fandomhighdorms | Fourth Floor Common Room, Saturday Afternoon

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Fourth Floor Common Room, Saturday Afternoon

Wesley was hiding in the common room.

It was, in all honesty, not the best hiding place, but that's where he was hiding. Mainly because he was afraid if he went to his room, his roommate might be entertaining visitors, and he was kind of afraid to know what her friends and family were like.

So. Common room. Hiding from his father and doing homework. Should go well.

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Someone didn't have any visitors, so that left a lot of free time this weekend. Free time that involved returning one shiny, shiny jacket.

"Thank you," Maladicta said, offering over the article of clothing like a peace offering.

Yay shiny jacket! His closet full of dorky clothes had missed its company.

Looking up from his homework, Wes accepted the peace offering. "Thank you," he said. Yeah, he was going to want to wash this, probably. Not that vampire dust on his clothes wasn't a trendy fashion statement or anything. "I take it there haven't been any side effects from your - de-staking?"

Hey, he couldn't help the incredibly dorky things he was curious about.

It was a magical closet with magical clothing. And we can only pray the island would not that that seriously.

God help us all if it did.

"Other than mud caked onto my scalp, no. It's all very mundane after the first few times."

Which told you a lot about where she was from, really.

The first... few times. He took a moment to absorb that.

"So that was a regular occurence for you?" he inquired, leaning forward. "Do all vampires in your home dimension have that ability?"

"When you've been alive for a certain amount of time, it tends to happen," She replied dismissively. "And of course." There was a pause. "...they don't here?"

What kind of horrible world was this?

Huh. He mulled it over.

"I'm not certain about here, but in my dimension, vampires that have been killed do not reconstitute themselves, no," he said.

Except for sometimes.

"Do they... sparkle?" Damn you, Alexander.

"No," he said cautiously.

Well, he'd known a woman at the Watchers' Academy who'd done her thesis paper on a vampire who'd been known to wear sparkly black nail polish all the time. But he was a weirdo anyway.

"No," he said again, more emphatically. "Er. Have you met some that do?"

"Alexander mentioned that in regards to vampires once." It had killed a something inside her. Vampires were cool, not dazzling!

...Dazzling would be elves, after all.

"The few others I've met here have been very different."

"Excuse me," Medusa said, leaning in the doorway but not quite coming in, "but have you seen my sister? Is she making out with someone on one of these couches?" If she sounded a bit frantic, well: see above.

"Er."

Wes looked around the room, not really expecting to make any huge discoveries, then turned back to face her. "No, not to my knowledge. Why?"

"Because she's here and they didn't tell me she was coming and I can't find her and she's going to steal all of my shoes!" Medusalith ~~wailed~~ complained.

Oh. She was one of those.

"Well, I'll... let you know if I see her?" he tried.

Not really, 'cause he had no idea what this girl was supposed to look like. But the thought was there.

Not usually! Crystal just brought it out in her. "Would you? I would appreciate that so much," she said. "She's blonde, with a very distinctive black streak. Can't miss her."

Ah, yes, the family-making-you-act-like-an-asshole disease. He had a strain of the very same.

"I'll let you know," he promised, committing the image to memory.

"Thank you," she said. "I--have to go. Goodbye!" and then she was dashing off.

Peeta wasn't sure how he'd gotten to the fourth floor, exactly. He'd been told that Katniss lived on the second floor, but immediately upon entering the building, he'd just been so fascinated by the architecture and the art on the walls that he explored the entire first four floors without giving any real thought to it.

Then, of course, it occured to him that he was entirely lost. He peeked his head inside the common room, saw a boy sitting on the couch, and asked apologetically, "Excuse me, could you tell me where I am?"

Wesley... was pretty curious as to how exactly someone could walk up four flights of stairs without noticing.

But being the helpful person that he was, he answered promptly, "Fourth-floor common room of the dormitory building."

Then - "Who are you visiting?"

"Katniss Everdeen," he said, and he totally did not have a dorky smile on his face when he said her name, shut up.

Yeah, maybe he'd just hide out up here for a bit. At least until he came up with something to even say to Katniss. Right now he didn't get the sense that she was particularly pleased to see him.

"I'm Peeta Mellark," he said, taking a seat on the couch next to Wesley.

So this was Peeta! He... was not the weird-looking weedy kid Wes had been ~~hoping for~~ picturing. Not even close, actually.

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he said, holding out a hand for a handshake. "I'm a friend of Katniss', actually. She's mentioned you."

Unnerved, Peeta shook his hand, barely containing an exasperated sigh. What were the odds that the first person he met here would be Katniss' friend? And a guy, at that? Did she just have a lot of guy friends?

"She's mentioned you as well," he said cautiously. Nothing much, just a few words here and there about a friend named Wesley who liked books and shared some common interests with her.

Why was it that she always had to hang out with the hunters?

Aaaand keeping it vague. Nice, Peeta. Talking to the most curious kid on the planet, and this is what you do. Well played.

An awkward silence ensued.

Determined to rectify it, Wesley observed, "You made her cookies. You're, ah - quite the baker."

Katniss had shared cookies with this guy? Really?

"Thank you," he said, going for pleasant and flattered. Maybe it came out sounding a little stiff, sue him. "I help out at my family's bakery."

"Oh," Wesley said, feigning interest. Because really, how exciting were cookies? "Do you enjoy it?"

Ohh, yeah. Riveting work. So much fun.

"It's nice enough," he said pleasantly. "I'm good at it, and it helps the community."

Katniss could attest to that.

"And what do you do?" Please let it be something lame, please let it be something lame...

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