Colorful, messy and crazy

Kip grins and nods, more than willing to help Karla. Anything that would help them stick together. "At your service!"

The rest of the day and evening is spent packing, eating pizza and packing some more. Many goodbyes are said now - they would be leaving early enough that some people they would miss if they didn't give their farewells before bed. It's bittersweet to some. This was home to most of them and they didn't know when they would be back. But the adventure was worth it, so no tears were shed.

Sleep doesn't come easily for anybody. Too much excitement was running in their veins, and five in the morning comes way too quickly.

The sun wasn't even up yet. But lights were on and Shirley had made sure the night before that there was enough breakfast for everyone before they left. Bagels or toast and orange juice were plenty, and before anyone knew it, they were saying a few more goodbyes and starting to make their ways to the little caravan of vehicles.

Kip has said goodbye to everyone and is pausing on the porch, looking out at the dim driveway. Stars were still visible in the sky, and the air was chilly before the sun was up. He was glad he hadn't packed his denim jacket. Spying Karla over to the side, he ambles over to her with a little caution. No more mishaps had happened the night before, but he was still unsure what her decision was about this morning. "Hey..." He clears his throat and leans on the porch railing. "I, uh... talked to Twila and she said she was fine with it if you wanted to ride with her and Theo."


"Yo, Red. Bike's done." Eli cradles the phone between his chin and shoulder. Things had slowed down at the shop, and he'd been able to finish Scarlet's bike faster than anticipated. Of course... staying until midnight last night to work on it had helped.

Fiddling with paperwork on the office desk and getting his hand slapped by Sandy, he keeps talking. "Need a ride down here, I can come pick you up over lunch if you want."


"You've got to be kidding me." Scott can't help it that his eyebrows are raised as he sees Justin coming towards him. It was the next afternoon and the sun was shining down - warmly enough that even Scott didn't have a jacket on. It made his weightloss even more obvious to those who knew him.

Justin comes towards him, dressed in a pair of old, torn jeans and old white t-shirt. A pair of goggles was set up on top of his head, and his hands were full of very... strange things. A grin was on his face though as he reaches the same bench that seemed to be a self-appointed meeting place. "Good afternoon."

Scott stands up, quirking an eyebrow. "Yeah... what's all this?" He'd expected a baseball bat again.

"This... is war." Justin raises and lowers his eyebrows, hinting he had something up his sleeve. Depositing everything onto the bench, he hands Scott a white t-shirt too. "Here, put this on."

"What?"

"Just put it on. You don't want this stuff on your own shirt. Care about the jeans you got on?"

Scott takes the shirt lamely and looks down at his jeans that were two sizes too big. "Um... no, not really. Why?"

"Well, this stuff isn't supposed to stain, but sometimes it does."

"What does?"

"Put the shirt on."

Scott sighs, but does as he's told, taking off the shirt he had on, and replacing it with the white one. "What on earth are we doing?"

"Going to war, man... going to war. Here." Justin hands him a pack of sorts to be worn around the waist. It had a belt to strap on, and had several pouches along one side that rested against the wearer's hip.

Scott looks at it skeptically. "Would you please tell me what's going on?"

A grin was still on Justin's face as he opened another bag and buckled on his own pouch around his waist. "Poor man's paintball."

Scott blinks. "We're... playing a game. Seriously?"

"Why not?"

"Well it's... silly."

"And?" Justin holds out his arms and circles to scan Brookshire's surroundings. "Look around you. Are we not on the verge of the loony bin?"

He had a point. Scott shrugs and puts on the pouch. "Alright... but you're the one with the crazy ideas, not me."

"Mm-hmm..." Justin absentmindedly sorted through a bag of different colored balloons. "Okay... so this is a whole lot simpler and cheaper than paintball, but it requires a bit more accuracy and closer proximity to each other because we have no guns. Just our own aim." He picks up one of the balls that looked like a small water balloon. "I made these myself this morning, so tell me I did a good job."

Scott can't help a little grin. "Fantastic."

"Thank you."

"What on earth are they?"

Justin chuckles and holds one out to him. "They are balloons made to break a bit easier than your average balloon to avoid ricochets."

"And the inside?"

"A mixture of water and dye. It's supposed to wash out alright - which I'm hoping is the case."

"Why?"

"Because if not, one of my dogs now has a blue head."

Scott's grin grows a little bit. He could imagine Domino having a hay day with something like this.

Justin points to their pouches. "We got three different colors: blue, green and red. You wanna keep them separated 'cause if you hit me with a red one, it's worth more than a green one, and a blue has the least amount of points. Miss with an important color and your chance of winning goes down."

"How do we keep score?"

