((ooc: Continued at a run from “Drinkin’ Buddies”.))

“You show off!” Isabel shouted after his dust.

Calley turned around and ran backwards for a few steps. “Show off? Me?” He asked, giving her his best innocent look. With a laugh, he turned back around and got serious again. He’d almost run into a pair of tourists snapping pictures of New York City by night. The usual crowd had thinned so that dodging people wasn’t hard, as long as he was actually looking. And the barkeep’s belt was doing its job to keep these clown pants in their place--good thing the guy had been wide, not tall. But still, Issie was catching up.

Correct that: she was even with him. And ready for more, by that perfectly composed look on her face. “You keep strolling along like you are and I'll get away from you in no time. Honestly, is that all you’ve got?”

And then she grinned. Smugly. Calley raised a lone eyebrow in acceptance of her challenge, and started really pushing himself. He couldn’t go that much faster than he had been, and he definitely couldn’t keep up this new burst of speed for long. But with the theater in sight down this block, he wasn’t about to get beaten by Issie and her smug smile. Even if she was fast.

They were exactly one building away from the Black Lagoon when the world started conspiring against Calley.

There was a tired-looking business-type man walking his Golden Retriever down the block before turning in for the night. At the exact moment Calley was about to speed past them, the Golden Retriever noticed something amazingly interesting about the fire hydrant on the other side of the sidewalk. It stepped directly in front of Calley. He had a cat reaction to this small hurdle: he tried to jump it. Cat jumps take two more legs than human ones; Calley launched himself into a very unintentional flip. He cleared the dog, but he saw the ground on the other side approaching his face at an unhealthy rate. He shot down his hands—

—did an accidental handspring—

—and landed perfectly on his feet, about a yard from the theater. He turned around with his own smug grin at Isabel, ready and willing to take full credit for that fluke. Let no one deny: that had been cool. He was going to win with style to spare.

He turned back around triumphantly and walked straight into a streetlight pole, two feet away from the red velvet crowd control rails that marked the finish line.

...

...Oww.

Geeze, this kid just didn't give up, did he? Then again, it wouldn't be much of a race if he did. No point in giving up after issuing a challenge, it wouldn't make any sense to do so. But man, he could really run. Isabel was even starting to fall a little behind with that last little spurt of speed he'd gained. She swerved once more to avoid a mother with a small kid clinging to the edge of her skirt, losing a bit of momentum by doing so. Stupid people walking down the sidewalks. Couldn't they see there was one hell of a race going on, a race that they were so inconveniently acting as moving roadblocks in? And pets, some of them had pets. One such pet had Calley actually hurtle over it. It almost looked like he'd do a face plant before he fell into an impressive handspring. He was just full of surprises, now wasn't he?

But of course, all good things must come to and end and this time that end came in the form of a street lamp. Isabel skidded to a stop and gave a little wince at the sight of the forehead-meeting-light-pole. That really must have hurt. "You alright, Calley?" she asked, making her way over to where he'd so abruptly been brought to a total halt, biting lightly at her lower lip in an attempt not to laugh. Hey, it wasn't her fault that other people's injuries were sometimes funny. "You've really got to watch out for those light poles, you know. They're notorious for standing perfectly still and waiting for people to run into them. I think they're in cahoots with those sliding glass doors that are so conveniently closed whenever people want to walk through them."

((ooc: This post brought to you by a Best Western in Indiana. Best Western: conveniently providing travelers with Ethernet cables. ))

Calley took a step back from the streetlamp, pointedly avoiding looking at Issie until he was sure his nose wasn’t broken. Poke... poke. Nope; he was good. It was one thing to have a streetlamp get one up on you. It was another thing entirely to have a streetlamp perform unscheduled cosmetic surgery on your face. A little-known fact: there weren’t any streetlamps licensed to practice surgery in the state of New York.

He’d definitely just ruined any chance of appearing suave. Oh, well. Might as well go with it. On the bright side, he’d gotten to hear Issie’s amazing on-the-spot commentary. As a fellow connoisseur of wit, he had to admire her spontaneity and brilliant style of delivery. Bonus points for keeping a straight face, he marked on the tally in his head. Add that to the ribbon, the cute smile, and the fact that she’d given him a run for his money in their race, and Issie was officially on his list of Best Potential Girlfriends Ever.

He took a wobbly step towards her. “You know, I don’t feel so good...” He wobbled another step, quite dramatically, then collapsed. If his collapse just happened to end with him leaning against Issie with one arm over her shoulders and a grin on his face, well, that was just the way these things worked. Since they were about the same height, it actually worked pretty well. “I think you might have to carry me in.”

