one night in paradise // Cass

[Python]

That crisp afternoon, after a wild goose chase leading the Solothurns to abandoned allies and decrepit warehouses with empty hands, Deandra’s nerves were stretched as taut as a violin’s strings. In solitude they relaxed in their respective spaces, feet propped against furniture and cold beers wrapped in grimy hands as they waited for the sun to dip beneath the horizon. What precisely she was waiting for, Deandra was uncertain. She just knew that after a day’s worth of wasted time and no notable progress in hunting the criminals who deserved the sword of justice, she needed to relax. Her muscles were tense and the beer wasn’t working its magic just yet - probably because she was now dependent on it. A few more bottles would do the trick, but she wasn’t going to party that hard just yet. The night life was beckoning her, whispering promises of free alcohol and sweaty bodies. That was exactly what she needed: free drinks and men.

Except Samaria didn’t seem to share the interest. She insisted she would stay in for the evening and catch up on a good night’s sleep, to which Deandra replied with a scoff before she gulped the rest of her beverage. Fine, if Sammy wanted to be a nerdy loser-bitch, that was okay with her, but she was going to have some fun.

After a shower, of course.

She was in and out within minutes, having scrubbed all but a few traces of grime stains inked into her skin. Hair wrapped in a towel, she picked a relatively simple outfit (with a strict budget and an “I couldn’t care less” attitude there was no need to aim for anything beyond simplicity) then cracked open another cold one, determined to reach a buzz before she walked out of the house. She stretched herself out along the sofa and suffered the painstaking process of waiting for her hair to dry, all awhile Sam continued to sit in silence, seemingly absorbed in what looked like some type of old textbook. Nerd, she smirked, faintly wondering why Sam was so eager to succumb to fading school habits when there was a world of fun waiting for her outside. Was she just not in the mood for a good time? She never was as rambunctious as Deandra, but still, after today Sam should want to do more than just read and sleep like some schoolgirl. What was up with her?

She decided not to ask, and instead focused on what sort of guy she would try to hook up with tonight, if at all. Should she go for shaven or whiskered, brunette or blonde, monstrously tall or average height? Should she act bold and try to score with one of the haughty career boys, or aim for somebody more casual and manageable? Should they have short hair, or longer hair? Straight or curled? What color eyes? Blue, she suddenly decided. He had to have blue eyes, because she was in a blue-eyed mood. They were the prettiest type of eyes, and nobody could ever convince her otherwise.

On the subject of blue eyes, however, a figure with a significantly striking pair of them came to mind. As she sipped the rest of her beer, eyes trained on the ceiling, she wondered what Castella would do if Deandra asked her to join her for the evenings festivities. Ripred knew the girl needed something to relax that stiff spine of hers. Hadn’t she mentioned something about being a virgin? No, not even that - she had never even kissed a man before. Deandra’s eyes glittered. Oh yeah, she was definitely inviting Cas.

”Hey, I’m going to the store. You want anything?” Sam’s voice dragged her out of her own thoughts. She stared lazily at the taller sibling and pondered for a moment. ”Nah,” she muttered, pressing the rim of the glass to her lips. Sam shrugged and headed for the door, which is when Deandra finally sat up straight and leapt to her feet. She really did need something from her; how else was she going to get a hold of Cas without walking out herself? ”Wait!” Sam paused in the doorway and quirked an eyebrow. She didn’t like that expression on Sam’s face, but she chose to ignore it for now. ”I need a favor,” she said, and evidently Sam didn’t like that. She flashed a grimace as if doing favor for her own sister would be painful. Deandra wasn’t that difficult, was she? ”Don’t give me that bitch face. I just need you to stop by Cas’ place and tell her to come over in an hour.”

”Why?" Why was she so nosy? Oh wait, she was always like that.

”Don’t worry about it. But tell her to put on something nice.”

”Dean…” There was an obvious trace of suspicion in that tone. She wanted to roll her eyes. ”Okay, fine. I’m taking her to a bar. Thought I could introduce her to some guys,” she admitted. That same damn expression on Sam’s face failed to falter. If anything, it twisted even further into a mask of disapproval. ”Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

”Of course it is! The girl needs to loosen up. Just do it, okay?” Her patience was wearing thin, and Sam seemed to sense this. She muttered a soft “fine” before vanishing behind the door, leaving Deandra to her own excitement. Tonight was going to be one hell of a night, she just knew it. Cas was totally going to thank her later! Now all she had to do was wait. She could never remember when Cas’ career training sessions were finished, so hopefully Sam wouldn’t be interrupting anything important. Besides, what could be more important than hanging out with a best friend? This was top priority, Cas just didn’t realize it yet.

An hour and a half later, Deandra couldn’t remember how she had managed to fall asleep on the sofa. She only recalled that after grumbling about tardiness, she had rested her head against the cushion with another bottle in hand and drifted in and out of a sleep-like trance until she finally lost control and slumped like a limp doll. The creak of the door opening without a knock (Cas always had permission to welcome herself) only tickled the edge of her consciousness, prompting her to stir. It wasn’t until several minutes later that her eyes fluttered open and noticed the silhouette of an intruder standing not five feet away from her. She cursed and practically jumped out of her skin, spilling beer onto the fabric of the soda. ”Dammit, Cas!” She sighed and set the bottle down on the nearest table, willing herself to calm down. What was it with Cas and watching people with that unblinking stare? ”I told you not to do that, it’s just creepy.” She stood up and check herself for stains. Clean. Then she glanced over at the clock and frowned. ”You’re late.”

[/blockquote][/justify]

[cass]

Castella Novak was not your ordinary person. Tall, elegant and beautiful, she was the epitome of the unordinary. With her striking figure and piercing blue eyes she had the capacity and the looks to snag any guy she wanted. And with a simple glance you would think she had them all. Yet, if you looked at her for more than a few seconds your opinion would dissolve within moments. Not a single person had managed to hold her up as undeniably undesirable for longer than five seconds. It was part of the reason why she had done little more than gaze at a man. Never had she touched one (unless it was to bash them up and destroy them in battle, of course), never had she kissed one and she had most certainly never spoken to one, unless you counted her brothers, the very reason why she was so secluded when it came to social endeavours of any sort. It wasn’t only the fact that she rarely had contact with men, but also women, when she was in training she practiced with her siblings, when out in the streets she moved in silence, sticking to the shadows, pretending she was never there. Her siblings were her only source of conversation; they were her only source of companionship.

The few times she had needed to speak to with others she had resisted the urge, instead settling into a familiar comfortable silence, allowing the power of her saturninity to compel them to remain as equally still. But that all changed when she meet Deandra. She fell into a comfortableness that felt so foreign and wrong that it took weeks to overcome it. There came an uncertainty with each word she let slip past her lips. It was an uncommon thing for one of her siblings to become so attached to the others. Most of them despised talking to anyone outside of the family, the annoying notion that they were so much more superior a hindering factor. Some of her siblings like Michael and Zachariah looked down on her for her displeasing behaviour. Michael refused to say it out loud, but you could see the obvious disapproval in his gaze when he had learnt of her expeditions. He had almost gained a note of anger in his impossibly smooth voice after she had told him how she had saved Deandra’s life. It had been an enthralling tail in Cas’ opinion. Zachariah had immediately voiced his displeasure, before suggesting the idea that she be locked up in the house for what she had done.

Cas’ had quickly snapped, allowing the smallest amount of anger to grace each of her words. The venom that leaked in, as minimal as it was, had been enough to prevent any further action.

She had the looks, there was no doubt about that, but once you got passed them you were struck with the rigid shoulders and the demeanour that was so surprisingly contrasting with her appearance that it left you fumbling for words. Many had done that before, stumbled ovber their words, trying to find ways to express the displeasing sight. And so many had never been given a chance, thanks to her very rare excursions into the outside world when it came to socialising. Most of the time it was a case of slipping between the training centre with her family and staying at home. They were a family bound by rules and obedience. Disobedience was one thing not tolerated and it had led to members being kicked out of the family. Where you expected a cheery smile, or sparkling eyes, you were met with lips so tight that it was any wonder they could smile. There were no lines to indicate that she enjoyed any small amount of humour, her face was as flat an emotionless as a sheet of paper. Eyes so cold that the flame within them was made of ice, sat upon her detached face.

