Casting Call: Cool Kid
For once, Clayton Lamont had found himself with neither an audience to entertain nor a scene to steal. And so he had surrendered himself rather dramatically to one of the cabin couches. He lay draped among the pillows with all the theatrical exhaustion of an actor between performances. Despite having done remarkably little to earn such a rest.
He contemplated the fact that he very rarely felt this alone. At home there were members of staff bustling through the rooms. His brother would often demand his attention, and there was the rare occasion of his mother requiring his presence. Aside from any of that, sure, he had his quiet moments. But back home, he had his stage, his props, his tales to enact. No one was ever truly alone if they could imagine a crowd around them. If they could dream the winds of a thousand hands applauding in their general direction.
His head shot up, and he looked around the room. There were books here too. Yet many of them he considered boring or disposable. Clay understood that the cabin was supposed to emanate the seriousness of a ministerial office. So naturally, he wouldn't find some of the wizarding world's classics among them. In truth, this room had little to offer him. So he only had to wait for the universe to provide him with some entertainment. Fortunately, it had terrible taste...
"Sweet Circe, what are you wearing?"
Casting Call: Cool Kid
"Sweet Circe, what are you wearing?"
Jeremy looked down at himself, and then back up at Clayton questioningly. He paused a few moments, trying to figure out the question (or where Clayton had even come from).
“...Clothes?" he responded suspiciously.
What was wrong with everybody? This was the second time this summer somebody had had such an issue with his clothes. Who cared so much about what people were wearing? Clothes were something you had to wear so you could go about in polite society, who cared what was ON the clothes?
Jeremy didn't care about clothes, and didn't get why suddenly everybody else did. He'd been happy to have his mother pick them out for him. He woke up, took whatever she'd laid out and put it on, and didn't really think much more about it, and didn't really want to. He hated shopping anyway, unless it was for books. That was until this summer in Diagon Alley. Somehow, Kahira had got it in her head that there was something wrong with his clothes, and that his Mum picking out clothes made him a baby. She had laughed at him, and he had stormed out and... well anyway he still hated thinking about that day, especially because she was just WRONG.
But before camp started, he had insisted on buying some clothes of his own and refused to tell his parents why. His mum and dad had shared one of those looks that meant...well Jeremy didn't really know what it had meant, but they had backed down pretty quickly, and that was all that mattered. It WASN'T because he cared what Kahira thought of him, or what anybody thought of him, because he didn't. Caring about clothes was stupid. It was more because people thought he couldn't do it, and he quite obviously could.
That was how he ended up with the clothes he was wearing now, which were just fine. He didn't see what could be wrong with them now. Red cargo shorts which had a lot of pockets and were good for summer, which was practical. And then a purple polo, far brighter than the polos his mum usually picked, and so probably more interesting. And then some striped blue socks, since blue was his favorite color, and besides, red and blue made purple, so it would make the colors match too.
What did Clayton know anyway?
"...Why?" Jeremy finally asked, pausing in the doorway and turning back in spite of himself, narrowing his eyes. "...What's wrong with them?"
"I picked them myself," he said defensively, because he was NOT getting called a baby again.
Jeremy looked down at himself, and then back up at Clayton questioningly. He paused a few moments, trying to figure out the question (or where Clayton had even come from).
“...Clothes?" he responded suspiciously.
What was wrong with everybody? This was the second time this summer somebody had had such an issue with his clothes. Who cared so much about what people were wearing? Clothes were something you had to wear so you could go about in polite society, who cared what was ON the clothes?
Jeremy didn't care about clothes, and didn't get why suddenly everybody else did. He'd been happy to have his mother pick them out for him. He woke up, took whatever she'd laid out and put it on, and didn't really think much more about it, and didn't really want to. He hated shopping anyway, unless it was for books. That was until this summer in Diagon Alley. Somehow, Kahira had got it in her head that there was something wrong with his clothes, and that his Mum picking out clothes made him a baby. She had laughed at him, and he had stormed out and... well anyway he still hated thinking about that day, especially because she was just WRONG.
But before camp started, he had insisted on buying some clothes of his own and refused to tell his parents why. His mum and dad had shared one of those looks that meant...well Jeremy didn't really know what it had meant, but they had backed down pretty quickly, and that was all that mattered. It WASN'T because he cared what Kahira thought of him, or what anybody thought of him, because he didn't. Caring about clothes was stupid. It was more because people thought he couldn't do it, and he quite obviously could.
That was how he ended up with the clothes he was wearing now, which were just fine. He didn't see what could be wrong with them now. Red cargo shorts which had a lot of pockets and were good for summer, which was practical. And then a purple polo, far brighter than the polos his mum usually picked, and so probably more interesting. And then some striped blue socks, since blue was his favorite color, and besides, red and blue made purple, so it would make the colors match too.
What did Clayton know anyway?
"...Why?" Jeremy finally asked, pausing in the doorway and turning back in spite of himself, narrowing his eyes. "...What's wrong with them?"
"I picked them myself," he said defensively, because he was NOT getting called a baby again.
Casting Call: Cool Kid
"Right. Well. At least we identified the culprit." Clayton exclaimed with a scoff and a grin.
