( logan ) and we'll talk and talk and talk*

[trin]

"Well, we are here with Caitlyn Lasson and Logan Flynn of Injected Hopeless, who are currently touring on the If You Can't Hang Tour. Hello, Caitlyn, Logan!" The reporter grinned, sickly sweet and obviously put on for the camera that was pointing over at the two band members. They were seated in rather comfy, large, black chairs. Caitlyn just managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. It wasn't like she absolutely detested interviews. Sure, they were awkward as hell and she had to fight not to give one-syllabal, monotonal answers, as well as trying to stop Logan from being an asshole to the reporter - although, she could see the reason why he'd want to be. This reporter definitely wasn't the best she'd seen in her three years of being in Injected Hopeless.

Sucking it up, she painted a friendly smile onto her face. She could get away and get some pizza soon - probably dragging Logan with her. But for now, she was stuck here. May as well go along with it. "Hi, Carrie."

[/color] She addressed the journalist, her voice semi bored, semi amused. Her mind began to wander as the journalist started speaking.

That morning, she'd tumbled out of bed way, way, way too early for her liking. She hadn't been intoxicated the night before, and admittedly, she had gone to bed pretty "early" because Cale was going to force her to watch a scary movie. Anything to avoid scary movies when Cale was involved, she'd feigned sleepiness. It was no surprise she was awake at half past eight, staring out of the window in her dressing gown. Which was when the manager came in, announcing that she and Logan were going out to do the interview. Caitlyn had adamantly refused, but apparently she had no say in the matter, before she was forced into her bedroom to get changed.

She had a Spongebob Squarepants shirt on. Over it, was a 'Pink Monstee' hoodie, and on her legs, simple skinny jeans and pink converse. She was in a pink mood, what could she say.

She had stepped out of the room, her i-Pod tucked into her back pocket as she tapped her foot on the ground, waiting for Logan. Of course, the first thing she did when he came near her was ruffle his hair wildly, giggling. "Nothing like a Mess Logan's Perfect Hair Up to start your day." She'd chuckled rather cheerily, waiting for him to sort his hair before they'd left for the interview room backstage.

This was how the blonde duo found themselves lounging lazily over the comfortable chairs, waiting for what Caitlyn had complained as, 'The Dreaded Interview' to begin. She had made it no secret to her friend she didn't like both the reporter or most interviews, which was a terrible pity, as she was currently sitting in one. At least she had Logan, right?

"....Caity?"

Caitlyn blinked, shaking her head, "Uh... What? Zoned out."[/color]

The woman chuckled. "How are you enjoying tour?"

"Oh. Yeah, tour's pretty cool, I guess. I mean, the shows are awesome, and getting drunk alot's always cool. Haha. What do you think fuc-- Logan?"[/color] She grinned to her bandmate, nudging him with her foot.
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[logan]

I'VE BEEN BEATEN, I'VE BEEN BRUISED

- - - - - - - - - - I'VE BEEN LEFT FOR DEAD AS WELL

This was the last place in the world that Logan wanted to be right now. He was seated backstage in a comfy chair, Caity next to him, and a reporter across from both of them. Subtract the reporter and maybe he wouldn't mind so much. To be honest, he'd planned on sticking around the bus all day until they had to start getting ready for tonight's show, but evidently their manager had other plans. Logan had to give said manager some props for being so damn persistent about it -- Logan was pretty sure he'd used every cuss word he could possibly think of in protest to being pulled out of bed and being forced to answer pointless questions in which the interviewer would likely try to delve into his and Caity's lives when neither of them wanted her there. They were always so nosy, and Logan was just never in the mood for sharing. Not that he could say that. There had been multiple times where he'd very politely tried to tell an interviewer to fuck off, but Caity usually stopped him. He supposed he should be thankful that she refused to let him fuck things up for the band, but surely one "fuck off" wouldn't screw up much? He just wanted to say it once. Maybe it'd get around that he didn't like questions and then the rest of the interviewers would ignore him. After all, he just played the rhythm guitar. He didn't sing or scream like Caity and Cale -- which was just as well. Logan couldn't hold a note to save his life.

