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Wandering the hallways, sunday morning

Jake had also heard Zoe's announcement. He'd contemplated it for all of five seconds, and then stuffed all his coffee and related products into his backpack. Protecting the coffee was the most important thing. Therefor he was currently stalking the hallways, figuring that being on the move would be safer. He might be a little jumpy.

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Jake blinked. "...That's the weirdest weapons I've heard of. Was it smelly fish?"

"Quite." Door makes a face. "I think they were just throwing whatever was to hand; we were on the beach and throwing driftwood at them."

Jake made what was to him a logical assumption. "Trolls are emo?"

Door blinks. "Throwing fish is a sign of emo?"

"Possibly. Being on the beach definitely is." He tilted his head. "Are you emo?"

Door considers the question. "I'm worried. Is that emo?"

"Do you feel the need to write poetry about it?"

"Not particularly, no."

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