fandomhighdorms | Roof, Friday night, late

Nadia had spent most of the day and evening trying to figure out how much of what to tell Veronica, and was dissatisfied with what she kept coming back to: as much as humanly possible.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Veronica, it was more that she didn't trust ANYBODY that much.

So, remembering how nice it had been the last time she'd come up here to think, Nadia heads for the roof with her winter coat, a hat, fingerless gloves, and the guitar Pip had given her.

Imagine her surprise when she finds it occupied.

"Oh." She sticks her free hand in her pocket. "Sorry, I'll leave you alone."

Walter waves his bottle at her before remembering it's in his hand and putting it down to wave at her. "Hey. No, that's okay. I'm just stargazing. They're a little different here than at home, but they're familiar."

"Stars?" Nadia looks up as she takes a seat, settling the guitar across her lap. "I've never really looked."

"Now would be a good time to start." Looking up, he realizes that his lie is going to be readily apparent, given the fact that it's cloudy. Subject change, good idea.

He picks up his bottle of Scotch and takes an extremely un-butlery swig before pointing to her guitar. "Have you been playing long?"

Nadia glances at the guitar. "A couple of days. Pip gave it to me. He's trying to teach me," she shrugged. "It's not going so well, but I promised I'd practice every day." She smiles ruefully. "Holding it counts as practice, right?"

"I think only if your fingers actually touch the strings." Walter leans over and plucks one. It's just a big wire, right? Just his thing. "Pip's a good guy like that."

"Yeah." Nadia actually picks the guitar up and holds it in position. She wasn't lying; her form is sloppy, and she doesn't look comfortable with it yet. She takes a few moments to carefully position her fingers in a chord and strums.

Ohhhh, that wasn't right,

"He can be pretty sweet."

Walter knows nothing about guitars and watches her curiously. "I don't know about sweet. We aren't really each other's type, but he's a stand up guy. He'll also be our locksmith for our field trip to the principal's office."

Nadia nods, still focusing on the guitar. She adjusts her fingers slightly and strums again.

Okay, and that was very nearly a C chord. She cheerfully gives up practicing for a moment and leans on the top edge of the guitar. "So, when are we going to pull this thing off?"

"I was thinking that we could add some heart shaped confetti to the mix of the glitter and set it up in his office Tuesday morning. For that festive Valentine's feel. And to keep with tradition, I'll bring a box of chocolates to leave on his desk."

He frowns and has another pull off the bottle before looking at it and holding it up to Nadia questioningly.

"As long as everyone understands I've never even seen the substitute principal and definitely am not asking him for a date or something."

Nadia raises her eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure most people here know you're spoken for."

And blushes and suddenly finds her guitar very interesting all over again.

Oh lord, when will the awkward ever stop?

The awkward seems like it will never, ever stop. Walter covers it with another pull off the bottle and decides that he will be quite embarrassingly unconscious if he thinks alcohol is the remedy to embarrassment.

Ah, but sharing the alcohol... Yeah, great idea to avoid embarrassment. He passes the bottle to Nadia.

"How's Furball?"

Nadia takes a long pull and manages not to grimace too much. "He's good. He kinda yells at me whenever I get back to the room . . . I think the lesson of 'if you wander off, you'll get stuck in the wall for a week' has worn off and he wants to explore."

"Have you considered a leash or harness or something?" He doesn't add 'like a noose' because that's not very friendly and she never makes threats toward his pet.

Of course, his pet didn't claw the hell out of her for no good reason.

Nadia shuddered. "Cats on leashes? That just doesn't seem . . . right."

Nadia wouldn't put a dog on a leash, either, though. She's not a big fan of a lot of restrictions on anyone.

"It's hard enough just telling him he can't wander around. He was a street cat, you know? He's used to being his own boss, not having to follow rules and be kept in a room all day and have someone else telling you what you can and can't do all the time and--" and when did she stop talking about her cat?

"Yeah," she finishes, rather lamely. She takes another long swig of the Scotch and passes it back to Walter.

At least she won't have to listen to a lecture on finding someone to take her home, tonight.

"I felt that way at first when they brought me in to Hellsing." Walter takes the bottle back and takes a pull to be companionable. Right.

"I guess I can understand why ~~you~~ Furball wouldn't like that."

Nadia doesn't so much as answer as stare up at the invisible stars for a long moment, absently plucking at the strings of the guitar.

For a moment, it almost seems like she knows what she's doing with the thing.

"It's getting cold," she finally says, very softly. And then a sudden change of topic, made without ever once actually looking in Walter's direction. "Do you know who your parents are?"

Walter has his mouth open to suggest that they go inside when Nadia asks about his parents. It's not a big secret. It's been more than four years after all - or sixty-five, depending upon how you count.

"Yeah. They were killed in the Blitz. Why?"

Nadia winces. She hadn't really expected to bring up something like that . . . okay, she hadn't expected to bring up the subject of parents at all, but it was so very much on her mind.

"I have no clue who mine are. Were." She laughs slightly. "Well, hopefully I do have at least one clue, because Veronica said she'd help me find out, but. . . ." she shrugs. "I don't know, when you said 'they' brought you to Hellsing, I guess I thought maybe you were like me."

She still isn't looking at him. Or seemingly at anything. She's just staring up at the clouds. The light of the town has turned them dark grey, and she shivers.

Which question to ask first? He looks up the grey starlessness and back at Nadia. "What do you mean like you?"

Nadia tenses very slightly. "It-It really is getting cold." She picks up her guitar and stands up. "I should get going."

Walter stays where he's sitting and looks up at her. "Alright. I'll let you go someplace warm. Some warmer night, I'll tell you the story of picking the wrong pocket and ending up a butler." He picks up the bottle and takes one last long pull before putting the top back on.

Nadia opens her mouth, possibly to explain, possibly to . . . well, knowing her, say something really stupid. Instead she closes it again as she starts back inside.

"Good night, Walter,"

"Good night, Nadia." Walter goes back to watching the non-stars for a few minutes until he's sure Nadia's gone and then follows her inside to warm up.

Roof, Friday night, late

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