Pierian, Torrent, Cyanide, and Blasé were situated around the picnic tables on the side of the high school. The tallest one, Torrent, had his head in his arms and his knees to his chest, sitting furthest from the school. The red haired teen- Cyanide, was sitting on the top of the table, smoking and glaring at something off in the distance. Pierian was picking flint off her black mesh and Blasé appeared to be asleep. You know; the norm.

"Think Torrent will ever get that letter?"

"Fuck that shit, I don't fucking care." Cyanide continued staring angrily at the brown haired teen by the front steps, diagonal to him. He continued- "Pi, I'm a little busy trying to remember why I hate this one."

"You don't care if Torrent's grandma gets him that hundred fifty?" the girl huffed, angered at both his tone and the use of her nickname's nickname.

"SHH! Seriously- What's that conformist's name?"

Torrent snapped his head up. "Why in hell should it matter?"

Cyanide looked startled but his ticked gaze focused in on the tallest goth instead, "He glared at us and I'm trying to remember what he's done before so I know if this is a first offense or not..." The red head's personality matched his hair. Hot-blooded, angry at any and everyone and quick to over-react.

The girl sighed and started scribbling in her black notebook. She knew where this was headed, and after only so long could she attempt to care enough to stop it.

"Oh, so it doesn't matter if my grandmother remembers my birthday and we get a hundred and fifty fucking dollars?"

Matt flipped his hair. "Birthdays are fucking conformist, Shane- and you and Henrietta can go buy all the fucking coffee you want, I refuse to get excited over something so trivial."

"Don't you dare use those conformist bitch names! If you e-"

"Clyde."

The two guys stopped yelling and Henrietta stopped scribbling, all looking over at the smallest dark figure. "What?" Matt asked- either he didn't hear the small voice or he was astonished Ian had spoken.

"Clyde Donovan. Five foot five, C to borderline D grade-point average, Blood type unknown, greatest weakness: self-consciousness, past offenses: glares while encouraging Craig Tucker in provoking us, tripped Cyanide in the English wing in seventh grade, Two younger sisters and currently working at the volcano research center with Stan Marsh's father as a temp." Blasé laid his head back on the table. Now that Cyanide had his answer, would everyone stop yelling and let him sleep already?

Apparently so, because Matt composed himself and turned back to his angered associate. "...would you pardon me?" Cyanide couldn't bring himself to look directly at his best friend (though he himself would never use that term), but Torrent understood.

"Problem averted."

Pierian apparently didn't feel like letting the matter of Ian's words fade away, however. "Our schizoid comrade! You should put that silk voice of yours to use more often. It dances on the single strand of hair that hangs sideways on your face of utter indifference." She smirked, the closest any of them ever get to a smile, and went back to drawing dead dolls in the margins of her poem-book.

This may seem like an odd statement, and therefore a perfect topic of conversation for a group of goth teens, but truthfully- Pierian had the most active imagination of them all, and rarely did the three males know how to respond when she got into "moods". Especially -certain- times of the month. Whenever Henrietta got her period, she would confine in only one of them (whomever had annoyed her the least that month, which was usually Blasé) and that goth would have to code "There's blood in the air" to the other two men of the group. Universally; watch out, because the unofficial leader was gonna get to you.

Unresponsive to the female, Blasé set his head back down. It was unlikely he was tired, Blasé just was more of a listener. Well; more of an ignorer.

Kenny McCormick decided then to make an appearance. He wasn't favored by the whole of the group, but could usually bum a cigarette off Pierian if he was sly enough. It was easier then getting them off Christophe or Craig, and Damien quit smoking for reasons unknown. "Hey- Henrietta."

The goth teens turned their attention to the perverted blonde ahead of them. "Kenneth, I've already informed you many times over that my name is Pierian."

"Yeah, but thats hard to remember... And your so pretty, you've me distracted so I can't think as clearly." Henrietta had lost a lot of weight as she grew older, but most wouldn't qualify goth as pretty. Though Kenny might. He had a very lax rulebook when it came to getting what he wanted.

Torrent rolled his eyes and Cyanide scoffed. Pierian slid a cigarette out of its metal holding case. "Here Kenny, we both know this is really why you're here."

"Thanks much Pi. You're a doll." And with that, he smiled and left.

"Why do you let him call you Pi? You hate shortening our names, and you even yell at me for it sometimes!" Cyanide asked, rather forcibly.

"He's seen both heaven and hell, and lived to tell the tale." She replied, and gave one of her signature looks that stated the conversation was to be dropped.

The bell to signal the beginning of school rang, and instead of staying outside until the Vice came for them, the teenagers broke and entered the school. There was blood in the air, and none of them felt like dealing with one another till the arguments of the morning had blown over.