smash or pass { oli & layton }

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Layton spent the free form training hour as she most often did: sitting pretty in the bleachers, applying a new gloss of fuchsia nail polish. Her best friend, Fawn, always took this time to talk her ear off, but she never complained. Instead, she became a mirror of feigned wow's and uh huh's, nodding along to the story of how that buck-faced guy from self defense fell into a dumpster at his new job. Gossip just didn't hit like it used to, she remembers freshman year how her and Fawn would be mouth-to-ear every chance they could, spreading half truths between them. 

It just gets, I don't know, repetitive? 

There's always something negative to talk about, and sure, sometimes it warrants a giggle from her, but it was starting to drain her how every conversation had to be about who did what when. Can't they just talk about reality television and cute POLA cat pics? Still, she tries not to mind Fawn's loose lips, humming "mhm"'s like sweet nothings. That's what it was, really: nothing at all. A nonresponse with as much depth as the potholes outside their public academy. 

Layton doesn't look up as another girl approaches them both, the words "hey gorgeous" catching her attention as if she had called her straight by name. Looking up, she recognizes her instantly, and her entire posture changes within the presence of clout. "Oh, hi Olivia!" She says, cheery in her tone. It's never hard for her to flip the switch, her parents raised her to know how to act to always make a good impression. 

Oli Harper, a certified babe - do you know how hard it is to make it past the YLIP screening? Layton couldn't even make it past the first round, deflated her self esteem for a good month after. The pilot of that show had gone viral the second it dropped, and she wondered if getting in Olivia's good graces could get her positioned with a nice alternate casting spot. Now that would be amazing. 

"Right now?" She says, almost flustered at the prospect of wrestling with Olivia. "I don't know, I'd hate to hurt that pretty face!" 

Still, she makes her way down the bleachers, stepping over each ledge instead of taking the stairs. If a fight's what it takes to be apart of Harper's network, she'd start swinging in a heartbeat. Besides, it'd been a while since she chipped a nail anyways, she could afford a little damage here and there. She meets her at the mat, dropping her miniature sky blue backpack to the side with a hard thunk. "No playing dirty, okay?" She requests with pleading eyes, and fingers crossed behind her back.