fandomhighdorms | Fourth Floor Common room: Wednesday Afternoon

Entry tags:

Fourth Floor Common room: Wednesday Afternoon

The few pi-rats that were hanging out in the common room quickly ran out as soon as Worf entered and gave them a steady glare.

They didn't even try to sing...

Worf then grabbed a large bottle of prune juice before casting a wary eye at the television. He highly doubted that there would be anything that he would find entertaining but nevertheless decided to give it a try.

Imagine his surprise when he found a television program that exactly suited his needs.

"Finally," he grumbled as he sat down on the couch. "Something worthy of a warrior."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"Wow, they still air this stuff?" Hannibal asked as he wandered into the common room. "Nice tights."

"While the outfits are strictly theatrical," Worf noted, "They still have the hearts of warriors."

He then gave the newcomer a skeptical look. "Why would such a program not be on the air?"

"No reason," Hannibal said, laughing some more at the tights. "I just haven't seen it in years. No cable, you know. I have to get by watching paint dry on walls. Exciting, I tell you."

"Watching paint dry," Worf stated with a tad of confusion. "I hardly see the point of such entertainment."

Yep. Worf still has trouble with the concept of humor.

"Well..." It was hard to make humor out of paint drying, Hannibal found. "Yeah, you're right, it kinda sucks. The only thing good about watching paint dry is if you inhale the fumes enough to make that paint start dancing."

"I prefer to keep my entertainment free of hallucinatory agents," Worf said seriously."One's mind must always be ready for any kind of situation."

And in a rare action of generosity he held out the bottle he had just filled up his glass with.

"Prune juice?"

After a ~~handwavey yet~~ successful workout earlier, Cal was feeling the need to just sort of crash and relax for a bit, drifting into the common room and tilting his head at the choice of programming that Worf seemed to have chosen.

"God, those tights leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, do they?" he commented, wincing at a move in a mostly theatrical fashion, since the parts being injured he didn't actually have.

"Why would I want to imagine such a thing?" Worf asked in return as he watched in admiration as one of the wrestlers crawled on top of one of the corner posts and lauched himself into the air.

He gave Cal a look that almost bordered on enthusiasm. "I had no idea that Earth had such entertainment."

"Prune...juice?" Hannibal repeated. "Um. Sure!"

Hannibal thought he should make nice with the guy who looked like he could break things with the power of his eyes alone. Good friend to have and all.

He took the bottle and poured himself a cup. He could just hold it or something.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm Hannibal. Semi new student."

"Worf," he said eyes glued to the television set. "New as of the beginning of summer. Did you come here of your own free will?"

"Well, my dad didn't tie me up and toss me out the car as he drove by," Hannibal said, taking a seat, "so...kind of. He suggested it, I yelled at him and I'm here anyway."

"I'd rather not think about it at all," Cal muttered, shaking his head slightly as he grabbed a pop from the fridge and then sat down. "And I didn't either. I mean, not like this. This is a bit of an interesting take on your high school or Olympian wrestling, that's for sure."

"A lot more...lights. Oddly? Less spandex. On a whole."

"I see," Worf said with a nod. "I was supposed to attend a different academy but was forced here instead."

"The spandex is... unsettling,"Worf agreed. "And while they're movements are theatrical they do seem to have a thirst for battle."

"Forced?" Hannibal asked. "Daddy issues for you too?"

Since such entertainment, for the most part, had really come into fruition before Cal's time, he found himself needing to watch a little in thoughtful consideration before he could really give Worf any sort of informed opinion.

"....yes," he decided. "I'd have to agree with you there. Pretty resourceful of them, using that chair for a weapon."

"Wow, muscles." Angela grinned as she flopped on one of the sofas. "Finally, something on TV I actually recognize."

"Not the muscles," she clarified. "Just, the wrestling."

"No," Worf replied. "Some sort of... entity posed as an admiral and forced me to go here. Against my will."

Worf shrugged. "There is little I can do about it."

"A warrior must use his environment in order to be successful in battle," Worf agreed. "However such a production must have a large budget for tables."

Look at Worf using a concept he learned in class!

"So, you're kinda really stuck here, huh?" Hannibal asked thoughtfully. "How are you liking it?"

"You are a fan of this sort of entertainment?" Worf asked as he watched a wrestler throw another one out of the ring. "I find it very... alluring."

"I am from the 24th century," Worf replied gruffly. "So the technology is primitive but a true warrior can adapt to any environment."

"Maybe they know a guy with a folding table surplus store," Cal offered, attempting to look at the whole thing from a financial point of view, and thinking that it wouldn't be a bad business, folding table. Hell, if his dad could make it big on hot dogs, why the hell not folding tables, too?

"Oooh, time travel!" Hannibal said, almost delightedly. "...so how old does that make you?"

"That would make sense," Worf agreed and offered Cal the bottle he had pulled from the refrigerator. "Prune juice?"

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 7

Fourth Floor Common room: Wednesday Afternoon

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject