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The school was in less ominous condition these days, but still creepy in the manner of all empty schools. Also there were literal monsters still lurking in the basement, but Dylon's destination was fortunately far away from any of those. The sound of blasting pop music would lead him toward the smell of fresh paint and finally to the classroom America currently occupied. Unlike the rooms on the way, this one was trashed, and all over the walls was neon pink grafitti.

The declaration that TAYM IS A STUPID a*****e and the drawing of him that was clearly an upside d**k with the balls turned into ears were probably the most complimentary. Broken plaster and wood littered the floor and it was obvious that somebody had a few anger issues.

In cut-off overalls and a liberal speckled of paint, America turned to give Dylon a wry smile, "Don't you worry. I was just a little upset is all." Her roller was loaded with white paint and in the process of covering over something concerning butts.

Seeing his look she added, "I got sandwiches and Corona?"

"Left behind a worried girlfriend without being able to say when he'd be back," America attacked the wall with paint as she spoke, movements cheerfully aggressive to match her tone. "Or what he was doing. After a year full of missions where things go to s**t and someone nearly dies."

The girl shot Dylon an extremely brief look of guilt, "But maybe she didn't mean it and doesn't want him coming back to something hurtful."

With a snort, she shot Dylon a grin. "It's true, that is a work of art, gotta say." America gestured to the d**k-figure, "But I got a feeling he'd ******** critique my vision."

A huff of reluctant laughter followed along with a roll of her eyes, and some of the tension left the room. "How you been faring, hun?"

"Hell yeah!" Finally done with that section, she loaded a roller and attacked a dire mention of hair. "I'll probably text it to him next time we get in a fight." She sounded, of all things, wistful. As if getting into fights with her boyfriend was at the same level as romantic dates and walks on the beach. Something to fondly miss and look forward to.

"Ooooo...underwear party?" She gave Dylon a salacious little smile, "I hope they got you into something lacy."

And then the girl went quiet for a bit, because this boy was one of the nicest, least complicated people she'd met on the island. And maybe he really was, and maybe she was painting him that way as much as she was covering the hurt on the walls, but she didn't want smudge Dylon up with her s**t. She didn't want to lie, either.

"It's been....rough. Past year got all sorts of serious, but I'm happy." Gesturing to the room, she went on, "Happy enough to get scared about losing what I've got."

The girl gave him a saucy once over and drawled, "Let's be real, honey, you'd look ******** great in them."

A beat and then, voice thoughtful, the girl asked, "Oh yeah? What else you have in mind? You can add redecorating to your Mc Hottie resume," she added helpfully.

"Don't forget to add cooking, if you weren't all talk on Twitter," America added helpfully. "Swimming lessons, too. Have you heard of that lifeguard mission that a few folks have gotten?" There is a period of ordinary shop talk, peppered as always with the back and forth of flirtatious compliments and small breaks to sing along with the catchier songs.

Eventually, though, she finds herself asking as they nearly finish one wall, only one more to go, "You ever been in love? Like the...scary kind?"

Switching to the last wall, America went quiet for awhile and then finally correct him, "I don't think it's nice. Like you try to bring nice things into it, and do nice things for the other, but I don't think it's nice at all."

A little pensive she went on, "It's intense, like your emotions and thoughts and even your body start to get a mind of their own. And they just start wanting all sorts of things you thought you'd be fine without, that you never thought you needed, and they're suddenly so important and the thought of losing him makes me forget how to ******** function."

With a huff of laughter, the girl swiped at the graffiti with her brush. "And that's without the whole, Hey let's go fight monsters and risk our lives on missions all the time." A little bitter, America bent her head, "I guess it's the same anywhere, folks die often out there, but it's not....it's not intentional you know?"

And then a crack appeared in her voice, "He know how I feel and what it's like to worry and be afraid of losing someone and something so important, be he just...how ******** dare he?!"

Aggressive painting accompanied the girl's watery anger, "Such a stupid a*****e. Stupid stupid...stupid." And maybe that last was for her as much as her absentee boyfriend.