fandomhighdorms | Fourth Floor Common Room, Friday Afternoon

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Fourth Floor Common Room, Friday Afternoon

Wes was having a... strange day. For one thing, he still had a few globs of pie filling in his hair from his Badass class earlier, and he was still annoyed at the way his Science of Deduction teacher had criticized his "tiny brain." So he retreated to the common room to decompress. Showering might have been a better choice, but sitting in the common room with a stack of books seemed more appealing. So he did.

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Well, the Slayer-y oppositional eyeroll got a Pavlovian sniff of disapproval from Wes.

"Well, cool, certainly, but I should hope you'd like to avoid turning evil and allowing a politician to ascend to demonic form and feed off a high school class," he deadpanned.

Aaaand another eyeroll. This could turn into a Pavlovian endless loop.

...but fun.

"Heard about that," Kennedy acknowledged. And you know, while it was somewhat admirable that she didn't actually say anything to the effect of Please, like I'd ever let that happen if it'd been me, it could've very easily been inferred from her tone. "Don't worry, that item's so not on my checklist."

"Hence my reccomendation that you not follow her behavior patterns," he concluded.

"That's interesting that you've heard of that, though. Do you know if all Potential Slayers are kept up to date on the events of the Hellmouth?" Because if he were Watcher to a Potential, no way would he tell her all the stuff going on there. Way too scary.

"We don't exactly have a weekly online chat or anything," Kennedy told him, and she couldn't help that touch of 'bitch, please' in her voice. "So I don't know what everybody else knows. It's just, I ask because I want to know, and I always get what I want, so."

...poor Constance.

There was that Watcher-y disapproving sniff again. "All right," he said awkwardly. "It, ah, it sounds like your Watcher has quite a task on her hands," he addwd, just the teeniest bit snarkily.

"I am a handful, it's true." Don't sound so proud of that, Kennedy. And then she had to ask. "God, do they teach you guys to do that sniff thing?"

"Only by example," he answered breezily. "Nearly all of the Watchers at the Academy do it, so it's impossible not to pick up the habit."

"Are all Slayers trained to roll their eyes whenever they wish to express dissatisfaction or superiority?" he countered.

"Well, Slayers, I wouldn't know," Kennedy muttered acerbically. "Not being one and all." Oooh, someone was still touchy about that. "Maybe it's just a natural reflexive reaction to uptightness."

Ooh. Burn.

"Right. Slip of the tongue, sorry," he blurted. "I just meant - right. Sorry."

Yeah, he could banter back and forth all evening and then all of a sudden he got skittish. Go figure.

"Yeah, yeah," Kennedy replied, trying to relax a little. "It's all good. Really. Since you're more used to dealing with them and all."

He rushed to explain: "Well, in classes and such, our instructors always say things to the effect of 'Your Slayer does so-and-so,' in scenario questions and such. We don't really say 'Potentials,' though of course those are the ones to whom the bulk of us are assigned. And," he added jokingly, "you do share the eyeroll."

Kennedy couldn't help cracking a wry grin. "Maybe that's how you figure out who we are, then. Maybe it's like part of the tradition."

"Very likely," Wes laughed. "Though if you'll believe it, it was brought to my attention that there was a Slayer several years ago who was actually polite. Respectful, even."

"I don't know," drawled Kennedy, falling into the rhythm of teasing; it wasn't quite like giving her Watcher a hard time for the fun of it, but it was kind of similar. "That doesn't sound like much fun."

Yeah, he'd heard she'd only survived a year after being Called as Slayer, but that didn't seem appropriate to joke about, for obvious reasons, so he didn't mention it.

The banter was fun, though. And surprisingly easy. He'd never managed banter with his actual Slayers - he was no Constance, after all - but it worked pretty well.

"I'm sure you would have been bored to tears," he laughed.

Yeah, no, that would be pretty depressing.

"And me bored is a bad thing," Kennedy warned him playfully. "Which is why I try and keep busy as much as possible. Hey-- you think you'd be up to training sometime? I mean, there's a lot of people here I can, but you know how it goes in our world."

Beat, then-- "You do know, right?"

She didn't mean to sound condescending; it just sort of happened sometimes.

"Yes, I do know," he shot back. Kind of lived there and all, of course he knew how it went on there. Then: "But... you want a fired Watcher to train you?" he asked skeptically.

Okay, that didn't actually make it sound so great, but...

"Sure, why the hell not?" Kennedy shrugged. "Can't waste what you know. That'd suck, and I'm always up for more practice. Come on, it'll be fun, right?"

"I... suppose," he offered. "Although it might be best if you cleared it with your Watcher first. I'm not terribly popular among the Council just now, so perhaps just to be safe...?"

"I guess," Kennedy conceded reluctantly. "Although you should know, I'm not exactly great at doing what she says. Or more specifically, not doing what she says I shouldn't. C'mon, don't go all pessimistic on me already."

"Well..."

He did kind of want to get back to training. Except -

"I'd like to - to train you, but I doubt that my father would be terribly pleased if I was helping to train a Sl - a Potential Slayer without Council approval," he admitted. And pissing off his father any further was not a great idea just now, not after he'd already been expelled and banished to stupid Maryland, of all places.

"Who's going to tell?" Kennedy persisted. "I won't. Or you could say I bugged you until you gave in just to shut me up? I do have a history that way."

Oh, yes. That would help, Kennedy.

"But..."

Actually, that excuse wouldn't be all that far off from the truth. He scrambled for more support for his argument.

"But suppose you went home and you were training with your Watcher and she noticed that your technique had deteriorated, or changed significantly in a way that suggested another person's influence, and it affected your fighting style?"

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Fourth Floor Common Room, Friday Afternoon

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