For once, however, she had slowly allowed herself to feel a small amount of pleasure. Where once the idea of smiling was so foreign it left her mind spinning she had come to realise that there was a certain amount of pleasure in the movement. Deandra and Sam had told her endless amount of times that the continuous frown upon her face was doing her no good. They said it scared people away, and that her personal space problems were not the only things she needed to work on. Sometimes it perplexed her, she was by far one of the greatest fights in the entire district and the notion that she had to fix something was an odd one. No one had ever before told her that she was doing something wrong, after all she had mastered the art of combat many years ago. At first she had questioned their choice of words, every time they spoke finding a new point of query to pick at. Deandra grew impatient fast, but she preferred to vent these issues with the hot-headed female, after all the two shared a more profound (she explained this to Dean once, and was rewarded with a cringe of surprise and disgust at the suggestion that the two shared any sort of bond) bond then she did with Sam.

At the present time she sat on her bed, back straight eyes staring unseeingly straight ahead. It was common to find her in such a position, the girl hardly slept, her body having gained the useful ability to function perfectly on no more than three hours of sleep per night. When she was not in her dreamless slumber she would often sit perched at the end of her bed simply staring ahead, mind sifting through her thoughts. A soft knock on her door caught her attention and she turned her head ever so slightly to stare at the door. ”You may come in.” She stated. That was another thing about her that scared men; they were intimidated by the power and control that laced itself into everything she said. Her brother, Gabriel, entered the room, he gave her one look before sighing heavily. “Sam stopped by and said Dean wanted to see you, now.” He disappeared without another word. Cas’ frowned slightly, her head tilting evidently to the side. Getting up she moved to the door, she remained in her long trench coat and skirt, the button up shirt she wore done right to the top button. Her hair, for once, hung around her face rather than in a ponytail. Closing the door behind her she left the room.

Castella was not sure how long she stood staring at Deandra before she woke up. There was something oddly intriguing about watching a person sleep. They looked so incredibly vulnerable and peaceful that she had an abnormal need to simply stare. She stood not more than a metre away from the sleeping figure. Her piercing blue eyes focused on the girl, unable to look away from what they saw. Deandra jerked awake with the quick familiar curse of ”Dammit, Cas!” She spilt her drink all over the couch whilst doing so. Cas frowned once more, eyes watching as the grumpy girl glared. Castella couldn’t fathom how someone so co-ordinated could spill their drink and then imply that it was her fault. Surely Cas had done nothing wrong? After all she hadn’t spilt the drink. ”I told you not to do that, it’s just creepy.” She simply stared at Deandra, head tilted ever so slightly as she took in the state of the finely dressed, rugged girl. Deandra often went on about this ‘personal space’ thing, but Cas felt nothing wrong with standing close to another human being, it was the best way to look at them, standing far away made it harder to view all the different parts, the best way to see them was if you stood closely. She watched in silence as Deandra stood up, checking her clothes, before turning her attention once more to the career, ”you’re late.”

”Being late implies that there was a set time for me to meet you. I received no word of a timing, Deandra.” She replied, thoroughly confused by Deandra’s evident annoyance.

I’m giving up
This whole lie, this whole me
Call it out like a family
Instead I bide my time, get a ride
Until the rubber leaves the road

[/justify]

[Python]

Those electric eyes seemed lost, as usual, but thoughtful. Castella then spoke in that robotic, monotone voice of hers and performed her signature head-tilt, staring at Deandra as if trying to analyze her every thought. When they first met (under weird circumstances, Cas having saved her life from a bunch of killer douche bags), the lingering blue eyes had crawled under her skin and pinched her nerves. Despite how harmless she appeared, Castella was a formidable opponent. She was a mighty career like none other, a killing machine trained in hand-to-hand combat that surpassed Deandra’s own competence. Deandra had killed men before, but Cas could kill hundreds if she wanted to, and she wouldn’t break a sweat doing it. It had been intimidating at first, standing beneath such a powerful gaze. Then it had simply grown uncomfortable, because having somebody stare at her for such an extended period of time gave her the creeps (unless she was in a bar). But as they had grown closer and closer as time raced by, she had learned to adjust to it. It was just Cas being Cas, after all. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t understand why or how she was awkward when Dean pointed it out, so there was no reason to mention it. After all this time, why bother?

”What?” Her eyes crinkled and her brows furrowed. What the hell did she mean she “received no word of a timing”? Of course she had! Dean’s orders had been clear - unless Sam had purposely failed to follow them. That wouldn’t surprise her, actually, considering she had been hesitant about letting her take Cas to a bar - not that she could stop her. There was just no way Deandra was going to allow Cas to continue living such a chaste life. She needed to go out, get shit-faced and kiss a few boys, maybe do a bit more if she was up for it. Okay, maybe getting shit-faced wasn’t the best idea for Cas, but a few drinks wouldn’t hurt. It was Deandra’s best remedy. ”I told Sam to tell you to meet me in an hour,” she said, exhaling an exasperated sigh. What the hell was it with Sam and refusing to follow orders? She had set a time and a nature of attire. Castella was still in her trench coat! Not that the trench coat was tacky or hideous, it just wasn’t what she had in mind for a “bar outfit.” At least she was wearing a skirt.

Deandra shook her head and decided she would chastise Sam later, given the chance. Who knows, she might be too far gone to actually care by the time she returned home. ”Whatever,” she mumbled, before replacing her grimace with its opposite. She was probably grinning like an idiot, but she didn’t care; the image of Cas in a bar was hilarious (Castella walks into a bar, and that’s the joke!). She snickered to herself, then swallowed the cruel humor and looked straight at her best friend’s neutral expression. ”Hope you don’t have any plans tonight, cause we’re going to a bar,” she said, ”But first you’ve got to change…all of this.” she gestured to the career’s entire body. ”Lose the trench coat, and -” she stepped forward to unfasten the top three buttons of Castella’s blouse. ” - show some skin. You can’t impress the dudes looking like that.” She fussed with the collar until it was decent enough, then backed away to survey her work. Not bad. It wasn't exactly what she had in mind, but it would suffice.

She took the next few moments to fix her own hair, then walked out into the vulnerable world with Castella at her heels. The stroll to her favorite bar was tormenting (thanks to this cold freakin’ weather), but brief, and made with silence as the dominant force. When they arrived it was already evident by the uneven hums shaking the glass doors that the place was bursting with life, and she was eager to hear that bell ring when she pushed her way inside. A concoction of sweat, alcohol, cheap cologne and fruity perfumes wafted into her nostrils, and she welcomed it with a sigh of content. ”Welcome to paradise,” she said, glancing back only to flash Cas a jovial smile. She immediately spotted a vacant table near the edge of the chaos and helped herself to a chair, then waited for Cas to join her. ”Alright, start scoping,” she said, jade eyes darting around the room for potential targets. Not just for herself, but for Cas too, though she didn’t know what the girl’s preferences would be. Would she only aim for careers, like herself? Everyone had standards, and it wouldn’t surprise her if Castella’s were strict given how uptight and formal she was.

She waited for a response in silence.

[/justify][/blockquote]

[cass]

The eyes that greeted her enquiry were scrunched up; they crinkled at the corners as though part of them was still trying to bat away the sleepiness that clung to them. The bottle of alcohol sat where it had fallen when Deandra had dropped it. Castella eyed it briefly, before turning her steady gaze back to the girl in front of her. She was never one to feel more then a flicker of emotion, but in that moment her eyes deepened into a disapproving frown. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that she came to the conclusion that this girl drank far too much. She had seen others drink and she had seen others hold back. But what she knew from that little experience was that none of them drank as much as Deandra did. From what Sam had told her it was almost unhealthy, but the younger sibling was hesitant to say anything. Maybe Castella could. Maybe she could let on how she was drinking too much. Castella, however, had never drank alcohol before, not even when she had been offered after her first meeting with the troublesome sisters. She was determined to remain ‘sober’ in that way, besides she was unsure of the consequences that would ensue if she got, as Dean out it, “shit-faced”.

From the tales she had heard it was a disturbing process that ended with vomiting, pounding heads and unnecessary, pathetic errors. All of which Castella was above. A flicker of annoyance sparked in the glowing depths of Deandra’s eyes and Castella stared, uncertain of its untimely appearance. The familiar feeling of uncertainty was followed by the ever present confusion that twisted its way into her eyes. She never understood how she annoyed Deandra, or why she had to suffer through such burning emotions. It was unseemly, and frustrating on her part as she tried to decipher the meaning behind it all. ”I told Sam to tell you to meet me in an hour,” Castella looked at her, trying to attain the frame of mind she was in. There were times when she was almost reluctant to respond to anything she said, unsure if it would end with Deandra snapping, rolling her eyes or sighing with annoyance. Those were her three most common responses to anything she deemed inappropriate as a response from Cas.

