fandomhighdorms | The Roof, Sunday Night

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The Roof, Sunday Night

Pippi had noted that it had been a while since Pip had played guitar on the roof. And Pippi, indeed, was right.

Pip shclepped his guitar up to the roof, lit up a cigarette, and began to play an upbeat song. Specifically "What I Got" by Sublime.

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Walter tilted his head at her, having heard a bit about the critter from Pippi, but wanting to hear Nadia's version of the story.

"Why would you have problems with your shoulder?"

"The thing knocked me over and shredded my brace! I had to spend the rest of the night AND all day today" what little of it she'd actually experienced "using a shirt as a sling."

"That explains the shirt," Walter said, since he'd decided he was going to ask her about that a little later. Now he didn't have to.

"And it sounds as though it's a good thing you were wearing the brace or it might have shredded parts of you."

Nadia thought about that. "Actually, it mostly seemed interested in shredding our clothi--that little furry pervert! Tailypo my ass, he was looking for some 'tail'! In a dirty sense!"

Walter snickered and shook his head. "I don't know what a tailypo is, but it has good taste?"

Nadia had to grin at that. Over all, last night's adventure had been pretty tame. "Well, Jack and Chad seemed to think so, too. When they saw the three of us, they were both all 'we went with the wrong group'."

"At least you didn't end up in jail this time. I think that's an improvement."

"No, just stranded by the side of the road next to trees with creepy little dolls like from that Blair Witch documentary until Bigfoot came to fix Dave. You should come to our next away gig, though." As nice as it had been to have the 'pile-up for warmth', she would have preferred to have a boyfriend there for that purpose.

Walter let the matter of the Blair Witch documentary he knew nothing about slide.

"I'd be happy to come. I'm jealous of your off-island troublemaking."

"Hey, I think the trouble finds us. Teal Dear: trouble magnets. It's kind of fitting, really, for a punk band. . . ."

"All the more reason to go along. Because I never find enough trouble around here." Walter even managed to say that with a mostly straight face.

"That's because the trouble sees you? And if it's smart it runs the other way."

Walter grinned up at her and before lighting another cigarette. "It seems to just go find it's big brother Bad Trouble to come back and give it a go anyway."

"And don't try to pretend that you don't love that that happens."

Fairies, possession, and run amok metabolisms aside, Walter couldn't argue. So he didn't.

"I don't think I've ever pretended that I don't like a good scrap."

"They can be fun. As long as you win."

"Living is winning." And if you died, losing became suddenly much less relevant.

"Not if you're living as a slave," Nadia said, just to be disagreeable. "Though it does mean that you can live to escape."

"Living as a slave isn't winning," Walter agreed, "But it's not the end of the game, so it doesn't count."

Nadia nodded, leaning back and supporting her weight with her good arm as she stared up at the sky for a moment.

"We should spar again sometime, when I'm healed up."

"We should," Walter agreed. "You're fun."

Nadia smiled. "Thanks. You're not half-bad yourself. Plus? I'm pretty sure I can work out any anger stuff on you without injuring you too badly. You're too fast."

"I'm a lot tougher than a practice dummy," Walter said, grinning. "And the harder you go, the better for me."

"Sounds like a plan then. And more constructive than malletting Marty."

"Why would you mallet Marty?" o

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