Conscientia

[gamemakers]

WHO| Open
WHAT| Night life at the Speakeasy
WHEN| Evenings this week
WHERE| The Speakeasy
WARNINGS/NOTES| Feel free to use this party post style, or however you like if you would like to set any threads here.

The speakeasy was a classy joint. Wood panels, and soft velvet, and usually some kinda of live music, something mellow and easy to relax to. It was big, with low ceilings and with many back rooms, some easy to access, others less so. Easy to get lost in. And it gave off an air of class, of comfort, and being a part of something a little different from the rest. The kinda place where everybody knew your name, and everybody knew to be discreet about it.

It was the perfect place to grab a drink, sit, talk, and relax. No one over heard you, no one got in your business, but everyone was glad to talk if you wanted to find a friendly face. The owner, Conscientia, made her round every now and then, saying hello to her regulars, welcoming those who were new.

Comments

[warbles]

"Oh god," he says, eyes narrowing. "And I wasn't judging you. I don't do that." Not out loud and not often. Mostly, he feels bad for people or tries to understand them and where they're coming from.

"I see it," he joked, finally letting down a bit of the guard he's had up from the beginning of the conversation.

"... Did you ever see yourself going to college?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard rolls the can under his hand again, lips pursed in a bit of a pensive expression. "I guess I probably would have if we had the money and I had the grades. I mean, I was thirteen, I kind of wasn't thinking that far ahead and still don't really get why anyone would want to pay to sit in a classroom and get bored to death another four years."

He and traditional schooling never got along. He's a smart kid, always has been, but the combination of a toxic social environment and a short attention span meant he never did any better than he had to to pass. He never flunked a class, but he hovered precipitously close to the edge.

"Why, were you dreaming of singing scholarships before this? Shoulda tried football."

[warbles]

"That's not exactly what college is about," he says, not quite sure that isn't true. But, nobody ever told him it was like that. Rachel said it was brutal but not boring. And Kurt hadn't made it into NYADA.

"I was dreaming of NYADA. New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts," he explains. "And thanks, I can play sports. At Dalton I played lacrosse. I fenced."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Yeah? Well, frats and parties aren't really up my alley either." He wrinkles his nose at Blaine. "And those aren't real sports."

He figures he doesn't have to say that art school sounds really silly. "Didn't you ever get beat up in school?"

[warbles]

"That's not all that college is," he thinks, and he thinks he knows. "I did the other stuff too." Gym class is gym class. And Howard doesn't want Blaine judging him.

Blaine doesn't think that's his business and his phrasing bothers him.

"At my school before Dalton, I was bullied. I left." But, Howard acts like it's an inevitability - an absolute. Howard continues to lose points.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard squints at Blaine as if Blaine were speaking English, but not making coherent sentences. "And you still do stuff that's like painting a bullseye on your face?"

He bites at his tongue and looks down at the can. "I wish I could've left, though. I tried getting kicked out but we couldn't afford the other school in my district, and you can't get booted for good until you're sixteen."

[warbles]

"As fun as this is..." he starts, not going to sit there and be insulted. "So, let me get this straight. You think my singing paints a bullseye on my face but I'm a straight-A student while you tried getting kicked out and I'm supposed to what, applaud?" He really doesn't like this kid.

"You're young... and you don't care about the arts..." he starts. "Fine. Great. But, don't belittle me because I do something I love."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Jeez, calm down, that's not what I'm saying, doofus." Howard rolls his eyes and leans back. "We got enough problems without making enemies because I think art school's dumb. I was just saying, like. You have guts."

He shrugs. "Or you're dense. One or the other."

[warbles]

"You weren't saying that," but he stops, calming down. He's on edge, too. Everyone is. "But I do."

A sigh. "...That's it. I'm dense. It was nice meeting you, Howard from California." He slowly rose. "Good luck." He needed to order something from the bar. Probably another soda.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Not really." Howard seems pretty rankled that Blaine took things that way. He's been trying to find common ground, in his own awkward way. He doesn't admit to being bullied to most people. He flattens the can with his shoe and scratches at the table with his fingernail.