She stood still as Deandra gave her an once over before reaching forwards and unbuttoning her first few buttons. Castella looked down after her fingers left, to find her bare skin staring back at her. It was an odd sight seeing her pale, bare skin in front of her very eyes. But she left it, trusting Dean as much as she trusted her siblings when it came to decisions. Yet she trusted the girl more so than her siblings when it came to appearance, it appeared that Deandra had a skill for it. She was able to flaunt what she had without doing much more then flick her hair and flash her dazzling smile. Part of her, however, refused to remove the trench coat. The shirt underneath was short sleeved, and cut off straight at her shoulders, so if you took of the long trench coat she wrapped herself in she’d be basically naked. She had no clue why she’d have to be so clothing less for a bar. Bar’s weren’t particularly welcoming; they were just long sticks of metal. Shrugging she hesitantly removed the trench coat before lying it down almost wistfully on the bed in front of her. Cas trusted Deandra, so whatever ‘bar’ they were heading off to must have something special about it, seeing as Deandra had gone to the effort to fix her hair.

After a few more moments of fussing and moving Deandra seemed satisfied. Castella had not moved from her position, her eyes continuously roaming to the trench coat, her instincts urged her to put it back on before wrapping it tightly around her body. There were not many times on her mind where she had worn as much as she was wearing now, and the girl so comfortable with herself she was capable of throttling a man with one hand was at a loss. This new situation was different from anything she had experienced, and it was only her faith in the girl leading her out of the bedroom that allowed her to walk away without glancing back. Castella was, to say the least, slightly dismayed at what she found herself walking into. This must have been the ‘bar’ Deandra had spoken of, but whatever had been at the forefront of her mind was instantly brushed away with what she saw. ”Welcome to paradise,” Deandra said. Cas would never have been able to stop the look of disbelief that crossed her face. ”Deandra, I'm not sure your definition of the word is correct. I see no paradise here.” She replied, almost gagging at the foul air that filled her mouth.

Coughing twice she chose to ignore the delighted smile Dean threw her way. It smelled horrid, the stench coming from the air enough to make her eyes water. Breathing heavily she bit back the bitter vile that hit her, instead she kept her head down as Deandra lead her to a table. The girl sat down, eyes dancing endlessly over the place. ”Alright, start scoping,” she said. And all Castella could do was stare in silence at the girl in front of her. She sat tentatively on the edge of the chair opposite Dean; the cracked leather underneath her was uncomfortable, just like the rest of this “paradise”. Yes, she was definitely going to have to revise her terms, she was sure this was no paradise. “Scoping? I-I don’t have a scope, Deandra. I don’t understand.” Cas once more found herself staring at Deandra, eyes riddled with confusion, tone uncertain, as though what she was saying was as foreign to her mind as it was to her tongue.

I’m giving up
This whole lie, this whole me
Call it out like a family
Instead I bide my time, get a ride
Until the rubber leaves the road

[/justify]

[Python]

”I see no paradise here."

Of course she didn’t, she was Castella Novak, the personification of chastity and family loyalty. Her heart and soul belonged to the gym, where her blood ran thick with dedication. Some days she forgot what Cas really was: a career, trained to slice the throats of opponents (who would be, in fact, innocent people reaped for the Hunger Games) with her brothers and sisters, who were all dicks in Deandra’s opinion. Cas would probably be a dick in the Games too, but not as much as the rest of her family. Dean didn’t like any of them, honestly. She figured Cas needed a break from all of the suffocation associated with sibling competition and all that crap, and that’s (partially) why she had invited her. It was also due to the imaginary stick up Castella’s ass. She was her best friend, yeah, but she needed to learn how to have fun Solothurn style, and that involved going to bars and picking up dudes. Cas might not like it at first, but the atmosphere was probably new and completely foreign to her. It would take some adjustment and patience before she started to really enjoy herself like a normal human being. Dean didn’t know how much patience she had to spare, but for Cas she would try her best to bear with the inevitable awkwardness.

As her eyes scanned every corner of the bar - now swarming with drunken and half-drunken bodies - she felt Castella’s piercing stare diving beneath her skin. Damn it, why did she always have to stare? ”I-I don’t have a scope, Deandra. I don’t understand.” Judging by her bemused expression, she wasn’t lying. The response prompted an inward sigh of - she wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or exasperation. It was something bad, she knew that much. ”I didn’t mean it literally, Cas,” she said, forcing out a chuckle. Okay, maybe it was a little funny, but she wasn’t going to openly ridicule Cas for a small misinterpretation. She was known for taking every phrase literally, and Dean should’ve known better. She would blame the alcohol for her own mistake. ”Just start looking for dudes that you might like.” She returned to her previous activity and started skimming the flushed bodies of fellow bar-goers, spotting a rather attractive blondie near the entrance. He looked lonely and ready to mingle.

Show time.

”How about him?” she pointed him out of the crowd and grinned. He was tall, sturdily-built, athletic-looking (so a career, probably. Perfect.), with a freshly-shaved face and a drink in hand. The number one rule of attracting a man’s attention was to glance at them as often as possible, signaling interest because it was unreasonable not to notice something as alluring as girl’s wandering eyes. As if on cue, the boy returned a glance and sipped his drink, eyes flickering from Deandra to Castella. They seemed to linger purposely on Cas. As Deandra grinned broadly upon realizing what this meant, he stood up and approached them.

Score one for Deandra Solothurn’s expertise, and screw Sam for ever doubting her!

”Hello, ladies. Can I buy you two a drink?”

His eyes were green, she noticed, and although they darted back and forth between the two of them she could see their obvious interest in Castella. Well damn, she was going to be a third wheel! Not that she minded. Once Cas was settled, she would find her own man to reel in. After the free drinks, of course. ”Sure,” she found herself answering before Cas could say anything to ruin her chances. As soon as he was out of earshot, she learned forward and tried to appear as serious as possible with the alcohol buzzing through her vessels. ”Alright Cas, when he comes back just..don’t be yourself. Act like me.” As cruel as it might be, Cas wasn’t ready for this. She needed some practice, but once she got the hang of everything Deandra would sever the ties and let her mingle on her own.

When blondie returned with two cocktails, Deandra smiled heartily. ”Mind if I join you?” he asked, and of course she responded with a flirtatious shake of the head before he flashed a charming smile of his own and sat down. ”I’m Chandler, by the way,” he said. As interesting as he was, she would save him for Cas. She was still looking for the blue-eyed wonder she had fantasized about not ten minutes ago. Where would he be, she wondered? ”Deandra,” she replied, sipping her cocktail eagerly. Then Chandler looked at Cas expectantly.

[/justify][/blockquote][/color]

[cass]

Castella Novak was anything put capable of scoping. The definition that Deandra supplied left her staring for a moment longer, her eyebrows dragged down ever so slightly, pushing her face into a quizzical frown. But seeing no forthcoming reply she sighed inwardly to herself before drawing her blue gaze away from the stubborn blonde headed girl in front of her. It seemed to always go this way; Dean would suggest a topic of interest hat left Cas stranded and unable to work out what she meant, then after minutes of pondering she’d be left to feel like a fool as she asked. Sam was always kind; somehow understanding to her oblivious nature, Dean often smirked and giggled, laughing it all up before she offered to help the career. It was any wonder Cas stayed by Dean’s side, it was obvious that Sam was the kinder person, but it was the fact that Cas could see the pity in Sam’s eyes that made her stay away. It was like Sam felt the need to baby Cas for her inability to understand the ‘street’ references Dean supplied her with. It was also why Cas preferred Dean’s company, the girl was short-tempered, stubborn and harsh, but she didn’t try to skip around anything she said, she didn’t try to make Cas feel inadequate with every word that slipped past her lips, she didn’t try to explain it all and instead left Cas to figure it out by herself. Yeah sometimes it left Cas more annoyed than ever, but Dean didn’t make her feel foolish, instead she allowed Cas to be the one to admit she knew nothing, whereas Sam explained it as soon as she said it, as though she expected Cas to not know a thing.

