[13:04] Dean Campbell:

Cas you know blood magic, what's the best way to hide a body?

[13:07] Dean Campbell:

...are you there????

[13:11] Cas:

Sorry I was away from my phone

Also, should I be concerned

This is a hypothetical question right

[13:12] Dean Campbell:

...for the moment yes

[13:12] Cas:

Not a reassuring answer...

[13:13] Dean Campbell:

question still stands tho

[13:13] Cas:

First of all, you know that's not really how blood magic works

Second of all even if I do know hypothetically how to hide a body

Whose body are we talking about?

[13:14] Dean Campbell:

nobody important

[13.14] Cas:

file sent: [doubt.pdf]

[13:14] Dean Campbell:

rude???? Wtf

[13:15] Cas:

My question still stands too

Whose body?

[13:15] Dean Campbell:

youre not gonna tell me are you

i thought we were FRIENDS

[13:16] Cas:

Friends don't let friends make bad decisions

Please do not murder anyone

[13:16] Dean Campbell:

well how ELSE am i supposed to get rid of Sams fucking fiancee?????

[13:17] Cas:

Thought it would be her.

Deanie you know the Second Princess of Pandora is kind of someone important

[13:17] Dean Campbell:

well i don't like her so fuck off

[13:18] Cas:

Why not, did she do something to you?

[13:18] Dean Campbell:

she's a pushover and Sam wont fucking shut up about her and im fucking sick of it

if i cant kill either of them then i need to find a technomancer or some shit

i can block Sam from texting me but how do i make him fucking shut up irl???

i want to block his stupid face and his stupid fiancees stupid face and never see them again

[13:20] Cas:

...

So what's actually bothering you

[13:21] Dean Campbell:

i hate them both!!!!!!!!! i just told you!!!!!!!!!

don't you fucking dare send me that dumbass doubt man in the ugly hat again or i will kill you

[13:22] Cas:

Ok, I won't send it...

[13:22] Dean Campbell:

stop being a smartass i don't like it

[13:23] Cas:

Sorry.

What's actually bothering you though

Don't give me the hate thing again I know you don't hate Sam you've told me that yourself

[13:24] Dean Campbell:

.........nothing is actually bothering me other than that they both suck

[13:24] Cas:

If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but I'd like it if you wouldn't lie to me

[13:25] Dean Campbell:

ugh fine i don't like this bc

this is so fucking stupid i cant believe im about to say it

but like

you know how ive told you i don't actually hate Sam

[13:26] Cas:

Yes

[13:26] Dean Campbell:

yeah well when we were younger me 'n him were closer than we are now

and then all this bullshit got in the way and i moved away from lawrence for a while and all

and we just. idk. grew apart

this is so stupid!!!!! Fuck!

[13:28] Cas:

I don't think it's stupid

Keep going?

[13:28] Dean Campbell:

it is pretty stupid but thanks i guess

idk it just feels like he doesn't care abt me anymore??

which is fine bc i don't care abt him either so idk why im upset now lol

[13:29] Cas:

What did I just say about lying

[13:30] Dean Campbell:

look being honest about feelings is not my strong suit. im trying ok

[13:30] Cas:

I can see that and I appreciate it.

Just wanted to clarify you don't HAVE to lie to me, is what I should have said

[13:31] Dean Campbell:

...yeah

okay well yeah that's whats going on lmao

[13:32] Cas:

And how does Mains come into this?

[13:33] Dean Campbell:

UGH

Sam wont shut UP abt her and tbh that alone makes me hate her

like Sam keeps praising her so much that looking at her makes me irrationally angry

ive talked to her like twice and idk shes just so bland and ORDINARY!!!!

idk what the hell Sam sees in her!!!

[13:35] Cas:

This is just a suggestion but do you think you could try to get to know her?

Mains I mean. And outside of her relationship with Sam

That might make you more sure of where you stand with her and with Sam

[13:37] Dean Campbell:

ughghhhhhhghghhghghhghghhghghghhhhgh

i GUESS...........................

shes going on a picnic w Charlie and Kevin tomorrow...... i guess i could go too............

