007 scooter's room

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SCOOTER'S ROOM
❝ god, you really need to get laid. ❞

 ❞

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The marina is bustling with activity when we waltz up to the small structure that the Coast Guard set up as their makeshift disaster relief headquarters

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The marina is bustling with activity when we waltz up to the small structure that the Coast Guard set up as their makeshift disaster relief headquarters. Men, women, children, and even pets crowd the docks in need of food, water, shelter, medications – you name it. My heart feels heavy at the sight of all the people here to seek help.

It's decided that John B and JJ will go in while the rest of us hang back. I can hear the commotion from where Pope, Kie, and I stand just outside the entryway. People are shouting above one another and arguments are breaking out. The only voices I can clearly make out are those of the Coast Guardsmen loudly requesting that everyone patiently wait their turn. Nobody seems to listen, though. Desperation brings out the worst in people.

My eyes follow my brother and best friend as they weave through the mob and approach the counter. I can see John B's mouth moving, but I can't hear his voice over all the noise. Suddenly, one of the Guardsmen raises a palm in front of his face and I can hear loud and clear as he shouts for him to calm down, then returns his attention back to a pair who are bickering in front of him.

John B looks around for a moment before seemingly giving up and making his way around the other side of the counter where JJ is. He plucks a pen that the blond is playing with from between his fingers and sets it down on the countertop as he walks away from the scene. A smile creeps onto my lips as I watch JJ sneakily pocket the pen before following after him.

He just can't help himself. It's not like anybody's going to notice anyway. There's a cup filled with, like, fifty of those pens.

As the boys approach us, I raise an eyebrow at JJ, letting him know I witnessed his little heist. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, grinning with not even an ounce of shame.

"Well, that went well," Pope deadpans.

"What was all that about?" I nod in the direction of the quarrel John B had been ignored over.

He shakes his head as he shrugs his shoulders. "Something about doggy diabetes." I let go of an amused hum in response. Would've never guessed that one.

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