Her strikingly blue eyes scanned the area around her looking left and right, but seeing nothing. She was simply looking for the fact of looking, to make it seem as though she knew what she was doing, when really she had no clue. The task she had been set had impossibly standard’s, a bar so high that Cas didn’t even want to try and reach it. Shifting uncomfortably in her chair she looked down at her lap, running, it was better than looking uselessly around the bar. She wondered if Deandra could feel her discomfort, some part of her hoped she could and then maybe Deandra would put this nonsense to an end and let Cas go home. The other part of her hoped Dean would remain oblivious to it all, because Cas didn’t want to feel more foolish then she already did, but then she was always becoming more comfortable with the feeling, it seemed to be one of the most prominent emotions she felt when around the two Solothurn’s.

Why was she looking for a man? Why was she scoping for a suitable guy? And how on earth could a person spot a suitable person by simply glancing at them? When Cas glanced at them all she saw people trying too hard to be something they weren’t. There were girls dancing in short clothes, gripping onto boys that seemed only eager to press their lips to their faces. She could see that this was a hormone storm, where it would end in a promise that should only be taken up with two people that loved one another. She’d always found the fact that Deandra sleeping so willingly with men was strange. The fact that she could desecrate herself so many times proved to Cas that she saw so little of herself. Cas, herself, believed that the art of making love was something that should only be taken when two people loved each other very much, but she was positive that Dean had not felt anything for the men she had thrown herself at. And besides Deandra had said look for guys you might like, but she didn’t know what she liked. The term seemed as though she was shopping for something, but that didn’t seem right to her.

”How about him?”

Castella was almost reluctant to look upwards. This evening in the bar was not how she thought it was going to be like. In all honesty she had not had any expectations for it whatsoever, but from what she was gathering now anything was better than this. Drawing her eyes up she looked in the direction that Dean had pointed, she found herself eyeing a tall man with brightly light green eyes. He was well shaven and dressed nicely, his short cropped brown hair was messy on his head, his build was athletic, and he looked strong. Castella’s first impression of him was that she could take him easily in a fight. For some reason that Castella would never understand he seemed to take Deandra’s looks as a sign, and moments later he was strolling up to their table. Castella eyed him wearily, unsure of how to react around a man that assisted that a few looks was enough to be invited over to a table. Deandra seemed pleased by the notion, her smile bright on her lips, Castella watched her, her own face neutral. ”Hello, ladies. Can I buy you two a drink?” He asked, Castella opened her mouth to tell the strange man that she would not like a drink from a stranger she had just meet who had just invited himself to their table without asking, before then demeaning her with the name ‘lady’ rather then something more stronger and independent. But before she could even speak Deandra butted in, throwing a meaningful look her way, Cas’ mouth snapped shut and she stared straight back at Dean.

”Alright Cas, when he comes back just… don’t be yourself. Act like me.” The tone she used implied that she was attempting to be serious; Cas doubted her ability to be serious whatsoever, especially with the amount of alcohol she knew was already within her body. The comment, however, left her stumped, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing come out, so she snapped it shut. How was being like Dean a good thing? Cas narrowed her eyes, unsure of what Deandra was intending. Besides what was wrong with being herself? ”I don’t believe it would be wise of you to drink more alcohol, Deandra.” She replied. The tall boy returned holding two drinks. He placed one in front of Cas and she simply stared at it. ”Mind if I join you?” He asked. Castella could have easily said no, but Deandra nodded, her smile bright enough to match his own. ”I’m Chandler, by the way,” He said. Apparently after saying that everyone was meant to introduce themselves, Deandra quickly responded with her own name. The boy – Chandler turned to Castella, a quizzical, but charming expression plastered on his lips. Act like me. The words slipped into her mind, but Castella shook them off. ”My name is Castella.” She responded. Act like me. Castella looked over at Deandra, she watched as Deandra brought the drink to her lips, a smile gracing her face.

After a few moments Castella looked down at her drink, mimicking Deandra’s movements she picked it up and sipped it, the bitter-sweet liquid filled her mouth and she downed the glass in one mouthful. That was how it was down, right? She’d seen Deandra do it all too many times. Trying her best not to bring the drink back up she turned to the boy, leaning forwards she tried her best smile, it was small, but it was a smile nonetheless. It was hard at the edges, but that was the same with everything about Castella. What else did Deandra do? Opening her mouth uncertainty she said, ”you have nice elbows?” It was the first thing that popped to mind and the tip rose so that the comment was proposed as more of a question, and the absurdity of what she said was enough to make her lean backwards, a small giggle escaping her lips – giggle, she actually giggled.

I’m giving up
This whole lie, this whole me
Call it out like a family
Instead I bide my time, get a ride
Until the rubber leaves the road

[/justify]

[Python]

Castella was off to a good start. She introduced herself smoothly and copied Deandra’s movements, touching the glass to her lips and tilting her head back. She didn’t anticipate the career gulping the entire glass in one go (the act was met with two pairs of raised eyebrows by both Deandra and Chandler), and felt thoroughly impressed by the newbie-drinker’s ability to execute that risk without choking or grimacing even once. Okay, she would give Cas some credit for being a badass in that respect, but this was only a cocktail. If Chandler had purchased shot glasses filled to their brinks, this would be an entirely different story. Probably a messy, embarrassing one too.

It seemed Cas was attempting to consider her advice to “act like Deandra“. She was drinking, check. She was smiling, check (a bit of hard smile, but what can you do? She was a hard career. Everything she did was with firmness that would never falter). She was reciprocating Chandler’s flirtatious stare to the best of her ability, check. The expression wasn’t half bad for a beginner, but Deandra knew Chandler probably wouldn’t notice how much of a novice she was anyway. He was too busy making goo-goo eyes at her pretty face.

It was his turn to speak, but suddenly Castella’s voice was breaking the short silence, and Deandra’s glass nearly slipped out of her fingers. ”You have nice elbows?” she said, and they were all fortunate that Deandra had swallowed her last sip, otherwise they would all be coated with a mixture of cocktail and saliva.

What the hell?

She was speechless. Stunned. Flabbergasted. If she could think of more synonyms to describe her state of disbelief she would write herself a mental list of them. Nice elbows? What the hell? Who the hell said something like that? Ripred, Cas. You’re a baby in a trench coat. If her hands weren’t otherwise occupied she would rub her temples until the skin turned raw. Cas had tried to compliment him; that was reasonable, considering that was exactly what Deandra would’ve done. However, she would’ve chosen something more commonly acknowledged, like his eyes or his muscles. Dudes loved compliments about their bodies - but not freakin elbows. And what was that sound she had made after the compliment? Was that a giggle? Okay, that was wrong, because Deandra did not giggle. And there was no way Castella was acting on behalf of alcoholic symptoms: nobody was that much of a light-weight. For a long, agonizing moment Deandra dreaded Chandler’s reaction and anticipated the worst, but then the unexpected happened.

He laughed.

”I love a girl with a sense of humor!” he exclaimed, teeth shining under the fluorescent light. She could feel the weight lifting above her shoulders. Okay, so he was clueless. She should be grateful for that. But although there was no mess to clean, Cas still needed to learn, so Deandra decided to speak up between sips of her cocktail. ”I bet what she really meant was that you have nice eyes,” she said, hoping that Cas would catch her drift. Chandler looked at her briefly, acknowledging the remark, then brought his gaze straight back to Cas. ”Thanks,” he said to her, even though it was clearly Deandra who should receive credit for the compliment. She would forgive him, though, because he wasn’t her date. He was Castella’s. Her mystery man was still waiting to be found - blue eyes and all. Speaking of which, she needed to ditch these two soon so she could find him. But how would Cas manage without supervision? She was almost an adult, and basically capable of handling herself, but like she had thought earlier; baby in a trench coat. What if she lost his interest and came crawling back to Deandra?

There were plenty of fish in the tank, she remembered. All would not be lost if Cas was hopelessly awkward. Deandra could solve any problem life tossed at her (usually) because she was awesome, and Castella’s virginity problem was no exception. She would just say “whatever” now and leave it at that. Besides, she didn’t want to end up babysitting Cas the entire time. She just needed a little push; the rest she could figure out using context clues. With a smile, Deandra downed the rest of her beverage and smacked her lips together. ”Well, I’ll leave you two alone,” she said with a playful wink, slipping out of her chair and into the haze of drunken breath and swaying bodies. She could hear Chandler’s voice as she walked away: ”So, are you a career?” Of course he would ask that, he was a career too. Deandra had known from the beginning, just by looking at him. Damn, she was good!

