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Third Floor Common Room | Thursday Evening | 11/18

Peter Bishop was having a kind of boring week. Giant robot spiders and Ellis Island aside.

To combat (or perhaps continue) that trend, Peter entered a common room with a stack of pizza boxes (complete with pizzas inside!) and a large bag filled with smaller bags of plastic army men. He set the pizzas to the side, switched on the TV to a terrible war movie about Pearl Harbor starring Ben Affleck, and started covering every surface he could find in army men. Leaving just enough paths that he could step through without crushing some poor green soldier.

Yes, he was definitely bored.

[ooc: Open. Not posting from class bored. Rly]

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It was a freshly-showered Emma, hair still slightly damp, that was desperately bored and looking for someone to entertain her as she picked her way into the common room. "I suppose I should count myself lucky that I moved up to fifth. Do you make a mess in here on a regular basis?"

"Only when I'm soul-crushingly bored," Peter said. "I see you're back from whatever excursion you went on. Anything I need to worry about?"

It was safe to say that he'd completely abandoned his army man project the instant Emma had shown up. She was way more interesting.

"Sookie got kidnapped, and I got to go to a werewolf bar. And steal Sookie's car to break a few traffic laws." Clearly, that was the most important part. "I am issuing a moratorium on vampire-related hijinks for about a month. At least."

"What have you been up to?"

Peter gestured around the room. "This and classes," he said. "Reading some books on learning Farsi. Also some thermodynamics stuff, but that was a little dry."

"Thermodynamics? Dry? Perish the thought," Emma joked. "I hadn't thought about learning Farsi, although I can see the advantages. So far, I've found mastering French entertaining enough."

"French is nice, but the real financial powerhouses of the world mean I need to learn the other languages of the world. This is using my new knowledge of what is effectively the future for my own personal gain, but I figure it's only fair," Peter said.

"I'm ten years ahead of myself as well, but a lady is still expected to be cultured if she's a CEO. Otherwise she gets called all sorts of unmentionable names," Emma joked. "Besides, running French Club looks good on my college applications."

"And that part's all you," Peter said. "College applications I couldn't care less about. I've got better plans for the next four years of my life."

"Who says I'm going to take four years? Do I give the impression of being an average student?" Emma asked. "Although really, I'm there for the networking, and the nice little diploma that gives me some legitimacy on my own merits."

"For all I know, you're out for your doctorate," Peter said. "And diplomas are easily faked. Hell, I'll even bet you I can fake one within five years of graduation, and actually get a job that requires a degree."

"Mmmm...but faking it is so unsatisfactory," Emma deadpanned. "I suppose I want to do it just to prove I can, if that makes any sense." Too many memories of Winston telling her that she was stupid itching at the back of her skull, even if she had known better for a long time.

"Not that I have any illusions that it'll keep me out of trouble, mind you. I'm sure I'll find more than a few ways to supplement my time."

"That's what I like to hear," Peter said. "Not that I had any doubts you wouldn't be leading a boring life if you had any way of preventing it."

"Please. I don't handle boredom well," Emma scoffed, picking up one of the little green men. "And while I already knew you didn't either... invading the common room, Peter? Really? What will you do with your new territory?"

"Either really annoy the janitor, or confuse the hell out of whoever comes in tomorrow morning," Peter said. "This was not exactly a thought-through plan."

"I've never actually seen the janitor," Emma confessed. "Knowing this place, it's an army of pixies or some such, and tomorrow your small army will be marching down the halls and claiming the dorms in the name of Bishop."

"If that happens," Peter said, grinning ear to ear. "You'll be given diplomatic immunity."

"More than that, I want to be the Prime Minister," Emma bartered. "With the ability to choose my own staff."

"That's a hard bargain," Peter said. "I think you might need to give me a little more incentive for such a big promotion."

He was a sly one, that Peter Bishop.

"You mean besides the fact you'll be able to use my telepathy for your own nefarious ends?" Emma asked. "Well, make an offer, then."

"You know, I don't actually have any nefarious ends," Peter said. "I'm definitely not a dictate or end the world kind of guy. But the telepathy would come in handy, you're right."

He chuckled. "Throw in five bucks, and the position's yours."

"Monetary bribes? Really? You can do better than that," Emma chided. "That sort of thing is traceable, darling. If you want five dollars, you tell me to pick up the tab next time we're at the Perk or something. You're too clever to ask for something so dull."

"I apologize that I'm not taking our silly fantasy scenario very seriously," Peter said. "If you want really crazy ideas, I'd say you'd have to wear a uniform. Nothing too sexist, just a bit sexy. I'm sure we can come up with something."

Emma pouted slightly. "I was being attacked by werewolves a few hours ago. I need the distraction of crazy ideas, or other ways to take my mind off my friend being used as a vampire snackie."

"Okay, you neglected to mention the attacked by werewolves part of the vampire-related hijinks," Peter said. "We could try to find an actually good movie on the TV, we could go see if there's anything playing at the local theater, go for a late night ill-advised cup of coffee, or we could just go down to the beach and sit and look at the stars."

He was a bit of a romantic, sometimes.

"I might take you up on that. How does a thermos of hot chocolate and a walk on the beach sound?" she asked. "How is your constellation knowledge?"

"I know my Ursa major from my Ursa minor," Peter said. "And a few more things than that."

He gave her a charming smile. "I'm ready to go now, if you want."

"Let me go grab a jacket and some shoes first," Emma said, already heading towards the door. "I'll meet you in the lobby in ten?" It would give her enough time to change and grab her coat and a flashlight, so that they weren't trying to pick their way down the beach completely blind.

"Ten," Peter said, switching off the TV. "I'll need to get a jacket, myself."

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Third Floor Common Room | Thursday Evening | 11/18

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