[13:38] Cas:

That could be a start, good idea

Hey sorry but I have to go – dinner with council of ministers soon

We can talk about this more afterwards, if you aren't busy

[13:38] Dean Campbell:

yeah sure, have fun at dinner or w/e, im still mad u wont tell me how to hide a body

[13:39] Cas:

Trade secret, sorry

***

*Charlie's P.O.V.*

"Okay! I think that's everything!" Charlie claps her hands together, satisfied as she looks down into the picnic basket for one last check. That's everything for four people, yup! Picnic blanket, sandwiches, fruit, cups, plates, flatware, a large bottle with a heating charm for hot chocolate...

Princess Mains peers over her shoulder to look too.

"Napkins," she says almost immediately, and then flushes. "I mean—shouldn't we bring napkins? Sorry, that was blunt."

How cute. She almost giggles. "No, no, you're right! We did forget napkins. As for bluntness, don't worry. We have to deal with both Prince Winchester and Prince Campbell around here, so compared to them, you're still the paragon of politeness. As far as I think most of the court is concerned, you're a breath of fresh air! It sure is a relief not to be the only girl anymore."

Princess Mains ducks her head, smiling shyly. "Well... thank you," she says. Charlie has to resist the urge to pinch her cheeks like her grandmother always does to her. "If I may ask, though... there are sets of four of everything in the basket. I thought only three of us were going?"

Charlie blinks. "Oh," she says. "Oh, right. Prince Campbell invited himself along at the last minute. I must have forgotten to tell you, I'm sorry!"

Princess Mains looks startled. "What? He did?"

Charlie nods, swivelling around to grab a stack of napkins and stuff them into the basket. "Happens a lot," she shrugs. "He doesn't like being cooped up here. He likes to pretend he doesn't like anyone, and he's kind of terrible at expressing affection, but don't let that put you off! He's not that bad, really."

Princess Mains seems thoughtful like she's turning over the pieces of a puzzle and trying to fit them together in her head. Charlie wonders if she's trying to figure out the weird puzzle of Dean Campbell-Winchester's personality. Have they ever met, save at the banquet? She doesn't think so.

"I see," she says. "Well, alright then. If he wants to come, I don't have a problem with it."

Of course, she doesn't. The Crown Prince's fiancée having a problem with the Crown Prince's heir? That would cause a mild uproar. But of course, she had to say it aloud, too, out of politeness sake. Truly, Charlie thinks wryly, the hoops that etiquette forces everyone to jump through can be ridiculous.

"Wonderful," she chirps in response. "Well, alright, I think that's everything! Care to double-check me again, in case I forgot something else?"

Princess Mains acquiesces, leaning forward and peering into the basket for a moment. When she leans back, she shakes her head.

"I think that's everything," she says. "Should we be going, then?"

"Of course!" Charlie grins. Princess Mains picks up the basket before she can, the apparent picture of gallantry, and she loops her arm through her free one to lead her out of the kitchen. Technically, there's no reason for a Lady of the Bradbury family to be here, but the cooks know she likes to putter around occasionally and oblige her by leaving this corner to do with as she pleases.

When they leave the kitchens, Charlie whisks Princess Mains outside quickly, into the nippy spring air, where Kevin and Deanie (or, rather, "Prince Campbell", as he prefers to be called) are waiting.

"Took you long enough," Dean scoffs, arms folded across his chest.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Princess Mains answers mildly, and Charlie stifles a laugh at how indignant Deanie looks that he isn't getting more of a response. "Please, lead the way!"

"I hope you like it," Charlie says as they pile into the car. "It's probably not warm enough for us to go splash in the water much, but the beach is still nice!"

"That's no problem," Princess Mains assures her. "I used to go down to the beach in winter sometimes, just because I liked listening to the waves, even if it was cold. I think this will be similar."

"Did you write sappy poetry while you were at it?" Deanie mutters, staring out the window. Charlie considers ruffling his hair and cooing at him, but decides against it—he seems like he's actually in a bad mood, not just being grumpy as normal, and at times like these, he draws his title around him like a defensive cloak. He'd just snap at her for being too familiar with a prince if she tried.

"I was never much of a poetry person," Princess Mains answers. It's almost hilarious how calm she is in the face of Deanie's rudeness.

"Ugh," Deanie groans. Next to Charlie, Kevin sighs, long-suffering as always.

Luckily, it's not a long drive to the beach.

***

*Sam's P.O.V.*

The court of Queen Winchester is a dangerous place.