[/justify][/blockquote]

[cass]

She bit her lip, biting down hard to stop herself from giggling, she frowned, concentrating heavily on stopping herself from making another sound. That had been horrid. The sound that had passed through her lips had been embarrassing, high-pitched and completely and utterly wrong. Castella Novak did not giggle. She did not laugh, rarely smiled and had a thing for frowning. Giggling was an area in her life that had never even occurred to her. What was more was that if her siblings had of seen that she’d be doomed to suffer a decade of teasing. They all new Cas to be a sombre, off-putting affair and in all honesty that was exactly the way she liked it. That way she was cold, intimidating and very much not a person to be messed around with. Girls that giggled, drunk and partied were anything, but that. Cas could give them one glare and send them packing because they were so scared. Not like she had tried it before, though, communicating with Deandra and Samantha was difficult enough. Her eyes swivelled over the Deandra, almost as though she was trying to re-assure herself that she was doing something right. Deandra looked as though her drink was about to fall from her hands, her eyes had widened considerably and they stared at Cas as though she wasn’t seeing her best friend, but someone else.

The look made Cas frown, uncertainty tugging at her stomach. Unwilling to hold Deandra’s gaze she turned to the boy in front of her who held a similar expression and suddenly the intimidating, powerful career wanted to be anywhere, but in that room. Why on earth had she giggled – the very word still made her skin prickle coldly? For a brief and hesitant moment Cas leaned backwards, sinking into her chair, trying to escape their stunned looks. And then the oddest thing happened the man – yes she had graciously decided that he was not a boy – who called himself Chandler begun laughing. The evident delight in the sound was something Cas rarely heard and the fact that it was being directed at her gave her an almost pleasant feeling. There was little the career could do to prevent the smile that slowly crept along her face. And this time, perhaps for the first time ever, there was nothing hard about it. It was almost warm.

”I love a girl with a sense of humor!”

Castella was uncertain of the intentions behind the statement and her smile faded, all warmth feeling her face. The bright light that had been there disappeared to be once more replaced by her normal calculating look. Chandler’s teeth flashed as he laughed, his voice booming. This social adventure was going in all sorts of weird directions; she was facing things she had never faced before and fining herself unable to deal with them. Besides Castella almost bristled at the way he said girl she was anything but a girl, that was like calling an angel a fairy, offensive, really. But she held back any anger; instead she looked away from him. Some people didn’t think before they spoke and she could hardly blame them she never did. She had said countless things to Dean that had often left the two of them standing awkwardly beside each other. She’d try and decipher what she had said wrong whilst Sam snickered silently in the background. (It was like that time Sam had laughed, breaking into hysterics as she had pointed out that Dean and herself had a more profound bond. She still didn’t understand how she had deserved the glare that comment had been met with)

She raised an eyebrow at Dean, eyes questioning as though asking Deandra to tell her if she was doing this correctly. Some part of her doubted it, another part of her was still trying to get over the strange taste of alcohol in her mouth, and even then her tongue seemed to be pleased by the substance she had pressed to her lips. Castella looked at her empty cup, unbelievably wishing there was more in there. She had seen Deandra take a few drunks and stumble around the room, but Cas hadn’t felt a thing from that drink. Maybe it didn’t have alcohol in it. Maybe it was just a sweet, weird drink that tasted pleasant. ”I bet what she really meant was that you have nice eyes,” Deandra spoke between sips of her half full glass. She did not down it in one as Castella had done and the career couldn’t help but think that was another thing she had done wrong.

This is not fun. Where was the paradise Dean had spoken of?

”Thanks,” Chandler replied with a simple thanks eyes barely flickering to the girl that had spoken for more than a few seconds before quickly dashing back to Cas. She wasn’t sure why he kept looking at her. There was hardly anything interesting to see. She met his gaze with her fierce blue eyes, they hardened ever so slightly and Chandler’s eyes widened and they flickered away. It seemed that no one could hold her gaze. The scrutinising stare she placed over him lasted no longer then a few seconds. She had gained an understanding of him, he was a career, he had trained well, but she could see that from the evident difference between his arms and legs he focused more in his upper body. From that she assumed he was not a very good runner and she already could tell that if they fought she’d destroy him in less than two moves. She sighed inwardly, her eyes flickering away from him and to Deandra, she hoped Dean could see the way her eyes pleaded for her to stop this. It was hard, it was confusing and it worried Cas that she couldn’t talk to the boy in front of her. She did not like the way he looked at her, it was as though he wanted her and that was not something she had ever dealt with before.

Then it happened.

”Well, I’ll leave you two alone.”

All she could do was stare. Eyes widening in shock and annoyance as her friend stood up and left her alone. She watched as Deandra walked away so very sure of herself as she weaved into the crowds, eyes scanning left and right as though searching for someone. Meanwhile Castella was left with Chandler in front of her. She made a move to get up and follow Deandra, unwilling to stay behind and drown in her inability to socialise. She’d not been brought up to do this and it was cruel to leave her to wink or swim, it was like demanding she attack a prophet to agitate an archangel. She’d be dead before she moved a finger. She could not do this. But as she made a move to stand up Chandler’s voice cut in and she slipped back into her chair with a plod. ”So, are you a career?” She looked at him. Wasn’t that obvious? She could tell he was without even thinking twice, how could he not see it? Deandra’s whining, annoying, cocky voice spilt into her head once more, act like me.

Act like Deandra you survive.

Trying her best to not sound too condescending she replied, ”yes, I am.” The conversation trailed off and Castella wrung her hands nervously against one another. She was not good at this. She sighed, her mind scrambling to say something, anything that Deandra would say. ”How’s it goin’?” She asked, her tone, to her shock, even mimicking the way Deandra said it, Dean’s accent handing onto each of her words. Cas bit back a gasp. Nope, this was going to end horribly. Chandler, the simpleton he was, didn’t seem to notice. “Oh cool, training is great at the moment, getting prepped for next games, they’ll be my last ones.” He smiled at her and she graced him with the smallest of smiles in return. ”You know, Cas, you are beautiful.” Castella Novak recoiled at the comment, hands tightening on the chair as she scooted away from him, well as far as she could whilst being stuck on a chair. “Don’t call me ‘Cas’. My name is Castella to you and everyone else.” She replied, tone crisp. Chandler sat back, a hand running through his short golden brown hair. He had nice hair. She watched each of his movements. ”You are one weird girl. It is nice to see… Castella.”

She didn’t respond and after a few moments she dared to think that he might just leave, but he didn’t. Instead he turned back to her a new grin forming on his face. She did not like it. His eyes travelled to the tiny dance floor in the far corner, where a few brave souls had stepped into the light and had begun dancing. All of them out of time, all of them looking like they’d rather be somewhere else. ”Come on, let’s dance.” And before she could say a single thing he had jumped forwards grabbed her arm and pulled her over. She let out a startled yelp and her eyes searched frantically for Deandra as she was dragged to that pitiful floor.

I’m giving up
This whole lie, this whole me
Call it out like a family
Instead I bide my time, get a ride
Until the rubber leaves the road

[/justify]

[Python]

Blue eyes was nowhere in sight, so Deandra found the next best thing. After just five minutes of hunting she was chatting it up with one of those stereotypical tall, dark and handsome men with piercing grey eyes and plenty of money to spare in his back pocket. They were sitting at the counter with half-emptied glasses in their hands, and while he was flashing his pearly whites Deandra was chuckling at every joke he uttered and biting her lip in anticipation of a sensation-filled night of ecstasy in the bedroom. The roar of the background dulled into a gentle hum of irrelevant noise until she was almost completely unaware of the crowded areas and obnoxious people. She could not, however, forget about the one major distraction she had brought with her: poor, inexperienced, puzzled Castella. Every so often during their conversation Dean would find herself glancing at that table where Chandler was flirting his ass off to a completely unreceptive Cas. At least, that’s what it looked like from where she was standing. He seemed very interested in her eyes (she couldn’t blame him, they were the bluest eyes she had ever seen), but she seemed uncomfortable. Actually, she looked constipated every time he spoke. She wasn’t sure whether it was funny, or unfortunate. Or unfortunately funny.