He hadn't wanted to wake up in the first place, and then when he had, even making himself presentable -- okay, yes, after their manager had informed him that he wasn't allowed to show up for their interview in his boxers -- there was a too-chipper-for-it-being-so-early Caity to mess up the hair he'd just done. He'd grunted and then halfheartedly tried to fix it without looking in a mirror before giving in and traveling back to the bathroom to re-style it in the mirror. When he first started fixing it, he had a whole barrage of curses ready for Caity, but after he was done, he just didn't have the energy to be pissy and pick a fight just yet. He didn't like fights with her in the first place, because they always found a way to bite him in the ass later, anyways. She'd bring up how he'd been a dick earlier, and use that to get him to go and do something for her. Granted, if he wasn't such a fucking sucker when it came to Caity wanting him to do shit, then he wouldn't have that problem, but he supposed it was a first friend, best friend thing. At least, that's what he was going to chalk it up to, thanks to his utter lack of experience in all things friend-related.

But now they were backstage with some interviewer who was apparently named Carrie. Caity was, evidently, more well-informed than the boy next to her. Part of Logan wanted to nudge her in the side and mouth Carrie? Like the movie? to his friend (just to fuck with her about her hatred of scary movies), but he opted against it. Not only were they talking, but that would probably attract attention to him, and he'd much rather sit there and look pretty while Caity answered questions. That he could do. It was when questions were directed towards him that things started going downhill... or they got more fun, it really depended on your viewpoint. Honestly, Logan enjoyed being mean in interviews. Someone needed to put the too-nosy reporters in their place, and it seemed like everyone else was too polite to do so. Well, he didn't have that problem, so why couldn't he? Because his bandmates didn't let him. It really wasn't fair, but he didn't really mind all that much. He was perfectly content with staying silent for an interview, and he'd done it before. Hell, he'd probably do it every interview, if allowed. After all, if they wouldn't even let him tell the reporter how it was, then what was the point of him even answering anything?

He smirked to himself when Caity zoned out, glad that she'd realized she was. After the reporter had asked her question and there was no response from Logan's bandmate, the interviewer had switched her hungry gaze to Logan. It wasn't the kind of hungry he liked, either. It wasn't an "I want to have sex with you" gaze, it was a "I'm interrogating you next, whether you like it or not" gaze. Questions, questions, questions. They made Logan fidget and maybe even scream inside, just a little. They wanted to know things, about his childhood and the like. While he wasn't the smartest one in the band (he was really probably on the polar opposite of the spectrum), he was smart enough to know that his childhood hadn't been normal. He didn't want to talk about it. He wasn't sure if he'd want to talk about it even if it had. As it were, he'd had a boy who wasn't even done being a kid himself as a father figure... and a very shitty father figure at that. They weren't a normal family at all. If Logan was honest with himself, he was fairly sure he'd never have a normal family. He'd never get married because he'd never fall in love, and even if he did, he wouldn't know what to do, and somehow his kids would be just as fucked-up as their father. It was probably better not to have a family, better for this imaginary wife, these imaginary children, the imaginary dog, and the imaginary two-story house with the white fucking picket fence. He'd never be that guy.

Caity wasn't the only one who zoned out, apparently, because the next thing he knew, she was asking him a question... and forgetting that his name was Logan instead of "fucker". Why was she asking him questions? Was this her giving him permission to answer as he felt? Oh well, there wasn't time to think about that. He shrugged a bit, hitting her foot back with his own. Then he locked his eyes with the reporter's, leaned a little closer to her, and kept a straight face. "I think if you want to know how tour is, kid" -- the interviewer didn't look particularly pleased at her new nickname -- "then you should ask us when we're fucking awake instead of disturbing the time when we could be sleeping." Eh, it wasn't his best, but he really couldn't be bothered to think of something better right now. By all rights, he should still be sleeping off his hangover, but instead he was here, so he could have shitty bitchy remarks if he felt like it. Satisfied, he leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, not curious enough to see hers or Caity's reactions. Besides, he had an inkling that he'd feel Caity's reaction instead, since it would probably involve a fierce kick to his shin or something meant to be equally painful... not that he'd pay it any mind. Pain just turned him on, anyways, which, apparently, was weird. He didn't give a fuck.

music. the good life - three days grace.
words. 1,223.
lyrics. the westerner - falling in reverse.
tag. caity/trin! <3
notes. this was crappy because i wrote it in a half hour. i think it could be worse though. i'm just glad i finally got it out. xD

[trin]

