fandomhighdorms | Fourth floor common room, Tuesday evening

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Fourth floor common room, Tuesday evening

Being back in the dorms after a week of babysitting at the house, Dean wasn't feeling like staying in his room. So here he was in the common room, with freshly popped popcorn and soda and a tv with bad gameshows on it.

There were worse ways to spend an evening.

[ooc: open like an open thing as common rooms are wont to be]

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"Well," Cal said, his head tilting back toward the screen thoughtfully as he considered Helen (snort)'s answer. "This," he nodded at the TV, hand diving into the box of cereal in his lap again, "kills brain cells. If you watch enough of it, you'll go brain dead, so there you go."

Helen looked shocked and angry. "Then why do you sit here? Get up! We should destroy it so that no others are hurt by it!"

Cal's eyes widened a little, his chewing of his cereal slowing to a slightly gaping halt.

"It's okay in, uh, small doses," he told her, mouth shutting into a tight-lipped hoped that she'd be gullible enough to believe this if she believe the whole thing about going braindead. "In fact, in small doses, it's healthy. It...activates the brain cells, which is healthy for them. But, they can get overactivated, and that's how they get killed, so you just have to keep it in moderation."

"Moderation," he repeated. "Everything in moderation."

She looked at him intently. "You lie," she said. "Or you are stupid. I am not sure which. You tell one story and then another. You can't be trusted."

"Or you think I am a fool because I am unfamiliar with this world's technology. But I assure you, I am not."

A bitch, maybe, but not a fool.

Cal arched an eyebrow. "You believe the first story about how a box showing moving pictures can kill your brain, to the point where you want to destroy it, but you won't believe the sound and basic truth that it's wise to keep things in moderation?"

"I did not see a reason for you to lie when first I spoke to you. But when you changed your story so quickly, the way your eyes widened, and your face... it was clear I had been mistaken. But then rather than admit you made it all up, you told another lie." She was not amused and not about to change her opinion of him easily.

"I take it that they also don't have jokes where you come from," Cal guessed.

"Brain death is nothing to joke of. If you had ever seen the effect of demon rays, you might understand," Helen said rather dismissively.

"You know," Cal told her, settling his eyes directly on Helen so that she knew this time, he could be just as serious as she was and wasn't joking in the slightest, "I've seen someone die of brain death right in front of my eyes before. She was a friend, too." Kind of. That might have been a bit of a lie, since Maxine kept mostly to herself. "That means I can joke if I want, because it isn't like I don't know."

Helen watched him intently and read his intensity and his seriousness. She nodded. "A type of black humor, then," she said. "I am afraid I have seen far too many people die recently to joke about it as yet, but I can see where you might."

It was probably as close to an apology as he'd get from her.

"Sometimes you just have to joke about that kind of thing," Cal said, turning his attention away from Helen (still funny, but no snorting this time) and back to the TV, to the cereal he was munching on. "Otherwise it just gets to you."

And makes you bitchy. Case in point, but he certainly wasn't going to point that connection out to Helen if she couldn't make it herself.

She shrugged, not interested on wasting any more of her breath on him at this point.

As for being bitchy? She knew she was and didn't care who else did.

Well, okay, then. Cal had still met her, which counted for his social scale. He figured that when the other person probably had much more of a social problem than you did, you were allowed to pass it off and not be any more social yourself.

He did, however, feel the need to at least hold out the box of cereal, offering her a handful if she wanted one. It wasn't like it was his cereal anyway, and it did give him a few extra socializing buffer points.

She stared at the box. "What is that?" she asked curiously.

"Cereal," Cal told her. "Food. It won't kill you."

"I am glad to hear it," she said, rolling her eyes. She took a small piece and tried it. "Thank you for sharing."

Cal shrugged, shifting the box back for another handful of his own, shoving it in his mouth. Good Samaritan act of the day completely, he went back to the killing of brain cells.

Metaphorically speaking.

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Fourth floor common room, Tuesday evening

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