It's almost funny, Sam thinks, surveying the room with a cool, detached gaze. Everything about his pose is calculated, from his relaxed, slight sprawl in the chair at his mother's right side (it portrays confidence, being at ease because he belongs here), to the way his chin rests on his hand (mild interest, some indulgence), shoulders back but not too far back (calm, cool, collected, without looking like he's actively trying). He's been practising this for all his life.

The doors near the end of the long hall open with a brazen fanfare, and right as the clock begins to chime the hour, Queen Winchester sweeps imperiously into the room to take her place on the throne. She favours Sam with a glance, a smile, and a nod.

"You're looking well, son," she says, settling down with her usual grand demeanour. She has a cape today. She doesn't always wear one, as she's told him she honestly finds them kind of flashy and annoying, but perhaps she's indirectly reminding the court that tonight is the engagement ball—as if anyone could forget.

"Thank you, Mother," he answers, curving his lips into a small smile in response. "As are you."

The arrival of the queen signals the end of the room's flurry of activity, courtiers and representatives of the media all settling into place and quieting immediately. Petitioners wait outside, but the first two hours are reserved for the council meetings and private hearings before the queen. Sam languidly sweeps his gaze across the lords and ladies seated in lines in front of the throne and wonders if Lord Ivanovich is going to give up on protesting the alliance with Pandora yet.

Probably not. The man is more than a little transparent about his preference for Víteliú. Besides, it's not like he's the real problem here.

Who else might show up to petition the queen? There's always Lady Vershynina—her preferred cause is domestic, not international, but she's often speaking up on behalf of expanding infrastructure and boosting local economies. Which Sam agrees is a good idea, especially in theory, but comes with lots of strings attached, in practice. The money has to come from somewhere, and nobody is ever happy about that part.

Notably absent, among others, are the seats of Charlie Bradbury, Kevin Tran, and Dean Campbell. At this last, Sam holds back a sigh; for all his insistence that he's mature and ready to rule, little Deanie can be so impulsive. One day, these court meetings won't be optional for him anymore.

Then again, perhaps that's why he takes advantage of the fact that he can run from them.

'I hope you're enjoying your freedom', Deanie, he thinks, idly drumming his fingers on the armrest. It won't last.

Drawing himself out of his musings, he picks up the small gavel at his side. As Crown Prince and the right hand of the Queen, it's his role to direct court—a role that one might think the Queen should fill, but this is custom. Perhaps it's to suggest that the Queen is above such things. Either way, this is how it has always been done in the courts of Ruritania, as long as the Winchester dynasty has ruled. When Sam ascends to the throne, Deanie will be the presiding official of the court.

Rap, rap.

The last of the shuffling and muttering in the assembled room dies like a plug has been pulled.

"With the authority granted to me by the throne, I now call this session to order," he announces, voice ringing in the stillness of the hall. "As per custom, this is a closed chamber. Those who wish to address the throne may illuminate their signals at this time, and keep them illuminated until the order of the docket has been established."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, several glowing emblems appear above the seats—enchanted images, designed to appear at the press of a button to signal that one of the members of the court wants to speak. Sam notes down what order they lit up in (Vinogradov, Golovkina, Ivanovich, Petrov, Vershynina...).

Part of him is a little tempted to snub Ivanovich by bumping him down to the bottom of the docket, even though he was one of the first to light up his signal, but he knows that that would just be petty and his mother would disapprove. For all her sternness, she's never been able to get rid of his petty streak.

What can he say? He doesn't like the guy for a lot of reasons, only one of which is his commitment to getting in the way of the alliance with Pandora. His fashion sense is honestly a crime against humanity, for one thing.

But court business is court business. He compiles the docket, which is projected at the front of the room in much the same way as the signals are projected in the chamber.

"Duke Vinogradov," he says. "You have up to seven minutes to present your case to the throne. The floor is yours."

Vinogradov, the elder of two sons whose family has long served the Winchesters, nods graciously as he rises. "Thank you, Your Highness." He directs a bow to Queen Mary, smooth and courteous. "Thank you for your time, Your Majesty. I am here to bring your attention to recent issues with trade with Vespuccia..."