”Deandra?” his voice diverted her attention back to where it belonged: those gorgeous damn eyes. She blinked and tried to appear clueless. ”Hm?” She hummed and took another sip of her drink (fruity again, as if guys couldn’t figure it out that she could handle the hard stuff), trying to play off the fact that she had totally been ignoring him to look at her best friend - not that he knew she even existed. ”Are you okay?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed but only half-way concerned. He was definitely reaching the “drunk out of his wits” phase, but somehow he was still charming as hell. She just smiled. ”I’m fine.” then they returned to their previous conversation, but this time she was only offering half of her attention. The rest was focused on Castella’s progress, which seemed nonexistent at this point. Chandler would speak with smiles and enthusiasm, but Castella’s expression remained neutral, as if unaffected by any flattering words or advances. She faintly wondered if it was Cas’ fault, or his. Was he just not interesting enough to her? Maybe they needed to find another guy for her, one that wouldn’t bore her to death.

Suddenly, after stealing another glance, their table was empty. She almost panicked for a moment before she spotted Chandler leading Cas to the dance floor. Oh great, whose idea was that? Chandler’s, probably. Did Cas even know how to dance? Just taking one look at the girl was enough to warn Deandra that no, Cas probably couldn’t dance, and that would mean Deandra had to show her. But what about her pretty, grey-eyed man?

”So, Deandra-”

”Wanna dance?” she abruptly interrupted him, even as his hand had grazed her arm affectionately - a signal that he wanted to continue their conversation elsewhere. She seemed to have caught him off guard because he blinked and hesitated for a moment, until he finally mustered a pathetic ”Sure.” before taking her arm and leading her to the dance floor. As they maneuvered through sweaty bodies into the secluded corner of blinking rainbow lights her eyes searched for Cas among the swarm of horribly intoxicated dancers. It wasn’t too difficult, seeing as how Castella was the only stationary one on the dance floor. All she had to do was search for the statue and the blondie swaying awkwardly next to her. Piece of pie cake.

In a matter of seconds they switched roles, and Deandra was the one dragging her man (she forgot his name already) across the pitifully small dance floor until she found a position where Cas would take notice of her. Then, they started to move. Deandra was definitely not the most talented dancer, but not the worst either. She at least had the moves to keep a guy satisfied, and that’s all Cas needed. It took her a few minutes to situate herself and find her rhythm, but once it was within her clutches she was smiling like a giddy drunk and waiting for Cas to notice her. Even as her partner invaded her personal space her eyes flickered to her best friend, who still looked pretty weird just standing there like she had no idea what to do. Eventually those blue eyes found hers, and that’s when Deandra mouthed the words, “Do what I do.” Seriously, what would Cas do without her?

[/blockquote][/justify][/color]

[cass]

There was a time in which she would have killed a person that touched her like this. Maybe this was what Deandra implied when she spoke about personal space. But when Castella stood close by Dean it was never with her arms clinging to her waist, or hands moving on her body, as she was forced to put a foot here and a foot there. She stared daggers at this Chandler guy, her eyes burning into his head, but he was rather ignorant and very stupid as the looks she threw him were ignored. He smiled, he tried to chat, but the girl he was gripping did not respond to a single compliment or query. He suggested they leave and she ignored him, the idea of walking out of the bar with this guy something she had no wish to do. She had no such thoughts that he would try and hurt her. Cas was confident in her ability, she was more worried about her lack of control when it came to ending his pathetic existence. Normally she graced humans with more appreciation and awe, looking upon them like some divine creation, but the human in front of her was just confusing and rather annoying. In her opinion he was a lot like those guys she had killed when rescuing Deandra when they had first meet. Useless.

His hands seemed to slide down further, past her hips and she jumped the touch uncomfortable. Pulling her arms up she grabbed his wrists, her grip was not soft nor gentle, but rough and precise. She moved his hands, for an instant she was prepared to throw them completely off of her body, but one glance at Deandra sitting at her table made her hesitate. So instead she satisfied her needs and placed them back on her hips. Castella Novak had no clue what she was doing, she didn’t even attempt to fake it all. Normally in such a situation she would ask questions, but seeing as her constant victim was nowhere in sight she pulled herself together and endure the torture and injustice of it all. She could picture Gabriel’s sneering face, as he snickered and laughed at her. He was good with the ‘ladies’ or so he said. She wasn’t sure why anyone would go out with a guy that seemed so addicted to food. Food that was inevitably going to lead to a large belly and unhealthy lifestyle. He was obsessed with sweets of all kinds; the house was littered with his filth.

Grunting she pried her body away from him, he seemed to accept the fact that the girl was clueless on all things to do with dancing, and moving her body to music that seemed impossibly stupid. The lyrics of the songs were confusing, some spoke about rape, others spoke about dying young and how it could possibly be a good thing. The songs were so contradictory and lame. They repeated the same idea over and over again, as though they believed people didn’t get it the first time they heard it. Why couldn’t they just say what they wanted? Or better yet say nothing at all. Later on she’d have to ask Deandra the point of music and songs; it was all useless to her.

Ripred she wanted to get away from all of this.

Even being in Sam’s presence was better than this. As much as she disliked the girl’s habits, and her tainted blood Castella would have preferred to watch her do those kind of bad things then continue on with this horrid movement. Chandler seemed to think her break was enough because he quickly grabbed her hands, throwing her into another dance, that involved her stumbling along the ground. Her usually graceful movements and skill to move with precision and ease was nowhere to be seen. Instead she floundered, her feet slapping the ground, her movements so very much out of time, it was any wonder she was still standing on her feet and not on the floor. Her eyes flickered in every direction as she was forced to move on the floor, she searched, desperately trying to find Deandra, her eyes almost pleading silently that the girl help her get out of this situation. She couldn’t understand how Deandra could possibly call this paradise, let alone have fun. There was nothing pleasant about being assaulted and thrown across a disgusting floor, being smashed against sweaty, filthy bodies, and being talked to as though you were some prize to be won.

Deandra was honestly insane. And Castella was not at all understanding in any way to the fact that the girl spent hours upon hours in such a demeaning place. When this was over – and it would be over very soon, she was never coming back. Not in a million years.

It was then that she spotted Deandra; the girl was moving around, swaying in her feet and shifting this way and that with ease of practice. Her movements were perfect and her hands were glued to a boy that was lapping up the dance that Deandra was throwing her way. Their eyes meet and Deandra seemed to be pointedly indicating that Cas copy her movements. Cas didn’t want to do that, she just wanted to get away from her and out, but she bite down her string of complaints and paused for the briefest of moments, her eyes drinking in the way to move within seconds. Slowly she began to mimic them, her body flowing into step, her natural grace and elegance finally stepping in.

Chandler seemed to be in shock at her sudden ability to move and actually dance, but within moments he was moving with her. Being the career he was he had enough grace and skill to move with her and not ruin Castella’s steps. Chandler seemed to take her sudden willingness to dance as a sign; his hands began to slide down her hips and her sides, until they were cupping her bottom. Castella grunted in annoyance, her face burning, her eyes widening. This was not okay. And then to her horror he leaned forwards, eyes closed, lips protruding. He looked like a fish, but he kept leaning forwards, even as she attempted to tilt her head and entire body away from him. With a startled yelp she tore herself from his grasp, her fist went flying, slamming right into his jaw.

I’m giving up
This whole lie, this whole me
Call it out like a family
Instead I bide my time, get a ride
Until the rubber leaves the road

[/justify]

[Python]

Cas was in serious need of a tutor, and fortunately Deandra was up for the task. The subtle glances and hinting smirks was enough to capture the clueless girl’s attention, and she was able to solve the silent puzzle within moments. Granted, Cas was definitely a novice on the dance floor - her robotic limbs were enough to reveal that sad story - but she caught on well to Dean’s style, fluidly moving her hips to the rhythm of the bouncing music. Dean was actually proud of her work; Cas might as well be the perfect catch now, what with those blue eyes and that alluring voice (to the dudes, of course, not her). Chandler seemed to notice the change, too, and she actually wanted to roll her eyes. He had no idea that Castella was actually her pupil, not the victim of his charms. Cas was only moving because she had suggested it and provided a reliable example. He seemed to comprehend it as a crystal clear sign of her interest, and that’s when he stepped closer to her. Dean knew what was coming next - well, sort of. She knew Chandler’s hands would wander over Cas’ delicate curves and that he would smile at her with googly bedroom eyes, as if he could seduce her. She even somewhat anticipated the kiss (seriously, that fast? Must be a desperate dude).

She did not, however, expect Cas to sock him across the jaw.