He shot up from the couch and approached the garment grotesquerie that was Jeremy. Clayton was literally astonished by what he saw. Was this the sort of outfit that Muggles wore these days? Because Clayton Lamont knew for sure this wasn't the latest in wizarding fashion. Even his mother would have revolted against... that.
He crossed his arms in front of the younger boy. "No." Clay shook his head. "I can not let you go out like this. What will Jo think? You don't want her to see you like this!" Clayton had received no information about Jeremy's love life whatsoever. But he and Jo seemed to have history when he met them the other time. Yes, it wasn't all that friendly. But who wasn't a sucker for a little enemies-to-lovers? This ball had inevitably begun rolling in Clay's head and had let him spin a full-on Romeo & Juliet tale.
Now he considered himself Jeremy's last line of defense in the name of love and courtship, lest those striped socks kill it before it had even begun. Oh, poor Jo, he thought. He shook one fist in the air as if to curse the air itself for not blowing a shred of fashion sense into his friend's head. Luckily, Clayton was determined to be of service. And he would be, without Jeremy needing to ask out loud. Yes. This was him taking initiative. This was him sharing the stage with the others and making them look almost as good as him.
"Colours need chemistry, friend. Yours are currently two actors refusing to share a scene." He glared as he placed both hands on his scene partner's shoulders. "Pick one thing you actually like and build around it." He continued, enunciating clearly. "Don't invite the whole wardrobe onto the stage."
The Lamont fixed Slater's purple collar and tried to smooth out a crease from his shoulder. "Purple can be the lead." He assured Jer. "But the socks go. They're in the wrong play."
Casting Call: Cool Kid
Jeremy narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Clayton called him the 'culprit' as if he'd committed some kind of crime of fashion. But as Clayton approached him, crossed his arms, and began to inspect him, Jeremy couldn't help but lose his resolve slightly, doubt beginning to creep in as he lowered his head slightly, suddenly wishing he had maybe not tried to do this on his own.
"Jo? Why would I care what she thinks?" Jeremy asked, confused enough to look back up. Of all the people to care about, that had been the last one he'd been thinking about. "You've seen her hair, right?" he asked, holding his hands out to demonstrate the wild nest of hair on @Josephine Byrne's head that looked like it had never met a brush. He figured Clayton thought that she was going to make fun of him, but how could she when she looked like that? (Luckily, he didn't realize what Clayton was actually referring to, or he might have actually exploded with rage).
But maybe the more important part was that Clayton wouldn't let him go outside that way. Jeremy wanted to say 'what did CLAYTON know about how to dress'? But Clayton was rich, apparently, richer than Jeremy could imagine probably, he probably had a house with three hundred rooms, and if rich people knew anything it was probably about how to dress. Jeremy couldn't tell if the way Clayton dressed was actually 'good' or not, it certainly didn't look like anything JEREMY would want to wear, but Clayton probably had a team of official fashion consultants working for his family, so maybe he WOULD know what he was talking about. He sure sounded like he did at least...
"Is it really that bad...?" Jeremy asked, crossing his arms, trying to seem defiant, though his face reddened just a tiny bit. He looked down at himself and tried to see what Clayton was seeing, but he didn't see actors, he just saw clothes.
But Clayton said colors needed chemistry, and was Clayton even paying attention because Jeremy had given his colors chemistry!
"But...!" the boy began, "I put a lot of thought into it. Look...." he said, pointing down. "Red. Blue. Purple. Red and blue go together and make purple. So they're all working together, right? I mean how else am I supposed to match it? I can't wear all purple." he said, though he suddenly sounded a bit unsure of himself. "...Can I?"
"Jo? Why would I care what she thinks?" Jeremy asked, confused enough to look back up. Of all the people to care about, that had been the last one he'd been thinking about. "You've seen her hair, right?" he asked, holding his hands out to demonstrate the wild nest of hair on @Josephine Byrne's head that looked like it had never met a brush. He figured Clayton thought that she was going to make fun of him, but how could she when she looked like that? (Luckily, he didn't realize what Clayton was actually referring to, or he might have actually exploded with rage).
But maybe the more important part was that Clayton wouldn't let him go outside that way. Jeremy wanted to say 'what did CLAYTON know about how to dress'? But Clayton was rich, apparently, richer than Jeremy could imagine probably, he probably had a house with three hundred rooms, and if rich people knew anything it was probably about how to dress. Jeremy couldn't tell if the way Clayton dressed was actually 'good' or not, it certainly didn't look like anything JEREMY would want to wear, but Clayton probably had a team of official fashion consultants working for his family, so maybe he WOULD know what he was talking about. He sure sounded like he did at least...
"Is it really that bad...?" Jeremy asked, crossing his arms, trying to seem defiant, though his face reddened just a tiny bit. He looked down at himself and tried to see what Clayton was seeing, but he didn't see actors, he just saw clothes.
But Clayton said colors needed chemistry, and was Clayton even paying attention because Jeremy had given his colors chemistry!
"But...!" the boy began, "I put a lot of thought into it. Look...." he said, pointing down. "Red. Blue. Purple. Red and blue go together and make purple. So they're all working together, right? I mean how else am I supposed to match it? I can't wear all purple." he said, though he suddenly sounded a bit unsure of himself. "...Can I?"