fandomhighdorms | Fifth Floor Common Room, Tuesday Evening

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Fifth Floor Common Room, Tuesday Evening

Once again, there were appetising scents emanating from the fifth-floor common room. Ronan was in another cooking mood. This time, it was the rich and spicy scent of Mexican -- well, technically Tex-Mex -- food, grilling chicken, sweet chilies, and a dash of cumin, with sliced bell peppers and onions in another pan. Ronan was still chopping and preparing, but already on the counter was an array of tortillas, and various ~~moddable~~ toppings that people might wish to put on their fajitas.

(OOC: Hey, he's cooking again. Come feed your characters. Open to ALL. :D )

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Annette bit the inside of her cheek hard. Last night was terrible. She and Dick argued...they made up but that so did not matter. The arguing made her cry.

Ugh!

Dammit!

Holy crap!

"Hi, Turtle. Great fajitas, huh?" Be civil. Be civil. Be civil.

LEAVE MY BOYFRIEND ALONE YOU EVIL HAIRLESS WITCH!

Okay. It was just a thought. That's all. Really.

"Uh-huh," Turtle nodded. "Ronan's a really awesome chef."

...Whoo, go completely awesome and totally not awkward at all, really, conversation!

"He is. He cooked pasta last night and it was excellent. Should have been up here instead of sha--" She took a big super huge bite of her fajita, "rin po n ck."

Turtle's eyes narrowed slightly, wondering exactly what Annette had said in that because if it was something mean when she was sitting here trying to make things civil again, well, then....why was she even trying? "Too bad I missed it, then..."

Wait, why had she missed it? She was watching TV and...errrr...talking to Rikku. Dick might have been there too. Umm....

Mmmm, fajita. Om-nom-nom.

"I know. Best pasta ever. Then again, I can't cook so anything anyone is willing to share is a definite thumbs up in my book." Being nice? Her? Man, this was different. Maybe she should write it down.

Yeah, Dick was there and Annette saw that smile Turtle gave him. A big beaming smile that made her want to color her teeth black!

Fajita is damn good. Annette took another big bite.

"Heh, yeah," Turtle tried a small, awkward kind of laugh. "I can't cook much either..."

"Two peas in --" OMIGOD, did she almost say that? She needed to be smacked. She needed to be smacked hard. Not kicked. But smacked.

"Hair ribbons might look nice." Hey, she was going for broke here.

If Annette was aiming to be smacked or kicked, she was heading down the right road. Turtle's eyes narrowed; she sucked in a deep breath. She had to mention something about the hair, didn't she? And to think, she was trying to be nice and all Annette was doing was leading toward a moment where she could rub it in.

Lucky for Annette, Turtle didn't feel like kicking today. She also didn't feel like Annette rubbing her victory in her face, either, though. "Oh, get bent, Annette," she muttered, turning away sharply after a good, strong glare and went to reposition herself at the other side of the common room where there weren't any evil braid cutters who rubbed things in when you were trying to be nice. "Hair ribbons. Hair ribbons looked fine when I actually had ha....

She settled her hands on her hips and shouted, yeah shouted, "What the hell does get bent mean and I was trying to be nice! Hair ribbons would look pretty in your hair! Geeze, I just can't cut a break with you can I?" Where was a big pot of something icky when she needed one?

Turtle winced, face turning red and the urge to cry rising. She just had to shout it out over the whole room, didn't she? Well, whatever. Turtle was just going to ignore Annette and not give her the satisfaction of recognizing the fact that she'd gotten her upset again.

"Fine! I just can't win here, can I? I can't be nice just to be nice. And tomorrow I had to go to town cause I needed to buy a bunch of stuff, but forget it. Just forget it!" She didn't. She was lying. But the thought of dropping cash at Turtle and Canary should have sparked an interest or something in Turtle and that is what Annette had been going for.

"Nice?!" Turtle didn't want to cause a scene, she really didn't, but she couldn't believe what she was hearing and now she really wanted to try to knock Annette back off that high horse she'd managed to somehow glue her butt to. She spun around. "Nice? You cut off my braid and talk of ribbons and you call that nice? You've got a real twisted view of what nice is, Annette, you know that? What's the next level of your unending charity, huh? Cut off my legs and take me shoe shopping?"

"Hey...hey! I'd buy you prosthetics for crying out loud!"

"Oh, yeah, 'cause that's tons better!"

Gawd, how dumb was Annette, geeeeez?

She said it on purpose! That has to count for some sort of smartness! Geeeze!

"I could go for your tongue instead, Turtle. I'm sure I could get my scissors back from Agent Cooper. Oh yeah, did I mention that I never got in trouble?" Big smile. "Imagine that."

Turtle actually didn't know that. And the news definitely put a pretty hard lump in her throat; she swallowed it hard and it settled uncomfortably in her stomach. She bit on her lip, hard, so that it would distract her from the desire to cry. Stupid tears! No one wants you here! Go away.

But of course Annette didn't get into any trouble. People like Annette never got into trouble for things like this. Because people like Annette were just so freakin' perfect, weren't they?

"Not that it matters," Turtle said, dryly, quietly. "S'just a stupid braid anyway."

And this conversation, for Turtle, was officially over. She turned around again and moved toward the door.

It was over for Annette before she got a chance to see Turtle turn away. Annette stalked out five minutes later, hating that her mouth always ran away with her. But Turtle made it so damn hard to be quiet. What with her smart mouth and trying to be nice. Annette knew deep down Turtle was not being nice to be nice. And that hurt. After the apology and the tears and everything.

She really was trying to be nice about the ribbons. But forget it. Forget trying to be kind ever. Ever!

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Fifth Floor Common Room, Tuesday Evening

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