fandomhighdorms | Fifth Floor Common Room, Late Late Thursday Night

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Fifth Floor Common Room, Late Late Thursday Night

After getting home after Caritas closed, and promising Bel and Phoebe that no, really, he was only going across the hall tonight and he wasn't going to be drinking and he wasn't going to get into trouble really and he'd be home soon, Anders ducked into the suite's kitchenette long enough to grab his cupcake-baking equipment and the ingredients he'd ~~oh so handwavily~~ picked up.

Said paraphernalia was then promptly hustled down the hall to the common room and set up in the kitchen there. Just add water, and one co-conspirator, and he expected the results to be spectacular.

Or at least, very, very satisfying.

. . . he might have been less than entirely truthful about not getting into trouble.

Maybe.

[OOC: Anders is here for Ronan, but hey, common room, come on in.]

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Ronan grinned as he stepped in, surveying Anders' supplies. "Perfect," he said. "So... not only can we bake the cupcakes? But I can totally rig a stasis spell on them. Keep them from actually exploding until she opens the box." He held up said box, big enough for a large batch of cupcakes.

Anders, his grin getting wider, laughed. "This gets better and better all the time. And check it out . . . I got pink frosting and sprinkles, even."

Ronan joined in the laughter as he grabbed a bowl and poured in the cupcake mix. "She's not going to know what hit her," he said.

"I wish I could get that on film," Anders said, cracking the eggs into the mix with (he thought) a flourish. "But I'll settle for the satisfaction of a job well done."

"And that, it will definitely be," he said. He started mixing everything together.

Anders was humming to himself as he dropped pink foil cups into the baking trays, then rinsed off the large ladle he used for batter-pouring. "And since nobody else I know of can pull off exploding cupcakes, it's gonna have personality."

"Why, thank you!" Ronan said, pouring some of the batter into the tins himself. "Did you preheat the oven, by chance?" he asked.

"Do I look like I'd forget to do that?" asked Anders . . . surreptitiously checking to see if he had, in fact, forgotten.

Which he hadn't, but the fact that he'd had to check? Tsk.

"Great!" Ronan whispered a bit to the tray of cupcakes, and a light shimmer appeared over them before fading from sight. "That's the start of the stasis spell, I can slap it on full strength as they start to explode." He leaned over and put the pan in the oven. "And now we wait."

Again, there was just the slightest twinge of envy, but bearing in mind the conversation he'd had with Bel earlier tonight, Anders managed to suppress it fairly quickly. "You've seriously got this down to a science now, huh?"

"I suppose so?" Ronan replied. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about how to work this over the past couple of days. It'll do absolutely nothing more than annoy her, but I think that may be better than anything else."

"Yeah. I don't want to risk really giving her a reason to hurt someone else," agreed Anders, piling dirty dishes into the sink. "Just constantly annoying her . . . that'll keep the pressure on, even if it's not gonna send her running for the hills."

"And it's not like she'll be able to trace this back to us," Ronan said. "Not any way I can think of, certainly."

"Considering half my equipment here was stuff I got for my birthday this year, I do have a reputation for being the cupcake-baking guy in some circles around here," Anders said thoughtfully. "But I seriously doubt she'd have any way to know that, and I don't think any of the students would rat me out."

"I'd be honestly quite surprised if someone did," Ronan said, "if for nothing else than the fact that the rest of us would tear them to pieces. But yeah, I doubt she'd know of that reputation."

Anders bent to peer into the oven. "Then it's seriously perfect."

Ronan leaned over as well, peering alongside Anders. "Shouldn't take long," he said. "Just another couple of moments..."

"I'll get the box ready." Anders bounded over to grab the box off the counter, and a couple of oven mitts. "Just your totally ordinary, innocent late-night baking experiment, really . . ."

And all at once, Ronan 'felt' the first cupcake about to burst, and he slapped the stasis field down o the batch. "That should do it," he said. "

It was late, but when had that ever stopped Eve? Besides, she was worried about Savannah, and when she was worried, she tended to neglect to do the basic things... like eat or sleep.

She made a little handwavey ~~but not that kind of handwavey, heh~~ gesture in Anders's direction -- because she couldn't very well not acknowledge her Big Sibling's presence -- before leaving him to his thing and plunking herself down on a couch to explore the wonders -- more like horrors -- of late night infomercials.

"Hey, little sis," said Anders absently, distracted by the intricacies of cupcake baking and so not really looking up. "Whatcha doin' up so late?"

Pot, kettle, etc. Hush.

"Thinking," Eve replied. "And worrying. And trying not to do either of those." She smiled wryly. "So far? Much with the not working."

"What's on your mind?" The cupcakes could stand to be watched a little less closely, when there were big-sibling duties to attend to.

"Savannah," she said with a sigh. "She hasn't been feeling well. And I'm worried that it's because maybe someone did something to her."

"I -- yeah," Anders said, a frown crossing his face as he remembered what Savannah had told him in firearms class this morning. "I saw her earlier today and she definitely didn't look like she was in good shape."

"I just don't know who it could've been or what they could've done." And Eve didn't like not knowing something, didn't like it one bit.

"I . . ." Anders turned and looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "I think I know."

Eve tilted her head and looked at him. "And who might that be?"

See, Eve might be Anders's little sib, but he remained uncomfortably aware that she could very likely kick his ass. "She said she visited the principal . . ."

Eve just stared at him in a very "..."-like fashion. "She visited Umbridge? Why the frakking hell did she do that?"

Aw, the stuff you picked up from your siblings.

"I don't know!" the poor boy flailed. "It's Savannah! And she said Umbridge frakked with her head somehow, and something backfired on her, and . . ."

Flail-mode, times like this, completely cancelled out discretion.

"Okay, so this means..." Eve trailed off, frowning. "If Umbridge fucked with her head, then... that means a spelll probably."

"It'd be just her style, right?" said Anders, disgusted. "But I haven't seen Savannah since this morning . . ."

"I haven't seen her since... last night? This morning? Can't remember. But it's been a little while, anyway..."

"Oh, hell," Anders groaned. "If I didn't already have --" He gestured toward the cupcakes. "Someone should check on her."

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Fifth Floor Common Room, Late Late Thursday Night

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