fandomhighdorms | Main Campfire, Saturday Early Evening

The less said about yesterday, the better. Her headache—how was she to explain that in her next report?—was grateful that she was avoiding thoughts of it. Temporarily. It was bad form to avoid things for long.

Rosalind knew that which was why, she sat herself by a campfire. Back straight, in her uniform, and trying her best not to feel as... severely out of place as she felt. This was not how she preferred to be seen. She was aware of the fact that she had to look ridiculous in her suit (too hot, too stiff, too formal) and sitting by an unlit campfire with a contemplative look on her face as evening slowly fell.

And a bag of marshmallows by her side. They weren't something she was particularly fond of but a few were alright and Rosalind was well aware that other students seemed to flock to them. Perhaps she'd use them as a bribe to get someone else to light the fire? Though she thought that might be ridiculous. It was hot enough without adding extra heat.

Even if it looked rather, well, pretty when it was burning. Mmm. Decisions, decisions.

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"I'm sure you will," she said dryly. "The fact remains, I choose not to answer you."

"That's your right," he said easily, thoughtfully rubbing his fingers together and watching how the ash stuck to his skin.

No Jacob, don't even think of it. It won't end well.

Something in his ~~narrative~~ tone had her pausing as she reached for a marshmallow.

"It is. How generous of you to recognize that."

"I am very generous," he nodded and he got to his feet, casually moving to her side of the fire. "Despite how now I'm not going to get any sleep at all because of you."

Rosalind eyed him and kept her peace for the moment.

"Poor you," she answered. "My heart bleeds for you."

"Nah, I don't think it does," he decided. "That's okay."

He actually moved pretty fast considering his bulk, reaching out a hand to try and draw a line of ash across her forehead.

He moved fast but the moment he'd started moving, Rosalind's legs had lashed out in a vicious kick as she ducked and rolled to the side to avoid his hand.

Attack! her instincts wailed and Rosalind throttled the urge to go for her gun.

Even if he'd deserve the fright. She wouldn't hurt him, though, and her guns were not toys.

But oh, oh she came up angry. "What is your problem?!"

Well, that'd been overkill to avoid a stain if nothing else. It was actually kind of funny to watch and he held up his hands, showing off the blackened fingertips.

"Nothing. Just thought it might go with the uniform," he said. "Chill. I wasn't trying to hurt you."

She glared at him.

"How thrilling for you. My face is off limits. My person is off limits to you."

He sighed and lowers his hands, rubbing his fingers off on his jeans and leaving black marks.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning serious as he realised how pissed she was. Yes, yes, he was slow. "I didn't mean anything with it. It won't happen again."

"It will not," she said, her tone frosty. "Or you'll have cause to regret it."

Rosalind brushed her uniform off.

"Your apology is noted."

"Sure sure," he agreed with what was a definite failure to be intimidated. Except for how her words seemed to have stuck in his head despite himself. He made a face. "I can go."

"Do what you want," she said stiffly.

He cast her a look and wondered why he was bothering again. "Right. Sorry," he apologised again, already turning and heading back the way he'd come.

She didn't know why he was bothering, or if she was even supposed to care that he was.

Rosalind arched her eyebrows at his back and remained silent.

She'd done nothing to apologize for. If he took her mood as an invitation to get out of here, well, that was his difficulty.

... Rosalind was awesome at friends, really.

Main Campfire, Saturday Early Evening

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