Why was it, whenever she gave Logan Flynn a chance to earn some 'independence', as it were (as the manager usually had her to accompany whenever he asked Logan to do something), he always fucked it up? Take that moment, for example. The reporter's mouth was hanging wide open after Logan had told her, basically, to fuck off and come back at a later time. Now, whilst Caitlyn did agree with this, he could've put it in a nicer context, or, in fact, not said it at all. He could've just commented on the shows, on the fans and how great and supportive they were, and how stoked he was - whether he was or not. Because that's what you did, or, at least, that's what a hell of a lot of people seemed to be doing. Of course, Caitlyn had stupidly forgotten what Logan was like. Quite like the other members of the band, he did what he wanted -- although, the other members of Injected Hopeless were just that extra bit polite that would make them answer her this reporters question with a little bit of grace, a little bit of dignity, and definitely no swearing. Logan, however, seemed to be the opposite to them, judging by the outrageously snappy and pretty mean answer he'd just given the woman called Carrie.

A glare passed over her face, her foot moving to kick Logan in the shin. She gave him a fierce glare; one that said, I'll get that for you later. And she hoped he knew she would. Probably using this to get him to do something for her, as the minute the manager seen what he'd done, Caity'd get the blame for giving him a chance, which was totally retarded, but apparently, everyone seemed to think she had some weird hold over him to get him to do what she wanted him to do - which obviously wasn't true, or, at least, wasn't working, judging by the thing he'd just done.

The blonde female turned to the reporter, throwing out a smile she didn't mean, but hey, she was used to faking smiles, so it should've looked pretty genuine. "Sorry about that."

[/color] Her hand moved to squeeze Logan's upper arm forcefully. Hey, the camera wouldn't be able to tell it was intended to hurt him - it would probably look like an affectionate squeeze, like a sister would give a brother. Really, she hoped Logan was at least smart enough to pick up her message, Disagree and you're dead. "Really, Carrie, people that are watching. He's a big softie. He just needs his beauty sleep."[/color] Yup, it was a lame joke - things Caitlyn made in awkward situations. When the reporter began to speak again, laughing, joking, teasing the two ever so slightly, Caity finally let go of his arm, leaning back in the comfy seat and, dangerously, allowing her mind to wander once again.

What she'd said about tour wasn't a lie. She did like tour so far. There were bands here she actually listened to, and actually liked, which was saying something. Most of the bands she liked she already knew she'd never be working with already, but there was a band or two she really enjoyed listening to. So of course, getting to meet the folks of them was pretty exciting. For her, at least. And, of course, the travelling. Her home-town was just getting to her recently. It seemed that no matter how many "rights" had happened there, two wrongs and she wanted to get the fuck out of that place.

She didn't even bother with the wondering about if that was normal to people. She wasn't like people. She had had no parents to look up to, just a brother. Since he was her only family left, they'd gotten so amazingly close to one another. Nothing was a secret. They had decided they just didn't have the time for at, and as soon as Cameron was old enough, he'd moved out, and brought Caitlyn with him. And the friends - even though they came and went, they always had each other. That's what she regretted. Getting friendly with the members of Injected Hopeless had been her downfall - that's what the stupid fight had been about. The fight in which they'd told each other they hated one another, the fight that had driven Cameron out of the apartment, the fight that had him so angry he hadn't looked both ways and died. The fight, the fight, the fight. She was so selfish. That's why he died. That's why he wasn't here, cheering her on, like he would've if he were still alive. That's why Caitlyn hated herself with a passion.

"....Caitlyn." Carrie was speaking. Shaking her head slightly, hoping that the overwhelming sadness she was feeling wasn't showing in her eyes, or body language. She forced a smile as the nosy-as-fuck woman began to ask her a question. "On tour, you've been in jail numerous times for punching people both intoxicated and sober. Of course, you realise, this makes you a pretty terrible role model for those out there, both young, teen, and maybe even adults. What do you have to say for this?"

Fuck, that hurt. Trust a reporter to kick you when you were down. A small frown passed over her face as she looked down at her knees, debating on what to say. Rip her head off? No, she wasn't in the mood. She opted to go for the safe option - agree with what was said. It was, admittedly, the way she felt anyway. "Well... I don't see why you'd want to look up to me. I'm pretty fucked up, so I doubt anyone has the disfortune to take after me."
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