fandomhighdorms | Fourth Floor Common Room; Tuesday Evening [ 12/02 ].

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Fourth Floor Common Room; Tuesday Evening [ 12/02 ].

Since rehearsal (and therefor a good chunk of what he considered him being social) was canceled, Cal decided he'd emerge from the depths of his room yet again, but was feeling too lazy to venture beyond the common room. He flopped on the couch, dug under it for the remote control that still seemed to be there from yesterday, and turned on the TV.

To a program of a Yule Log. And Christmas music. And that was it.

"...Huh," Cal remarked, intelligently, head tilted. He got up, went to his room, and returned with a book in his hand.

It was almost kind of cozy.

[[ open of course! ]]

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"You read Atwood?" It was clear from Claire's tone that she thought this was a good thing. "It was ... really cool, actually. For a family thing. My aunt showed up and she hasn't talked to my mom in like 20 years, and she was this awesome hippie artist. How was yours?"

"Haven't heard of her," Cal admitted, "but it sounded interesting. Especially if I'm going to try that whole writer thing. Mine was okay. No awesome hippie artists, but my brother bought an Atari."

There was only a second's pause before he held up a finger. "Shut up. It's the latest thing in '76. I'm surprisingly good at Pong, too."

"I haven't read this one, but her novels are really good," Claire said. "So yeah, she knows what she's talking about with writing."

She swallowed her smirk at his description of his Thanksgiving. "Uh-huh, let me know when you're up to Ms. Pac-Man. I kick ass at that."

"Ms. Pac-Man?" Cal asked, arching an eyebrow. "...What?"

"You don't know the joy that is Ms. Pac-Man?" Claire said, eyes widening. "Right. 1976. Okay, so it's an arcade game, and you're this little figure that's kind of like just a head with a big mouth and a bow, 'cause she's Ms., and she eats energy pellets and these ghosts try to eat her and it's crazy fun in a dumb way."

Cal just kind of stared at Claire for a moment.

"Did you, like, score some really ridiculously good pot in the past twenty-four hours or something?"

"... not since Friday," Claire said, staring back at him. "It's not my fault you're from the video game dark ages."

"That game sounds utterly insane."

It sort of was.

"It makes more sense to play than to explain," Claire claimed. "I have no idea if anyplace on the island would have it, or I'd offer to show you."

"Yeah, because I'm not going to even be able to fathom it until I see it," Cal said, and then he frowned, thoughtfully, although his thoughts ran much deeper than the question he expressed. "There's got to be a place here with arcade games, right?"

"It does kind of defy explanation. My fake big sister works at the pizza parlor," Claire mused. "Places like that have arcade games a lot, at home. I could check."

[OOC: Is Fast Eddie's what they want?]

Cal nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "It could be fun."

Even if his hands were already starting to sweat at the idea of another thing that could be construed as a date with Claire. He subtly tried to wipe them on his thighs.

The motion drew Claire's eyes to his lap, and she had a ridiculous vision of grabbing his hand, just to see if that made either of them less nervous. She could just try it and see what happened, she reasoned. It was handholding, not molestation.

Stupid idea. Maybe.

Then, strangely, miraculously, she ... went with it and reached for the hand closer to her. "It really could."

Edited 2008-12-03 02:32 (UTC)

If Cal had any idea what Claire was thinking or even imagined that she would think something like that, he probably would have jerked his hand away, try to make up some ridiculous stretch to poorly cover it, and end up making Claire feel like she had the plague. And then she and Ino could have had a support group about it.

However, he didn't, and whether that was a good thing or not was still to be determined. Her hand was there before he could realize it, and, once he did, he eyes went wide and his body stiffened under its own volition. His heart jumped into his throat, which lost the ability to swallow, and his fingers curled in a desperate attempt to make sure that Claire didn't find out how sweaty his hand was, especially since it was only getting worse, and he figured that he was entirely imagining it, a dream or something...

...Maybe...

Oh, God.

It was probably a good thing Claire had never had reason to discuss Cal with Ino. She was having a hard enough time figuring him out without knowing exactly how extensive his issues with physical contact were.

When he went stiff, though, she went stiff in return, and would have pried her fingers away (random handholding convulsion, sorry, won't happen again) from embarrassment if his hand hadn't been burrowing further into her own through its curling.

So she just sat there, trying to decide if there was one single thing to say.

She wasn't coming up with anything.

Cal told himself he should say something, because there were hands hovering by each other, and he felt as tight as a well-wound spring. He hadn't swallowed, because he couldn't, and that made it a little weird as far as breathing went.

He should say something. Something that warranted having a girl wanting to hold his hand.

"Um..."

Sing, O Muse, you stupid fickle bitch, I need you now.

"...so, that would....kind of...be like a date, wouldn't it?"

Claire licked her lips and finally loosened her hand a little, though it stayed near his. "I guess you could call it that," he said, darting her eyes to read his face. "...yeah."

Part of Cal's brain was telling his hand to flee, run away, escape while it could, but it wasn't the part, apparently, that controlled his hand. It lingered, stayign close as well, defiantly refusing to draw back despite Cal's conviction that it had to, it really had to. Claire couldn't like him; she didn't know, and once she did...

...or maybe she wouldn't. Amber didn't care. Ino wasn't any more awkward around him than usual. Fanbutt couldn't care less...

His face read red, and thoughtful, and a little troubled in the ridge of his dark, heavy brows.

"...Cool. When you want to do it?"

Claire pursed her lips, trying to read him before she answered the question. He seemed uncomfortable, certainly, but it didn't seem to be an uncomfortableness that was about not liking her.

She decided to put it down under "Cal Has Issues." Which of course made him that much more attractive.

"Um." Tomorrow was too soon. They both worked Thursday. "Friday or Saturday? I'm free either."

"Saturday's good," Cal decided, quietly. Saturday would give him at least one more day to try to catch Amber or Ino or, if he was really desperate, Fanbutt, so he could flail to one of them for advice.

Claire cleared her throat. It was somehow very loud.

"Then I'll see you then." She'd likely see him before then, in class even if she stayed away from the diner, but it was what one said.

"You want me to come pick you up or anything?" Cal asked. "Or just meet there?"

"How about you pick me up," Claire said, since it went with the whole old-fashioned thing they seemed to be doing. "And you get to figure out where they have Ms. Pac-Man, too."

[OOC: Night!]

Cal couldn't help giving a small smile, even with the turmoil of panic within. "Sounds good."

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Fourth Floor Common Room; Tuesday Evening [ 12/02 ].

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