>>41039
“Sure! Why not? Our camp could use more folks.” you say, popping open your container of poutine. Damn, it looks even better than it smells! As you begin to chow down, Morgan hands the little brass pipe back to Ben, who taps it out into his palm.
“And the bowl’s cashed, so that’s another reason to head back.” he adds, pocketing the pipe, then turns to Yvonne. “We got a lot more White Widow to smoke and some beers n’ booze back there, too. Y’want a Big Friendly?” he asks. A smirk crosses the hornet’s face, as she places a hand on his bicep.
“If it’s
your Big Friendly? Anytime~” she flirts back. Ben simply laughs and stands up, helping the black and white bug to her feet. While being the tallest of the bugs, she was just a smidge shorter than your friend, but not by much. Rochelle and Morgan follow suit, the smaller bugs stretching their arms and wings out.
“Let’s get a move on, then! We’ll do a lil’ more partyin’ and start catchin’ some bands afterwards.” he replies, moving to grab the handle of the cart. Yvonne heads to the other side of it, and tosses a couple luggage bags towards her friends. Rochelle catches her bag, a large black duffel with a red cross on the side of it, while Morgan has to jump to grab hers, a well-worn khaki canvas backpack that had a metallic rattle when jostled. The hornet then hefted her own luggage, a mottled gray seabag, over her shoulder, contorting her wing to rest up and over it. On the side pocket were two large, embroidered black letters that read ‘G.K.’ Underneath that was a smaller set of embroidered black letters that read ‘Y. DuBois’. With her other hand, she lifts up an even larger blue duffel, opting to hold it by the carry straps. You were guessing that was probably their tent.
https://youtu.be/QMOPQInpOCU?si=KtxfuFDEwbiowdXr
As the group starts to move, Ben, Yvonne, and Mara take the lead, while you hang back with Rochelle and Morgan. From the quick snippet you hear, it sounds like Mara is already asking the hornet if she’s interested in a reading session, making you grin between bites of poutine. That didn’t take long.
“Heeeeey! Sooooo, Ben says you play the
flute?” you hear Morgan ask on your left, her stoner’s drawl grabbing your attention. The short colorful bug girl kept pace with a brisk stride, occasionally hopping or skipping a few steps ahead. You swallow the last bit of potato and cheese left in the forkful you took, and clear your throat.
“Eh, I’m alright at it, I can at least play a
few songs.” you answer somewhat modestly, your grin turning a bit sheepish.
“Hmmmm… Ben said you were reaaaallllly good, not just alright…” you hear Rochelle reply skeptically in her own drawl , and you look over at her. The striped girl’s russet eyes were half lidded, a lazy but content smile crossing her face. Like Morgan, she was also walking somewhat quickly to keep pace with you. “Maaayyybeee… you could play
us a song?~” she suggests, stepping closer to your right side. You feel the tip of one of her feathery antennae brush against your arm.
“
Oooooh! Yeah! Do that, that would be cooooool! ” Morgan adds, practically skipping at every step now. “I can hold your food while you play!” she then offers, sidling up closer to your other side. You start to feel one of her antennae tapping against your arm holding the poutine container.
“Don’t do thaaaat… her gut is a bottomless pit…” Rochelle counters. “You can give it to meeeeee… I’m more…” she continues, and slowly looks you up and down. “...Thiiiiirsty than hungry, right now…” she finishes with a smile. You can feel your face starting to turn a bit red.
“Heeey! I wouldn’t eat the whooooole thing! Maybe just a nibble~” Morgan jabs back, tapping your arm faster with her antennae. You look back over at the shorter girl, her hazel eyes wide as her eyebrows twitched upwards twice. “I might have an appetite, but I’m a gooooood girl. I’ll only do what I’m told~” she flirts, the lazy smirk from earlier returning to her face. “Besides, right noooow? I’m craving some cake.” Her eyes scan over your arms and hands, while her antennae slid down your upper arm. “Sooooo, how’d a beefcake like you end up picking flute over anything else?” she asks without missing a beat. Your face grows hotter, and you choke back a cough.
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