[CLOSED] minor mending.

[marcus owen foster]

Marc wiped the sweat from his upper lip, walking out of the small, contained bar area. He was all too aware of the bodies around him, the people walking around. He found the girl he was looking for. He wasn't getting off until well after midnight, and he needed to get his guitar back.

"Uh.. My friend needed to fix my guitar for me.." He started, looking over at her. For a big tattooed guy, he was very quiet. "I was wondering if you could go get it for me. He's in the band room at the high school. It's in the west wing. He's.." He raised his hand up to just over his head. "Tall. Tattooed. Quiet." He took out his wallet, handing her thirty dollars for running the errand for him. "Just.. leave it in my car please.. It's unlocked.."

[reagan tanis burke]

Reagan was on break for a few minutes, and guzzling down water as fast as she could to replenish what she had lost while onstage. The lights wore her out, but the tips were always good, so she didn't mind. When she heard a quiet voice behind her she spun with a smile. "Hey Marc. Not like you to mingle with us commoners." For a human, Marc wasn't so bad, but he was gay, which meant off limits to her. It made the whole not consuming coworkers easier though.

She listened as she talked, her smile disappearing. "Do I look like a bloody courier service?" Without waiting for a reply she grabbed the money and headed for the dressing room to pull on some clothes. It only took a minute to slip on a jacket long enough to cover her ass if she had to bend over and her bag before she reentered the club, finding Marc where she left him she kissed the air by his cheek, knowing he didn't like human contact. "Be back shortly." He was one of a very small hanful of people she didn't want to tear apart on a regular basis, the other being her idiot twin.

She hopped into her car and sped towards the school, not too worried about cops. Getting out of tickets was a breeze for her. She slid into an empty parking spot and headed for the door to the school, only to find it locked. In frustration she banged heavily on the window, trying to get someone's attention.

[thatcher owen finley]

Thatcher was walking down the hall, a sandwich in one hand and a soda in the other when he heard a bang on one of the windows. He made his way down the long hall, taking his time. He figured no one was dying. She would have broken the window if they were. Assuming she were bright enough to do that. He pushed open the door with his back, holding it open for her as she walked in. He didn't pay her much mind. He just walked back down the long hall, putting his sandwich in his mouth long enough to open the band room door. He propped it open, then walked over to his desk, setting his coke down.

He sat down at his chair, taking a bite out of his sandwich. He had a bunch of papers to grade, and it's not like he really wanted to go home to an empty house. Nor did he want to go home to a person. So he stayed at school. He thumbed through a few papers, pulling one out and reading it over.

[reagan tanis burke]

Reagan didn't bother thanking the guy that had opened the door for her. There didn't seem to be much point anyway, because as soon as he opened the door he left. With a curse on her tongue she followed him, her heels clacking against the tile floor. She just needed to ask him where the damned band room was so she could get this over with.

As she walked she looked around, memories of high school coming back to her. Those four years had been miserable. She had no friends, and everyone had seemed to aoid her. It was just the opposite for Kit though. People absolutely fawned over him, but she never resented him for some reason, only them.

She turned the corner into the room the guy had gone in and realized she was in the band room. Did that mean this was the band teacher? She brushed some stray locks of hair from her face as she spoke. "You Marc's friend?" Short and to the point. Why waste time?

[thatcher owen finley]

He looked up, and took his time chewing the bite of sandwich he had in his mouth. The girl looked like a street walker. And that alone turned him completely off. Not that anyone turned him on anyways. But there was a line between 'tolerable' and making Thatcher want to retch back up his lunch. And she was leaning towards the latter. 'Classy.' He thought, swallowing what he had in his mouth before taking a drink of his coke.

"Depends. How loosely do you use the term 'friend'?" He asked, taking another drink of his coke. He didn't like the word. People used it all too much lately. "I know him, yeah." He didn't bother explaining that he only knew him because he fixed his -and everyone else's in town's- guitar, and taught him lessons on the weekends. The boy had a boyfriend now though, and showed up less and less to practice. Not that it bothered him. He was glad the boy had someone to keep him company. He had all the time in the world. He had been alive since before Deacon was born, and he had no intentions of dying any time soon. He didn't know how to love.