((ooc: Beach tomorrow, beach tomorrow, whoot! *is twitching*

And Hunter, if you’re reading this—the new color looks Badass Awesome. Kabal for the win, yo. *evil grin*))

Hm, at least it didn't look as if their night at the movies would need to be rain-checked for a trip to the hospital. Apparently nothing was broken, and Calley wasn't bleeding and he hadn't knocked himself unconscious. Aside from not wanting him to be seriously hurt, if 911 had to be called that meant EMT's and police. Police who were still looking for a certain ribbon wearing mutant who had played tag with some of their former officers. But fortunately it seemed that all he'd have to show for his brief meeting with the street lamp would be a lump on his head and some bruising, which should fade with a little time.

Now, Isabel was no paramedic, but after someone hits their noggin and then starts wobbling around and saying they didn't feel well, it was never a good sign. Thanks for the small scale heart attack, Calley my boy. She relaxed visibly as he slumped against her and gave a grin, Isabel having to take a small step to keep her balance under the sudden added weight. She rolled her eyes and shook her head with a small giggle, no longer panicking at the thought that he might have a concussion. "Me? Carry you? My dear Calley, I do believe something in your brain has been knocked loose after your little encounter with that light pole," she replied with a little grin and a quirked eyebrow. "A shoulder to lean on is about as far as you're gonna get. C'mon, I'll get you some ice inside for your head."

Calley sighed elaborately, and straightened himself up into a semblance of dignity. He even made a show of straightening his over-large previously-owned shirt like it was a dress shirt. "I suppose if the Lady insists, then the gentleman must walk." He thought for a second, "Yah, ice might be nice. Shall we?" He offered out his arm, and escorted her through the glass doors of the Black Lagoon. Inside, the regular tattered crowd of patrons were gathering: Goths, people in Halloween costumes (some of them in Vampiric Goth Halloween costumes), and anyone with a spare dollar in their pocket. During the day, the Black Lagoon showed all the classics of horror for about the cost of a black coffee at Starbucks. After midnight, they switched to the most wonderfully B-rated horror movies imaginable, and let patrons in for a buck or best offer. The ticket takers had been known to take candy corn as bribes.

Currently showing: a fishhook-wielding maniac who was terrorizing a fishing resort in Minnesota, something about a robotic teddy bear in a nursery (well that couldn't end well), and three other such jems.

He lead the way over to the concessions stand (the popcorn machine, it should be noted, was slathered in fake cobwebs, and the bubblegum-chewing cashier had an axe sticking out of the side of her head), and ordered himself a pretzel, a pepsi, and a cup of ice. He motioned elaborately to Issie. "Anything for the gal in the green ribbon?" He grinned. "'Gal in the Green Ribbon': it sounds like one of the titles up there. Any of them sounding good to you? Lady's choice, tonight."

A delighted smile crossed Isabel's features as she and Calley entered the Black Lagoon, her gaze roaming over the different people walking about as well as the horror themed props that decorated the theater, once or twice making a remark to a passerby on how convincing their fake fangs looked or how their red lined velvet cape really pulled their entire outfit together. She was a little surprised that she'd never visited this place before. Being the horror fan that she was, the theater seemed like exactly the kind of place she'd want to head to every now and again, if not for the movies then for the atmosphere.

Her smile brightened slightly at the girl behind the counter with the axe in her head, despite the fact that she looked rather bored at the moment as she chewed her gum. "Nice choice in weaponry, you did a great job with the bloody effects," Isabel complimented, prodding lightly at a plastic spider stuck to the top of the counter. She returned Calley's amused grin at the thought of her hair accessory becoming the title of a horror flick. It sounded appropriate enough considering that people would consider Isabel to be a killer, though she'd make it a point to claim that the unfavorable history she has with her badge wearing playmates would have been out of self defense. Ordering herself a box of sour gummy worms and a sprite she proceeded to look over the movie titles, trying to decide which one looked best. "How about 'An American Werewolf In London'? That's a pretty good one."

Calley paid the nice axe victim, and looked up at the board that listed the titles. "Wow; I've actually heard of that one. Let's go!"

He was rather enjoying Issie's reaction to this place. Not only was she cute, ribbon-bedecked, and able to hold her own in any situation... she also played nice with costumed folks. Calley had rather enjoyed finding this Land of Perpetual Halloween himself, and he was more than happy to share it with someone who could also appreciate a good pair of fake fangs.

He bought their tickets from the Wolfman--that was a little awkward, 'specially since he kept envisioning Issie stabbing the costumed ticket seller--and then he lead the way over to the ticket taker. This part was awesome. It also had to break several safety laws, but no one seemed to care.

