Pictures on Silence

"So, fair Jessica," I drawled languishingly, throwing my arm out dramatically, "What art thou doing on thy day off?"

Upside down in my view, Jesse glared and chucked a pillow at me. "Don't fucking call me Jessica, Rhiannon," he ordered, huffily returning to his PSP.

I threw the pillow back at him, hitting him squarely in the face, and reverted to my fake upper crust Victorian accent. "Well! I never! My darling Butch Cassidy, why dost fair Jessica insist on being such a right git?"

Sean let out a laugh at my mixture of slang. "I do declare, Miss Penelope," he cried, in a high Southern-belle voice, "I don't rightly know. But I say we forget the wanker and have some bloody tea. This dreadful weather is the devil on my poor, delicate skin." He brought the back on his hand to his forehead and fluttered his eyelashes.

We both burst out laughing and Jesse glanced up. "You guys are fuckin' weird," he muttered.

"No, ser'ously," Sean pressed, crossing to the coffeemaker, "What're we doin' t'day? I don' want'a just sit in th'hotel like we always do."

"I don't know about you, hun," I said, reorganizing myself so I lay stretched across the couch, "But I'm looking forward to a nice long nap." With that I shut my eyes and tried to clear my thoughts. And just as I reached the top of the tree where the sexy blonde with the secret to the universe waited, he shot me a sinister smirk and pointed a pistol at me. That bastard tricked me!

BANG!

"Get up, bitches!" Matt yelled, prancing into the room like a deer on speed. I groaned and turned over, burying my head in the pillows. "We're going out!" Jesse and Sean complained that this was our only day off until tour ended and we shouldn't spend it running all over kingdom come with whatever crack-pot plan he had, though Matt argued that this was the best way to spend our leisure.

I personally kept my mouth shut and my head covered in an attempt to become invisible and go back to sleep; I'd show that asshole hot blonde to double-cross Penelope Dreadful. Only Matt decided he didn't like that, so he tickled me, sending me convulsing with an embarrassingly girly shriek onto the floor.

"C'mon, Pen, my friends are going to love you!" he declared happily, crouching over me.

"I hate you, Matthew," I grumbled, face against the carpet.

So already thoroughly ticked off that my nap was interrupted, I tugged Sean's cadet hat lower on my forehead and glowered at nothing as we walked down the streets at half-past ten in the morning. Apparently my sleeping had thrown a wrench into Matt's plans for the day, about which he hadn't bothered to tell any of us, so he hadn't even let me put on a full face of makeup before throwing us all out of the room.

Even half asleep I somehow managed to find the energy to chase him down the stairs for slapping my ass.

But enough about my amazing skills. Back to the anger.

He wouldn't even tell us where the hell we were going! Every time Trill or Butch Cassidy demanded to know, Manwhore would just smile and say, "To meet a few of my friends." And when they commanded him to tell them who, his smile would widen. "You'll see."

I hate when people do that. I'm the only one who should be allowed to do that.

As I further was progressing the growth of my personal little black rain cloud hanging over me amid the clear Minneapolis sky, I didn't notice Matt call, "Bill, my man!" I just kept walking, staring at the cement before my feet, until Jesse and Sean stopped in front of me.

People were chatting, joking. Guys. Grand, more testosterone, I thought bitterly as the guys around me laughed. I yawned widely and sat down on the edge of the sidewalk. I'll be nice to them when I'm awake.

"She's the Penelope you talk so much about? Is she even awake?" I was leaning on my fist, nodding off and barely hearing them. Oh, is he talking about me? "Hello there, princess!"

My eyes opened curiously. Who dares call the Great Penelope Dreadful princess?! my head-voice boomed. I lifted my head to look up.

And up.

And up.

...And freaking up.

I squinted at the figure blocking out the sun. Damn, he's tall. Slowly my eyes adjusted and I swallowed, suddenly recognising the guy.

