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Despite (or perhaps because of) her meeting with Agnes, things had become more complicated in regards to spending time with Vanessa. In straight relationships, the three cardinal rules entailed not dating your best friend's ex, not dating your ex's best friend, and... well, Gina couldn't remember the third but the fact of the matter that, on the straight side of things, there were rules about this! And, on the other hand, in the gay community it was almost inevitable (and in some situations, recommended!). The gargoyle was in a quandary. Not to mention that Nessa had been the one wronged.

Besides, she was getting ahead of herself! They were just friends, hanging out like Gina would hangout with any of her other friends. However, just knowing that Nessa had been in a relationship with another girl opened a window of possibility and-- no, no, no! Don't go there sister. Just-- don't go there.

It also did not help that Nessa was around more often than a fair number of Gina's friends. the problem with being a social butterfly is that people always assumed your busy hanging-out with other people... as if your time was a commodity that needed to be requested weeks in advance. This couldn't have been further from the truth. As such, Gina found herself with copious amounts of idle time (particularly over the summer, when there was no school to interrupt her), and conveniently Nessa had often been the one to fill said idle time. Of course they were growing closer-- they were constantly hanging-out together.

Much to the chagrin of the unknown-telepath, Gina was putting thoughts of relationships on the back-burner. She was, as one would say, taking full advantage of the college life, enjoying herself and playing the field. She tried not to read too far into anything and, thus far, had managed to remain a free agent (and enjoyed every minute of it).

As was expected, the topic of going to the Boardwalk arose, and the two young women settled on the Boardwalk. Gina was vaguely familiar with boardwalks from California's own boardwalk in Santa Cruz... if the commercials were anything to go by, it looked like a fun outing. The only problem was that the standard mode of dress appeared to be "swimsuits with some form of cover-up". As the gargoyle was a buxom non-swimmer, she possessed no such articles of clothing.

Thankfully, she had ample time to find an appropriate swimsuit online, one with a halter neckline, open back, and modest drape of mesh over the pink bikini underneath. It was modest yet cute, predominantly pink, and perfect for lounging in the sand.  Rather than throw money down for a cover-up, the gargoyle had wriggled into a pair of cut-off jean shorts, donned her sunglasses, and ventured out for the day. Her top was practically a tank-top anyways (spare an inch or two of bare middrift), so what was the point?

Nessa, who'd appeared to have made more thorough plans, was laying claim to their plot of beach with a blanket. Gina, all the while, drew spirals in the sand with her taloned index finger. The sun felt nice upon her dappled grey skin.

"Well, if we sun ourselves, I'm bound to fall asleep," the gargoyle admonished, stifling a yawn. Nocturnal inclinations had their drawbacks. Though the sun felt nice and most of the world was bustling, Gina could feel the call of an impending nap. She wasn't much of a swimmer, either.

"I would love to check the boardwalk out," the gargoyle confessed, "I've never been to one before, and it looks like fun." If their brief foray through the arcade and past the hokey carnival games was anything to go by. Some of the rides might be a challenge (modified physiology + harnesses = do not mix), but Gina was excited to try just about anything. Or, at the very least, drink it in.

Now that was something Khalil could get behind. Three drinks. He was a slim guy, particularly given his six-foot-two stature-- despite this, he did rather well at holding his liquor. Free drinks were likewise nothing to scoff at, even if they were being offered by a sexy eccentric.

The demon could feel Primal's eyes upon him, and he lavished in the attention. Primal asked about the meaning of his companion's name.

"It's Arabic," the demon replied, "For 'friend'."

There was no need to ask his companion to elaborate on the meaning of "primal". Ugh, why couldn't his codename have been something cool like that? F**k. The demon eyed the hyenas, his exhaled breath unfurling from his lips like smoke. Or perhaps it was smoke? These creatures were much larger up close.

"Do you have some place warm in-mind?" Khalil purred, "I'm going to catch my death in this shirt."

Despite the flames that danced in his hands it was still mostly-damp. Khalil also enjoyed the feeling of being appraised by the man's eyes.