The ticket taker stood behind a little podium, blocking their entry. On the podium was a foot-tall, fully-functional guillotine. Possibly the coolest way of cutting a ticket in half ever invented. He grinned at Issie, motioned with his head towards the guillotine. "Sometimes, I get the impression that I'm not the only one who has too much fun."

Giving a small wave and a thanks to the ticket selling werewolf, whose nice fluffy tail and tattered plaid shirt Isabel had just approved of, she turned her attention over to the ghoulish ticket taker, her eyes practically lighting up at the sight of the guillotine. And it was fully functional, too! "My dear Calley, there is no such thing as too much fun," she replied, eagerly handing over her ticket to the ghoul, her full attention on the poised blade of the guillotine as it fell and made a clean cut with a small shing. Taking her ticket stub from the black hooded ticket taker, she thanked him and waited for Calley to get his ticket beheaded as well, again watching with a grin as the blade fell a second time.

"I owe you big time for inviting me here. This place is so cool," She said to Calley, giving him an appreciative smile as they entered the dimly lit theater. It wasn't too full yet, there were more empty seats than taken ones, those occupied seats full of all kinds of costumed folk and others simply dripping in black attire. Looking over to Calley again with an attempt to disguise her mischievous little smirk, she pointed out a pair of seats toward the middle of the theater. "You beat me in our race outside, bet you can't beat me to the seats," she said, skipping a few steps ahead and sticking her tongue out at him.

"Hey!" He laughed after her. "No fair getting a head start!" He bolted after her at a chaotic dash, dodging Goths and Cousin It and accidentally making the Swamp Thing spill its popcorn. "Sorry!" The theater wasn't packed yet, but narrow isles and lingering patrons did not a good chance to catch up with Issie make. He had to do something... drastic. As she ran past a group of black-cowled warlocks shuffling into their own seats, he shouted out: "Catch that green-ribboned do-gooder! She'll stop the summoning of the Dark Lord!"

The effects were instantaneous. Mostly, people turned and stared at them blankly. Some laughed. But a few--the truly awesome individuals in the crowd--rose to the occasion. The black-cowled warlocks were among them: with a villainously angry battle cry he was pretty sure was in Latin, they moved to surround the running girl.

No such thing as too much fun, right, Isabel?

Isabel skidded to a sudden halt as a group of black swathed individuals suddenly jumped out in front of her and started yelling in gibberish. Do you know how unnerving it is when people yell at you in languages you don't understand? Very unnerving! Startled, she tried to back up away from the very unhappy looking ghouls and ended up toppling over the arm of and into one of the outermost empty seats on one side of the narrow isle. She shot a very unhappy look over in Calley's direction. She didn't appreciate having the powers of darkness called down upon her. Awkwardly she tried to get herself up out of the seat, which proved to be much more difficult than usual considering the people that were all standing in her way, some still muttering away in gobbledygook.

Her rescue came in the form of a small beam of light emanating from a little orange flashlight that belonged to one of the ushers who was dressed up like an undead bellhop. Quickly he broke up the cloaked group with threats of kicking them out of the theater and briefly cast a disapproving look in Isabel's direction before sauntering off to do his usher-like duties, meaning he went back to standing in his dark corner and paying only a minimal amount of attention to what was going on around him. Untangling herself from the seat, she sullenly made her way back over to where Calley stood, one of those childish little pouts on her face. "Green-ribboned do-gooder, huh? No fair, that was cheating. I'll get you back for that."

Calley was laughing so hard he wasn't even making noise anymore. That had worked a lot better than expected. He waved to the warlocks as Isabel stalked up the isle towards him. "The powers of darkness have triumphed!" He declared. They just laughed, and started finding their own seats again.

"Green-ribboned do-gooder, huh?" He could only grin. Of all the people he knew, Issie was one of the least do-gooder-y that came to mind. "No fair, that was cheating. I'll get you back for that."

"All's fair in love and races, m'Dear," he pointed out sagely. "Do you like how the usher glared at you, and not me?" His grin managed to get even wider. "Well then, Miss Do-Gooder, would you like to submit to the forces of evil and walk in a nefariously calm manner to those seats, or must you get us smitted by the undead bellhop?"

Isabel just rolled her eyes at Calley's comment on the bellhop glaring at her, though she couldn't keep pouting any longer, an amused smile spreading across her features. She put on a mock thoughtful expression at the choices she'd been given. "Let's see now... act as if nothing has happened, or get smitten by the flashlight-wielding undead. Well, Mister Instigator, I think the walk of nefarious calmness sounds much more appealing," she replied, proceeding to do just that, giving a little wave to the warlocks as she passed them, pretending that they hadn't just descended upon her in the name of the Dark Lord.

