CH. TWENTY - SEVEN
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Greenie Day again again.

She can't help but be excited, though she knows the chance is big that it will be a boy.

First of all, she asked for dozens of supplies. So much that she doubts if the Creators will even give it to her. Second of all, another chance to get a coworker. Thirdly, she's been here for a half year. Not exactly something to celebrate, but she's happy she survived so far.

Smiling, she joins Hank, Gally, Clint, and for once Alby. He's often busy with other things. Barely sits with the rest, except for now.

"Hi, Alby! How're you?"

He looks up from his food, unbothered. "I'm alright. You?"

"I'm good," she tells him.

Gally pulls a questioning face. "So. Why are we getting the pleasure of your company?"

"What? You're already overheating by my presence?" She smiles. "I don't know. I just join people I like. Camil's lazy and likes to sleep in, as you probably know."

"I didn't know you like Gally," Hank speaks up. "I thought y'all hated each other."

"Things chance." She shrugs. "How are you, though?"

And his face is bright red again... great. "I'm good," he peeps. "You?"

"I'm good. And you, Clint?"

"I'm as awful as I can feel in an early morning, but alright. You?"

"I'm good," she chuckles. And you?

Good. And you? He mimics.

Both of them let out a laugh at the same time, then receive some weird glances.

Why don't we mess with them?

How? He wonders. Wait— suggest to play a game in which we have to guess what word the other has in their mind.

"I have an idea," Joan starts, grinning. "I take a word in my head, y'all guess it. I'll whisper the word to one person so they know I'm not lying when someone gets the correct answer. Yeah?"

"Uh... sure."

She whispers the word to Hank, who nods. "Alright. Alby, guess.

He groans. "I don't shuckin' know. Greenie Day?"

Both Hank and Joan shake their head. "Clint?"

"...Tool-Maker?"

"Nope." She smiles. "Gally."

He also groans, but under his breath. "Navy blue."

"Correct!" She covers a laugh up. "Alright. Who's next?"

"I'll go," Clint insists. "Gally won, so I'll tell him the word I have in mind."

It's band-aid, Gally says.

Typical.

"Glade?" Hank tries, but the two boys shake their head.

"Band-aid," she guesses. Jeff's face falls in surprise. Gally is now the one who has to cover up a laugh, but the grin on his face stays.

"I'll go," Alby murmurs, certainly not excited about this game. "Shuckface," he whispers to her.

Shuckface.

Gally glares at her. Excuse you?

That's the word. Shuckface!

Oh— alright.

"What do ya guess, Gally?"

"Shuckface," he says in full confidence.

Clint throws his hands in the air. "This ain't fair! Someone here is messing with the game!"

They all look at each other with raised eyebrows, but obviously that won't give any result.

❀

May I ask what that explosion was?

Joan puts her hands on her hips, not replying to his voice at first and just staring at the giant hole she just blew in her hut.

The Greenie, a boy, arrived a while ago, and the Box brought her everything she had requested. Meaning she also owns a few chemicals now.

Her first attempt to mix some things failed, and burned the wooden wall. When she touched it, half of the wall dropped. 

How busy are you? 'Cause I've got a little thing for you to fix, she replies. The Bricknicks repair very sloppy. You'll fix it nicely, right?

What did you do?

Blew my wall up.

Smart.

Answer my question!

Fine, I'll fix it. Just not right now. I've got a Greenie to train and drinks to prepare.

Right. Good luck.

Thanks.

She hums to herself. Shouldn't she do something for the Bonfire, too? She's a Tool-Maker, after all.

Yes. So she starts making her way to the center of the Glade. Boys are putting benches down, preparing the fire itself, getting the sand circle ready, and making food.

"Hey, Newt." She taps the boy on his shoulder. "How can I help?"

His mouth opens, but it stops midway and he frowns. "Why do you look like you got electrocuted?"

"Got a little issue with my chemicals." She shrugs. "Well, can I help?"

He looks around, pressing his lips together. "Honestly don't think we've got much left to do. Sorry."

"That's alright," she assures. "Thanks!" Turning around, she meets Camil, who gives her a pointed glare. "What?"

"You should've woken me! Now Alby's pissed I showed up this late."

"Set an alarm."

"I saw you over there! With Gally, grinning and laughing!" He crosses his arms. "Is that why you didn't wake me?"

"What? No! I specifically joined them because you weren't there, and you're grumpy as hell in the morning. Didn't feel like waking you up."

"I'll push you it the damn fire," he threatens.

Joan rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Sure. Like you can."

"I'll do it— hey!" He starts hitting around with his arms once she takes ahold of his wheelchair, moving him toward the fire. "Joan, do not! This ain't funny!"

Laughing, she lets go of him. "Couldn't resist the urge. Sorry." She wheels him back. "I'm going to change. Wash the dirt off my face."

"Yeah, how come you're always covered in dirt?"

"Really cheering me up, Camil. Thank you." A smile grows. "See ya!"

She also asked the Box for new clothes. Great opportunity to wear them tonight. Although, they gave her so much that she has trouble choosing what to wear.

Some things are a bit... excessive. Things she wouldn't wear at work unless it's a special day, like today. No dresses, of course, but a red, long-sleeved shirt and wider, black pants.

Very nice. She wouldn't wear it at work because the v-cut is too deep and the pants are too nice to ruin with dirt and chemicals. Tonight seems like a great time.

Then an idea pops up in her mind. She's a Tool-Maker. She can make things, obviously. Meaning, that if she wants to, she can also make makeup, or things for in her hair.

Why not? She's not doing it for the boys, just for herself. Nothing wrong with it.

Grinning, she takes the longest (clean) socks she can find and wraps them in her hair. Hopefully she'll get some curls from it. Then she takes roses from her drawer and starts mashing them with just a few drops of oil.

Blush? Lip balm? Eyeshadow? She could use it for anything, really. It's awesome.

Though she's afraid it'll get too much and only uses the mashed up rose leaves for blush and a little tint on her lips, which will probably fade before the bonfire even starts.

The following two hours, she spends making tools for other boys, like hammers, and she even sharpens an axe. Once it's time to remove the socks, she excitedly looks at the result in the mirror. The ends of her hair have a slight curl. Just what she wanted. 

Happy enough, she joins the others at the Bonfire. "The hell did you do?" Camil's eyebrows shoot up.

"What I've wanted to for quite a while," she replies. "Problems?"

He holds up his hands. "Not at all. You look great."

A chuckle. "Thanks. Pass me a drink?"

Camil gives her one of the jars, which she immediately sips from. The spicy liquid runs down her throat, leaving a burning yet enjoyable feeling, especially when she feels it lifting weight off her shoulders.

One jar down, how much more to go? She doesn't feel like getting wasted, but being a bit tipsy won't hurt anyone. "These taste better than usual," she compliments Gally at the table, where he's handing people his drinks. "Can I have another?"

His eyes run all over her body. "I don't know. Can you?"

"Come on, Gally." A groan. "No games. Just give me one."

When she tries taking it out of his hand, he moves away. "Didn't know you were this addicted to alchohol, woman."

"You should take this as a compliment." Joan looks up. Tries to reach the jar, but the height difference and her desperate tries embarrass her, so she gives up. "Please?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Fine." And hands the jar. "Wanna go watch the idiots in the ring?"

"Like you? Sure." She nearly chokes on her drink when he feels his hand on her lower back, guiding her to the ring as if she doesn't know where it is. "Are you going to criticize them all?"

"Likely," he replies, sitting them down on a trunk, a few feet away from the ring. Compared to the big group that stands around the ring, they've taken distance.

They watch kids wrestle for a while. Gally indeed mutters how awful they're at it, but that's about it. Joan, in fact, can barely concentrate on what's going on. He should stop brushing his elbow against her arm the whole time. Makes her feel weird.

"I'm going to get another drink," she ends up announcing. "You want one?"

"Sure."

At the table, she meets Minho and Ben. "Greenette! Join us?"

She looks at them, then at Gally, and back at them. "Nope. I'm with someone else. Another time. See ya."

Joan returns with two jars, handing one to Gally. His hand touches hers as he takes it and her breathing hitches. Then she sits back down with a chuckle under her breath.

"So."

"So."

Another awkward chuckle, except this time it comes from them both.

"You know?" She starts. "I have a theory."

"Spill."

"You never got the hallucination I had in the lake. But before, we always shared the hallucinations. And it was always your hallucinations," she explains. "But at the lake, it was my own."

"I don't think that's new information, but great you remember."

"No, no." She shakes her head. "I wasn't finished. I mean, I think our... status depends on the hallucinations."

"Not sure if I understand."

"Like, your hate towards me was strong in the beginning. So I got your hallucinations because you felt that strong toward me. But when I went swimming, we... we didn't hate each other. Neither were we very close."

"It was awkward," he says.

"Yes." A nod. "So I think the hallucinations depend on our status. We got less hallucinations through the time, too. Because, I think, we started hating each other less."

"So if I start hating you again, we start hallucinating again?"

"Maybe," she says. "So I'm wondering if it's only like that if we hate each other, or with other statuses, too."

