It's cool. (as if abby was expecting it to be fancy... it's summer camp, it's where kids go to fuck around for a couple months a year, right? she likes the slightly feral touches to the place anyway, the punching bag and the random posters and polaroids strewn over the walls, the names carved haphazardly into the wood. she's stepping across the floor now to go and look at them because she wants to find clarisse's name, and once she's picked it out she reached up to trace it with her index finger, scratching at the rough edges.)
It looks like you. (not– the name on the wall. she glances over her shoulder, dropping her arm.) The whole cabin, I mean. Is everybody in here the same age?
(abby's lived in barracks before. she was in them at the stadium before she climbed ranks enough to get herself into a six bed, then a four, finally a two. they can really suck sometimes.)
no subject
It looks like you. (not– the name on the wall. she glances over her shoulder, dropping her arm.) The whole cabin, I mean. Is everybody in here the same age?
(abby's lived in barracks before. she was in them at the stadium before she climbed ranks enough to get herself into a six bed, then a four, finally a two. they can really suck sometimes.)