4th Floor Common Room [Friday, Afternoon]

[flashesforinfo.livejournal.com]

After making an appearance in class, Angela was in need of something to cleanse her mind of the zombie movie clips. With everything going on, watching all that just made her feel a little ill.

That was why the television was tuned firmly to Nickelodeon, for something silly and distracting.

She was clutching a mug of hot chocolate, and had that hockey stick she'd picked up lying across her lap. Better safe than... something else.

[[it's a common room, and it is open.]]

Comments

[flashesforinfo.livejournal.com]

That was actually not bad reasoning, for something completely off the cuff.

"It starts looking like they're coming our way, that's what I'm doing," she decided, shuddering a little at that idea. She was quite content with them staying way, way far away.

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

"I'm going down to the library," Cal said with a nod. Somehow, announcing it made it a little more like steeling his resolve for it.

"Not so much to research, but I think that, if I die a horrible death from the insatiable undead, I want to die among great works and literature, among the fading, dog-eared pages of other, much braver, more impressive lives."

Nothing like tragedy to bring out the dramatic poet in a Greek.

[flashesforinfo.livejournal.com]

Angela looked a little disturbed by that particular statement.

"... Oh, god, no morbid death talk," she told him firmly. "Among great works of literature, or otherwise."

She'd seen enough of that this week to be pretty insistent on that point.

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

"I can't help it," Cal said, and his express was very apologetic, if a little tortured. "And, anyway, I don't even think I really believe it, either."

If he had to be honest, Cal would realize that morbid death talk was a pathetic attempt to seem to be feeling something. His apathy would be suffocating him if it wasn't so...apathetic.

[flashesforinfo.livejournal.com]

"Believe which part of it?" Angela asked carefully, rubbing her fingers over that mug of chocolate to warm them a little.

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

"The tragic death part," Cal said, shrugging, casually sipping his orange juice. "If you consider all the times I've been in situations that would usually end in a tragic death but still lived to see the next day, you'd have good grounds to assume that I'm immortal."

[flashesforinfo.livejournal.com]

"... You've been in lots of life and death situations?" Angela asked.

She'd been in one, so far (zombies notwithstanding), and that'd been more than enough.

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

"One even involved some homeless guys in a park," Cal said. "They're remarkably similar to zombies when they're fighting for territories, but surprisingly more eloquent."

[flashesforinfo.livejournal.com]

"... Hopefully, less bitey?" she said.

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

"For the most part," Cal said, after a moment to recall. "And you don't necessarily turn into a homeless person yourself after they've bitten you."

[flashesforinfo.livejournal.com]

Angela had to huff out a laugh at that. "Yeah. I haven't heard of that happening," she agreed.

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

Cal smiled lightly. "To be honest," he admitted quietly, "this isn't nearly as scary as a riot. Zombies move slow, they're not carrying guns or throwing Molotov cocktails or lighting things on fire, that I've notice."

[flashesforinfo.livejournal.com]

"Just... eating people."

Still utterly grossed out by that fact, yes.

"You've been around riots?" she asked after a beat.

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

"Detroit, 1967, 12th Street." Cal's smile grew more distant. "If it doesn't ring any bells, look it up when there aren't zombies everywhere. My family had a diner on that street when it happened."

[flashesforinfo.livejournal.com]

Angela nodded slowly. It didn't make much sense, but if he was talking fires and guns she figured it must've been rough

"When you've been through things like that, I guess it's more difficult to get riled up by... this sort of thing."

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

"A little," Cal admitted. "I mean, I was riding my bike down the street in front of a tank then and I wasn't even riled up, though, so..." He shrugged, leaving out the part about wondering if he just didn't have a gene for that.

Which was stupid, because he had an extra gene elsewhere; he'd rather switch.