fandomhighdorms | 2nd Floor Common Room, Thursday afternoon

"Mother Night, I am starving," Karla announced, walking into the common room. "I don't suppose this is one of those times when someone's here and making food to share," she continued hopefully.

Then stopped, when she saw who else was in the common room. And blushed again. Since she was wearing her Widow's Weeds from the multicultural fair, it was pretty obvious that it was another one of her blushes that extended pretty far down. "...Hi Jack?" she squeaked.

They really had to stop meeting like this ~~though it's too fun to actually stop.~~

Jack hit his head on the freezer door as he jumped at the sound. "Ow! Son of a--"

He stopped short of the swear because, as he was turning to see who had attacked him (or made the noise to make him jump, same thing), he recognized Karla. "Karla. Hi. Um. I'm fully clothed, I swear," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "And you're..."

Yeah. He noticed her outfit. And the blush. Oh, look, he tried to match it. Aww!

They really should stop meeting like this ~~even though it's so fun~~.

If nothing else, Karla would appreciate the end of this just so she could stop apologizing all the damn time. "No, no, it was totally my fault," she said, embarassed. She was wringing a handful of spidersilk which meant nearly an entire leg was exposed, not that she'd noticed yet. "I came too soon. Err, came in too soon! Came in! And uhh, was surprised. But in a good way?" She looked at him with eyes that pleaded please make this easy?

Leg. Stare. Leg. Oh, right. Her eyes were up there. "Right. Too soon. Not a problem, could happen to anyone."

No, bit further up. Right. There. Eyes. Hi. "Don't worry about it," he said, still rubbing his head. "Um. Want my footlong?" he said, holding up a particularly phallic shaped piece of bread that was in no way an offer for anything other than foodstuffs.

At least not here in the common room.

Karla leaned in to take a bite, thought about it, and then backed up. "Noooooo. Thank you. I'm...not hungry?"

"Are you sure? It's no problem. I've got plenty more where that came from," he said. Hell, he had a whole fridge to work with. And he was offering...whatever she wanted. "What are you in the mood for?"

Karla opened her mouth to answer, but the first three things that sprang to mind were inappropriate. Highly inappropriate.

"Water would be good, I think," she answered finally. "I'm still pretty hot."

"You look hot," he agreed. Then facepalmed. "Flushed! Probably the heat. Lemme get you some water," he said, turning to the sink and filling her up a glass of nice, cool, non-innuendo water.

Please ignore the flexing muscles as he reached into the cabinet, selected the glass, turned the water on, and presented it to her.

Sorry, the request to ignore came too late. Karla was busy watching.

"Thanks," she said, only then realized she was holding up her skirt. She dropped it, blushed again, and took the glass. Her fingers lingered on his.

"I like the skirt," he said, once it settled down. "It's nice." He made no move to pull his hand back from where it was. He was just making sure she had the glass. Really.

"Thanks," she said shyly. "I wore it at the fair." Because, if her mother was to be believed, males never noticed clothing.

She realized that their fingers were touching, and snatched the glass. Then drank it all at once to try and cover for her embarassment. It didn't really work.

"I remember. Wasn't looking at it too much then, was kinda preoccupied." His eyes opened wider at her trying to shotgun the water. "Slow down a bit, you'll end up spilling it. Want some more?"

He's a nice guy like that.

"No, I'm fine," Karla said, fighting down a cough. "I was just really, really thirsty."

And messy. She'd spilled some on her chest at the end there. Oops.

"Here, let me get you a refill," he said, holding out one of his hands at roughly glass-level as the other reached for a towel. He took a step towards her. Of course, glass level could be at any height, really.

She shoved the glass at him, not really paying attention. That cough was fighting back viciously. Maybe she shouldn't have drunk so fast.

"Oh, hell," he muttered. "Are you okay?" He almost tossed the glass onto the counter, throwing the towel on his shoulder. "Can you breathe?"

Jack would preform life-saving maneuvers if needed. Jack, not being formally trained on CPR or the Heimlich maneuver, would pound her on the back in a helpful way. As you do.

It struggled wildly, but Karla vanquished the cough in the end. "No, no, I'm okay," she said, groping for the towel. Groping being the operative word.

"Okay, good. Um. Here." He moved her hand up just a bit to the towel now in his hand. Just to make sure things were all PG-13 and all for the viewers who may be out there. Fourth wall? Whazzat?

"You need another drink?" He was trying to ignore the wet spot and focusing on the not-dying part of Karla. It was working pretty good at the moment.

"No, thank you," she said, grabbing the towel and mopping up her chest. "I've barely recovered from this one. Might not survive another." She gave him a lop-sided grin.

"So...what have you been up to since yesterday?" You know, after I fled.

"You sure? You still look a bit ~~hot~~ ~~wet~~ flushed," he said, moving to try to put a hand on her back, just in case he needed to give her a bit of a thumping.

"I've...been around," he said. Boy, had he.

"I'm fine," she said, unconsciously leaning into Jack's hand. "Doing what?"

"Just...doing things." He shrugged, his hand moving a bit on her back.

Jack may need to stay away from the stables. Or go there more often.

"More of those comics things?" she asked, letting out a soft sigh when his hand hit a sore spot.

"Yeah, reading those, too." He turned to look at her. He wasn't even staring at her damp chest (well, not really). "You okay? Did I do something?" He moved his hand away.

"Don't stop," she said breathily, moving backwards to catch up with his hand. "Right there."

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