;;"87pounds!" and this all bears repeating. (open)

[Brandon Doyle]

Brandon Doyle hadn't been one for introduction in the first place but he knew the drill. Every time he had been brought to a new school it was the same first day of teachers parading you in front of new classes and new people like some new product they were introducing to a market of savages. He had been from here to there and back around and every time it was the same. "This is Brandon Doyle from Chicago!" the teacher said, something he had on repeat in his life. They only thing that ever changed was where he was from but everything else was virtually always the same. He had to keep in mind to ask his parents about name changes post haste, as maybe that would get rid of the bad taste in his mouth about introductions. He pulled his left hand into his hoodie sleeve as he waved with his eyes down and a sigh heavy in his throat. He had apparently pleased the crowd enough that the teacher allowed him to join after some brief statements about Chicago that she perhaps thought would impress him but he simply found it annoying. He had not lived in Chicago long so the only thing he knew about there worth retaining was the museums placed throughout. Never anything as crude as large metallic bean shaped sculptures that attracted tourists from far and wide while he thought is was far too simple and un-artistic.  

He had moved here exactly one day ago. He hadn't slept that night and before he knew it, it was morning and they were boarding a plane. By lunchtime he had found himself in his room and now he was here packing his things as the class ended. It hadn't been his first class of the day but each of them had been the same. Boring awkward introduction after boring awkward introduction. He had found it rather counter productive for them to show him up like that in an attempt to perhaps get him socially acquainted with the newest cesspool he had been dropped in by the military he wasn't even a part of. He did not want friends and he did not want people asking him questions. But sure enough as he stood up he was asked if he would like to join some random group he did not know for lunch in which he quickly rejected with a shake of his head. He didn't bother saying anything anymore, really. And as they walked away he felt the failed friendships falling away and it tickled him to know that it had been that easy. The teacher had given him a look of sympathy and as the room filtered out the rest of the rabble she had invited him to stay and eat lunch in the classroom which he didn't even bother rejecting. He just calmly stepped out with his bag on his shoulder.  

The hallway had been cleared out before he got there, having taken an extra couple of minuted intentionally to have the time to himself no matter how brief. He followed the noise in the distance, finding the cafeteria effortlessly. Groups of life long friends sitting together and sharing food and stories loudly as they all settled down. He didn't bother to bring a lunch nor did he bother bringing money for food. He did, however, bring a sketchbook. He ignored all they eyes drilling into him as he passed to find one of the couple of empty tables that he could settle in alone. His bag falling next to him as he pulled his hands up into his sleeves. Today had a more manic affect on the insomniac though it wasn't sudden but rather continued. He hadn't slept properly for days, obvious by the circles under his eyes, but contradicted by the energy flowing through him. He was fidgeting as he pulled his bag open and pulled out a sketchbook and set it down and began work on more worthless dog art. His free hand tapped aimlessly on the table. He was alone. And the noise around him was deafening.

[Rorie Byrne]

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Rorie had gotten up that morning thinking it was going to be just another day. He’d had the same breakfast he’d been eating since 6th grade: a handful of cereal bars. The only difference was with high school came the exchange of coffee instead of milk. He’d tossed an apple in his backpack, just like he was used to doing, before grabbing his things and heading drowsily out the door towards the school building he didn't want to be going towards but didn't have much choice. And really, what else was going to fill his day if it wasn't the monotone incessant droning of some teacher’s voice as he shuffled from class to class? Sleep would be nice, if it was an option. However, by now he’d learned that skipping school just got him chores and nagging from his mother for sleeping in. Ugh. Yeah, he was seventeen, and yeah he was growing up fast, and yeah he was in high school. He knew all the facts already, and yet his mom thought he’d forgotten. If only she’d take a minute and realize the facts were why he wanted to sleep in while he could.

He’d gone through most of his day with the mistaken belief that it would be just like the few days he’d already experienced at this particular high school. Which is to say that he expected this high school to be like the one back in his hometown that he only just recently moved away from. Not that he missed it, of course, he just didn't like this one any better. The teachers weren't any better, the lunch food wasn't any better, the homework wasn't any easier, and why couldn't one school just wait until noon to start? 

But one class was slightly different. Rorie was already paying slightly more attention to his surroundings since he knew that it was only a matter of time before the lunch bell rang and gave him a break from the dull thudding of a lecture pounding a migraine into his brain. To his surprise, there was another new kid in town. A ‘Brandon Doyle’, apparently, subjected to the introduction to the class. No doubt this had happened several times today already, and the guy looked tired. If he’d had a dollar, Rorie would've bet that this Brandon kid would have rather gone to his seat to take a nap on the desk, but he didn't have a dollar nor did he have someone to bet with.

