[Ariana and Pete... no, that can’t be Pete. That’s a WOMAN. Pete has short hair and there is absolutely no way he would be caught dead in a skirt. ... ... right?
Ariana and a
strange purple-haired woman are out today, and Ari’s putting make-up on her. Ari seems very happy to be, finally, doing girly things again. Clayton has apparently been
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...Sneasel, do you recognize him? Your judgment is infallible.
And what the hell are those things in your mouths guys]
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It's like you don't even trust me.
[POUTING. Mostly. To keep from getting too emotional.
Not exactly succeeding here, her voice wavered a little.]
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Aw, don't give me that. "Pete" ain't a character, he's me. [Or close enough, anyway.] Just- with a different way of walkin' and talkin', that's all. It ain't my real name... but don't you give me grief 'bout that, girl, 'cause I know Ariana ain't your real name either.
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Figures. Even my friends are imaginary characters.
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[Angry! Be angry!
...She can't be angry. Anger as a coping mechanism has failed this situation.
Okay, just don't cry. Don't cry.]
You're a jerk.
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I've been Pete since I was younger than you, okay? Just 'cause it's ain't the name I was born with don't make it any less mine.
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[UGH! She throws the unlit cigarette she had pulled out at you, Pete, before storming off.]
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