Welcome to Gaia! ::

History class had ended early that day, and Fallon was glad for it. It was her worst class, and she didn't quite care for the professor either. Coming up the stairs, she pushed the door open only to find her way blocked by a gaggle of students. One word whispered past her lips: "Laney." No one else could be the culprit. It had to be Laney Sutton -- the adorably persistent girl who hounded the hallways with her heart in her hand, forcing it at others. She made Fallon's skin prickle. The girl felt that Laney was a bit unpredictable -- and therefore dangerous to her delicate mental state.

Yep, she would make this quite.

Holding up her book to shield her face, Fallon more or less elbowed her way through the group, saying things like, "Have to study!" and "Can't talk!" and "See you around!" She managed to clear to the other side of the desk, dull brown heels clicking over the floor.

If only she could break through the pack without Laney noticing... she could make it to her room. If there was another option, she would have taken it. But there wasn't. And so Fallon was wading through a sea of crazy, trying desperately to keep her own crazy in check.

Laney looked around, a bit at a loss for how to talk to so many skeptical people at once. "We'll have, um, cards, and a beanbag toss, and maybe someone would want to tell fortunes, and I was thinking we could play Twister and Clue, and we could have more fundraiser sign-ups for a game of Assassin, I read all about it on the internet, it looks so fun! And if people have video games we can do DDR and Rock Band and all the fun things. I've never played DDR because my dad always said video games were for people who went on killing sprees in their school, but if you ask me and Stephen King, it's not video games, it's telekinesis!" She laughed at her own joke (which made her pretty much the only one).

Then, suddenly, she yelled at the top of her lungs, "Fallon! Wait! You can make snacks for game night! Rice Krispie Treats infused with vanilla!!! White chocolate s'mores!"

'At the top of her lungs' was rather noticeably overkill, the sort of overkill that suggested she had volume modulation problems.

Fallon froze, shoulders buckling like someone had just shot an air horn off right beside her head. Really, Laney? Really. The girl brushed two hands down the front of her uniform, smoothing a wrinkle from her white blouse. She really didn't want to welcome any disruption into her day, not after she'd just suffered through history class, and -- whoa, wait. Did she say white chocolate s'mores? Turning on her heel, Fallon marched back to the table, pressing two painted nails down on its edge. "I'll need a list of how many people will be attendance, as well as any allergies or preferences," she said. Fallon tilted her chin down and gave Laney her serious business face.

Well, she really didn't care what the girl was trying to persuade people to do. If they needed snacks, then Fallon was more than happy to lend a hand. She didn't have to stay if it was terrible, or a total mess. Her mind was already reeling, thinking of better desserts than the two that Laney had rattled off. Vanilla-infused marshmallows were actually quite delicious. Perhaps she could try out that new fluff recipe she'd been tossing around in her head. It would be a room full of potential testers.

Hm... Still standing at the desk, she waited for Laney to prove that this would really happen before she agreed to this.

"Ooooh, like a prize scale?" Laney's whole face perked back up, the most mutable of sunflowers. "That's so clever! Like, if we raise twenty dollars, we can get the signs for the dryer and the stairwells and a standing fan for the bathroom, and if we raise thirty, we can get a waterproof shower stereo, or if we raise fifty we can get a crepe maker! Or whatever you think people want! Imogen, do you want to be the treasurer?" she squeaked.

The next thing Laney did was to sigh sublimely at Fallon. "And we'll put up a sign. 'Special game night delicious treats by the amazing Fallon!' Everyone will sign up. I'll add headings to the sign-up sheet for special dietary preferences!" She took a purple gel pel from off her desk and did so immediately. Then, next to her own name (one of just two names on the list), she wrote Peanut Butter! :¬D (SMOOTH).

Fallon raised an eyebrow, leaning over the desk to watch Laney write. None of this was organized correctly. Individual letters written to each resident and slipped under doors -- yep, that was the way Fallon would have done it, nice and indirect. "I will pay for the supplies to make the snacks," she said, eying the jar of money warily. It hardly seemed fair for her to shell out the two dollars AND cook the food. Truth be told, Fallon never felt bad spending her money on food, even when she wasn't the one eating. She viewed it as homework, practice for her future.

Trying to hold Laney's attention -- a bit of feat in itself -- Fallon cleared her throat and said, "I will need this list three days before the event. If I do not have it by then, I will not be able to provide the treats." It was a hard and fast rule so it would be good for Laney to listen. Having taken the time to stop, Fallon tossed her gaze across the assembled crowd. She recognized them all, offering a smile to those she knew better like Imogen.

“I could help with flyers and maybe a big prize scale poster? But I’m not sure I could be treasurer, I'm rubbish at maths, I have this swing meet coming up and…oh maybe I could do it. I’d just need to…and I could get a calculator...” And just like that Imogen was trying to rework her entire schedule to fit in being treasurer. She’d decided that she was going to help Laney, even if it was just to help jazz this thing up a bit and so help her Imo would find the time to do it. She hadn’t been able to escape. She’d been drawn in.

“Fallon, you’re in too?” Imogen turned her attention to the other girl, someone she considered a friend after so many mornings spent together in ‘Fallon’s’ kitchen. One of the reasons the second floor rocked so much more than floors three and one was because of Fallon in Imogen’s opinion. So long as you played by her rules, the lovely girl would feed you food fit for a king.

Laney waved a hand outward before her like she was explaining something very well-known: elementary, dear Azzo Watson! "Of course you have to be loud," she insisted. "That's how you attract an audience. Like a carnival barker, like Billy Bigelow! Have you ever seen Carousel? I'm always saying I want them to play You'll Never Walk Alone at my funeral. So romantic, so uplifting! Do you want to come to game night? It's a floor two event, so there'll be plenty of girls there, and delicious food, and all for just a two dollar donation to the very best cause! Imogen is our treasurer," she said proudly, "and Fallon is cooking special treats."