fandomhighdorms | 2nd floor common room

Macbeth had decided it was time to retreat from his room for purposes other than class. Sure, he was still sore from Saturday's run-in with the Mole Men, but it was nearly a week later. It was time to lick his wounds and face the day.

Or something.

As was the norm, his random travels landed him in a random common room, where Hamlet was randomly watching some random thing on the moving-picture-box.

Curious, he approached the television.

"What is this thing, anyhow?"

Hamlet looks up to see Macbeth enter the room. He nods politely at the Scot, and motions at him to sit down on one of the couches.

"I think it's Galaxy Quest, but I don't make it a habit to watch a lot of television, so I couldn't tell you which season this episode's from."

"Galaxy Quest... season.. television. Of course." Macbeth pretended that he actually had a vague idea of what the Danish boy was talking about. He probably wasn't so convincing.

Still and all, he took a seat on one of the couches and stared at the screen in bemused curiosity.

"It's not a habit of mine, either. Unnatural things like moving pictures trapped in wee boxes probably aren't a good idea to be watching often."

After all... witchcraft might be involved. And that? That wasn't good. Right?

The Danish prince raised an eyebrow at that. "You don't know what television is? Are you from the 16th century or something?"

Oh right. He was.

Hamlet tried to think of the best way to explain TV to him, without giving Macbeth too much timeshock. "They're not trapped in there. They're... they're actors, and every week they perform a new act of a continuing play. Their performances are sent to this box through a system of wires which I suppose seems very much like magic, but which truly do have scientific explanations behind them."

Somehow, just so long as he was reassured that there was no magic involved, everything that seemed evil and nasty about the television didn't seem so terrible anymore. Actually, it seemed almost... alluring.

The draw from the curiosity alone would have moved Macbeth to become a couch potato, were he not too busy making secret plans in his notebooks for world domination. He was a ~~wee teenager~~ man with things to do, after all. Plots to be plotted, schemes to be schemed.
And as soon as he figured out a way to pull off world takeover using a monkey wrench, three barrels, and some stale twinkies, he would be all set.
~~He would be doomed if ever he discovered Pinky and the Brain.~~

"So, it isn't magic, then? Then it isn't so bad."

He settled into the couch and made himself comfortable.

"So, lad, been healing well after Saturday's battle?"

"I suppose so. I still have some cuts and bruises, but they're healing. To be honest, I don't really remember much about the end of the fight." He pauses to think. "Or how I got back here afterwards, come to think of it."

He motions back to the TV where Captain Taggart is trying to seduce yet another alien woman. "No magic involved. On the whole, there doesn't see to be much magic in the modern world that isn't trickery ~~or people's undead Fathers coming back to haunt them~~. I've heard that some of the other students here can do real magic, but I haven't yet seen much of it in person."

Macbeth cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head, sheepishly recalling his episode of rage and idiocy in the Magical Theory classroom. He was lucky to have made it out of there in one piece. But at least the stupid little dagger had made a friend. Accursed not-so figment of his imagination.

"I've seen a good deal of magic in my day, but here at school, not so much. I would much prefer it remain thus."

He smirks a little.

"Yes, we wouldn't want a magical talking winged llama in a lovely pink dress to show up at prom and fry everyone with fire spells, now would we?"

"...I have no idea what it is that ye just said, lad, but I imagine that even if I did, I would be prone to agree that it would be a bad thing."

Macbeth was not so much with the smirking, but he did manage to crack a smile. Which soon deteriorated into curiosity.

"I've heard a great deal about this... Prom.... but I really don't know what it's all about."

"I'm not sure about the exact specifics, because we don't have proms in Denmark, but I assume that it is a sort of formal dance where one bids farewell to the graduating class.

He leans back on the couch. Noting that the show has ended, he flips channels until he stops on a short comedian doing recaps of the major news stories on some kind of daily show. "I've heard the girls were complaining that all the males at this school were all in relationships or dating each other. I wonder if I should go with someone.

He leans back on the couch and smiles. "Then again, I could always take Duo."

Macbeth mused over the concept of 'prom' for a while, listening to Hamlet as he continued to speak.

"Duo, hm? The one with the braid ~~who is a damn good kisser~~, right?"

He mulled over the subject some more.

"So, you're supposed to take someone with ye to the prom then?"

He nodded. "That would be him. Duo's my roommate and a good friend, so we might go to the prom together as ~~hetero life mates~~ friends. It's general custom to not go unaccompanied."

Macbeth did some more mulling.