As he starts to drone on (the elder Vinogradov is a stout fellow with his heart in the right place, but he's honestly such a bore) Sam is a little tempted to tune him out. He doesn't, of course, because this is important business and it would be unthinkably rude of the son of the queen to snub an ally like that, and in addition to that he's the presiding officer of this chamber, but he still kind of wants to text Dean and ask how the picnic is going. Or Paige, for that matter.

As soon as Vinogradov finishes speaking, thanks the Queen again, and sits back down, a signal flashes to life before Sam can even thank him and open the floor for a response. He raises an eyebrow at Baroness Miloslavskaya and does not call on her.

"Thank you, Duke Vinogradov," he says, all languid grace and mild criticism as he glances at Miloslavskaya again, smiling that lofty I-know-better-than-you smile, as though he's an indulgent parent who knows worlds more than an errant child. Her face reddens, and she darkens her signal, scowling at the floor. "I will now open the floor for rebuttals."

Miloslavskaya's light flares to life again. Sam smiles.

"Baroness Miloslavskaya," he says. "You have four minutes on the floor."

"I thank the Chair," Miloslavskaya says, stiff and formal and almost glaring at him. Sam just smiles back, frigid and untouchable and utterly sure of himself. It's a chess game, being in court, a chess game with a hundred players and a thousand nuances. A constant tightrope walk, really.

It's almost a shame—he wouldn't mind being nice to her, instead of cold and smug, except that she disrespected the crown by trying to speak out of turn, and one of the duties of the crown prince is to create and uphold a seamless, impenetrable wall of pure power around the throne. He is an extension of his mother's sovereignty, and as such he cannot let these things slide, not here in her very court.

Also? Miloslavskaya's family has ties to Ivanovich and his motley crew, so Sam doesn't like her. Simple as that!

It's his petty streak again. Runs at least a mile wide. His mother is probably internally despairing, behind her steely exterior.

This is why the Queen's court is a dangerous place. It's not just a game of chess—this game has too many consequences, and the need for power that drives so many of these pawns forward is tricky. All things must come in balances, in some way, and maintaining the balance of power and compromise that allows the throne to be absolute is a tricky line to walk.

Ah well. It might be tricky, but Sam was born to walk it, and he's damn good at what he does. Icy Prince, they call him, seeing his razor-sharp smiles and his apparent boredom with proceedings. It's all a carefully cultivated image, but they don't seem to know that.

Actually, it's like playing a convoluted game of chess if the board is made of quicksand. Loyalties are constantly shifting and the map is almost never the same from one day to the next.

...Perhaps he's getting a bit too caught up in metaphorical ponderings.

He directs his attention back to Baroness Miloslavskaya's speech with some effort; it has some valid points, but others make him want to object to correct her on either facts or her interpretation of them, but as presiding officer he can't do that—it's the job of anyone who cares to rebut after she finishes speaking. He's the mouthpiece of the Queen's authority, and he can only offer his input if she signals him to speak.

He shifts in his seat and sighs internally. Court always does make for such a long day.

***

*Dean's P.O.V.*

By the time they're finishing up lunch and working on dessert, Dean is thoroughly regretting his decision to come on this stupid picnic. Fuck Castiel's advice to "get to know Princess Mains outside of her relationship with Sam". Fuck this picnic and fuck the beach, too! This sucks.

"How's unpacking going?" Charlie asks stupid Princess Mains, conversationally, because they all keep making conversation despite the fact that Dean really wants to punch them until they shut up.

"Mostly done," Stupid Idiot Princess Mains responds with a friendly smile. "It's helped with the time change, actually. When I start getting tired when I shouldn't be, I keep myself up by organizing things. Although I'm just about out of things to organize, now..."

The most infuriating part of all of this is that So Incredibly Perfect Princess Mains hasn't actually done anything to make Dean hate her. She hasn't given him an actual reason, and for that alone, Dean despises her.

...There may be a flaw in his logic somewhere.

......Can he say he hates Princess Mains for forcing him into flawed logic?

"Yeah, nice to see you making yourself at home here," he bites out as sarcastically as he can, glaring daggers at Sam's stupid fiancée before whipping his head away to stare out to sea. The waves are a deep blue-grey today, crashing against the sand and sparkling almost too brightly to look at.

"Prince Campbell, that was uncalled for," Kevin rebukes gently.

"You're uncalled for!"

"What is this?" Charlie asks. "Middle school?"

