Fuck-ups know best (Attn: William, Margot, Doc)
"Abrupt got us discussing and deciding on this issue inside of five minutes. Anyone want to take a stab at the last time that happened?"

Ned looks around, perhaps a bit overdone in his exaggerated demand for someone to raise their hand and recount an incident. Anyone who might, he flips off before continuing.

"From what I can tell, the Doc's somewhat abstaining, Margot is for it and it was my idea." He turns to regard William, the gel in his hair having begun to fade over the day, leaving behind a mop that trends toward the right significantly.

"I really don't want to overstate this but...we're fuck ups. That's kind of why you belong here. You're a fuck up too. Each of us in this room has done something or somethings that should make us regret but...we'll inevitably end up doing something again. The only real defense against spreading that sort of shit around is ensuring we're watching out for each other. Or at least, willing to clean up the mess." A pause.

A real pause, Ned leaning forward, elbows on his knees to watch William. Sort of firmly. Sort of sharply.

"I really don't want to have to clean up your messes all the time. I mean that. I really don't. I also really want you to make an effort to help clean up mine. And the Doc's. And Margots. Because we're gonna do that. We do that for each other. This isn't about you tagging along. If you're in this? You're in it to help us like we'll help you. That means we discuss shit, argue, drink and study between all the fucking up that happens. Which is why, much like Margot and I did and probably the Doc did centuries ago-" Another flippant hand gesture at the grey old man's expense "-You better start figuring out the difference between Fucking up and Fucking us up. Cause you're in it now. No take backsies. No half-measures. No one step in and giggling behind your hand because you found some suckers or are too wounded or scared or unhinged or whatever particular trauma makes you, you, to alter your level of Fucking with others, into just...Fucking up."

Ned slaps his knees, standing in the process.

"I've got more Time to study....The sphere. Stupid fucking paradoxes..." He points vaguely toward a wall in the study, no doubt indicating the House as a whole. "Sacred spots. Libraries. Sanctums. The usual. This is a no fuck buddies, friends or family zone. Cabal only. Beyond that, Margot and Doc'll lay out whatever personal rules they have about being here and you can setup your own and let us know. I'm sure we'll all disobey, disregard or plain out challenge each other just for kicks as time goes on." Ned hooks at thumb at the Doc. "He already invites a Dreamspeaker FWB over regularly so..."

He eyeballs his cabalmates. Clucks his tongue.

"Time for time, fuckers."

And then makes his way toward the western exit and presumably back to his String Theory nonsense warp zone that is the study, three doors over.
... probably the Doc did centuries ago...

Ever seen two grown men get into a bird-flipping competition? It doesn't last very long. Not unless one of them decides to sprout a third arm, and Doc isn't drunk enough to whip out that party trick.

Blah blah blah, drink drink drink, fuck fuck fuck.

He already invites a Dreamspeaker FWB over regularly so...

"VERBENA, you walking hemorrhoid, and we changed the Facebook to say IT'S COMPLICATED. Keep up."

That's the only amendment he has. Doesn't matter either way. Meeting adjourned, apparently.
Look. I have school. And RP. And all my other time is taken up by sheer, unreasoning panic. I don't have time for Reddit.
-- ixphaelaeon

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