fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room; Tuesday Morning.

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Third Floor Common Room; Tuesday Morning.

It was not a rare occasion, by any means, for Chad to be seen with various creatures perched on his broad shoulders, especially in the form of his naked cat. They were just good perching shoulders, really. So he didn't think anything of the parrot that had found its way onto the one that Prince Oscar Pedro didn't already inhabit, although the cat was giving the bird a few dangerous looks behind Chad's head that Chad was completely ignorant of.

Of course, he didn't even notice the level of annoyance that the parrot could reach because one thing about being quiet is that it doesn't give the parrot anything to repeat. The only thing that had really transgressed so far was that they were going to make omelettes. Apparently, the bird really liked omelettes, which Chad thought was a little odd, but whenever he tried to ask them, what they wanted for breakfasts, did they want cereal? Did they want fruit? Did they want omelettes, the bird would just caw, "Want omelettes! Want omelettes!"

And so Chad was in the common room, making omelettes for his cat, his new bird, and himself. And anyone else who might want one.

[[ open, of course, and, as always, omelettes are completely moddable! also, yay having a Chad foodishness icon now XD ]]

[[ and it always said morning. wtf, brain? ]]

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Agnes peered in the room with two parrots (http://finding-x-dream.livejournal.com/1450.html) riding along. "Oh, thank goodness," she sighed. "I'm not the only one afflicted by parrots."

"The only one afflicted by parrots!" chirruped the budgie.

"I still can't believe how bloody tall he is!" added the cockatoo.

Chad's head tilted a little at that; of course the cockatoo would have thought that he was tall; he was a bird. Even if he was a bird that was possessed with the soul of a little boy, because kids were short, too.

"I think these are just regular parrots, though," Chad pointed out, his voice a little sad at that.

"Regular parrots, though, regular parrots!" cawed the one on Chad's shoulder; Prince Oscar Pedro shot the bird a dirty look.

"Would you or either of your birds like omelettes, Agnes?" he asked, seemingly either unphased by the cawing in his ear or simply despondent of it.

"Omlette, Agnes! Omlette Agnes! Rawwwrk."

Prince Oscar Pedro let out an objectionable meow; while Chad didn't seem to mind the bird, he sure as hell did.

Agnes turned a little red. "I'm sorry," she said, trying and failing to grab the cockatoo's beak so she could hold it shut. "This one seems to have a mind of its own."

"Mind of its own! Mind of its own!"

"Yeah, YOURS, you stupid girl! You stupid girl!"

Agnes clutched at her head. "SHUT UP!"

"Shut up!" the budgie squawked, but the cockatoo was mercifully silent for the moment.

"Some omelettes would be lovely, yes," she told Chad with a weak smile. "Thanks."

The budgie whistled. "Lovely yes thanks! Lovely yes thanks!"

"Oh, sure, like YOU need more food," the cockatoo snarked.

Chad frowned at the cockatoo; that bird was not very nice. He wasn't sure whether he should let that one have any omelettes. With a bit of a grunt, he nodded to Agnes, thinking that her birds were really very loud, and started to get a few started for her.

"Anything particular you want in 'em?" he asked.

"You want in 'em? You want in 'em?" his parrot chimed in innocently.

Prince Oscar Pedro actually seemed to snarl a little. Mark his words (or lack thereof), by the end of the day, that parrot would be dinner.

"Oh, no, whatever you were putting in them," Agnes replied, being extra sweet to compensate for having the other half of her mind so exposed. "Anything is fine, really."

"Anything is fine really! Fine really!"

"Oh, don't FAWN over him!"

The weirdest thing about the cockatoo, really, was how oblivious it seemed as it looked around the room.

A few splotches of confused pink seemed to surface a little under the dark skin of Chad's cheeks at the cockatoo's latest squawking, but he didn't say anything, just giving a stiff nod again as he started to load up Agnes' omelettes, and blamed it on the fact that when you got three birds in a room, things were bound to get a little confusing and jumble up the head a little, so it was probably just that.

"Your workshops going okay?" he offered, for conversation's sake as he cooked away.

"Workshops going okay, workshops going okay?"

Agnes was well past pink and into bright red.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," she answered hurriedly. ("Expected I suppose! Expected I suppose!") "I'm not too fond of the 'How To Be A Bitch' class -- it's not really my thing."

"Not really my thing! Not really my thing!", chirped the budgie.

"It's not like you don't have it in you, har har!" answered the cockatoo.

"Why can't you leave me alone! Why can't you leave me alone!" the budgie added, unprompted.