"The splatter range is small enough that we should be able to tell once we're finished how many times we got hit with each color. Here." Justin turns Scott around and divvies out the mini balloons into the hip pouches. The rubber squeaked as the squishy balls were carefully deposited. "There's a flap you can use to cover up your ammo in case you need to run. If you don't cover 'em up, they'll just leave a blood trail for me to follow. Oh, and here." He hands Scott a pair of goggles. "This is a whole lot gentler than paintball but I still don't wanna get any of this in my eyes, let alone yours."

"Yeah, that wouldn't be good, seeing as though I only got one good one left," Scott comments wryly. He puts on the goggles and watches as Justin does the same. Looking at him from top to bottom, a muffled laugh comes out. "I can't believe we're doing this. Seriously. What are you thinking?"

"Stuffy office is right back there." Justin thumbs towards the building.

Scott holds up his hands. "You win. But be nice. Remember I don't have the same vision range as you."

"Mm, tell you what." Justin fishes around in another bag for a bandanna. Folding it up a little, he makes a triangle eye patch out of it, tying it around his head before returning his goggles.

Scott stares at him in disbelief. "Are you sure you're not the one who belongs here?"

"I ask myself that almost every day. Come on." Justin heads towards the open field where they would cross into the trees. His bags and anything else left on the bench would be safe until they returned.

The goal was simple. They were to split up and start on opposite ends of the treeline. Each would have to circle back to an imaginary center line, then head back to the bench. First one there got fifteen extra points, and in the meantime, anything went. Depending on where hits were taken and what color balloon was used, the points would vary and would have to be tallied up at the end.

And the game began. Scott moved through the trees with more stealth than the average person, knowing how to stay hidden and try to make it to the center line without getting hit. Halfway there though, he feels the first sickening smack to his shoulder, followed by lukewarm wetness. Glancing down, he sees bright green. Justin had come up on his blind side. Whirling around, he sees his foe duck behind a tree. Aha. It wasn't much later that Justin received a bright red balloon right to the center of his chest. Staring ahead at where Scott had come out of nowhere, Scott just gives him a grin and a shrug before diving behind some bushes, still trying to make it to the clearing.

Back and forth, the battle continued. Colors flew. A few trees wound up with marks of their own. Justin and Scott's shirts became covered, and the dye stained their fingers bright colors. Both were hot and sweaty when they reached the clearing. By the time they were there, Scott was almost completely worn out, while Justin still had much energy to spare. All ammo was gone though, so all that was left was a sprint to getting extra points. Taking off, it becomes a brutal race. Even though Scott was tired, something had kicked in that he hadn't felt in a long time: competitiveness. His legs were weak, but he manages to tail Justin close enough to keep Justin going at a fast pace.

Nearing the bench, Justin head straight for it, but in an act of desperation, Scott dives. His arms wrap around Justin's ankles, bringing him to the ground... hard. Sprawling on the grass, Justin spits out some dirt and claws his way towards the bench, but Scott scrambles right over the top of him, reaching the goal first.

Justin starts to laugh, out of breath and too tired to get up yet. Scott collapses as well, almost unable to catch his own breath, a grin showing on his face. And that expression did not escape Justin's watchful eyes. "Man... I can't believe you got here first. I underestimated you."

Managing to sit up, Scott shakes his head. "I didn't think I'd make it either."

"Why not?"

Scott shrugs. "I'm not exactly a sportsman. At work, if anybody wanted to form a team, I'd be last, even behind the girls. I was the techy, remember?"

Justin grins. "You're a speedy little devil, that's what you are." He finally sits up too, wiping some sweat from his face and putting his goggles up on his head, the bandanna getting pushed back with them. "Funny how when we have goals we're determined to reach, we can overcome the odds."

Scott grows a little more solemn as he realizes the deeper meaning of Justin's words. "Even some goals are never attainable."

"But how do we ever know that?" Justin points to the trees. "If you hadn't tried to race me, would you have ever known if you could make it?" Not receiving a response, he continues. "Life's not about determining outcomes based on what we think we're not capable of, then avoiding those situations. It's based on what's in here." He touches his chest. "It's based on what our desires are, not what are weaknesses are. It's about letting the end result determine itself after we've given it our best shot." He cocks his head and studies Scott for a moment. "Are you giving it your best shot?"


...Despite Scott's win to the bench, Justin had wound up with five more points, resulting in him being the winner of the game. Not much conversation had taken place after that. Scott had grown a little quieter, mulling over the concepts shared, and Justin let it lie for another day. However, even though Scott's day might be relatively over now, but Justin's was far from it.

Ambling back towards the parking lot, Justin's hands were full of the packs, bags and more. He was covered in head to toe with color - his shirt, pants, arms, hands and even a bit on his face and in his hair. Scott could go right in and take a shower - Justin's would have to wait.

His goggles were still atop his head, along with the bandanna eye patch that was totally askew, making his hair stand up in all directions. Receiving shocked stares from some of the orderlies, he simply returns casual nods, hiding his smile of amusement.