When the lunch bell rang, he packed his stuff and went off to the bathroom for a minute to text his only friend thus far, the lovely Darius he had met only moments after dying his hair blue. He smiled at the screen. I didn't see you earlier today, so I guess you’re not at school. That’s cool though, since I've got a moment here at lunch to remind you to keep looking cute. Text you again soon. ;D And he meant it, too. If he was lucky, maybe he’d find a way to hook up with her, even though the thought of a relationship terrified him and there was quite a bit of doubt it would actually happen. (There was always quite a bit of doubt that anything good would actually happen to him.) Even if she wasn't The One, though, he enjoyed a good date, and activities that accompanied a relationship.

He waited a moment, looking at his cell and proofreading the message before hitting the send button, stashing the phone back in his pocket. A moment later he tossed his backpack over his shoulder and headed to the lunch room. He glanced around at the tables finding the majority of them almost completely occupied, save a few chairs here and there. Some were only half-filled, but one was overflowing with people, having had spare chairs dragged over to give others a place to sit. Ew. Definitely not over there. Instead he started walked towards a mostly empty table, only to find that the new guy was there. He blinked to himself, having almost forgotten that there was a new student in the first place, but decided to walk over anyway. Maybe a fellow new student would be easier to sit beside than the rest of the student population he didn't know.

Setting his backpack on the table, he looked at the new guy. “Brandon, was it?” Though not terribly strong, his Southern accent flavored his words like sprinkles on ice cream. (The sprinkles are there, but they don’t take away from the ice cream at all, just like the accent was there without clipping out the words. It was just a topping.) “Mind if I sit here?” It wasn't like he had anywhere else to sit today.

[Brandon Doyle]

(pardon all of the jumping in my replies. I tend to do this to kindof elaborate on his own inability to focus himself. Also thank you for responding! c:)


The words received an uncomfortable jerk of the others head in the direction of the newly approaching stranger. Every bit of him cringed at the name Brandon but he didn't make it very obvious. Who was this guy to know better? He hadn't even said a word yet today rather than a dismissive yeah as a teacher droned on about how magnificent the 'Chicago bean'. That had been it. He slapped the pencil down on his sketch pad with practiced silence, every thought in his brain telling the other that no, he can in fact not sit there. 

"It's Doyle. I haven't been called Brandon since I was six" he said in a toneless yet permissive way. Inviting him to do whatever he pleased without saying it, but instead just not saying no. He had always been antisocial and a bit of a cactus, never really making friends. Yet he always seemed to be sucked into social groups and that really baffled him. Though, he couldn't say he never vaguely appreciated company no matter how shallow it may be. 

He took this moment to actually look at the other, having gotten over the initial shock of a person actually approaching him. "Your hair is very.." he paused, at a lack for words. He had a habit of saying things without really thinking, and though he didn't mind shutting this down before he were to ever think to pursue a friendship, he didn't really have any energy for that social path. "Blue" he finished. It was very blue, in his defense. And it wasn't like he disliked blue or the hair color or this guy in particular. Heck, he might be a swell guy, but he didn't tend to like people as a general rule. He picked his pencil up and went back to his sketching of his dog Derek. The noise around him seemed to fall to a dull roar but that wasn't actually the case. What little focus he had was now placed on the other. Not due to interest but out of caution.

Maybe he could tolerate this blue haired teenager for the time being; he didn't seem to be of any threat. He was simply somebody looking for a place to sit which he could fully understand. He yawned as he thought about how he had seen him in class, now thinking back. He was there for his last grand performance. Which would be why he knew his first name. He would have to work teachers into not giving that out. He had a strong preference and he stuck to it as best he could. Even his parents who shared the very same last name called him Doyle. His hand caught his cheek as he propped his elbow on to the table, other hand still at work. His leg bouncing in an attempt to fight the mania filling him with energy begging him to talk ten miles a minute. But he was lucky he wasn't friendly enough to follow through with that.

Despite his silence his brain was still moving ten miles a minute, jumping from one thing to the middle of another thing, no thoughts completing themselves before moving on to the next. His shaking leg going just as fast despite his exhaustion. Three days he repeated in his head in the background of every one of those thoughts. Three days without sleeping and two without eating. Three days he has been wired from this natural thing occurring in his brain and spreading throughout his body.  He was so many kinds of exhausted and hyper that it was frustrating. He didn't know what to do with himself. All he wanted to do was sleep but it was a little late for that now, wasn't it? It was lunch in school and he didn't really want to be here. He wanted to be at home in his room where he can surf the net and research things like whether or not a strawberry was a berry (it's not), snuggle with his dogs, and ignore everybody. Maybe get some pizza. There was pizza around here, yeah? It was strange going from living in cities to a smaller town. 