"I don't really have anyone to take to the prom," he stated, glancing back toward the television. "I'm not entirely certain that's a bad thing."

Hamlet looks over at Macbeth. "Really? You could probably get a date were you to ask someone. I'm told that being a single, mostly-straight male is a very desirable quality right now."

The Scotsman looked back to Hamlet with an eyebrow raised, then shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"I'm not so certain that being a single, mostly-straight~~(Was I ever crooked?)~~ widower is quite so desirable a quality..." He was quick to change the topic, "And I don't know many people, really. Where would I start looking? Stop a random female in the hallway? Put up posters? 'Wanted; one person to keep me company at Prom. Single mostly-straight male in need of date.'"

Hamlet shrugs at that. "Why not? I'm certain you'd get someone responding to that."

He pauses and then grins wickedly. "In fact, I'd even be willing to help you post that up all around the school."

"All around the school? I'm not even certain I want to go to the prom yet, lad!" Macbeth blinked... then pondered some more.
"Although I haven't been out much... it might do me some good...."

...

"And ye would help me put up these posters?"

...

"Maybe just one or two..."

"Oh, certainly! We'll even write up some very enticing text. 'Ladies, are you looking for a last minute date to the prom? Are you desperate enough to date anything young, male, and seemingly interested in women? Have we got the man for you! For a good time, contact Macbeth in room...' "

He paused. "What room are you in?"

"Three-Three-Three. Look, I'm not so certain this is the best idea..."

...

"Though I do need to get out more..."

...

...

...

"What do ye mean, 'seemingly' interested in women?!"

Hamlet ignores this last bit and carries on. "And we'll put it on a poster with an attractive picture of you -- do you have one, or would we need to take one? -- or perhaps put an ad on the radio, advertising your availability. It'll be wonderful!"

At this point, you might be able to tell that he's gone mad one or two times before.

Macbeth doesn't really notice that Hamlet's just a wee bit on the loopy side. Perhaps because he's just a wee bit out of his own mind as well.

"Wonderful, ye say...? Radio? Advertising? But..."

He really didn't have anything to say in protest. Which was a bad thing, depending on how one looked at it.

The slightly crazy Hamlet puts up a finger to shush Macbeth, pulls out his cellphone ~~which has never been mentioned before and likely won't be again~~ and makes a phonecall. He turns back to the Scotsman when he's done with the call and grins.

"All taken care of. Don't let anyone ever say that I don't care about the well-being of others."

This would be the point where Macbeth begins to worry, noticing that there's something mildly askew with his friend's mental health.

"Thank ye, Hamlet... I think..."

And he slooooowly rose to his feet, careful to not make any sudden movements as he glanced every now and again toward the door.

Hamlet leans his elbow on the side of the couch, and cradles his chin in his hand.

"Aww, you would want to leave me so soon? I'm sure we can come up with other equally interesting ideas to get you to meet more people."

His eyes light up. "Perhaps we could wrap you in fresh raw steaks, and let the local dogs or teal deer chase you? I'm sure someone would swoop in to rescue you in true heroic fashion!"

"Oh, nono, that's quite alright. Posters and whatever you told the phone-demon will suffice! Thank you, lad, I don't know if I'll ever be able to... uh... repay you... for this..."

He was now inching ever so slooooowly toward sweet freedom. The door was getting... closer....

Oh, he's on a roll now. He's not going to be sane tonight.

"Oh, that's alright. I have more than enough money sent to me by my Mother and painted devil that claims to be my Uncle-Father. I couldn't possibly take money from you."

"However..." he stands up and heads over to where Macbeth is inching towards the door and leans in close. He has a mad look in his eyes. "If you really want to meet people, what we really need to do is strip you down, cover you in pudding, and leave you in the middle of Fandom Town. No one would ever forget you!"

Macbeth is now desperately grasping for the door, the thane-in-the-witchlights look plastered quite clearly across his face.

"Ach! Would ye look at the time?! I totally forgot that I had some haggis cooking, and ye know just how testy those sheep innards can be if ye leave them cooking too long! I must be going, lad! ThankYeForEverythingNowGoodNight!"

And with that, his inching shifted to a manic scramble to the hallway and to freedom.

Sweet freedom.

Hamlet sticks his head out the door and waves to Macbeth in a half cheerful, half I-am-a-Danish-prince-who-is-totally-off-his-rocker manner.

"I'll see you around then! I hope you like the surprise I've booked for you! Enjoy your haggis!"

And then he goes back to gloomily watching TV like none of that ever happened.

2nd floor common room

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