The Unconventional Ways Of Casey Jayne

The Conjoined Power of Two Angry Mother Hens

As we speak, the whole closet incident is still going strong and very dully.

And also uncomfortably since Hunter's being annoyingly quiet.

"So..." I begin, hoping to get something out of him. "Any fun dreams lately?"

I feel his questioning gaze, but ignore it.

"I had a dream that my Mom was tripping on acid and that my Dad was trying to stop her from dancing as a Vegas stripper...and then Lux came in and started pole dancing and it was super uncomfortable, especially since he was doing it while eating fried chicken that Stefan was making, but the problem is Stefan doesn't cook and then Noah was there in a Rockette's costume dancing with all the normal Rockettes and I don't understand it at all..."

Hunter chuckles. "You dreamed of your brother pole dancing?"

I nod. "I'm guessing it was because I watched that vine of the guy pole dancing with the clarinet before I went to bed."

"That's fucking weird ass shit." He replies.

"Language!" I scold.

I hear him chuckle again.

"Alright, Sweets. I dreamt that...well, it was something about a Billy Idol concert and coffee, that's all I remember though."

I grin. "That sounds like a beautiful dream to me."

I pause then continue. "Alright, so what's your favorite color?" I ask quickly.

He stays silents, then sighs. "Green." He pauses again. "All time favorite band?"

I frown. "Mm, I would say The Doors." I smile. "And yours?"

"Good choice, But I'm more of an AC/DC fan myself. Bon Scott era."

I grin. "Brilliant choice. Have you ever lived anywhere other than New York?"

I hear another chuckle. "Jesus, yeah. I've lived in thirteen different places, but I only remember maybe six of them."

"Name them!" I chirp excitedly. 

I hear him sigh. "Well, I was actually born in Russia, but it was one of those US camps, so I was considered an American citizen. Then we moved to France, uh, Texas, Japan, California, Alaska, Austrailia, Britain, Panama, Columbia, Saudi Arabia, Italy, and I think it was Iraq..."

"And where do you remember living?" I ask, totally amazed. How had he been to so many different places? I had never even left Georgia before moving here!

"Texas, London, Saudi Arabia, Italy, Columbia, and Russia. Most of the memories are just singles though. I don't remember any long periods anywhere other than Russia." He explained. "I lived in Russia when I was born, then since Mom loved it so much we went back after..." He paused. "Well, we went back when I was seven, then I lived there up until I was nine and I moved here."

"What was it like?" I ask, tilting my head to the side like a confused puppy.

I could sense him smirking. "Cold as hell, Sweets. But it seemed like people were always celebrating, oddly enough. I mean, the economy sucked ass and no one had any control over their lives, but I was a kid, so all I saw was a bunch of old guys partying and telling stories about when they were kids, then singing these weird songs in Russian, which I had only just been learning to speak fluently, so they only half made sense."

I frown. "You cannot speak fluent Russian..."

"Khotite pari?" was his only reply.

He pronounced it with this weird angry voice, saying it as Co-Ti-Teh Par-Ee. Like, what is that?