All the arguing of Agnes' birds made Chad's head a little, so he was trying his best to ignore them, for the most part. He was actually thinking they were a bit disrespectful, barging in on the conversation like that. It made it harder to talk to Agnes herself. He shook his head slightly.

"I don't get that class," he grunted. "Why would anyone want to be a bitch?"

"Would anyone want to be a bitch?" his parrot pondered, and Chad, surprisingly not disturbing either animal perched on his shoulder, shrugged. He knew he wouldn't want to be; he already did that and it got him...nothing but trouble. Nicer was much better, as far as he was concerned.

"Well, I don't know!" Agnes insisted. "I didn't sign up for the class!"

"I didn't sign up for the class! The class!"

"Although the fairy thing is pretty cool! RRAAWWWWWK!"

Chad scratched the back of his head a little with one hand before the other one flipped the omelette. He assumed that the parrot meant that cute fairy thing, and then remembered that, oh yeah, she was teaching that, which confused Chad even more because he didn't think the fairy thing was much of a bitch at all, because she was cute and Chad had a really messed up view and understanding of things sometimes.

"That's good," he grunted with a nod ("That's good!" the parrot mimicked). "And you could use the stuff you learn as a guideline, right? For what not to do?"

"Rawwrk, what not to do, rawwk."

"Sure, if I needed to," Agnes replied with a bit of a twinkle in her eye. "But I'm already pretty good at NOT being a b-- a bitch."

The budgie chimed in with "Being a ba-bitch! A ba-ba-bitch!"

"Why are you so proud of being repressed and fake-y nice!" the cockatoo squawked.

Chad didn't say anything after a long moment.

"I don't think," he commented in a mutter, poking Agnes' omelette with his spatula, "that cockatoo would need to take that class at all."

Agnes went from red to almost purple, and she looked down at her feet. "Yeah. It's pretty nasty, isn't it?"

The budgie replied with "Nasty isn't it! Nasty isn't it! Keep your mind blank!"

A few moments later, the cockatoo spoke up. "Just be glad he thinks it's the bird talking!"

Chad eyed the cockatoo a little suspiciously after that one. As far as he was concerned, it was a bird talking, but maybe it wasn't so simple as all that after all. His parrot was a regular parrot this time, but there had, once upon a time, been a parakeet that was a little boy, although, if Hollows started chasing after this bird, Chad was thinking that he might just let the Hollows have her.

He scooped up Agnes' omelettes from this pan and onto a plate, handing them over to her her.

"...Is it a bird really talking?" he asked, belatedly, eying the cockatoo with suspicion. And Ichigo was around now. If they needed to put it to rest, they might be able to...

Agnes accepted the plate and mumbled something barely audible that the budgie confirmed was "Thank you!"

"Now you've done it!" the cockatoo squawked. "Now he's definitely going to hate you!"

"...Okay, so it's like this," Agnes sighed. ("Like this! Like this!") "You know how you have that little voice in the back of your head that's always saying awful things that you'd never actually say out loud?" She grimaced and looked over at the cockatoo.

"Awful things that you'd never actually say out loud!" the budgie chirped.

The recollection that such things existed surfaced in Chad's consciousness at that time in the same way things like that came to him normally: very slowly, from a darkened corner of his brain that he had shoved away forcefully a long, long time ago. A slow grunt of recognition wedge out of him and he nodded a little gravely.

"Yeah," he muttered, "I kno--"

"I know!" his parrot squawked, finishing out what he trailed away as another thought hit him.

"You mean, that cockatoo...?"

"Cockatoo, cockatoo!"

Agnes facepalmed. "I think it's because I'm a witch," she mumbled.

"A witch! A witch!" the budgie shrieked.

"Granny Weatherwax wouldn't have this problem! This problem!" the cockatoo squawked.

Chad...

...was really confused. It probably didn't help that their conversation was being related practically in surround sound squawking stereo.

"Did you cast a spell or something?" he asked, wondering what being a witch would have to do with any of it.

"Spell or something, rawwwrk!"

Agnes frowned. "No, I... The magic -- I'm just learning, you know, so sometimes... it leaks."

"It leaks! It leaks!" the budgie repeated.

The cockatoo squawked loudly and preened its wing for a moment. "You should show him your voice!"

"...oh," Chad said, like he understood, although he wasn't entirely sure he did. He felt bad about that, and eyed the cockatoo for a moment. Well, if a parakeet could be a little boy, a cockatoo could be Agnes' subconscious. Why not? He'd been a cup of tea, so, really, anything was possible.