Deandra was frozen in place as her surroundings continued to move. A few curious gazes nearby had witnessed the abrupt bout of violence, but were either unfazed by such a commonplace occurrence (girls hit guys for being jerks sometimes, it’s part of life) or too distracted by their euphoria to care. Chandler was absolutely stunned, as if literally stricken by a taser, or in this case - since it was Cas - it was more like lightning. The shocked expression did not suit him well. He looked like he was overreacting, actually. He had his hand pressed to his jaw, mouth agape and eyes wide like he was offended by the gesture. Okay, now that she could see past the superficial lure she realized he was a pretty awful match for Cas. She should’ve chosen someone less touchy (Cas was new at this, after all) and more talky. That was her mistake, she would apologize for it later. Maybe.

Or she could blame Cas instead of insulting her own matchmaking skills. Either way, they would both lose. Deandra hastily abandoned her partner (he shouted something, then, but it was lost to the thrum of the music pounding in her ears) and approached Cas, leaning in close to catch her attention with rushed words. She had decided on a whim that their best bet was to leave this place before security kicked their asses, and as much as Dean didn’t want to leave her beautiful partner stranded they had no choice at this point. She could see a security guard passed bundles of bodies, and he was eyeing them suspiciously, edging closer and closer to the dance floor with a dangerous glint in his eyes. ”Come on, Cas, we’re leaving,” she said, and to her dismay Cas seemed immediately relieved to hear these words. She grasped Cas softly by the arm and led her through the obstacle course of steaming bodies, maneuvering left and right to avoid detection by the prowling security guard. Neither Chandler nor her grey-eyed beauty pursued them. She figured it was because they had lost sight of them weaving through the thick crowds. She couldn’t find it in herself to really care anymore.

As the crisp night air greeted them in its chilly embrace she breathed a long sigh and peered over her shoulder through the glass windows, checking for followers. The security guard and their affectionate partners were nowhere to bee seen, and she was grateful. She didn’t want to deal with two horny, stranded men with rejected hearts and whiny attitudes. She turned to Cas and panted a bit, both amused and surprised by their sudden predicament, and finally spoke up. ”What happened?” It was a bit of a stupid question, because Deandra knew what had happened: Chandler had tried to make a move and Cas had rejected him rather harshly with her fist (typical career), but she was asking in case she had missed something. With the pounding music and overwhelmingly vibrant lights she could’ve missed something. Had Chandler also whispered something derogatory or offensive? Were his hands brushing too inappropriately against her hourglass physique? Was it Cas’ natural reaction to just punch everything she didn’t like? Cas didn’t understand a lot of norms and things like that, but seriously? She could’ve handled this much differently, and without nearly breaking his jaw, or whatever she did.

[/blockquote][/justify][/color]

[cass]

As soon as her hand collided with his face some instinct told her she had made a bad choice. But she really didn’t care. In fact she was past caring, she was particularly tired of Deandra’s attempt’s at trying to get her to just go with it, to be like her and get a guy. Her mouth still felt funny from the drink she had taken, and she knew that it wasn’t something she was ever going to try again. Her other siblings drank those sorts of drinks often; Balthazar was a real ‘ladies man’ sometimes he wouldn’t come home from days. Other times he’d pop into the house to grab some cash, or with his arms wrapped around the body of some tight, giggling little fool. Gabriel was much the same as he was, he drank these bitter, foul types of liquids, he just seemed to prefer girls with more curves. He went for anyone who gave him sweets and candy, no matter how revolting they were. It was disgusting to watch her siblings through themselves it others, it was disgusting how they did someone and moved on.

And yet she was in this bar trying to ‘hook up’ with this person who was violating her. He had touched her bottom, than he had tried to kiss her. Who the hell did he think he was? No one had that right to do that kind of thing to her. And if they thought she was a piece of meat just there for them to play with as they willed they were so very much wrong. Castella Novak had no clue why he had been looking at her with eyes round, his gaze had kept slipping to the door as though he had wanted to leave, but to leave that meant he would have had to let go of her and walk out, and for that entire dance the idea of letting go of her body had appeared to be the last thing on his mind.

Then, after she had socked him across the jaw he had had the worst reaction of turning himself into an offended looking puppy, as though he hadn’t expected her to hit him. He had even whimpered as she had hit him. Which, in her opinion, had been a very smart move. She was not one to hit softly, after all she was a trained career, and she had skills in all areas of combat. She was the top of her classes and when she hit someone she didn’t just tap them, she wanted to hurt them. Scowling, in a show of emotion rare for her, she stepped backwards and away from him, her hands fitting themselves against her hips she looked down at him. Cas’ eyes challenged Chandler to go for it, get up and hit her, give her his best shot, but he seemed still shocked and very much in pain from her last whack. It was cleasr that by some social standard she had done something very wrong. When she finally drew her cold gaze away from them she was met with horrified and amused looks alike from the other people on the dance floor.

Her smirk faded and she stepped backwards once more, hoping that she could fold herself back into the crowd. She was not good with attention – her little display just another reason why she was not capable of controlling herself when people gave her too much attention. Thankfully Deandra stepped forwards and to Castella’s relief declared that they were finally going to leave. Deandra grasped her arm and gently lead them away and out of the bar, Cas followed eagerly, her steps moving behind Deandra, at times almost willing enough to step ahead of her and lead the way out herself. The air was cold and it bit into her exposed skin, but she ignored it easily, brushing it off like she would a fly. She was capable of dealing with all types of pain whether it be pain, coldness or heat, the only thing that she seemed unable to do was deal with boy’s. But then, that was hardly a problem in her opinion. Deandra, on the other hand, seemed to take her lack of skill as a personal offence.

”What happened?” It seemed like hours passed before the sudden question broke the tense silence between them. Castella could only stare, eyes once more emotionless. Slowly she reached upwards and begun tying her hair, pulling it backwards and drawing it away from her face. She looked down at herself before doing up the buttons that Deandra had demanded she undo. She did all of this before finally replying to the question. ”He touched me in a way, and in a place I deemed to be inappropriate. He wouldn’t stop even after fair warning on my behalf so I retaliated as I would to any other person.” Cas’ tone was once more crisp and all business like. ”Deandra, don’t do this to me again. It wasn’t enjoyable in the slightest. My clothing is still in your room, I need to retrieve it before I head back to my own house.” And with that she slipped past Deandra, and starting walking briskly towards the next street.

I’m giving up
This whole lie, this whole me
Call it out like a family
Instead I bide my time, get a ride
Until the rubber leaves the road

[/justify]

[Python]

Okay, so maybe taking Castella to a bar of all places had been a bit extreme. Virgins Girls like Cas wanted to be wooed with romance rather than seduction, right? That’s what she had been like once too, a long long time ago. So maybe the loud, hazy, booze-scented bar of rambunctious men was not the best environment for Cas to spread her pure little wings, but at least now she knew where not to start. Next time she would choose something more tame – something on Cas’ comfort level, so she didn’t end up breaking jaws and taking names. She mentally smirked at the thought of Chandler’s shocked and pained expression, the poor bastard. Deandra was personally familiar with the wrath of Cas’ knuckles, so she could sympathize with him, although she didn’t feel as much pity as she thought she would.

When Castella started off in a brisk walk, Dean followed suit with long strides to match her pace. ”Next time I won’t take you to a bar. I’ll take you someplace classier, where the guys aren’t dicks.” she said, and the silence lingering after her last breath of words warned her that maybe she had actually ruined Cas’ night instead of making something fun and exciting out of it. She knew she had to make it up to her, lest she decided not to forgive her after this awkward experience. ”Sorry, Cas. I – sorry.” was all she could muster, because what else was she going to say? She had intended to drag Cas to a bar and she had intended to help her meet guys. She just hadn’t anticipated it ending this badly. It was entirely her fault, too. Cas obviously wasn’t that type of girl. Maybe someday she might be, but not now. How had Deandra been so damn blind?

As they approached the Solothurn’s temporary abode, Dean suddenly grabbed Castella’s shoulder to spin her around before her hand could reach for the doorknob. ”Wait, Cas.” She paused and furrowed her eyebrows, biting the inside of her cheek whilst she searched for the proper words. ”I know the bar was a bad idea, and Chandler was kind of a dick, but you can’t let one sucky experience ruin your whole night.” she quirked a half-smile and moved passed her to the door. She twisted the knob to find it locked, meaning Sammy was either still out or being very precautious, so she burrowed into her pockets for her keys and glanced back at her sullen companion. ”Stay here for awhile. Sam rented some of those nerdy movies she likes to watch. We could pop one in, have a few beers and relax.”

