the songbirds are singing like the know the score

[straightupbitch]

Holding grudges has always come easily to Santana; she's a monstrous bitch, it's in the job description. Until now, she was doing really well, too, rolling her eyes at Brittany's ridiculous spelling errors and pretending not to care that it went unnoticed when she finally wore that stupid shirt. Plus, being all but outed on YouTube, mortifying

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[thegreat_ashby]

"Not hell, but it runs a pretty close second," Lew replied to the brunette who'd appeared out of fucking nowhere from the table he'd been seated at. Even after a few years on the island and knowing that was just how things worked around here, it didn't make witnessing it any less strange.

Luckily, he was completely sober, so the chances that she was just a figment of his imagination were practically nonexistent. "And not just in the 'hot as' sense."

[straightupbitch]

Spinning in her heel to face the man who spoke, her heart sinks when Santana realizes he is no one she knows. Not unless Bob or Bill or whoever it is on piano shed a good third of his body weight and underwent a face transplant, and as that's doubtful given how little time has passed, she has to go with her original assessment. Taking into account the fact that he is considerably older, considerably calmer, and giving off a considerably pervy vibe, there's only one assumption to be made. Stomping around the stereo equipment splayed out before her, she makes her way over to where the man sits and angrily slams a hand down on the table. "Did you kidnap me? What is this, your first day? I'm not even handcuffed to a pipe, Jesus Christ, you suck at this. And just so you know, I will claw you to pieces. Seriously, come at me; my nails are freshly filed, I dare you." (Granted, the only reason she feels confident enough to make such threats is because they're in a public location and the guy behind the bar looks somewhat decent, but this guy

[thegreat_ashby]

"Jesus. Down, kitty. I kidnapped you and brought you to a karaoke bar full of people?" First day or not, that was just plain retarded. "And all without leaving the comfort of my seat?" That was slightly less retarded and bordering on miraculous. They just didn't go together.

"Sorry, piss-poor renditions of Wind Beneath My Wings don't really do it for me. I don't have anything to do with you being here. I'm just an innocent bystander. Something brought you here, sure, it just wasn't me."

[straightupbitch]

That it makes no sense whatsoever didn't stop Santana from accusing just seconds ago, and it barely affects her now, but she is momentarily sidetracked by what sounds like an affront to her talent. Being consistently upstaged by one of the munchkins from The Wizard of Oz is infuriating enough, even if it's a frustration she shares with the whole of Glee Club. "Are you calling me piss-poor, old man?" Demands Santana, leaning in closer than is likely wise of her in hopes of intimidating, her fingernails clicking softly against the tabletop.

[liliesfromluce]

Luce had been dropping off the daily flowers for all the public locations when she suddenly gets asked a blunt question. Her brows lift upwards and she opens her mouth before closing it, a grin on her face. "I'm not really sure," she apologizes. "But I'm assuming it's not the kind of hell you were expecting?"

[straightupbitch]

Foreign accents aren't all that common in small town Ohio, unless heard in films or on television, which only cements for Santana the fact that she's traveled incredibly far from home in a matter of mere seconds. "Am I on drugs?" She asks the woman, hopeful that in the event the redhead is a hallucination, she'll be able to answer the question. "I don't remember taking anything," she adds, pressing a palm to her forehead to gauge for fever.

[liliesfromluce]

Luce purses her lips together with vague amusement because, well, drugs are a good explanation for a lot and she'd have to be blind not to notice all the pot that's around. "You look fine," Luce promises, settling the bouquet into the holder before heading to the one on the opposite side of the room. "Even if you are on drugs," she adds. "But if you're not and that means you're new, I'm very sorry."

[straightupbitch]

Contrastingly, nothing about the situation amuses Santana in the least, and the merest hint of a smile is enough to make her blood boil. Coupled with her apology, it only furthers the suspicion that this woman is in some way responsible, no matter how kind she looks. Appearances can be deceiving, she should know.

"Sorry for what? What did you do, and what do you mean new?" Santana demands, soles slamming loudly against the floorboards as she leaves the stage area to advance on the woman.

[imastud_dude]

At the dying strains of her voice, Puck looked up from where he'd been screwing around with the shooting game in the corner, plastic gun on a cord in one hand.

"Oh, damn," he chuckled to himself, bouncing on the balls of his feet, maybe a little maniacally gleeful. 'Cause in a twisted way, he already felt better, knowing that if he had to suffer, she was about to start suffering along with him. "Shit just got real."

[straightupbitch]

"Puckerman," Santana shouts accusingly, her heels resounding loudly on the floorboards as she stomps over to him. If not for her hands already in fists at her sides, she might give into temptation and reach for his collar to try and choke an apology out of him, but with how stern the man behind the bar looks, perhaps it's for the best that she remain calm for now. No promises, however, because that was literally the worst timing for one of his stupid pranks ever. "Take me home right now, 'fore I call the police and have your ass tossed back to juvi for kidnapping a minor."

[imastud_dude]

"Whoa, slow down, babe," he said, holding his hands out just in case he had to defend himself. He'd never admit to getting his ass kicked by a chick, but she was downright dangerous when provoked.

And right then, she was definitely provoked.

"I'm good, I'll give you that, but even I couldn't pull this off. I mean, take a look around you. It's the frickin' Enchanted Tiki Room all up in this place."

[straightupbitch]

He has a point, it's true, but she's not surrendering just yet, mostly because there's no one else around on whom to transfer the blame. Someone just ruined a monumental moment for her and for that there will be hell to pay. "Then who?" She demands, both hands now resting on her hips, her eyes trained on him like a feral cat towards prey. "'Cause I'm out for blood and you do not want it to be yours."

[velation]

People arrive on this place with alarming regularity, Faye's found. Even though a part of her knows that she's still relatively new, only having walked the beaches of Tabula Rasa for three months, it feels like practically half of the population's changed since her arrival. Stories pop up around the kitchen, even though she never lingers for long, always an entry that takes out the impact of the last. Someone even crash-landed (in a manner of speaking) in a Port-a-Potty. Wonders never cease

[straightupbitch]

Okay, sue her, already Santana has made her first cultural faux pas by jumping to an assumption, but there are only so many Asian families in Lima and Tina has an obvious (and ill-advised) affinity for outrageous hair dyes. Her first thought is older sister, perhaps, and her second that it's clear where all the looks went in that gene pool. Her third thought rounds right back to what the hell she's doing on the beach, the nearest of which is a good billion hours away from where she was last standing. Fourth, she finally processes what Tina's maybe-sister is saying, and in a fit of frustration at her blasé attitude kicks haphazardly at the sand. "This isn't Star Trek, lady, how's about some real answers?"

[velation]

On the bright side, skepticism is usually a fairly good indicator of intelligence, Faye thinks to herself. The arrivals she tosses aside without a second thought tend to be those who treat the island like it's some kind of magical amusement park or Neverland, never questioning, never wondering. Optimists. Faye likes to think of herself, on the other hand, as a realist, someone who keeps her guard up at all times on that hunk of rock, but also doesn't bother sticking out her neck to help everyone else at her own expense. With a faint grin, she shakes her head lightly. Poor kid. Probably from one of the more mundane worlds, meaning she's in for quite the shock.

"I'm sure you could find some genius on this island with a plausible explanation involving wormholes and tears in the fabric of space and time, but believe me, I know how crazy it sounds," Faye replies with a light shrug. "Doesn't mean you're any less stuck. Do you want the long version or the short version?"

[straightupbitch]

Trust, Santana imagines, is something that must come much easier to the nice and harmless folk of the world. Someone inherently mean such as herself can never trust with ease, always projecting their own expecations on others and anticipating the worst. For the most part, Santana considers this a matter of pride, one of many traits that put her more than a few steps higher on than fellow classmates on the food chain, a catlike she-shark ruthlessly claiming her place above all others. But never before has she been tested like this, and for the first time in a while, she feels the impulse to retreat. (Okay, that's a lie, she's been doing a lot of running away lately, but this is entirely different.)

Unfamiliar as she is with wherever she's standing, Santana remains in place, considering instead the two options before her. "Short," she decides, if only because her mind far too scattered at the moment to process the long version.

[floozyfacade]

Olive spends very little time in the Hub, but today is warm enough that she drops in just to get a glass of water - which she very nearly drops when another girl appears on stage in the blink of an eye and then shouts. There are other people here in the Hub today, but no one else really seems to be their age, and some kind of protective instinct kicks in, the way it always seems to when she runs into a recent (or brand-freaking-new) arrival. She hurries over, downing what's left in her glass and setting it on the counter as she goes.

"Yeah, hi," she says. "Sorry. It's kind of a, a long story. But it's totally going to be fine."

[straightupbitch]

Perhaps in retrospect, Santana will come to regret how nasty she is about to be, but she never does think twice in the heat of the moment, and right now, in this moment, it's hot as hell. Not just figuratively, either; Christ, at least have the courtesy to crank up the A/C when kidnapping someone. Eying the girl before her, she wonders if this some kind of cult hangout and they've both been claimed as virgin sacrifices (If so, she thinks, someone's lord is about to be sorely disappointed). That doesn't explain why the redhead is so calm, though, unless brainwashing is in the mix. Fantastic, now her life is both Logo and SyFy worthy.

"You're kidding, right?" As she speaks, Santana slowly begins to make her way around the stage area, all the while glancing over her shoulder for men in camo gear with nets and stun guns or whatever. "What world are you living in, where getting kidnapped is in any way fine?"

[floozyfacade]

"Yeah, okay, you're right," Olive says, "scratch that, that part's totally never gonna be fine." It isn't, of course, she's still not cool with that. She may be acclimated to the island itself, but when it comes to the whys and hows of their being here, she's not okay with it, and she's not okay with the notion of being here for the long run. There's a difference between adapting to, even embracing, what she's been thrown into and wanting to stay. "And if I could figure out a way to un-kidnap us? I totally would. But the thing is, I kind of don't even know who's done it. One minute you're wherever you were before, and then wham, bam, magic island."

[straightupbitch]

This all has the makings of one of Brittany's outrageous (and likely true) anecdotes, just like the time she spent in the sewers last summer and her visit with the elves in the North Pole. It almost excites her, the prospect of having something equally ridiculous to share the next time - "Did I tell you about my trip to the magic tropical island?" - but soon enough, the reality of the situation sinks back in and she remembers that she's at least hundreds of mils from Brittany now.

"Are you for real? This has to be the shoddiest kidnapping job I've ever seen, and I once spent a whole weekend watching Lifetime Movie Network. Why are we in a karaoke bar? And who the hell are you?"