Dean comes very close to telling her to go fuck herself but stops himself at the last moment because if he does and she tattles on him to his grandfather, he's going to get a lecture full of stern disapproval and a look full of mild disappointment, which is almost worse.

"Nobody asked you," he says instead. "I was talking to Kevin."

"And before that, you were talking to Princess Mains," Charlie folds her arms over her chest. "You're being awfully petulant today. Mind telling us what's up, Deanie?"

"Mind your tone!" Dean snaps. "I outrank you, and I will not have you talking to me like that!"

Charlie sits back slightly, looking kind of stung, and Dean has to pretend he doesn't feel a stab of guilt for snapping at her. There—that's something he can hate Princess Mains for! It's all her fault that Dean had to be like this to one of the only people he has ever considered a friend!

Charlie opens her mouth to say something—probably a demure and fake apology—but before she can, Princess Mains speaks up.

"Prince Campbell," she says, and Dean's gaze snaps to her stupid, unfairly pretty face. She looks so mild and harmless and boring, but there's steel in her eyes that Dean didn't know was there before, not with all her bowing and apologizing and bullshit.

"What?" Dean snaps.

"A word," Mains says, and rises, inclining her head along the beach. "Alone, please."

Politely-worded but brooking no argument. Dean is tempted to argue anyway, just to see how far he can push this pansy, but the guilt-that-isn't-there prods him uncomfortably in the stomach and he finds himself getting to his feet, scowl in place and stalking off in the sand. Princess Mains falls into step at his side easily, tall bastard that she is.

When they're far enough away that the wind probably will drown out any words Charlie and Kevin could hear, Dean glares up at his companion.

"What do you want?" he asks.

"I think," Princess Mains says, and then wavers for just a moment before she sighs. "I think we got off on the wrong foot, Prince Campbell. But I have to admit, I don't know why. What did I do to make you hate me?"

Hah!

Isn't that the million-dollar question!

"You came to Ruritania," Dean answers irritably. "I don't want you here."

Princess Mains blinks as if that's not the answer she was expecting. "So... that's it?" she asks. "I guess I just never realized Sam's own heir would be against the alliance. I see."

Fighting down the irrational surge of anger at hearing Mains call his stupid cousin 'Sam', like they're friends or some shit, Dean stamps his foot in the sand. "Bullshit!" he glares, throwing caution and politeness to the wind. "I'm not against the alliance, I just don't want you here!"

Princess Mains looks taken aback, but she recovers gracefully and quickly, and she's just so damn perfect that Dean hates her even more. "I've met you twice, before today," she says. "What, exactly, did I do wrong? I have to admit, Prince Campbell, I'm confused. If you don't want to be around me, why did you decide you wanted to come on this picnic?"

Dean wants to throw his hands up to the sky and also just yell for a solid minute. However, that is generally deemed socially unacceptable and would probably bring Charlie and Kevin running, so he has to refrain. Unfortunately.

"Fine," he snaps. "I came on this stupid fucking picnic because I wanted to see what you were like when Sam isn't around, and I didn't say I don't want to be around you, I said I don't want you here! In Ruritania, you idiot!"

Wait, fuck, shit, no! He let his anger get the best of him and he just swore at and also called the princess of an allied country an idiot, and oh boy he's going to get an earful from the Queen probably, not just a disappointed look from Grandfather.

Great.

"This has to do with Sam?" Princess Mains asks, tipping her head to one side.

"Of course this has to do with Sam!" Dean exclaims. "What else would—ugh, you just—you're so—ugh!"

"Please help me understand," Princess Mains requests. Dean thinks he might rather just walk into the ocean. Or even better would be if Princess Mains would just walk into the fucking ocean. That'd be great.

"What's there to understand?" he asks, voice full of venom. "I hate you."

"Well, there's something we have in common," Princess Mains mutters dryly, quietly enough that Dean has a feeling he wasn't supposed to have heard it at all. It's... That's weird. That picture perfect so wonderful Princess Mains might...

Yeah, that's weird and Dean isn't going to bother dwelling on it anymore.

"Sam thinks you're so interesting and cute and whatever other saccharine words he pulls out of his ass," Dean adds. "He never shuts up and I'm so sick of it! He's my cousin, and--"

Too much too much this is too close to home you're being too honest!

