(This website is, once again, being an obstinate b*tch. I had to cheat to post this.)
Meanwhile.
Climb now, darlings, into the nearest handy time machine, and let us travel back to the week preceding the events of the first chapter. Drabble. Whatever. This'll be the format of the fic from here-on-in. We'll be going back and forth (from the party to the events leading up to party) until you're all well and thoroughly discombobulated.
Hopefully, something like a plot will emerge in the midst of this mangled travesty I (somewhat hestitantly) call a story.
[i own all of the tangled stupidity preceding and following this chapter. and that's...that's all, really.]
::in which Derek has no compunctions whatsoever and likes it that way::
Derek is, first and foremost, a gentleman of leisure.
To the laymen: a charming slacker. To the step-sister: a 'promising candidate for Inevitable Dereliction.' He likes his meals deliverable (or, when funds are lacking, microwave-able), enjoys taking naps whenever he pleases (which is often), and prefers his lady-friends the complete opposite of Casey: chill, uncomplicated, blonde, and drama-free. If he can find someone to pay to do his homework and take his tests for him, excellent. If he can con one of his teammates into buying him a six-pack, superb.
Devoted as he is to this blissful, shameless self-indulgence, he's ever-vigilant to seize opportunities that contribute, in large or small part, to funding his lifestyle of choice, particularly those opportunities which require the least amount of effort. Hence, he is secondly an entrepreneur of Swiftest Cunning. (Or, what some would –aptly—term 'Smooth Operating,' and Casey would more likely call 'Heinous Treachery.')
This entails actively exploiting his vast well of Natural Resources (his roguish charm, his quick wit, his dashing good looks, his raw, animal sexuality, etc.), his extensive experience, and occasionally, innocent by-standers (when they're convenient, or if he thinks it might be funny). Usually he has to engineer his own prospects (a responsibility he assumes with almost no objection whatsoever, which is rare indeed), though he's still partial to the kind that just fall generously into his lap.
His newest project has been in the works now for nearly a week and fits obligingly into this latter category. It hasn't required much more from him than persistent rejections of an invitation to what sounds to him like the lamest party of the year (and possibly of all time), though (admittedly) he's had to maneuver the refusals carefully. Craftily.
The object is to leave room for doubt, to let Casey think that if she's tenacious enough (and she always, always is), he'll eventually cave and go with her to her Very (stuffy) Important Social Function. The trick is to do this in such a way that she'll eventually be forced to move from asking to demanding, and from there on to threatening, which segues naturally (for reasons unknown to him; this tactic has never worked on him before –for anyone but Marti—and he suspects it never will) into an attempt to guilt him into submission, until at long last they arrive (inevitably) at his most favorite stage of the Favor-Begging-Process: the Bribery Negotiation.
When he hears the crash of feet clanging up the stairs, he stretches languidly and hops to his feet, prepared for battle.
Then, some eight or nine seconds later, Opportunity knocks.
All shall become clear in time.
(Possibly.)
Chapter 3's already written and ready to post, and I'll obligingly do so once ffnet pulls its fingers out of its bum.
And yes, I think I'll have soy in my chai.