fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room, Early Tuesday Morning

Lyta hadn't slept well the previous night, and the morning found her curled up on an end of the sofa in the common room, sipping a cup of hot tea and watching the morning newscasts. Idly, she wondered why she bothered. Other than a warmer, sunnier day, there was very little good news. And, oddly enough, it had all happened already -- at least for her -- so why bother watching news spots bout it? Besides, the cable news channel of this time was just as annoying as ISN.

ISN. She hadn't thought about Interstellar News in weeks. Had they been reporting about the Telepath War? In the final weeks, she had been so consumed by plans that she hadn't had the time to stop and look at the public relations; she'd had a task -- a mission -- a calling to kill Alfred Bester, and it had posessed her stronger than any Vorlon ever could. Did he survive? Did the Corps survive? Or did it die the slow, agonizing death it deserved? Would Lorien tell her if she asked?

Lyta sighed. She didn't even know when she would see Lorien again -- if ever -- much less whether or not he'd answer her questions about the aftermath. How much had the alien known about her life here, what she would face? Could he have known about her rooming assignment with Ivanova?

A snort of ironic laughter escaped her before she could hold it in check. Ivanova hated the Corps with a passion -- hated Corps telepaths with a passion. She was so blinded by her hatred that she didn't see how much Lyta herself hated the Corps. But then, Susan hadn't been around as the Interstellar Alliance found its footing, as the telepaths had formed a colony aboard Babylon 5...She hadn't been there when she unlocked that dark secret in her mind, hadn't been there when Byron died, hadn't been there when Lyta died. She had lived her entire life as a mundane. Yes, she had been touched by the Corps, but she would never understand how dark and tangled the web really was.

But these were not thoughts that would inspire a cheerful mood to get her through her Monday. These were the thoughts best left for the dark of night. And so, turning her attention back to the news, she sipped her tea carefully, attempting to turn her thoughts to less melancholy pursuits.

[Open to slow-play interaction.]

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Up early and looking for something to do, Bridge finds himself wandering to the third floor common room for the second time in as many days.

"Heya!" he waves cheerfully at Lyta.

Lyta arched a brow and gave an wary smile in return. Was it possible for anyone to be that perky this early in the morning? "Morning," she said, her voice still somewhat groggy from dis-use.

"Not a morning person?" Bridge asked, bouncing over to a couch and sitting down.

"Not usually." She watched as Bridge popped over and seated himself on a sofa, taking a sip of her tea. "I'm awake... I just don't want to be. What's your excuse?" A smile flickered across her lips, hidden slightly behind the cup.

"Mostly? Just bored," Bridge says with a grin. "So I decided to wander around and see if anyone else was up at this insane hour, and hey, here you are!"

"And here I am," Lyta echoed. She sounded less than enthusiastic. Her eyes were drawn once again to the newsbroadcast. "Why is everything always so...depressing? Shouldn't the morning news be happier than this?"

Bridge makes a face at the TV. "You know, that's a very good question. I mean, I'm sure there's lots of things going on in the world that are less depressing, and yet the news is all," he waves a gloved hand vaguely. "All... blech."

Lyta saw the gloved hand and furrowed her brow. "You see my point, then." she said. She then looked to Bridge with newfound interest, head tilted slightly to the side.

She offered a disarming smile. "Fashion statement?"

"Not... exactly?" Bridge said. "I have, these, um, abilities? They help with controlling them. Sort of."

[ooc: sorry for vanishing on you! was on a ferry to the mainland!]

Her brows shot up. "Abilities? As in, maybe, telepathic?"

[No worries! It's slow play, after all. ;) ]

"Well..." Bridge shrugs. "That's part of it, sort of, yeah."

Lyta gave a rueful smile. "I partially, sort of, know what you mean." She shrugged. "I gave up the gloves, though. They represented some very bad things from my past, things I came here to get over."

"Oh," Bridge makes a face. "Sometimes I wish I could just not wear them," he admits. "But then I'd be picking up emotions and auras and stuff all the time, and just, no."

"Skin to skin contact intensifies it?"

"Even just taking my gloves *off*, really. Traces of energy are everywhere."

"That can't be easy to deal with." Lyta shook her head. "I've finally managed to a point where I can go glove-free. Mostly, anyway."

She pauses, realizing that Bridge is probably the first person she's actually talked to about being a teep -- telepath. Other than Ivanova. Because she didn't count.

Well, she did, but... Lyta inwardly shook her head and stopped the random train of thought. It was too early in the morning for such self-flagellation.

"That's cool!" Bridge says with a smile. He then tilts his head thoughtfully. "Can I ask you a question about telepaths where you come from?"

Lyta takes a sip of her tea as a delay tactic. "Sure," she answers. She is somewhat pleased by Bridge's enthusiasm, though. Nice to find someone who doesn't think I'm pestilence, famine, or death...

"Is it... common, where you come from? For humans to be telepaths?"

"It is and it isn't..." Lyta purses her lips. "It wasn't at first. At first, it was a person here or there. Later, it became more common, but it's still only a small percentage of the population." She gives a rueful smile. "I used to know statistics, but it's been a very long time since I've had my history lessons."

"Huh," Bridge says thoughtfully, looking at his hands. "As far as anyone knows, there's just me, where I come from." He says.

"You may be luckier in that than you know." She twists her wrist, glancing at her watch. "I should probably go get ready for class...not that I really want to go, but it's better than being a couch spud all day."

Bridge kind of wants to know what Lyta means by that comment, but she has a point about the time. "Me too, actually," he says with a grin.

She stands and stretches, careful not to spill the remaining dregs of her tea. "I'm in 326, if you want to drop by sometime," she says, offering a smile.

"Totally gonna take you up on that, at some point!" he says with a wave as he bounces off.

Lyta shakes her head. She didn't even have that much energy the first time she was a teenager...especially not this early in the morning. "Bye," she called after him.

With a sigh, she then headed back down the hall to her room to ready for class.

Third Floor Common Room, Early Tuesday Morning

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