xp_logs | Monet and Cammie, Monday afternoon

Hey..." Monet smiled at Cammie. "You weren't at Nate's the other night, were you? You missed the cake of awesome."

Cammie looked up from her sandwich, "Which cake?" she said, "And no, I wasn't. I really don't party."

"The Chuck Norris one. And why not? Is it because of y'know..." Monet waved her hand. "The arm thing?"

"I knew 'bout that cake," Cammie said grinning, "I ordered it. But yeah, that's why if you want a reason," a very over simplified reason but a reason none the less. It was easier to say it like that then to go into it very deeply, which she didn't want to.

"I don't get it. I mean, you keep it all bandaged up, so it's not going to go off accidentally, right? So where's the harm in coming out for the night?" Monet perched herself on a bar stool and leaned back against the kitchen bench.

"I don't like crowds," Cammie said simply. "And sometimes it does."

"So wear a glove. Seriously, it's like you're saying that you can't ever do anything fun because of it."

"Okay, you heard the last part, but I don't think you listened to the first part," Cammie said. "And I do fun things. Those fun things normally don't involve crowds."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you don't like crowds on account of 'oops! Haha! Better not eat that anymore, eh?' Not on account of something like 'well, people are stupid and give me the shits. Anyway, want a cup of tea? I'll put soy milk in yours, so you can taste it."

"I can't taste soy milk. And I just don't like crowds. Unless it's considered socially acceptable to punch people within a certain radius," Cammie said, picking something from between her teeth. "If you feel like putting something in it for me, there's some stuff under the sink."

"I thought you'd be able to taste it. That stuff's toxic." Monet poured the tea and fished under the sink, coming up with a box of dishwasher powder. She stirred some sugar into hers and a couple of spoonfuls of powder into Cammie's. "all right, fine. You don't like crowds, so I'm going to need a new clubbing buddy, now Morgan's moved to town. Maybe Jake."

"Sorry, it's perfectly healthy for you if have a thing against cow milk and feel like taking it out on innocent plants," Cammie said. "And yeah, you will. The type of clubs I do like most people don't really go to, and I think I have to go into town for those. But on the bright side, Morgan's moved to town."

"Tastes like it should be poisonous... Here," Monet said, as she handed the cup over. "Which is great, except I can't cadge a lift with her anymore."

"The rumour mill tells me there are cars you can sign out," Cammie said, taking a sip of the tea, with the dish cleaner in it there was something she could taste so she wasn't going to complain about that. Otherwise tea was just hot water to her.

"Did the rumour mill point out that a girl who goes catatonic isn't allowed to drive?" Monet shrugged and actually looked at Cammie's sandwich. "What is that? Do I want to know?"

"I don't listen to the rumour mill most of the time. It's boring," Cammie said and took another bite of her food, "I think it used to be chicken."

Monet wrinkled her nose. It did explain that funky smell - she'd assumed that it had just been someone's attempt at ...something. "I knew I didn't want to know."

"Eh, least it doesn't have trash slime on it. Trash slime is hit or miss," Cammie said around the mouth full of mystery chicken.

"Where did you find it?" Monet asked, more than a little appalled.

"This?" she asked, holding up the sandwich, "Took the meat from the fridge and put it out in the sun for a couple of days. Jean-Paul also lets stuff ripen for me a lot. I'm wondering if I should recreate trash-slime though. Now I'm kinda craving it."

"Oh, that's okay then. I thought you got from someplace really gross. Didn't know it was warm enough for things to rot, but. Trash slime, is what? Coffee grounds and soup and salad and meat juice after it's been sitting in the sun a few days? You could totally do that."

"Yeah, but it's not the same. And it varies from place to place," Cammie said. Now she was craving it. She could always go into town and dumpster dive behind various restaurants and other dives until she found something.

"So what is supposed to go into it?" Fascinated despite herself, she drifted sideways off the chair and sat cross-legged in mid air.

"I dunno. Depends on the restaurant or place and the time of day. Like you do McDonalds in the morning you got rotting eggs, syrup, orange juice ketchup and coffee. But if you go in the afternoon it's fries, burger slime, old soda and ketchup," Cammie pointed out. "And that's just if you're limiting yourself to places that serve food."

"It has to be someplace that serves food, right? Or you won't get it," Monet asked curiously.

"No, it doesn't. I can eat anything... well provided it's not covered in needles or laced with broken class. Why limit myself to restaurants? Boring."

"Yeah, but the texture probably sucks so why eat it?"

"Flavour," she said, looking up simply, "I mean, why else?"

"But. Texture. Dude. You can't eat something that feels gross in your mouth." Monet shook her head and floated, still cross-legged across the room the the biscuit jar and fished out a couple of ginger snaps. Resting one on her knee, she bit into the other one.

"Really? Take away the taste of pudding and that's really gross. But people eat it all the time," Cammie pointed out, "Or marshmallow, or taffy."

"Dude, that's because marshmallows are really gross. I'm just saying." Pushing herself off from the bench, she drifted back over to Cammie, tea in one hand, biscuit in the other.

"But people still eat it. If it tastes good, I'll eat it," she said with a shrug. "It doesn't matter what it is. What's it going to do, kill me?"

"Dude! I wasn't saying don't eat it, just that texture is important,"Monet said.

"No... not really. Unless you're trying to recreate something. Like syrup and stuff," Cammie pointed out. "I'm just looking for stuff I can taste."

"Fair enough." Monet stood, wobbling slightly and smiled at Cammie. "You can eat what you wanna eat. I still reckon you should have come to the party but."

"But what? I just don't do large groups of people or parties without mosh pits," Cammie said with a shrug.

"All right, fair enough." She didn't point out that all but the very saddest mosh pits involved large numbers of people. Monet dropped her mug in the sink and began dealing with the milk and teabags.