She unlocked the door and pushed herself inside, toward the scent of leather, iron, and a hint of perfume. She flicked on the light switch and found Cas’ favorite trench coat (she seriously wears it every day, and it begs the question; does she only own one that she washes a lot, or does she own a million pairs of the same color?) resting neatly on Dean’s mattress. ”You probably won’t like the beer. It’s an acquired taste, but after all of that crap you need some booze.” She immediately delved into the fridge and pulled out two beers, one she tossed to Cas, whom she knew had excellent reflexes, and the other she opened for herself. Deandra had consumed her fair share of alcohol for the night, but she wasn’t quite wasted – that hadn’t been her intention, really. She had been focused more on Cas and her own not-quite-blue-eyed man, who was probably still back at the bar macking on some other girl. Whatever, Dean had other priorities, like having a good time with her best friend Cas. Screw Chandler and what’s-his-face, she had her own booze and her own friends!

When she turned back around Castella was still there, and she felt hopeful. Maybe a few lame movies and the liquid remedies would turn the night around into something more in Cas’ tastes, rather than the catastrophe that had resulted from the bar visit. Dean offered a sincere smile and gulped a few mouthfuls of her beverage, before sauntering over to the sofa, eyes not leaving her companion for a second. ”Are you leaving or staying?” she asked, and silently hoped for the latter.

[cass]

She wondered, for the briefest of moments, if she was ever going to enjoy something like this. It seemed impractical, useless and all together not meant to be viewed as something worth wasting the emotion of ‘fun’ over. There was nothing in it that sparked happiness or joy, and yet there must have been, seeing as Deandra put herself through this day after day, hollering at the quite Cas, trying to tell her that this was supposed to be great fun. Had she done it wrong? Had she been the one to screw it all up? It was a possibility, she generally did screw things up in all the wrong ways, so seeing her reputation to do such a thing it was a likely scenario that this entire thing was her fault in itself. Normally Cas would be one to admit it, straight away, that she had made a mistake, but these feelings? They were forcing the words back and away from the edge of her tongue, making her swallow them once more. It did not feel like she had done anything wrong, the situation dictated otherwise, but her head told her she had done what she had done because it had been the right thing to do.

”Next time I won’t take you to a bar. I’ll take you someplace classier, where the guys aren’t dicks.” Castella’s pace did not slow, she didn’t want a ‘next time’, and yet she didn’t have the courage to tell Deandra that, there was just something about all this that the gruff, rough girl loved and Cas was unwilling to put her words into use and destroy it. Again, that was such an odd thing for her to do, normally she was carelessly inconsiderate with other people’s feelings, and she didn’t care if she hurt them. Most of the time she couldn’t even realise she had done it. But with Dean? It was all right there and she could actually feel when she was going to do something or say something that would hurt her. And instead of just letting it fly, she would hesitate, most of the time just for an instance and in any case she’d still say it, but there were those few rare times – like now, where she’d hold herself back. It was so incredibly abnormal for her to do. Nights would be wasted in the future, attempting to figure out why this was happening.

”Sorry, Cas. I – sorry.”

Castella’s next step faltered, a heartbeat later they moved back into a steady rhythm. The place that Deandra and Sam stayed at neared and the career almost sighed in relief. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take of the apologises and the feelings that had wound themselves within her chest. Feeling was such an obscure word within her head, who felt? She did not, and when she did it was so rare she could dismiss it as something like an illness, but as she spent more and more time with Deandra and Sam she was realising that she was hitting those spots of emotions more and more and in all honesty did it scare her? Or was it more of a numbness? She wasn’t even certain of how it made her feel because, well, that involved feeling. Frowning she bit her lip, hands tentatively laying with the hem of her shirt as she thought about all of this. Her frown deepened as a hand, presumably Dean’s, grabbed her should, dragging her around to face them. Cas let Dean pull her, her touch familiar enough, to allow her body not to react by hitting her.

Deandra seemed to fumble slightly for some words, eyebrows furrowed deeply – just like Cas’. ”I know the bar was a bad idea, and Chandler was kind of a dick, but you can’t let one sucky experience ruin your whole night.” A half smile danced on Dean’s lips. Dean moved past Cas and to the door, hands rattling in her pocket as she realised the door was locked. Cas simply stood there, unwilling to speak, and half wanting Dean to continue. ”Stay here for a while. Sam rented some of those nerdy movies she likes to watch. We could pop one in, have a few beers and relax.” Cas followed Dean inside, the familiar smells that accompanied the pair of siblings hit her, it was almost, almost soothing. The idea of staying and watching a movie was far more appealing than what had occurred, and Cas was honestly tempted to say yes. She tossed the idea around in her head as she moved towards the neatly folded trench coat that lay across Deandra’s bed. (She had only the one, washed and cleaned every few days, her wardrobe included the same clothes she wore – she even trained in this outfit).

Her hand wrapped around the trench coat, ready to leave, but as Dean opened the fridge she hesitated, glancing upwards. A bottle of alcohol came flying at her, but instincts honed in from years of practice made the reflex of catching it teasingly easy. Mind momentarily distracted from the trench coat she straightened up. Deandra moved herself towards the sofa, eyes staying on Cas. Blue eyes flickered briefly towards the trench coat, than moved towards the bottle in her hands, it was unlikely she would drink the thing, but the cold touch of the glass on her hand reminded her of the warm gesture behind it. Looking up at Dean she saw the beginning of something like an actually sincere smile, Cas forced her lips into a smile of her own, before nodding her head once and moving towards the sofa.

”What is a geeky movie, Deandra? And as such why would you assume I would enjoy such a movie?” She asked, the usually, quizzical tilt of the head followed the questions. She sat down, hands fumbling over the top of the bottle, before pulling it open. She took a small sip. Horrible. Bitter, foul, disgusting. “This booze—“ she tested the word “—tastes alright.” Liar. She took another sip.

I’m giving up
This whole lie, this whole me
Call it out like a family
Instead I bide my time, get a ride
Until the rubber leaves the road

[Python]

Deandra kicked off her shoes and dropped against the sofa with icy glass between her fingertips, her worn taste buds accustomed to the bitter flavor as she downed a few more gulps and set the bottle down on a coaster nearby. It was impossible not to sneak a smirk at Castella’s response; she was so uncultured and sheltered, it was disappointing and frustrating and humorous all at once. That pretty much summed up Cas entirely, as a matter of fact. ”Seriously, Cas? Do you have any life outside of career training?” she asked, reaching for the movie Sam had placed on the armrest. She anticipated a serious reply to the rhetorical question, and possibly a false one. As far as she was concerned Cas didn’t have much of a life outside of the Novak traditions. Hunting was her other life, which entailed more fighting except with criminals as enemies and friends as allies.

Did Cas even watch movies? It felt as if the girl did absolutely nothing in her spare time. Dean would be sure to fix that – not with anymore crappy bars, though. That was definitely not Cas’ thing. Maybe they should take baby steps, or maybe she could ask Sam what to do. Would Sam have any idea what Castella might enjoy without suggesting anything that had to do with standing around in a trench coat or hanging out with her douchebag brothers? Also reading, that wasn’t an option either. Dean didn’t want to sit around reading a bunch of worthless books, unless they had something to do with a case. People never wrote books about the cults, though, no matter how messed up or ancient they were. What they learned was from what they gathered themselves, and she had to hand it to Cas for being pretty damn talented at that.

”Everyone likes nerdy movies.” She slid the disc into its designated slot and sank back into the cushions, not bothering to dim the lights or skip the annoying previews. Instead, she gulped the rest of her beer and listened to Cas above the hums of her own thoughts. ”You’re probably a fruit drink kind of gal,” she teased, although to Cas it probably wouldn’t sound like much of an insult. Fruity girl drinks were generally weaker than most alcoholic beverages, but maybe Dean would introduce her anyway. Sweets might be her thing, since she didn’t really grasp the concept of getting drunk on beverages that twisted her tongue.

Amateur.

”You’ll get used to the taste,” she said in reassurance, indifferent to whether or not Cas actually took it to heart. In her experience, beer was an acquired taste. If she remained loyal to the two sisters for long enough, she would probably develop cravings for it too. It was only a matter of time.

”Now sit back and relax,” she said, and then it was time to call it a night.