2nd Floor Common Room, Tuesday Afternoon

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Rosalind had entertained the notion of going and visiting Jono at work today, truly she had. She had even made it outside and begun the pleasant walk to town when the bears had started offering her drinks.

… That would be why Rosalind was back in the common room, idly rereading a few reports she was going to revise before sending off to Tseng. The TV played quietly in the background--on a news station, of course--and she considered that to be well enough of an effort to be relaxing.

(Rosalind was special that way.)

This month, Rosalind had decided, was quite weird enough without willingly subjecting herself to more of it. The reports made more sense and were infinitely preferable.

At least, for today.

[Ooopen as a common room is!]

Comments

[wwiii]

"Well, rearing up on their hind legs and roaring probably would have done the trick," Warren offered.

Only then he probably would have peed himself in terror. Maybe the feather damage was worth it, after all.

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"Would that have truly inclined you to take the drinks?"

Because, no, Rosalind would have shot them then.

[wwiii]

"If a giant bear was roaring in my face and trying to shove a bottle at me?"

...

"No, I probably would have tried to fly away."

At least he was honest?

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And not an idiot!

Rosalind shook her head, pushing away from the counter. "Better to get away than deal with that."

If he couldn't deal with it.

[wwiii]

He... probably couldn't deal with it. It was a difficult call. He had the healing factor, and they had the claws.

"That was my thought, too. But I think they were thinking the same thing." He sighed a little. "I'll be hours, straightening this mess out."

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"I'm sure you have practice," she said, not unkindly. "And at least there's no class."

[wwiii]

"That's true," Warren mused, "I've got plenty of time to worry about it. And it's too cold out to just go flying around casually anyhow, so there's no big rush."

Except for the fact that he looked kind of like the king of the gulls, this way.

"You know, I don't think we've ever been introduced." He offered her a little smile. "I'm Warren."

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"Unless you wish a worse mess to develop while you sleep," Rosalind noted, as she nodded back at him. "Rosalind."

And oh, Rosalind, you had no idea. Yei was the cutest little terror around.

[wwiii]

"Pleased to meet you, Rosalind," Warren replied, smiling a little more. "And I'm kind of used to waking up to worse messes, anyhow. My roommate has a kitten."

A kitten forever. Good for moments where you needed something cute around. Bad for plumage.

[give-areason.livejournal.com]

...

"...I feel almost bad for your wings," she settled on.

But not too bad. As, clearly, if he'd had a major problem with it, he'd have arranged to transfer rooms.

[wwiii]

"They've been up against worse," Warren offered, shrugging.

Like bears. And Warren himself.

"My roommate is nice enough, though. And doesn't really mind them, so I wouldn't trade her in for almost anybody."

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"Almost anybody?"

Excuse her for being amused.

[wwiii]

"Almost anybody," Warren agreed, laughing sheepishly. "I might make the trade if it was for my girlfriend, or my best friend. But I don't think I'd ever get any studying done, if I did that."

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"At least you can admit it," she said, almost lightly. "That's something."

[wwiii]

"I like to think that I'm pretty realistic about my own shortcomings," Warren chuckled with a shrug. "Growing up would have been an interesting challenge, otherwise."

His father bad pretty much pounded honesty into him with fear and a harness after walking in on Warren trying to saw off a couple of extraneous body parts.

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She arched an eyebrow curiously.

And wondering if he'd respond to that. Call it a very minor experiment.

[wwiii]

A minor experiment in how easily nudged into babbling to fill empty air Warren was?

Very!

"I have a kind of overbearing father," he explained, kind of hedging around the worst of it while still being completely honest. "A businessman, you know?"

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"I can sympathize," she said, with a bob of her head. "My father has his own tendencies in that direction."

No, Rosalind. Your father lived on the far end of that scale. Overbearing was too kind of a word.

[wwiii]

"Not that I really mind being next in line for the family business or anything," Warren added quickly. "It's just, that kind of thing just sort of stick with a person, you know?"

He imagined she did, considering she was talking to him about how her own father was like that, too. Duh, Warren.

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Be glad, Warren. Rosalind was taking pity on you by not doing more than raising an eyebrow at that comment.

"What sort of family business?"

[wwiii]

"Pharmaceuticals," Warren replied, shrugging. "Painkillers, antihistamines, vaccines, things like that."

And a lot of things that weren't like that at all.

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She cast a glance at him. "And you? Do you care for such things?"

[wwiii]

Warren gave Rosalind a smile that was about as wry as he could manage.

"I would be lying if I said that I was excited about the prospect of inheriting something like that," he admitted. "Anyhow, I think things are a bit of a mess between my dad and I now. I'm probably better off without."