It took all sorts of people to make the world go around, Gina supposed-- ranging from people who would rather see her dead, to people whose interests were piqued by the gargoyle's unique appearance. This woman seemed to be the latter as she lavished compliments upon the gargoyle, taking a break only to place her order, before returning her attention to Gina.

The gargoyle casually curled her tail around the barstool, and idle finger twirling a loose curl of hair. Gina smiled when the lady asked her name.

"Gina," she answered honestly, shrugging her shoulders. This was the best part of going to bars-- working her charm on people she may or may not ever see again. The blonde mentioned that she would make jokes, excluding the whole fallen from heaven trope. Gina hummed, nodding her head. She had heard that one far too many times. Her demonic appearance gave it a different connotation, which was amusing to hold over someone's head for laughs, when they weren't necessarily of interest.

"Do your worst," the gargoyle challenged, taking another sip of her drink, "Miss ...?"

It wouldn't be polite to not ask her companion's name, after all... her tone implied that, contrary to the gargoyle's statement, getting hit-on was actually welcomed.

The gargoyle beamed. Then it's official! They were friends! Gina appraised Nessa as she struck a pose. She was Greek goddess, adorned in a chiffon cloud.

>> ”What do you think? Am I worship worthy? Will the peasants love it?”

Gina curtsied playfully back, pinching the skirt of the dress-tunic.

“It suits you, my liege,” she confirmed in a faux-snooty tone. She rose out of her curtsy, unable to keep from beaming broadly.

“But seriously, it looks good on you,” she assured her companion,”You look elegant.”

Gina wasn't going to push the “you should buy it” agenda… after all, they were just casually shopping. If Nessa was genuinely interested in the style though…

“I might grab a few more of these,” Gina said, pulling the skirt out to survey the fabric, “I mean, hell, at ten bucks a pop, it's hard to say no…”

She could have sworn she saw another floral print, and a maroon… she looked at Nessa. What about you?

>> ”OH…um…y-you two slept…at your place? Together?”

“Mhmm,” the gargoyle intoned, “I wasn't about to send her home alone, as drunk as we were.” No offense to the driver, of course, but there were all sorts of stories floating around the internet, modern-day cautionary tales about unusually passengers and licentious drivers. The kind of stories mom's told daughters to discourage partying, or at the very least, encourage traveling in packs.

Gina took another sip of her mocha, glancing at her sister over the top of her mug. Agnes bumbled around the confession of Gina having reconnected with Nessa, commenting on the circumstances of the breakup without saying much of anything. Gina signed, her stomach knotting. Agnes wouldn't even look at her.

“Aggs,” Gina breathed patiently, lowering her mug. Her sister was flushed and avoiding her eyes and, hell, she didn't even have to confess aloud. It was written on her face.

“Were you and Becca seeing each other?” the gargoyle pressed quietly, “Like… beforehand?” Before the breakup, that is. Her tone was gentle and unaccusatory. There was no reason to say that Nessa was the one pointing fingers, and what's done was done. What really ate at Gina was that her sister was avoiding her. And, if Nessa was lying, that would also be a problem.

Gina crossed her hands at the wrists, betraying no sign of anxiousness. No fidgeting with the mug, no adjusting the spoon. The only betraying factor was the twitch at the tip of her tail. She wasn't sure what was worse-- that her two best friends might be cheaters, that her newly-acquired friend might be a liar or, worst of all, that she was on the outside of all of it. Gina. Agnes's sister and confidante. On the outside.

The demon smirked at the warm reception. The man on the bench wasn't the most eloquent individual, but he held an opinion that Khalil held to be indisputably true—that he was, indeed, sexy. His eyes seemed to glimmer in the flickering self-made flame.

“Well you aren't at a crossroads,” Khalil purred, “So I can't say I'm here to make a pact.”

The flame shrank in size, casting shadows over his fine features.

“My name is Khalil,” he replied, “I typically keep to the skies at this hour. What, may I ask, is your name? And your associates?”