Thread: Brand New Day: A Horrible RP (SevenxSome Drunkard)

Re Brand New Day A Horrible RP SevenxWineandine Billy had never been good with people and the exchange in the laundromat was just one example of it his life had been dotted with moments painfully similar, as nearly every attempt at social contact through the years had inevitably led to him twitching and stuttering. When he thought back to his childhood - which he tried not to - he would often find himself sneering at the cliche of it he had been the latchkey kid, the one who had experienced loss far too early in his life to know how to cope with it. From time to time, other children would attempt to make some form of contact with him, but their curiosity had always come in the form of cruelty - comments about his home life, remarks about his too-skinny frame, and occasionally a rock or two. He didn't like other kids very much. But sometimes the science teacher, Mr. Warsi - a man from East-India who sometimes wore a red labcoat in class as a prop - took pity on him and would let him take sanctuary in the laboratory. Those sparing moments of kindness had been enough to instill a love of science in a very, very lonely boy, and he had stayed in contact with him through his early years of high school - until the day Mr. Warsi had become a casualty of racial violence. The funeral had been small, but the empty space in Billy's heart had grown exponentially that day. High school had been pretty standard fare - jocks stuffed him into lockers, cheerleaders sneered at him, and the in-crowd disregarded him. He had breezed through as many math and science credits as the school would allow him to gather, but gym class had been sheer torture - though, having been the kid who got picked on in grade school, he had learned to run very, very fast and had thus excelled at track and field. His first friend had been Moist, who he had met in his college years around the time he had first had the notion to join the E.L.E. Boy grows up alone, boy gets picked on, boy learns to despise human race, boy wants to join league of supervillains and rule the world. He could do it, too - he had the intellect, the ideas, the drive, and his knowledge of physics and biochemistry and mechanics was phenomenal - - so why was it so difficult to talk to another person? Dr. Horrible didn't have trouble with it - he could talk in front of entire crowds, he could gloat , he had self-confidence. Worth. But Billy couldn't even make eye contact, especially not when he knew the eyes were big and green and - god, there he went again. Freaked out? Pfft. Billy repeated in a half-hearted scoff, shrugging his mouth for emphasis he chanced looking up, but with his chin tilted down he ended up peering through his eyelashes. It didn't last long the moment he glimpsed the red hair, he had to look away again because all he could see was Penny, I'm not freaked out. he said, and it was followed up by a sudden and violent facial twitch that did nothing to support his claim. After a moment, he held up the mass of kleenex and the torn detergent package and added dejectedly Just - my soap exploded. Good job. Really. Fantastic. That Ph.D. is going a long way. In an attempt to distract himself from his own thoughts, he began scrubbing aggressively at fine-boned but remarkably burnt, scarred, and calloused hands - welding and wonderflonium did a number on skin - while still avoiding looking at Buck. For a long moment he was silent, and then his eyes flicked up a few more times, risking glances, You're - new here, aren't you? he asked suddenly, not really even knowing why he was asking it, In the city, I mean. Not the laundromat.