fandomhighdorms | Second floor common room, Friday afternoon

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Second floor common room, Friday afternoon

Priestly was once again curled up on the couch in the common room, flipping through channels on the TV in search of something light hearted to take his mind off the horrors of a zombie apocalypse.

Okay, so maybe he was slightly melodramatic.

At least so far none of the zombies had made it into the dorms. He was tempted to go for higher ground in hopes that the zombies wouldn't want to tackle the stairs, but his lingering headache meant he wasn't feeling that up to stairs, either. Hence the second floor.

He'd hunted up some sandwich fixings and laid them out on the counter, doing some light, one handed cooking to get hot roast beef going. He was hoping it'd attract some other non-undead people. Just doing his part to make sure the others who were now swearing off going outside feel at home.

Or something.

[ooc: Open!]

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"This," Claudia announced as she walked through the door in an all-black catsuit, "is not okay."

Priestly jerked upright on the couch, then hissed as his head complained. "Claudia. Uh . . . you wanted something other than roast beef to eat?"

"Huh?" Claudia replied, blinking. "No, roast beef is fine. Evil, smelly, chompy things are not okay."

"Oh." Priestly rubbed at the side of his head. "Yeah, I can agree with that."

"How's your head?" she asked. "Need an icepack or a bag of frozen peas or something?"

"Nah. I'm okay." It was achy, but not that bad. "The wrist is pissing me off more. You know how hard it is to get your hair sticking up with only one hand?"

"Totally," Claudia agreed, "but mine was more because I was touching up my nails and they weren't dry yet."

She gave his head an appraising look. "It looks good."

"Thanks. It took, like, twice as long as it usually does."

"Totally worth it," she assured him. "You're not planning on, like, going out there are you?"

"Good god no. If I never see another zombie, it'll be too soon."

"I haven't seen one that wasn't in Caritas or in the movies for class," Claudia said. "I'm fine with that. I'll leave the heroing to people who like that kind of thing."

Priestly shrugged. "Fighting off zombie!Hurley yesterday was kind of a rush," he admitted, then shuddered. "But, yeah. Pretty sure that was just adrenaline."

"Omigod," Claudia said, shuddering as well. "And I heard them say that a whole bunch of other people got eaten last night too. I'm glad you got away."

"Yeah." Priestly let out a hard breath, rubbing his good hand over the bandage on his other wrist. "Yeah. I -- if Dinah hadn't shown up on Wednesday, I'da been toast."

He hated thinking about that. About how vulnerable he actually was. He really did have to learn how to fight, didn't he.

Claudia scooted a little closer. "Yay for Dinah," she said. "I'll have to say thank you. I prefer you uneaten."

"Yeah," Priestly said again, leaning into her slightly. "Me too." He gave her a long look. "You're not gonna go out there either, right? Not until all this is over?"

He refused to believe that it wouldn't end some time soon. That was just not an option.

"Not even if I run out of junk food," she promised, curling into him. "I'm not too good to hide under my bed."

"Nah, under the bed doesn't have any good escape routes." He leaned his head against hers. "Good to know I won't have to try to rescue you. I'd probably suck at it."

"That's why I'd ruled out the closet," she said, letting out a relieved little breath. "And no running off either. I can't have Dinah rescuing you all the time. It'd do bad things to my reputation as a badass."

Which was not a reputation she had, no.

"You'd scare 'em off with your mad puff-paint skills," Priestly joked. "But, no, I'm staying here unless there's a really, really, really, really good reason why I have to go outside." Like knowing for a fact he was the only one who could go help one of his friends. Or they ran out of food completely.

"Or my carefully constructed posters of mean sayings," she agreed with a tiny smile. "I might offer up my collection of stilettos for the cause, but I'm going to bet bullets'll work better."

"Definitely. Bullets and blunt instruments, from what I can tell."

"But if I hit a zombie with a frying pan, I'd never be able to make a grilled cheese in that thing again," Claudia lamented.

"And that's why you do it with someone else's frying pan."

"I don't think I know anyone up on the fifth floor," she mused. "Maybe we can steal their stuff."

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