Scarlett is more than happy to grab the wand that's now poking her painfully in the side. "Here -- this yours?" (She doesn't really care if it isn't.) She manages to thrust the wand up through a gap in the bodies, although she almost has to dislocate her shoulder in order to do so. "Wait, what're you gonna do?"
The 'button' is the top of Willow's head. "EVERYONE STOP!" Willow yells from somewhere close to the bottom. She used to wonder how people ended up trampled on Black Friday, but now she understands. "We at least need ONE picture out of this. SOMEONE has to be close to the button. Don't slap unless you're sure it's the button!"
Skip decides that Willow's proclamation was more of a challenge than anything, and immediately starts hitting everything that is even vaguely button-shaped. He’s somewhere near the front (and top) of the booth now (and almost horizontal), so he’s got plausible deniability. Maybe.
One of the button-possibilities makes a loud clicking noise, but no accompanying bright lights. "Was that the camera or the self-destruct?"
"I don't hear any ticking at least?" Hawthorne replies, doing his best to listen for wayward mechanical sounds that might indicate an explosion is imminent. Then again, there's a lot of people yelling in both of his ears, so he's probably not the best one to be listening for disaster.
HOW MANY SOPHOMORES CAN WE FIT?
HOW MANY SOPHOMORES CAN WE FIT?
HOW MANY SOPHOMORES CAN WE FIT?
HOW MANY SOPHOMORES CAN WE FIT?
HOW MANY SOPHOMORES CAN WE FIT?
HOW MANY SOPHOMORES CAN WE FIT?
One of the button-possibilities makes a loud clicking noise, but no accompanying bright lights. "Was that the camera or the self-destruct?"
HOW MANY SOPHOMORES CAN WE FIT?
HOW MANY SOPHOMORES CAN WE FIT?