"Oh, yeah? What other statuses?"

Heat floods into her face. "Oh, you know... very good friends, things like that."

"Mhm. Things like that." His scoff is followed by a smile. "You're drinking fast, woman. Calm down before you get sick."

She wipes her mouth. "I can't. I don't understand how people can make their drinks last so long. I don't care what it is, I finish it within a few sips."

"Are you enjoying it if you do that?"

"As if you're a holy man. You've finished your jar before me!"

"But I'm... bigger," he states. "Two jars of this won't do much to me. To you, in fact.."

She pushes his shoulder. "Shut up about my height. Besides, why care so much? Drunk words are sober thoughts."

"So? You're saying you lie so much that you need to be drunk to tell the truth?"

"Maybe." She grins. "And you? I can't imagine a drunk Gally."

"Good. You won't ever be seeing one either."

Joan sighs. "I'm getting more drinks."

"Perhaps you should take the whole shucking table with you."

"Sure," she yells back, a few feet away already.

"Greenette!" She meets Minho again. "Bet ya I can drink faster than you?"

Alright, a challenge. If it weren't for the two jars she already drank, she would've never agreed. "Sure. What does the winner get?"

"The honor of winning," Ben decides. "Yeah? One, two, three— go!"

She drinks as fast as she can, half of the liquid running down her chin by the time she finishes drinking... right before Minho does. "Ha! I won."

He groans, throwing his head back. "Fine. Honor for you. Want another jar?"

"Yeah." She takes it from him. "Thanks!" And skips back to Gally, a strange happiness filling inside her chest. If feels heavy but good at once. Gives her a big smile.

"Oh boy," he murmurs when she sits down.

"Hi." She nods at him. "Where were we?"

Gally inspects her face. Trails his eyes over them. "You got a little..." Awkwardly, he wipes remaining moonshine off her chin. "There you go."

"Oh, thanks." The now fuzzy feeling in her stomach adds up with her happiness. Have their faces been this close to each other the whole time, though? She can feel his breaths hit her skin. See his freckles and the dots of green in his eyes.

"Well." He then turns back to the ring. "Who was the lucky one?"

"What?"

"The one you kissed," he says. "Who was it?"

"Kissed?" She frowns. "I never kissed anyone."

"You told me—"

"Oh, that! Yeah, I was just messing with you."
She shrugs, laughing. "I haven't kissed anyone but you. And you?"

"What?"

"Have you kissed anyone else?"

"I'm not gay."

"So? Doesn't mean you never kissed anyone."

"No, I've never kissed anyone else, Joan. Not that I remember, at least," he confirms. "We might want to get you some water before you'll wake up with a headache—"

"I'll drink something before I go to sleep," she announces.

"About that... your hut is shucked up, remember?"

She bites her lip. "Hm. I don't mind."

"You might get cold—"

"The temperature somewhat stays the same," she tells him. "I won't get cold. I'm not a weak little shit! Are you calling me a—"

"Didn't say that."

"You made it sound like that," she snaps.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. "You're drunk."

"I'm not."

"You've had four jars. I think that's— hey, where are you going?"

"Getting more," she says, slipping away from his grip on her wrist and quickly taking another jar. By the time she sits back down, she already drank half.

"You're gonna be sick tomorrow. I'm telling you," he warns. "Come on, let's get some water."

She shakes her head. "I'll get it... I'll drink water after— no, before bed, like I said! Woah, that rhymes."

A groan leaves his mouth.

"I'm getting—"

"You're not."

"I am," she insists, and gets up again. This time, Gally gets up too, and watches the route from the trunk to the table become harder for her by the second.

"Watch out," he grumbles, catching her before she falls on top of Jeff.

"Sorry, Jeff." She giggles. "Do you want a drink, too? I'll make it up."

But Gally has pushed her further away before the Med-Jack can reply. She doesn't even notice. Just goes with it.

"Let's not," he murmurs as he turns her away from the wrestling circle. "Joan, maybe look where you're walking— oh, great."

She has tripped over a trunk. Groaning, she holds up a thumb. "I'm alright." And then starts laughing. "Honestly, that was kind of funny."

"Very." He pulls her back up. "Come on, woman. We'll get some water."

"No, no. We're getting moonshine," she says. "You made it, after all! And I for once like it—"

"Joan." He turns her around by the waist. "Camil's already giving me death glares and I don't think Alby will like it if you get drunk under my watch."

She steps closer. "Then don't hold watch over me." And closer, looking up as she stands on her tiptoes. "Honestly, Gally..."

He pulls a face at first, then takes a sharp breath. Blinks a few times.