Thankfully her second trip down the theater isle went without incident, except for the bellhop that was still keeping an eye on her in case she started another small riot. Settling down into her seat she propped a foot up against the back of the unoccupied seat in front of her, looking up at Calley as he followed. "I'll win the next race we get into. And next time, no cheating," she said, tossing a gummy worm at him with a smug little grin.

Mister Instigator, was it? Calley rather liked the sound of that. Dignified, eloquent, and perfectly true. Really, Doc Jimmy could learn a few things about nick names from this green-ribboned sage. He followed her down the isle, appreciating her nefariously calm saunter from behind. ...On second thought, appreciating the behind of a girl who could easily hand his own butt to him on a silver platter maybe wasn’t the best idea. He elevated his gaze to more appropriate heights with a great air of innocence.

He sat down in the seat to the right of Issie, fairly dripping innocence at her cheating comment. The gummy worm beamed him between the eyes—it bounced off, and he caught it and popped it into his mouth. Ooo, sour. “Thank you, Isabel.” He said with so much sincerity on top of his innocence that lawyers and politicians across the world instinctively looked up from whatever they were doing, and applauded. “So, have you ever seen this movie before?” Calley actually hadn’t. Which was amazing, really—he was a horror aficionado to an almost alarming degree. Absentmindedly, he started to cat-lick at some Pepsi that had spilled onto the back of his hand during their race. It complimented the flavor of the gummy worm quite nicely.

On the screen, the pre-show advertisements were just starting up. A pair of South Park-esk cartoon people—a guy and a girl—were shown staring raptly at a flickering screen in a darkened theater, when a large bag of popcorn loomed up from the row of seats behind them and latched onto the neck of the guy. A caption flashed up on the bottom of the screen: “Our Concessions Suck.”

Isabel followed Calley's example and stuck a gummy worm into her own mouth, enjoying the little zing that came along with its sour coating and fruity taste, chuckling quietly at his sincere sounding thanks. She could tell it was all an act, that he wasn't nearly as innocent as he pretended to be, but it was amusing all the same. Isabel was fairly convincing when playing the innocent card as well, or at least she was when she didn't end up smirking at whomever's claims she was denying. It comes in very useful when one is as big a troublemaker as she is. "Why it's no trouble at all," she replied, putting as much sincerity into her voice as she could manage, playing right along with him. "Here, have another, I insist," she said again, tossing another at him and sticking her tongue out. Destroying her original attempt at sincerity: mission accomplished.

She watched the screen with only mild interest as previews and safety regulations flickered across it. She always had found it kind of amusing how the safety precautions told everyone to walk away from a possible fire in the theater. Maybe no one had told them, but fires aren't much for waiting patiently for everyone to file out in a calm fashion. She turned her attention in Calley's direction at his inquiry about the movie. She gave a nod as she swallowed another one of her chewy candy worms. "I've seen it at least once before. It's pretty good. Got a decent plot and good effects. I think you'll like it."

"Why it's no trouble at all," his Isabel replied, putting so much psuedo-sincerity into her voice that he could hardly contain the urge to fall head-over-heels for her that very moment. "Here, have another, I insist." Oh, the sour gummy worm striking his nose, the little tongue tip she stuck out at him-! Truly, this could be love. Or hunger. He hadn't eaten in at least two hours, after all.

"My dear," he answered with so much oozing sincerity that he was fairly puddling on the floor, "I shall accept your token." He delicately plucked the worm from his nose, and plopped it into his mouth. Then he set in on his pretzel with vigor. Umm, salty.

Calley watched the previews starting, but he reserved his true attentions for the safety regulations. They were exquisite, if subtle, pieces of art: it had taken him a few times to notice that they weren't quite the standard exit-calmly-but-try-not-to-burn-alive messages. If you looked closely at the cheaply animated fire in the last three seconds of the message, you could just make out the silhouettes of burning patrons. They were a slightly darker red in a field of red. And look, there was the Dark Lord himself rising up in a slightly orange-tinged figure to claim their souls. Calley wasn't really as random as he seemed: see, he'd pulled the Dark Lord out of the theater's own pre-show material. Really, that undead bellhop should have had a better sense of humor. They'd only been causing a minor scene.

"I've seen it at least once before. It's pretty good. Got a decent plot and good effects. I think you'll like it."

Calley polished off his pretzel and looked from Issie back to the screen. "How could I not like a movie about werewolves? It's tonight's theme, after all."

Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand was creeping towards the open mouth of her unsuspecting gummy worms package...