[Rorie Byrne]

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(I thought it would be good for the new kids to band together. ^^)

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Rorie wasn’t sure if the sound from the pencil hitting the paper was covered by the cafeteria noises or if it just didn’t exist. Then again, he didn’t focus on it too much, since it seemed rather irrelevant in this particular situation. He wasn’t surprised to see that the other boy didn’t have a school lunch in front of him, as those things were nasty. Always.

“Doyle, then.” It wasn’t unusual to call someone by their last name, either. In fact, back at home there had been an entire class where everyone was addressed by their last name. He hadn’t been a part of it, since it was the JROTC class and his interests didn’t lie in that particular field, but he had known people there, and several of them adopted the last-name-is-the-nickname concept. He guessed it made them feel cooler, since after school all they did was march in squares or squared off figure eights. They had to do something to make it seem like the class wasn’t completely unnecessary to people who would otherwise think like he did.

He sat down on the opposite side of the table from the boy, but not in front of him. He sat diagonally on the right hand side in comparison to the other boy, not because he didn’t want to sit in the area or anything, just that he didn’t feel comfortable sitting beside others or in front of them when there were plenty of chairs around. He’d have left another chair open, most likely, but the cacophony of voices from the rest of the cafeteria would’ve made it impossible to hear anything said by the other boy from any farther away.

After pulling the apple from his backpack, he set it down in the chair to his left and brought his attention back to the boy as he spoke. A wry smirk appeared on his features as his raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say?” It didn’t sound like an insult, and what would be the point of dying your hair blue if you didn’t want people to notice? Rorie couldn’t yet tell what kind of guy the new kid was, so it seemed the best bet to reserve his judgment until he had a better idea of who he was dealing with. After all, if he had wanted drama, he wouldn’t have been sitting away from everyone, and he hoped the other boy was the same way.

He bit into his apple, contemplating. He didn’t mind not having an intense amount of conversation, but he didn’t want to be that guy. The one that sits there and stares at what you’re doing just being all silent and creepy. Though he had to admit that he liked to watch people draw, it wasn’t his goal to come across that way. Maybe later he’d ask what the guy was drawing, and for a moment he thought about asking if he’d been in a bunch of art classes. But he changed his mind. Instead, he took the point out the obvious approach, since the guy had done the same earlier. “So you’re new here, too, huh?”

[Brandon Doyle]

(heck yeah! Just might take awhile for Doyle to warm up to anybody. If you are up to the challenge haha)

Doyle slowed his leg movements as the other spoke. He took his words and balled them up in his head and rolled them around for a moment. He shrugged as his hand drew the eyes on a surprisingly detailed dog, idly staring at the drawing like it was the most interesting thing in the room. But no, right now it was the blue haired stranger. Not only did he sit with a new kid, he was unfortunate enough to be the one to sit across from THIS new kid. It was a shame, really. He seemed nice enough. Perhaps could have used a little better judgement to assess what was before him. As if something about his appearance had 'antisocial' written all over it. But he gave him credit, since his appearance usually rang a more 'lonely' tone. He couldn't say he wasn't from time to time but he would never put that as a label on himself. He was just naturally introverted.

"I move a lot" he started. He had to choose his words carefully. He didn't know what to think of this stranger other than he SEEMED nice. He didn't really want to go on and on about how they moved around every few months or how every time he was promised that this would be it and that they would be here for a few years, and that next thing he knows he is starting a new school in a new town with even less interest in friends. "I'm a new student about every few months. My dad does something military related and somehow that landed us here. Though I don't even see any military points of interest here" he settled for something basic. Nothing too wordy. Talking too much when in his current state never led to anything particularly good. He was tired. His brain ached from the noise and the lights and his stomach yearned for something that he would deny it until he was home.

He leaned back slightly, once again silently returning the pen to the paper of his sketchbook, his hands folding in his lap. "And what about you? Small towns tend to be full of lifers. People who grow up together and have babies together and die together. Probably start a cute little business together. One of those?" he asked with even more feigned interest. He thought his acting was rather spot on today, though. Props to him. He might have to reward himself with more than just pizza. Or maybe he was actually not being terrible to him because of some fear of being at yet another school with no interaction among his peers other than the occasional attempts at fighting him or the forced partnering system that caused him to square dance with some random person in PE.

[Rorie Byrne]

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(Can’t know unless I try, right? ;P)

Rorie took a bite of his apple and chewed it thoughtfully as the other spoke. If anyone knew how all schools were the same, it’d probably be this guy. Not that he needed any proof of course. He was a stubborn teenager who had made up his mind on the situation, and though he had only moved once, there was no changing his mind that each school would suck just as much as any other. He leaned back in his seat only slightly, debated if he should prop his feet up on the seat across from him, and decided against it. Instead he just settled for plopping his feet under the chair and being glad he could stretch out a little without having to worry about hitting someone.

He swallowed his bite of apple and gave the fruit a doleful look. “Sounds like it sucks.” He hated moving about as much as he hated staying in his old town, which, for the record, was quite a lot. Of course surely moving had its upsides, like the fact that one wouldn’t need to deal with the annoying or irritating people of the area for long, and it probably kept him from hanging on to too much useless junk. He could probably say he was well traveled, too, which was supposed to be a cool thing, right? Then again, it probably introduced him to more of the annoying or irritating type, and jet lag likely wasn’t any fun at all. Though mildly curious if jet lag had ever caused anyone any real problems, he kept the question to himself, but made a mental note to google it later.

He raised an eyebrow at the boy when asked about his origins and an amused smirk rose on his lips. “Me? Born and raised in Rainy City? That’s a good one.” Rorie didn’t realize that the boy was acting, though he figured he wasn’t too interested judging on the attention he’d previously been giving that picture, not to mention why would he be interested in some random guy who just happened to sit at the same table? Either way, it was better than sitting in awkward silence, so he elaborated. “I only just moved here about a week ago. Nothing military related just… Mom figured we needed a change of scenery.” It was a bit more complicated than that, but he wasn’t going to spill his life’s story to a complete stranger. He took another bite of apple to signal he’d finished his thought.

[Brandon Doyle]

"It's a whole thing" Doyle said dismissively when he commented on how it sucked. It did, actually. It was definitely something he wouldn't subject any of his children to. Then again he didn't have nor ever planned on having children. Let alone being in the military. Especially being in the military. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to even join the military, let alone function in it. His hands danced around the page, adding more details and shading. 

"So you are also new?" he sounded mildly surprised "how was your 'in front of the class' introduction?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. He was softening a little but not leaving his grumpy demeanor behind but rather appreciating this guy for his attempt. It was admirable to approach the new kid and attempt conversation without any knowledge of how that could possibly go. In this case it went rather well for the introvert. He normally would have told the other to go away by now but he didn't.

He didn't want to be proud of himself for this whole experience but he kindof was. He had little to no social skills and didn't really want any but despite that he was playing it off like he had any idea what he was doing. Not once defaulting to insults or demands for peace and quiet. Which, don't get him wrong, was something he would have preferred. But this was alright. He wasn't being prying thus far and wasn't at all being obstructive. He could life with this. That and he was at a comfortable distance which he could always appreciate. 

[Rorie Byrne]

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When asked about how his introduction to the class went, Rorie responded with, “About as awkward as you’d expect. No one really cared and the teacher was trying to pretend she hadn’t just met me.” He shook his head, the ends of his blue hair moving like waves in the ocean. “It’s such a dumb thing to do. I didn’t even want to be introduced.” This was in fact a true statement. Rorie had already decided that the majority of people in the school were not going to be his friends. Not only was he fairly selective, but he knew the small town mentality and how it affected the cliques of the world. Not to mention he’d had a problem making friends back at home.

Another bite of apple was taken as Rorie mulled over some more thoughts. He glanced curiously at the drawing, though due to his angle he couldn’t really see what it was. What he could see though was that there was a lot of attention to detail. He’d thought about learning to draw from time to time. When he was younger, he had a stage where he’d really liked drawing and wanted to be an artist. That desire faded with the realization that he’d have to dedicate a lot of time to the skill, and that was time he’d rather spend playing video games, and so the idea of being an artist was quickly dropped. Maybe if he’d had to travel a lot, he’d have picked up on drawing like Doyle. It wouldn’t have been fun to detach and reattach chords for gaming systems every time he went somewhere, and drawing is wireless. Out of laziness, maybe he’d have spent more time on the skill. But he doubted it. And it wasn’t like there was a way to find out.

