Thread: [Closed] You Can Call it What You Want (dearestdarling and dmm4kes)

RE You Can Call it What You Want dearestdarling and dmm4kes Ray's head twisted as the duo he was approaching parted ways. While the male lead retreated to one of his cursed handlers, the more attractive of the pair gravitated towards the techie painter himself. There still wasn't more than a few feet between the two of them and Lance, who was now being furiously blotted by someone who so clearly loved their job, but it was enough distance that Ray didn't feel as though he was having a conversation with both of them. Before he could say a word, she started into her confession, and he couldn't keep his eyes from reflexively tracing down to the motion of her hands. They shot right back up out of habit, a sudden sensation of wrongness charging through him given that he'd just taken a deep dive right into this scantily clad twenty-something's chest. She was stunningly beautiful, and while he had no doubt she was used to stares -- maybe even liked them -- he wasn't about to sink to that kind of a low. He already felt like a weirdo. What 29-year old volunteered for a college program filled with teenagers and people too young to drink? Ray's lips tightened in a knee-jerk reaction, and then their left corner lifted in the closest thing to a smirk anyone in the theater program had seen from him. His cerulean gaze studied the girl's delicate features, and as she went on about explaining herself, his expression intensified to a half-smile. He shot a glance to Lance as he was being attended by that lottery winner of a costumer. That's weird, he murmured as if thinking aloud. It was clear, in that moment, that Ray was not meant to be an actor. The contrived words would not likely have fooled Lance if he'd been even remotely aware of them. Oh, yeah. He gave a profound, understanding, and only somewhat awkward nod. A moment later, Ray cast his right hand out in a shallow arc, finding himself suddenly incredibly conscious of the tendency in his hand to tremble. Fortunately it was steady as two fingertips carefully clasped to the tiny dangling microphone. He applied just a bit of pressure to the small plastic casing, and then he repeated the pressure upon its end where it connected to that thin wire running along to a battery pack. The fabricated test produced lackluster results, and then Ray's fiery brows furrowed in unison, sinking in an exaggerated frown. Can you pop the battery pack off for me? Ray reached out with his left hand this time, bringing an upturned palm to gesture at the girl's waist. The small tungsten wedding band he wore gave a quick glimmer as it caught the swiveling light someone deemed it necessary to illuminate in a quick test. He couldn't imagine what she'd managed to clip the battery back to, but he damn sure wasn't about to go feeling around for it himself. I bet I know what's going on. We might have to bring you a new one, but we're trying to check these things out before we give up on them. While waiting for compliance, Ray took the time to force a small smile. He didn't really have time for this, but he couldn't deny that the mischievous smile had piqued his interest. It wasn't often that he had the opportunity to connect with a peer in this environment, and somehow he couldn't help but think that related to at least one or two of the items on his list even if not directly. Still, he said nothing. Behind a relatively calm facade, he was trying desperately to remember her name. He knew he'd seen it in print at least half a dozen times.