"Oh!" squawked his parrot in a much brighter voice, flapping wings that were promptly pulled back in after Prince Oscar Pedro took a swing at them.

But the cockatoo brought up a point that interested Chad and seemed like something he could understand. "Your voice?" he asked, wondering if maybe this Agnes Nitt was a good singer like the other one.

Agnes was still blushing, although now it was as much out of modesty as embarrassment. "Oh," she said, coughing nervously. "It's just, um..."

"I can throw it," said the corner.

"And disguise it," Agnes said in a perfect imitation of Chad's voice.

"And sing in harmony with myself," she sang, sounding like a full barbershop quartet.

She looked down at her toes again, and the budgie just whistled.

"Well, that's ONE way to shut it up," said the cockatoo.

Chad blinked.

Quite a few times, actually.

The singing in harmony thing was exactly what the other Agnes had done, so that wasn't so much of a surprise, but he didn't remember anything about throwing it or imitating other people's voices with it, the second of which was throwing him off just as much as it had the first time Teddy had shapeshifted, imitating his form. Chad was used to a lot of weird things, but people coming out producing things that were him would never, ever cease to make him feel a little uneasy.

He shook his head.

"The other Agnes," he said, vocalizing some of his thoughts when he realized that he didn't have anything else to say but those, "could do that singing thing, too. It's pretty cool."

"Pretty cool!" the parrot said, repeating the understatement brightly.

And now it was Agnes's turn to blink back. "She... could?" she asked. ("She could! She could!") She was starting to get a general idea of how Fandom worked, and... "So... She wasn't just some poor girl with the same name, was she?" ("Same name was she!") "She was... another me?" ("She was another me was another me!")

"Focus on the 'pretty cool' part!" squawked the cockatoo. "Ask him to say it again!"

Although his eyebrow underneath all of that hair quirked at the cockatoo, he couldn't help feeling at least a little amused by it's squawking this time. "It's pretty cool," he obliged (and the parrot followed suit), figuring Agnes might appreciate not having to acknowledge the suggestion and, while he certainly didn't mind, maybe just appeasing the subconscious cockatoo would get it to shut up a little bit.

"And, yeah," he added. "I think that might be it." ("Might be it!") "She looked a little different, though." ("Different, rawwrk! Different!") "Happens a lot around here; there's a different version of my best friend back in Japan going here now." ("In Japan! Going here now! Rawwwrk.")

Agnes smiled sheepishly.

"I guess it's like the stupid 'trousers of time', but on a much weirder scale," she mused. ("Much weirder scale!") She had to ask: "...Different how?" ("Different how! How different!")

"He means she wasn't such a fatarse," the cockatoo replied.

Agnes clapped her hands over her face and went back to wanting to die.

It was a good thing that Chad wasn't still cooking up an omelette or drinking anything at that moment because then he would have either burnt himself or spit liquid over half the kitchette. He wondered if it was possible that he, dark skin and everything, might actually be blushing more than Agnes was, because what the hell did you say to that? Well, sure, Agnes wasn't exactly slim by any accounts whatsoever, but that was just rude.

Although it did get Chad away from asking about the 'trousers of time,' which could have been disastrous.

He cleared his throat a little nervously. "He hair was darker," he explained, "and I think she might have been a little taller, too. But it's hard to tell for me."

"Tallertoo, tallertoo!" sang his parrot.

Agnes nodded vaguely, trying to breathe. "Yeah, I... I'm just going to eat some of this omelette now. Thank you. It smells lovely."

"Thank you smells lovely!" the budgie squawked.

"Good plan," added the cockatoo. "Next time try to shut the bird up."

Maybe the presence or perhaps even the mere idea, of a cockatoo of subconscious had made a little bit of Chad's own trickle out a bit, as he moved to clean up the pan for the next omelette. "Maybe," he muttered, his voice barely a rumble under the waterfall of the faucet of the sink, "next time a nice backhand smack across the room'll shut it up."

"Shut it up! Shut it up! Rawwrk!"

What? He liked birds. He liked them a lot. But he didn't like rude birds, especially to people he was friends with, or used to be friends with a version of, even if that rudeness was supposedly that friend's subconscious.

Agnes chuckled. "Maybe."

"Maybe! Maybe!"

The cockatoo, which still had no idea what it had been saying, cocked its head at Chad and then nervously tried to hide behind Agnes's hat.

Chad gave an approving grunt, an approving nod at the cockatoo's shifting, not realizing it did it out of confusion, as a victim of its situation, and actually think he'd done some good work there.

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Third Floor Common Room; Tuesday Morning.

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