Log:I don't know what that is but I know I'm going to break it
Only after the rush of the end of the school day is past does Colorado Thistle come creeping out from wherever he's hiding. He learned a long time ago it was better not to risk the crowd when he could avoid it. Too easy to get kicked and not know who did it, too easy to have things snatched from him and thrown in the dumpster. So now, he waits until the school is mostly empty and calm. He slips out of the A/V room, looking around, blue eyes wide. He doesn't see anybody, so he starts across the quad, not running, not quite, but quick.
Given that Amy Lester skips a lot of classes as it is, it's not a bad way to think one would avoid her and others of her ilk. Why would she be hanging around at all after school, let alone late. For some reason she is, silently lingering against a wall, staring at ... something. Maybe she's waiting for someone. Either way, she's bored. And that quick movement of someone coming out of the A/V room is like a wounded gazelle on the Serengetti for someone like her.
So when Amy's voice is suddenly calling across the quad, it might be a bit of a surprise for Colorado. "Hey, Thistle, what's going on?" She shouts as she starts after him. There's that quiet tension about her form, the look on her face suggesting she's not here for a friendly chat, depsite the fairly open question.
Colorado twitches real good, mid-step. Amy surprised the hell out of him. Can he pretend he didn't hear her? He tries! He hunches down in the cowly-scarfy thing he's wearing and walks faster. "Uh. Uh nothing?" Wait, wasn't he going to pretend he didn't hear her? Crap.
Amy, for her part, is dressed much like always. White t-shirt, jeans, stomping boots. Her hair is tied back and she's ready for whatever life is gonna throw at her next. She moves into a run as she seeks to close that distance. "Nothing, huh? What the fuck are you even wearing?" She moves quickly, but she's athletic, so catching up to Colorado is likely no problem at all, and she's going to reach a hand out for him to stop his attempt to scurry away. "Why are you in the AV room so late anyway?" She demands.
"Nothin'! No reason. Just there." Colorado's not as flimsy as he looks, and the arm Amy grabs is lean but solid. He flinches away, face crumpling. "C-c-c'mon, Amy, don't," he mumbles, but he stops. He always does. "Whaddaya mean, what am I wearing?" But he knows, oh yes he does. He's wearing a skirt. If Amy thinks he isn't exquisitely aware of that fact every moment he's got it on, she is sorely mistaken.
"You Thistles are so fucking weird. First Spear tries to give me a skull, now you're doing this. Come on Colorado, the sun's fucking shining and you're wearing this cowly jacket ... what the fuck even is this?" Amy looks him up and down, her grip on his arm is strong, and then she's going to try and take that cowl thing. It's just too strange for her. Or maybe she secretly likes it and wants it for herself. Who can tell, with Lesters. It certainly doesn't look like anything she'd be seen wearing. She can't really tell what bit of fabric goes where and it's likely to be rather difficult to actually take the thing, but damned if she isn't gonna try.
Colorado, for the life of him, actually looks jealous. "Spear gave you a skull?" Why doesn't Spear give HIM skulls! Colorado would appreciate it way more than dumb Amy Lester. Then Amy's pulling at his cowl wrap thing and he whimpers, cringing away. "Don't! You'll tear it." True, the fabric is not tough, gauzy and sheer. It adds a real air of witchy mystery to Colorado's general queer-goth look. "It--it keeps the sun off!" That's right, he's wearing this whatever-you-call-it for purely practical purposes and not because it makes him look like he is going to sell you a potion.
"I didn't touch his creepy ass skull," Amy says, a phrase that taken out of context would be pretty weird, as she's tugging at the cowl thing and Colorado is trying to cring away from her and Amy is getting very frustrated that stupid Colorado won't just let her see the thing properly! Even if she is just messing with him out of boredom and a temper that she doesn't really know how to control. "The sun is great though! That's what you need. Hold still." She declares, and then, with her frustration, she just shoves Colorado. Hard.
Amy's pretty strong. She's been making noises about how after high school she's going to follow in her cousin Morrison's footsteps and become a professional fighter. And when she gives that shove, she's still holding onto the flimsy fabric.
- Rrrriiiiiiip!* The light cloth gives under pressure as Colorado gets shoved on his ass. He yelps as he hits the scrubby crab grass of the quad. His weird garment is unraveled from him in a loooong translucent black strip, some of it still hanging on, some of it in Amy's fist. Colorado gasps in horror like he just saw a kitten get run over--then he glares at Amy, furious, blue eyes hot. "You ruined it! You ruined it and I'm gonna ruin YOU!"
Not that he gets up, or anything. He just stays down, sprawled in a tangle of coltish limbs, tears starting in his eyes.
"Oh," Amy seems actually surprised that the fabric tore. Despite the obviousness of ending up in this situation with those actions, despite Colorado's own worry that it'd get ripped. Now she's just staring at the handful of cloth she has in the long black strips of fabric just hanging limply she blinks a little and shrugs, lifting it up to the sun as if to get a better look at it. "Huh. Neat." She says, her curiosity apparently sated for whatever it was, frowning down at the skirted Colorado, shaking her head. "Nope. Too fucking weird," she decides after a moment.
Her lips twitch with something of a wolfish smile. "Oh yeah, Colorado Thistle? How are you gonna ruin me huh? Prance under the moon and sing a song about me or some weird bullshit like that I reckon." She wraps what remnants of the cowl she has around the back of her neck and then says in a comedicly high pitched sing-song like voice, "Look at me, I'm a witch, ooooooh, aren't I spooky." The thing is left to flutter away and she inclines her head. "Don't make threats, Thistle, or I'll kick the shit out of you while you're down there."
Colorado gathers up what he can of the remains of his scarf cowl thing, cuddling it against his chest defensively, glaring in helpless rage at Amy. He has a reputation as an easy target, but that's not his only reputation. His other reputation is that he really can cast spells, that Brian McDonell in freshman year had pushed Colorado too far and that's why he wound up swept away in a flash flood. (Other people said McDonell was being an idiot getting in the wash when he knew there was a flash flood warning. Some of the kids do it for a thrill and bragging rights. Once in a while, inevitably, someone doesn't make it out.)
He scrambles to his feet, skirt dusty and covered in bits of dry grass. "You're //mean,//" he hisses at Amy. "All of you, you're mean to me! What did I ever do to you!"
Amy has no doubt heard the stories. She was definitely on the 'McDonell was an idiot' side of that particular argument when it was the talk of the school. Even if it is the sort of thing she might've been likely to do when she was younger. "Well, that's news," she quips with a laugh at being called mean, but she scowls at the follow up question. No fair, making her think of things like that. Some part of Amy does feel a twinge of guilt over what she's done. She just gets so angry and doesn't really know how to handle it at all. It's that Lester Temper; even though she wasn't particularly angry when she first spied Colorado wandering across the quad. But these sorts of feelings, she's buried them long ago. She doesn't know how to deal with them either.
"Eh, fuck you," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Go have a cry." She leers a moment, and then just shifts to leave. Of course, she's going to wander past him, which means another bump -- and another shove.
Colorado is already crying, too, strangled sobs jerking their way out of his chest, tears tracking down his face. He grabs up his satchel, expression crumpling. "You--you watch your back, Amy Lester. You just watch your back!" Then he flees, running fast and gawky on those long legs.