"Pen, in case you weren't listening, which I'm sure you weren't," Matt said somewhere behind me, "This is Mike Carden, Michael Guy Chislett, Adam Siska, The Butcher, and Bill Beckett."

Still staring with narrowed eyes, I slowly got up from the ground and stood to my full height, still falling short of this guy by a good five inches. I hate feeling short. "Matt," I said slowly, not looking away from the skinny grinning kid in front of me, "Since when do you know The Academy Is...?"

Matt slung an arm around me, smirking. "William lived next door to me in Illi-noise. Impressed?"

I shrugged, knocking his arm off. "Not really, no." And I wasn't just being obstinate; I knew that Matt had more famous numbers in his little black book than Samuel L. Jackson, who ironically was in it. Beckett was small potatoes.

William crossed his arms and a small smirk grew on his face. "You don't find me impressive?" he asked, amused.

"Except for the altitude of your ridiculous haircut, made even higher by your almost laughable lankiness," I stated calmly. The others looked at each other laughing, surprised by the snipe and unsure of whence it had come; the guys from TAI (I hate acronyms, but spelling their stupid name out takes too long) seemed mostly shocked that someone as sweet-looking as I would have said that.

Beckett, however, appeared not phased. In fact, I think that stupid fucking smirk widened a little bit. I was not in the mood to be mocked, so I pushed onward when his mouth opened. "And I have no time for this tomfoolery, as I have a date with a cup of coffee."

Adjusting Sean's hat to throw my hair back, I pushed past Beckett and his flippy hair, chin held high and strode down the street, hopefully in the direction of something other than Starbucks.

"You heard the princess," I heard behind me. I rolled my eyes in aggravation. Today would be a long day.

~William Beckett~

"Sorry about her," Matt excused as we followed the redhead, walking rather fast, down the street, "She's in a bad mood because I woke her up."

"Well, Bill's not exactly helping," Sisky added thoughtfully.

"You'd probably do better to lay low," Jesse advised. "Ange kind of hates it when guys try to make her like them."

I gave the whole group an overly offended gasp. "I've never been so insulted," I said loudly. "I am nothing but the perfect gentleman to any lady." Angie gave an exaggerated, sarcastic laugh, informing that she could still hear us. A grin wormed its way onto my face. I like this girl already.

"Where the hell is she going?" Carden griped a few minutes later. "We've passed three Starbucks!" This was just getting ridiculous. Any time one of us tried to catch up with her, Angie would break into a sprint to distance herself.

Sean chuckled. "You obvious don' know Pen," he said amusedly. "She's doin' this t'get back at us."

"Wot did we do?" Chislett asked incredulously. "Bill's the one who ticked 'er off." I glared at him. So much for loyalty.

"Nothing," Matt replied, watching his band mate, "Which is why she just turned into that coffee shop."

And true to Matt's word, Penny Dreadful's lead singer has disappeared off the sidewalk. We followed her in and stood behind her, pretending she didn't even know us as she scrutinised the pastries. After a short awkward silence-- aside from the hustle and bustle of the cafe-- Sisky gave us a 'watch this' look, ran a hand through his hair, and stepped up beside her. Watching from the back of the group, I strained to listen to their conversation.

To my surprise, she laughed at something he said and replied, "Of course not; if I hated everyone whom I considered an idiot, my people-to-kill list would be a hell of a lot longer than it is." Matt, Jesse, and Sean all laughed, which made me realise she was completely joking.

We all ordered something-- both Angie and Sean ordered tea; I think they're secretly vampires-- and clustered a bunch of tables together to sit. For the whole time we sat there, she refused to look at me unless it was a look of politely-feigned interest masking dislike. All her comments towards me had an acrid bite to them that seemed to shock even her own band.

I wasn't about to give up though. Matt had told me about her, and I knew I wanted to know her.

After we finished our food and drinks, somehow we decided to crash the mall up the street. And naturally, everyone wanted to go in different directions at once.

"I won't subject you all to the horrors of shopping with me," Angie said with a pretty white smile. She waved a hand and started off. "Call me when you get bored."

We all looked after her, some watching for different reasons than others. I glanced at the group and grinned. "I'll catch you guys later," I said, jogging after her.

I know she noticed me, because her lips tightened and her head tilted up the slightest bit. Grinning, I slung an arm over her shoulder. "Let's get to know each other."

"Let's not," she retorted, twisting suddenly and heading into a shop filled with skater clothes and regalia.

I followed her closely through the store, commenting on everything she picked up and holding things out for her, saying she'd look amazing in it. If anything this just pissed her off. She stormed across the walkway, scaring off several groups of scene teenagers, so much so that they didn't even recognise me.

Angie stopped at one point and spun around to face me. "What the fuck do you want, Beckett?" she demanded, eyes flashing. "Why are you following me?"

I smiled; this was the first she'd spoke in almost half an hour. "Annoying you is fun!"

She groaned in exasperation and headed for Hot Topic, probably in hopes she'd lose me. "No wonder you and Matt get along," she grumbled.

"So why don't you like me?" I asked as we wandered the store.

"Because you're a cocky son of a bitch," Angie replied idly, looking up at the wall covered in band shirts. "And you know that any indie slut would practically wet themselves to be in my position because oh my god, you're sooooo cute!. I, however," she looked me right in the eye, "Am not an indie slut." She turned and went to examine the pins and patches.

"What kind of slut are you?" She glared viciously. "Hey, it's a legitimate question. You do hang out with Matt."

"Look who's talking."

"Ah, but he doesn't have the hots for me."

She shuddered. "That's disgusting! Bandcest should be a crime!"

I laughed. "You have a name for it. Shit, you must have thought of it before."

Her mouth fell open and it took a second before she replied. But first she growled. Sexy, huh? "Who the fuck do you think you are?" she hissed. "Go pick on someone your own size, cretin."

"Hate to break it to you, princess, but you are the female equivalent of my size."

"Do not call me princess. Didn't your mother ever teach you to be polite to girls?"

"Didn't yours ever tell you not to get lost with strange men?"

Angie scoffed. "Basta. If you're a man, I'm the king of fucking Albania."

I swept my arm out and made a low bow. "Your majesty," I said venomously.

After a long moment, I looked up in surprise. She hadn't replied. No, she stood with one hand over her mouth, trying to mask the smile on her face. Within a second, Angie was bent over and holding her side in laughter.

Man, this chick was weird. First she won't talk to me, then she yells at me, and now she's laughing at me.

Once she recovered, Angie brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face and grinned at me. Somehow a shirt had appeared in her hand and hit me directly in the face. I pulled it off: a miniature version of my face stared out at me.

Angie shook her head, still grinning. "You're a weird kid. Cute, but weird as shit."

I grinned and slung my arm around her shoulder as we walked out. "You think I'm cute?"

"In the same way a bunny is cute: adorable, but you know it's kind of dumb."

"You know, you're still really attractive when you're mad."

"Don't push your luck, Beckett."

"So, what? Now you're just all palsy?" Matt exclaimed as we joined the group in the food court, voice jumping an octave. "I leave you alone for an hour and a half and you're best friends now?! He's got his arm around your waist! You don't even let me have my arm around you waist! Penelope, you hate the emo scene and everyone in it!"

We stopped next to the table and Angie clucked her tongue. "Shame, Matthew. Such vast generalisations."

"Yeah, man," I put in. "Have an open mind." Matt sputtered, at a loss for words, which made everyone laugh. Just to shock him further, I let my hand slip a little lower on her hip.

Suddenly I felt someone punch my arm and I took three steps away, gripping it. Jesse gave me a warning look and pulled Angie onto his lap. "Hands off the underage bassist," he ordered.

Angie looked between him and me and shot me a wry smirk. "Oh, did I forget to mention that?" She gave a sigh. "Such potential too."