He waited patiently for her to tell him why she was there, hoping she would do it quickly so he wouldn't have to look at her much longer, and could finish his dinner.

[reagan tanis burke]

"Friendly enough to fix his shit. That work for ya?" She saw how he eyed her, the disapproval. She didn't exactly give a shit. She didn't seek out approval from anyone, much less some asshole she had just met who was already looking down his nose at her. For some reason though, she cinched the belt on her jacket a little tighter. "I need to pick up his guitar. And pay ya if he hasn't already I guess." She would tell Marc it was free if she had too though. Couldn't let him know she had a soft spot for him.

As she waited she looked the teacher up and down. Not your average high school teacher, but you know what they say, judge not. Figuring she had been judged enough already she continued with her survey. He was cute, but seemed to have a stick up his ass, not a quality she looked for in her romantic interests, even if romantic was a joke as far as she was concerned.

[thatcher owen finley]

"Marc doesn't have to pay." He said flatly. He pulled himself to his feet, fixing his jeans before he walked across the room. Simple things he didn't charge for. It wasn't like he had to rearrange his entire schedule to do things for people. He slept a whole half an hour a night, more if he was just bored. But otherwise, he didn't care. As was typical Thatcher, he started climbing up one of the shelves. He had been known to sit on them when he watched the students practice. He pulled open the closet, reaching up on the shelf. That was the entire reason he had shelves here, so he could climb and reach that high shelf in the closet. He pulled down the black acoustic, holding it by the neck as he jumped down off the shelf. He blew a bit of dust off of it, then walked over to the girl. He pulled Marc's strap out of a drawer in his desk, slipping it onto the clasps. He held it by the neck out to her, not caring to get any closer.

"Tell Marc hello." He said flatly, then walked back over to his desk, starting on his sandwich again.

[reagan tanis burke]

Reagan watched as he climbed, a look of disbelief on her face. Was this guy an idiot? "How sweet." Sarcasm dripped form every word, nothing new for her. Reagan took the acoustic almost gently, tenderly. She did love music, and she was always happy when playing it. She had been caught kidnapping Marc's guitar while sitting in the dressing room and playing quite a few times.

She tossed the strap over her shoulder quickly, hoping this wierdo had not seen the look she had given the guitar. With it on her back she turned and walked out of the room, throwing up a hand in goodbye as she dug in her pockets for the beat-up pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She closed the door behind her.

Once in the hallway, with a cigarette between her lips, she pulled the guitar up across her chest, checking the tuning before playing a few notes. She smiled to herself as she strummed a few simple bars, the words of the song dancing through her head.

[thatcher owen finley]

Thatcher didn't bother watching her go. When she shut the door, he calmly walked over to it, propping it open again. He took his seat back at his desk, taking another bite of his sandwich. He propped his feet up on the corner of his desk as he grabbed the paper he was looking at earlier. He read over it, then grabbed a pen, scribbling something down on it. He assumed it needed to go back to the office, so he got up from his desk. He walked slowly down the hall, taking his time about it. He took another bite of his sandwich as he walked out of the hall. He finished off his soda, then crushed the can, putting it between the door and the frame so he wouldn't be locked out. He walked slowly to the office, looking around at the people before handing it off without a word. He turned and started making his way back to his room.

[reagan tanis burke]

Reagan heard the door open back up and she ducked into the girl's bathroom out of sight. She didn't need his condescending looks again. When she heard him walking the other way she breathed a sigh of relief. When he was gone she stayed where she was, finishing her cigarette, but not returning to play on the guitar. As she finished she stepped out and started to walk in the direction she thought the exit was in.

As she walked she lit another one, ignoring the fact that she knew she should not be smoking in a school. However, when she heard the security guard calling out to her she hunched her shoulders and walked a little faster, rounding a corner to avoid him, She turned to look behind her and ran into someone. "Watch where the fuck you're going." She looked up to realize it was the band teacher.