He clams up immediately and just glares, jamming his hands into his pockets as the stiff sea breeze whips his coat out around his legs. Princess Mains looks thoughtful as the very same breeze causes the skirt of her dress to blow behind her stupidly elegantly.

"I think I see now," she says. "You resent me for taking him away?"

"I hate you," Dean seethes, livid beyond words because this asshole just so calmly stated the thing that's been nagging at him for days, an agonizing itch under his skin, like a fire that refuses to go out. So calmly! As if she's just above it all!

A deep breath leaves Princess Mains' lungs, and for the first time, she looks vulnerable, like she did at the first meeting. She sighs, runs her hand through her long hair, adjusts her glasses, and then shrugs a little helplessly.

"Okay," she says. "Okay. If you want to hate me, that's fine."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Dean explodes, fingers curling into tightly clenched fists in his pockets. "Don't you fucking care about anything? Or do you just always stand there being impassive and so—so perfect and sure you're right and being the better person?"

"I don't understand what you want from me!" Princess Mains exclaims, and Dean feels a small surge of vindictive glee that he got a rise out of her, that there's something under the pristine manners and the polite, sugar-coated exterior. "Do you want me to hate you back? Because I don't, and I won't!"

"Why the hell not?"

The question, torn out of his throat before his mind can catch up and process and figure out whether it's one he should be asking, surprises both of them. Dean stares at Princess Mains in silence as the sea wind whips around them, and Princess Mains looks back with wide eyes.

"You haven't done anything to me," she says after a moment. "You haven't given me any reason to hate you. And I'm glad for that because I don't want to hate you. I'd like—" and here she pauses, she hesitates, and Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't gleeful again, because it proves Princess Mains is human, "I'd like it if we could be friends, but I understand that that's probably not going to happen."

...What the hell?

"You're weird," Dean tells her. He already called her an idiot and swore at her, so calling her weird is probably harmless at this point, considering he's already pretty much guaranteed a lecture from his aunt and quiet disappointment from his grandfather. It's fine, though.

"Yeah," Princess Mains agrees. She smiles, a kind of shy, secretive smile that's... surprisingly different, Dean thinks, from the polite, distant smile she's worn ever since the welcome banquet a few days ago. "So... could we, maybe, start over, Prince Campbell?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asks sceptically, frowning.

Princess Mains shrugs again, a little awkwardly. "Can we try to get to know each other, outside of the fact that I'm engaged to your cousin? I mean—I understand if you would rather just hate me, I'm sure that's the easier option, at least—but if we're going to be family, in some sense of the word, I'd like us to have a decent relationship, but..."

"You're weird," Dean repeats, crossing his arms over his chest. "Weird, weird, weird." It disguises the little lurch in his stomach that the proposition gives him—honestly, other than Cas, he's never tried to cultivate a relationship with someone for a reason other than needing something from them. Some people have gotten to know him anyway (like Charlie), but he's never tried with anyone else, is the point. It's weird. If someone (well, not someone, because if it was just someone, he'd tell them to fuck off, so... if Cas, maybe) was to ask if he still hates Princess Mains at this moment, he's... he's not entirely sure what he would say anymore.

"I know," Princess Mains laughs ruefully. "Should... should we be getting back to the others, then?"

"I guess," Dean says.

They walk back side-by-side, a lot more calmly than when they left the picnic blanket until they reach the others and plop back down.

"Is everything okay?" Charlie asks, glancing back and forth between them both.

"Yeah," Dean says dismissively, while Princess Mains digs out her phone and goes through some messages or something. Honestly, she's still so put-together even after a conversation about ... whatever the hell that was even about, it makes Dean kind of annoyed again.

But that melts away, or at least it kind of does when he looks back at Charlie and Kevin and realizes that the looks on their faces, the ones they've been wearing for several seconds now, are full of relief.

*-*-*

[13:49] Paige:

Marya thank you SO MUCH for the empathy and emotional projection training

They're really really REALLY coming in handy

*-*-*

[13:50] Paige:

MADDY TEENAGERS SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO STRESS ME OUT THIS MUCH

why!!! is!!!! talking to people!!!!! so hard!!!!!!

ALSO apparently???? Sam has???????? called me CUTE??????????????????????

*-*-*

[13:51] Paige:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[13:52] homobipboa:

?

[13:52] Paige:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA