as a makeshift torch to spark his cigarette and burn stray strings from his threadbare sweater. "Sometimes, kid, the most appealing thing you can do with your mouth is absolutely fuckin' nothing, and that's gonna be most of the time, while they got me watchin' your ass."

He sighs, as the flyer burns to cinders and a peal of smoke rolls from his nose. "Alright, it's been 30 seconds- impressive you managed to be quiet that long. They really paid you to be this insufferable 'fore you ended up in here?" He's not even really being mean about it, leveling Hunter with a cold blue glare- it's just how he regards most people. "Have we fallen so far from the echelons of celebrity?"

@oxtofmydcpth

[containatrocity]

"They really need to work on their choice of music at these things." October laments. He's pretty sure he's heard the same golden oldies bullshit six times already, as if everyone in his age range forgot to have fun the moment they got stuck in Huntsville. "I can't believe I complain about what KB puts on the radio if this is what I'd have to endure if he wasn't in charge of the tracklists." He's not sure what would be more upsetting- another classical slow dance, or the very real possibility they might play Get Low or Mr. Brightside next. His complaints trail off as he goes to get a drink, frowning as it's placed in front of an... alarmingly brightly colored young lady.

"Hey, sweetpea. unless you're shooting straight 'shine, I think they gave you my drink- mind slidin' it my way?" He's not above buying somebody a round, but this one's a little too... Small, for him to justify providing something more akin to straight battery acid. It's when she turns around there's a slight flicker of odd... Recognition- that he's not sure of the source of. "Didn't realize they still made your brand a' kid in this place." a gloved hand extends, expectantly, for his drink.

@endlessreruns

[containatrocity]

"Yeah, pretty sure it's made by somebody here in town with motor oil in their bathtub." He takes the drink smoothly, taking a long, slow swallow as he tries in vain to try and puzzle out where Poppy looks so... Oddly familiar, from. "But, it's cheap and it gets me drunk, so we ain't gonna complain too hard." She questions what brand of person he's referring to- October laughs. "Little lady, I can sense the overbearin' pep radiating off of you from a room away, it's the kinda suffocating optimism I'm used to seein' in LA hopefuls, not little blondes trapped 'ere in Huntsville. Figured this place just broke spirits immediately upon arrival so this..." He motions vaguely with his free hand, the heavy black fur of the nicer coat he's worn today making him look even larger than he already is. "Is just catchin' me off guard. That, and I am gettin' the worst sense of Deja Vu lookin' at you." It pings an odd memory at the back of his mind, something 25 years and rampant drug abuse has smudged watercolor and blurry.

"Where on earth 're my manners. I'm October." He introduces. "Your parents were probably way more interested in my doings than you ever would have been." He jokes.

Poppy gave a look down at the drink that had been placed in front of her. She brought it up to her nose and took a sniff, which lead to a very visible reaction. "Oh yeah, that's strong" she moved her arm up to cover her mouth as she coughed, vampire cough style. "What brand is that?" she asked, holding the drink out to him.

[containatrocity]

"First and foremost, get used to not knowing anything, and not expecting Raziel to give you a straight answer. Or you any answers at all. Safety, what we can do, is all thanks to our hierarchy, and what needs to be known by anybody lower in it is told to them- And what needs to be told to anybody outside of it is told to them, as well. Which, that last bit is why they've got me watching you. Until we know you won't go running your mouth for anything stupid, you require a little oversight. Regrettably I am the most skilled oversight we have." He taps ash from his cigarette, as Hunter declares that he's just as much of a celebrity as October.

"You're a cheap imitation of the golden era, kid. I've got awards and accolades, and where you whine and capitulate to the masses when they 'cancel' you, I was making headlines in tabloids, ink to page, news worthy instead a' fits people throw on their blogs." He laughs, the sound low. "The shit I got up to when I was your age would incinerate a career nowadays. It got me triple platinum." Hunter continues to bitch, and October continues to smoke. "I never said you weren't allowed to look around, boy, just that I'm not gonna stand here and let ya torpedo everything Quinn's worked hard to build by running your mouth. You're the opposite of an appealin' recruitment strategy." he rolls his eyes. "Which means maybe I should at least let you off the kid leash long enough to ensure some people never see the light."

It had seemed fun to begin with but Hunter was already beginning to regret the situation he had now found himself in. Sure, this new set of people were giving him this weird level of safety he hadn’t felt in a while, but now he was being watched, babysat as October had decided to call it, and the term made Hunter audibly groan despite the order to remain silent. Sat by Octobers side, head lolled back with his eyes rolled back even further, he managed the thirty seconds of silence, and then some, doing what he figured was the polite thing by letting October speak, and ask his questions, be them rhetorical or not, he wasn’t going to miss a chance to fucking speak again.

“I don’t fucking know what an echelon is, but I’m as celebrity as you fucking get these days. I just do whatever I want, film it, people watch it and that gets me paid. It’s fucking easy man, even someone like you could do it.” He sighed again, slumping back onto his seat, eyes scanning the room for Max, or Kirby, or Liam. Hell, he’d take Jax or Cyan right now rather than sat here being told not to do anything. “Why the fuck am I even being tethered to you anyway? I wanna go and enjoy whatever this shit is but noooooo I have to sit here and breathe in your fucking armpit stink and not fucking move or speak for…reasons that Raz ain’t fucking telling us?!”