fandomhighdorms | Fifth floor common room, Wednesday afternoon after classes

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Fifth floor common room, Wednesday afternoon after classes

Nadia hadn't worked on her adventure story in a little while. But she was typing away furiously at it now, occasionally reaching up to rub at her eye.

Not because she was crying, of course. She just had something in her eyes.

At present, Sophia was beating the crap out of two mobsters, Blaine and Bill, who'd been spreading rumors about her relationship with Mario that she didn't appreciate.

Blaine and Bill, of course, never stood a chance.

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"Blair said that people probably look at me and think I'm a slut. So I threw him against the wall and almost punched him, but he kept refusing to apologize and just kept saying it over and over again. And Bel's been calling me names and things, I'm just starting to wonder if maybe they're right."

"Blair said... Wait, you threw him against a wall?"

"He kept saying it! And then he said I was proving it by telling him not to call me that!"

"Did he try to hit you?"

Nadia gave Pippi a look. "It was Blair. Apparently words don't count in his non-violent theories, since he has no problem continuing to say something that's obviously upsetting someone."

Pippi gave the look right back.

"So instead of walking away you respond to words by nearly beating up a guy with a broken arm with a history of not fighting back."

"I didn't beat him up! I got mad and I pushed him, but that's all I did and I did walk away before I punched him."

"... I thought you said you almost punched him, after shoving him into the wall. Blair. With the broken arm."

"I did almost punch him! But I walked away instead! And he seemed to be doing fine with that arm when I saw him, all dressed up like a monster and saying people look like sluts!"

"Who the frack cares what people think how you dress?"

"What people think of how you dress is very important to a spy. We have to be able to blend in or draw attention in exactly the way we want to in order to accomplish a mission." Dammit, whatever happened to people just saying "of course you're not a slut" and making you feel better instead of arguing with you and making it all your fault?

"Well, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that you weren't being a spy when you had this altercation with Blair. You're not being a spy right now right? There's nothing to spy on here. So you're not trying to blend in or draw attention in exactly any way, you're just being yourself. So you're just dressed like yourself and not trying to accomplish anything in particular. So it doesn't matter what other people think no matter how you're dressed in that case."

"Because if people are thinking that about my clothes in that case, they're thinking it about me. And I'm not a slut."

"I you know you're not a slut then what other people say don't matter, and if they say different, they don't matter. And secondly, if you find yourself starting to get angry, put your hands in your pockets ~~but not in the pockets of a creepy-old-sex-with-kids-guy~~ and keep them there."

"That doesn't always work," Nadia pointed out sullenly. Now Pippi seemed to think she was dumb because she was hurt by what Blair had said. And she hadn't said 'no, I don't think you dress like a slut'. Which meant she did think that. Great.

Pippi might have said that she didn't think Nadia was a slut, if she didn't just finish explaining that what other people think didn't matter.

"Which thing doesn't always work?"

Nadia closed up her toughbook and kind of hugged it to her chest. "Putting your hands in your pockets. Almost didn't work. That's why I walked away. I wanted him to apologize."

"Walking away always works best. But violence never helps against words, even when you have the truth on your side."

Nadia hugged her laptop tighter and just kind of shrugged.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else on your mind?"

"I thought he was my friend."

"Blair's everybody's friend."

"Then why did he call me that?!"

"I don't know Nadia, I wasn't there. If you were dressed then as you are now I certainly couldn't guess. If you want to know why, you'll have to ask him... Do you want me to go with you?"

". . . No. I don't want to see him. I might still hit him."

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