Summer Smith (
somethingwithturquoise) wrote2020-02-21 06:17 am
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MHA #4; Friday Evening [02/21].
Summer had had a busy week, topped up with some absolutely ridiculous squirrel drama this morning that made her almost wonder if she was going to need the wine even more than Rey at this point, but she'd still managed to completely refurnish and redecorate her apartment so it looked like a normal person lived there and not someone who'd just came crawling back after literally blowing up all their assets in space and she'd also made that sangria, because, you know what? She was just awesome like that.
And then, after a quick hop across the streetprobably, eventually to the bar to stop in for a drink like she said she would, it was back to the apartment, to ply Pancakes with treats for being an excellent squirrel-chasing cat and to dick around the internet and Instragram some of her new budget-chic, emergency-trip-to-the-Isle-of-Ikea interior design until someone showed up to help her drink all this wine.
Because there was a lot of it.
[[ expecting one, but also definitely open for other pestering! ]]
And then, after a quick hop across the street
Because there was a lot of it.
[[ expecting one, but also definitely open for other pestering! ]]

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A good solid Rick rant might be pretty cathartic, too, though.
But Summer's lifted brows and widened eyes made it clear she was pretty invested in this right at the moment. "What did they say?"
A pause.
"The person you're bonded with," she clarified, "not Duke, although that we're coming back to because I am definitely interested to hear that, too. Besides, you can't, like, tease a story and then resolve it literally the next day and take it back. That's, like, total girl's night party foul."
Said the woman dropping fat info bombs and then attempting to flee the scene.
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But she didn't want him to. She didn't like what he had to say anymore.
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So her next sip was particularly thoughtful, which apparently worked, because another thought struck her.
"Wait," she said, "does this happen only when you're back home? That shit doesn't reach you all the way out here, does it?"
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She took a gulp, and was wondering if she was just starting to finally feel it, or if she was just hit with good old inspiration.
"You know what you should do?" she proposed. "What you should do is, you should figure out if there's, like, some sort of Force sonic blast, and then work up your skills so you can amplify it, like a mental megaphone, and then next time he bugs you? Bam. You hit him with it."
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Probably? She had no idea.
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There was, however, a pause.
"Although...there is something inherently satisfying in just straight up blocking someone, and that's just, like, on Twitter and Facebook. But to get to do it IRL? That's badass."
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A sip.
"Or something."
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Which probably was again the fault of the wine but she didn't know if that had to do with her, Summer, or both.
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So she snorted a bit. "But," she stated, "here's the real question: did you understand the important parts of it?"
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And Summer was going to get to the bottom of that glass with this next gulp, or so help her...
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Mostly. It was complicated. All he had to do was not be a mass murdery douchebag, but apparently that was soooo hard.
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Like, seriously, just don't be a mass murdery douchebag, that's it! Easy peasy!
Ugh. Mass murdery douchebags getting all up in your head, via Force, microchip, whatever, were the woooooorst.
"Get him out of there," she said, kicking her foot in the air a little to mime a less than peaceful eviction. "It's not, like, free real estate. Pay some damn rent."
No, she didn't know quite what she meant by that, but it sounded good. And she was too busy frowning at the pitcher as she tilted it to fill her glass again to care, anyway.
"There was way more in this when we started."
Yes, Summer. That was how drinking things went.
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And she held out her glass anyway.
"Which I probably won't be happy about tomorrow."
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Because that always totally worked, too.
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Was she still going to train tomorrow? Yes, and she'd hate everything even more.
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And her diet, but whatever. That was already out the window with all the wine.
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"Maybe," she ventured blithely, slyly, "yoga might help...
"And speaking of yoga..."
Was there even a small sliver of shame in Summer's face for what she was feeling was perfectly executed seamless segue as she hid her smirk in another drink.
Nope! Not. Even. A. LITTLE.
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"Try me," said Summer, who shifted a little, folding her legs in front of her and wiggling on the couch as if to get more settled in for a good story, just to show how invested and ready she was. "Besides, I've pretty much just had half a pitcher of very strong sangria, so I'm pretty sure any story is going to be super interesting to me right now, and this one's more fun by default because it involves people I actually know! Spill!"
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