fandomhighdorms | Fourth Floor Common Room; Friday Morning [ 08/27 ].

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Fourth Floor Common Room; Friday Morning [ 08/27 ].

Alexander had been up early that morning and went about a few errands ~~and obsessive sighing~~ before returning to the common room to scrounge up some breakfast. With it being so quiet so far ~~from everyone leaving and emoing up the place~~, he easily slipped into a peaceful little place, where the motions of working in a kitchen almost seemed to be second nature, done without even thinking of it, despite the differences in the modern appliances and the fact that this breakfast was actually something he'd get to eat instead of serving an an ungrateful, mean tyrant of a wizard.

As a result, he got a little too into it and made plenty of eggs and bacon and toast to spare. Maybe some others would wake up and help him eat it; it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

[[ open common room is open! please come distract me from being nervous about my job interview later, omg ]]

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"Oh, it smells like home in here," Rilla sighed happily before realizing that it was a boy cooking.

She blushed. "Oh. Hello."

That's okay, Rilla. People made that mistake about Alexander all the tiiiiime.

He looked up from the bacon sizzling in the pan and offered the girl a smile. A pretty girl coming in and complimenting the aromas of his hard work was much nicer than having an old wizard coming in and complaining about why it wasn't finished yet. Much nicer.

"Good morning," he offered. "Would you like some? I've made plenty."

"Please," Rilla said eagerly. "Breakfast here is such a strange affair. At home there are always eggs and bacon and potatoes and toast and homemade jam and porridge and pies..."

Rilla was a touch spoiled.

"Cereal just isn't the same at all."

"Oh, I didn't make any potatoes," Alexander realized, frowning a little as he looked over what he had made, which was not only made well, but made in excess. Still, this simple slight seemed like a very grievous oversight.

So he quickly tried to move from it as he loaded up a plate for the girl. "Cereal is the sugary stuff in the boxes, correct? That was a surprise. I'd expected it like the cereal gruell from back home, but it turned out even worse than that when I tried to make it the same way. I..." He shook his head, "didn't think that was possible."

And the plate was set, so he passed along to her. "Your breakfast, my lady," he said with a smile. "May I get you a glass of juice to go along with it?"

"Oh, thank you," she said, nodding and taking the plate. "And I'm from an island that grows potatoes, so they're practically everywhere and at every meal. This looks simply perfect without them."

And now it was Alexander's turn to blush a little, ducking his head and realizing that he had no idea how to accept something like praise for his cooking. So there was just a spreading of pink across his cheeks as he ducked his head to hide a bit of a smile.

"T-Thank you," he said, nodding and, after a second's pause, "I'll get your juice."

Because then he could have the benefit of turning away to get into the refrigerator.

"Would you like some tea?" Rilla asked. "I feel terribly useless just infringing upon your hospitality this way."

She was tucking into the eggs with vigor as she asked, though. The fashion of girls not eating was beyond her comprehension.

Now, let's see, we've got soda, purple stuff...Aw, Sunny D, all right!

...wait, no. Orange juice, that was better. Alexander just about nearly made a terrible error of judgment before extracting himself from the fridge with the carton of OJ and went to find some glasses.

"Oh, no," he said, "but thank you. I could put some on, though, if you think you'd like some. Or perhaps some coffee?"

He never got used to servants fixing him things; he couldn't imagine having some random girl doing it for him now.

Rilla shook her head. "The juice will be fine. I've not gotten used to the flavour of coffee, but thank you."

She looked up from her breakfast. "Oh, how rude of me not to introduce myself. I'm Rilla Blythe."

One day, he'd get the hang of introducing himself as well, but it was probably a day far, far off in the future. Realizing his own oversight and picturing his mother's sighing disapproval of his inability to pick up on more regal manners, Alexander blushed again as he held out her juice.

"No ruder than myself," he said, feeling overly formal to make up for his own lack of introduction. It was just far too easy to just engage in conversation. "It is an honor to meet your acquaintance, Miss Blythe. I'm Alexander of Daventry."

Rilla smiled. "Likewise..." she flailed for a bit as "Mister of Daventry" seemed wrong... "Lord Daventry?" she guessed.

And that only made Alexander wince a little, before a slight chuckle.

"Just Alexander," he offered, helpfully. For some reason, having spent the morning cooking and falling into servant mode, it felt awkward for him to bring up the whole prince thing...

"In that case, you must call me Rilla," she decided, smiling at him. "Alexander is a very nice name. Were you named after Alexander the Great, or someone in your family?"

"I think," said Alexander, after a moment to reflect on the question, "my parents simply just liked the name, but I have never really asked them. I certainly wouldn't mind having the sort of influence and reach that Alexander the Great once had, though..."

Look at someone, showing off that he actually knew something about the history of the world having come across a bit about that person in his extensive research searching for the Land of the Green Isles. Who could blame him, though? Some a prestigious figure sharing his name and a wonderful epitaph could be very intriguing.

"Rilla is quite lovely as well, but I'm afraid I don't know of any great Rillas to whom I can compare you."

Her cheeks went a little pink. "It's short for Marilla, though I don't know any famous Marillas either," she replied. "I'm named for my grandmothers--Bertha Marilla Blythe."

"That's a beautiful name," said Alexander, smiling softly and meaning it sincerely. After all, unlike some people, it was decidedly Not Evil. "And what a great heritage that it carries with it! I know nothing of any of my grandparents."

"Mother didn't know about her parents for ever so long," Rilla said. "She was an orphan, you see. When she was at university, she went back to the house where she'd been born and found the loveliest set of letters between her parents. My brother Walter and I are named in their honour."

"What a wonderful story!" Alexander smiled; his own experience with thinking he was an orphan and then discovering that his parents were not only alive, but were royalty, made him quite the sucker for that kind of thing. "You must feel incredibly honored! Do you have many siblings, Rilla, or is it just yourself and your brother?"

"I have many siblings," Rilla said, "which seems to be a rarity these days. I'm the youngest of six. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Just one," Alexander admitted, trying to think of six siblings; he really couldn't imagine it, but he blamed that on his isolated childhood. "Twin sister, actually; she was a little annoyed that I got to go away for school and she had to stay home."

"My two sisters are twins," Rilla said, "though they don't look a bit alike."

She smiled, thinking of the story they liked to bring up with Nan still, where a school rival had told her she'd been switched with a red-haired shore girl at birth since twins obviously always looked the same.

"What's your sister's name?"

"Rosella," Alexander offered, "and she doesn't look a thing like me, either."

Slight pause.

"And not just because she's a girl, I mean."

It was an important distinction, apparently.

"That's a pretty name too," Rilla declared. "Di has curly red hair like Mother and Nan has dark brown hair. Father says she looks like his mother, but I never knew her. His parents died before I was born."

"I look an awful lot like my father," Alexander said with a great deal of pride. "Rosella doesn't look like either parent; she had this ~~unexplainable~~ long blonde hair that she refuses to wear up, much to Mother's chagrin."

"It must be nice to have so many siblings," he added, grinning with the wistful observation of a person who clearly did not have so many siblings.

"I would lend you a few but I'm terribly fond of them all myself," Rilla said, dimpling. "And your father must be a handsome man."

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Fourth Floor Common Room; Friday Morning [ 08/27 ].

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