buttahfly and geo

Who: Geo and Buttah
When: afternoon
Where: Helen's house

To: Geo
Sent: 2:43pm

if you don't mind me knowin, where you at, babydoll? i got some stuff for you an sammy. - Bu

Who: Buttahfly
When: 5:10am
wish i had called before now, sorry. still alive for wat thats worth

Who: Syn
When: 5:15am
Still alive i think, sorry i didnt leave town dunno what to do now

Who: Herbert
When: 6:00am
dunno if you saw the news - were both alive and mostly ok but i think im going insane.

Who: Peyton
When: 6:03am
dunno if you saw the news - were both alive and mostly ok but i think im going insane.

Who: Buttahfly and Geo
Where: The College!
When: Midday

Geo prowled down the sidewalk of the university, licking frosting off of his fingers as he did. He was in a much better mood than he had been lately - his conversations with Peyton and Sammy last night + free cake today = instant win. Or something very close to it. If he'd been a younger boy he might have been skipping - as it was, there was more spring in his step, and more interest in his eyes and -

Oh hey! Posters! He had been planning to go the opposite direction, but posters are posters and where posters are odds are there will be music related posters. He veered off course, icing-free hands now shoved into his pockets as he headed for the table. Maybe they'd be handing out more free stuff. Free = good, yeah? Mercenary, perhaps, but still awesome.

Buttahfly had decided -- once she woke up from a deep and satisfying sleep after reading the news that the Barton brothers had apparently met their untimely demise -- that she would hit up the festival thing going on at the campus. Socko was off someplace, probably hustling, and she was just meandering around and browsing the goods. She was garnering quite a few looks that she was ignoring, in skin-tight dark capri jeans, an equally tight jersey-looking t-shirt that said 'I <3 New York' on it and showed off a good band of coffee-colored midriff, and a red cap cocked to one side on her head. Huge gold hoop earrings brushed the twin braids that lay over the front of her shoulders. It was brazen for Marquette, and she knew it. It was done purposefully.