The paper and pencil image reminded Rorie of the fact that he had homework due later that day that he hadn’t even touched the night before. Not because it was a difficult worksheet, he just didn’t feel like doing his homework last night. But he could probably get some of it done now, if not all of it, which would mean he could skip out on doing a more difficult assignment later. It sounded like a pretty good idea, now that he thought about it. What if this place assigned essays for homework? He definitely wouldn’t be writing those. Now he just needed to gather up the effort to pull the crap out of his backpack. “So… Where was your favorite place to live?” With the way the guy talked, it came across that he moved extremely often. Or at least it sounded like more than once a year. There had to have been cooler places than here to be.

[Brandon Doyle]

"I like introductions about as much as I like lighting myself on fire. Which is safe to say not even a little bit" Doyle said, watching his pencil. Trying not to pay much attention to the people around him. He leaned forward even more then back a little bit. Free hand resorting to resting on the knee that bounced continuously.

He heard his next question but took some time to consider it. Where had been his favorite place? He didn't like the fullness of cities but liked cities in pretty much every other way. Small empty towns were quiet which he preferred vastly but were about as boring as they came. So it was a fight between New York City and Akiak, Alaska. Vastly different areas. He couldn't decide though for the life of him. His hand stopped moving and he looking like he was thinking far too hard about this for a moment.

"New York City was nice. A lot of people but they almost always left you alone. And there was always something going on. Always something to do. But I also really liked Akiak. It's a small town in Alaska. Not a lot to do but there was so much empty space that you never had to share breathing space with anybody. Nobody ever bumped in to you and if they did it was because they were trying" he explained. Deciding to not decide at all "It was boring there but it was easy and quiet living. I just spent most of my time indoors drawing or playing Left 4 Dead at the time." he nodded. Wow that was a game he hadn't even thought of in awhile. He should play that sometime again. Maybe when he got back home.

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[Rorie Byrne]

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Rorie smirked at the comparison given to him by the other male, and for a minute he played a scene in his head where students could chose to either be introduced to the class or be lit on fire to flail about like a video game character. It was ridiculous and morbid, but amusing nonetheless. And besides, it’s not like it was hurting anyone.

Speaking of video games, a spark of interest danced in the Rorie’s eyes, which were brown for today, thanks to contacts. His eyes were naturally blue, but some days he felt that his eyes and his hair together were just too much blue, and since he wasn’t going to re-dye his hair any time soon, colored contacts were chosen instead. The intrigued brown eyes glanced at Doyle as he sat up a little more. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was disregarding New York City or Akiak, but he didn’t know anything about them and couldn’t really comment on either of them. However, he did know video games. “Left 4 Dead was a good game, I’ll give you that. One of the better ones to come out of the zombie obsession, definitely. I think I’m more of a fan of The Last of Us, though.” He wanted to keep talking about the game. He wanted to discuss the spores that caused people to become infected, and he wanted to talk about how it was that spores could be transferred through zombie bites. He wanted to talk about the graphics and the characters, and how the ending just hit him right in the feelings that he swore he didn’t have.

In fact, just thinking about the game made him want to go home and play it over again. And then maybe he’d play the Last of Us DLC, too. He finished it awhile back, but just bringing it up again was enough to start the domino chain reaction of his interests. Maybe, he’d even end up playing Left 4 Dead again by the time this urge to play was over.

[Brandon Doyle]

"Never played it" came a pretty dull comment on the game he had mentioned. It wasn't from a lack of interest, admitedly. He had wanted to play the game when it had come out but he had lacked a reliable platform to handle it. He was limited to his 360. Not like he couldn't just go get whatever platform he wanted from a ps3 to a super powerful gaming computer. If not both, actually. He could very easily go do that. But he felt like he he were to do that he would be losing some kind of argument with his mother that was never vocalized.

She was always trying to throw money at him to make up for the fact that they are never around but he was resistant today and only let her pay for food and his living space since they were, after all, still his parents and he was just 17 and 18 seemed awhile away, though it wasn't terribly far. He was in that middle place where his birthday was like 6ish months ago so now he had 6ish months to go. He briefly wondered if he would still be here for it. If he was he wouldn't do anything different, though. His birthday will always be spent alone in his room with a large pizza, cupcakes him mom baked him like two days before due to her being busy, and probably netflix.

"Heard good things" he offered as a sign of maybe kindof warming up to the stranger. Not enough to say wow hey friend but enough to say hi I tolerate you. Because he did. And that was a start. He closed his sketch book and began putting everything back in his bag. He grew tired of drawing pretty quickly as that was all he had been doing since he got here. "Maybe I when I upgrade my desktop" he shrugged.

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