"You should totally..." she continues, murmuring and moving closer until their torsos somewhat press together. "Never trust me again!" And she slips out of his grip, runs towards the table, and tries not to trip as Gally is left frozen in his place, stunned.

"Hi!" She greets Newt. "Pass me a drink?"

His nose scrunches. "...sure."

She chugs it down in less than thirty seconds and takes another one. It feels good to not have any bad thoughts. To not worry, or really care about anything. To forget about all the memories for a moment.

"This is your seventh jar." Gally has made his appearance again, sighing.

"So?" She looks up, eyes dazzling. "You're not my boss. Or Captain Gally or whatever."

"Valid point," Ben comments.

"See?" The corners of her lips curve up into a bright smile. "Cheers, Ben."

"What kind of drunk are you?"

"There's different types of drunk?" Her face lights up. "Does that depend on the drink you drink? I want to be cool drunk."

There goes another jar. She wipes her mouth, blinking. "There's two giants in front of me."

"Honest drunk," Newt whispers to Minho.

Minho clears his throat. "Hey, Joan? Tell me your thoughts on me."

"Oh. I think you have... great biceps," she summarizes. "Though your ego is big, I do think you really care about the others! Always the most confident ones, you know? You're great."

"Definitely honest drunk." Newt laughs. "What about me?"

Gally gives them a glare. "Hey, let's not take advantage of her—"

"You're kinda cute," she admits, and it sends redness all over Newt's face, while Minho starts laughing. "And very kind. And my friend, right?"

"Sure."

"And me?"

"Ben... hm..." She wipes some sweat off her forehead. Gosh, it's hot here, so close to the fire. Quickly, she opens two of the buttons on her shirt.

"Let's not strip either—"

"Gally, man..." She stumbles around a bit. "Let's not interfere with me all the time. Back to Ben. I think you have great muscles, too. You're funny. Kind!"

"And Gally?"

"Hm." She hums. "I don't know. Mixed opinions, really. Maybe because there's still two Gally's in front of me... and two Newt's— Minho, do you have a twin?"

"Hallucination?"

"No, you idiot," Gally grumbles. "She's drunk as hell. Nine shucking jars."

"Let's make it ten!"

"Absolutely not," Newt decides, his mom habits finally kicking in.

She stumbles a few more times, laughing at the two Ben's, who are pulling faces. Then she bumps into something, and her stomach twists. All the drinks seem to fly up to her head.

"Oh, damn." She holds her hand against her forehead. "I've felt better before."

"I'll get you to bed," Gally insists. He no longer lets himself get tricked as he pushes her, his hand on her back again, towards her hut. "Right... it's broken."

She pouts. "Everyone is dancing and having fun, Gally. I'm not tired. Just a few more minutes."

He sighs.

"Please? I won't drink swear nothing else— I mean, I swear I won't drink anything anything else."

"Fine," he grumbles, turning around. "But you'll stay right here..." and puts her against the same tree trunk as before, her back resting against it.

"Sure." She starts watching the wrestling games again, turning her mind off. It's quite relaxing, with the sound of the fire and the warmth of it, and then watching the boys as their yells sound very far away.

"Joan," he whispers, touching her shoulder. "Close the buttons. You're getting stares."

She hums. "What?"

"The buttons," he hisses. "Close them before I'll freaking kill Doug and those little shits that always follow him."

"Ah." She nods, yawning. Awfully slow, her fingers work to close the buttons. Then she goes back to watching.

Ten minutes later, Gally freezes; her head has fallen on his shoulder. Soft noises leave her mouth, and her eyes have fallen closed.

"Joan," he whisper-yells, moving a bit, but it doesn't faze her in the slightest. "Joan."

Sighing, he waits a few more minutes. If she would just wake— but nope, she's fallen into a deep sleep. So eventually, he scoops her up.

"Ahw, Gally got a soft spot? Can be gentle?" Minho chuckles as he watched the Builder carry Joan away.

"Shut up," he grumbles, and walks away. Then stops, realizing her hut is broken. No way he's gonna let her sleep in the open while she's drunk.

So he walks over to his own hut. Places the girl in his bed, pulling her shoes off as carefully as he can.

A quiet groan escapes as she rolls over, her arms wrapping around a pillow they find.

"Yeah, go ahead and make yourself at home." He manages a chuckle, then moves the sheets on top of her. "You really should've drank water."

The only reply he gets is... absolutely nothing. She has dozed off completely, a comfortable look on her face.

"Good night, woman," he mutters, moving hair out of her face. Slight hesitation, but then he nods and walks away, leaving one key on his desk and taking the other one with him, locking the door.