fandomhighdorms | Deck | Friday After Lunch

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Deck | Friday After Lunch

Marshall had a sheaf of printouts with him, a collection of pages on proper exercise and stretching that he'd printed out from a link sent to him by Corrine after he'd emailed her to ask her to ask Vaughn to check his email, since he hadn't gotten a response from Vaughn and figured that he probably just wasn't, y'know, as obsessive about checking it as ~~Lucas~~ ~~Corrine~~ some people he knew.

So, y'know, stretching. Between Outdoor Fitness on Mondays and Zombies on Wednesday -- and the homework for Zombies, ugh -- Marshall figured he might as well do things right, so he was trying to follow along with the print-outs as he stretched in preparation for a run. 'Trying' should be stressed; it's not like he had all that much experience, after all.

Please, someone come and help him. Or point and laugh; that works, too.

[Open deck is open! Tautological sentence is tautological!]

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"Uniforms aren't so bad," Marshall said. "My last school had them. I mean, we didn't have to wear short-shorts or anything..."

He shrugged. "I mean, it's nice to be able to wear what I want, but there are advantages to uniforms, too."

"What'd your uniforms look like?" Sam asked curiously. "I get all my info from TV and they always look uncomfortable and way too starched. And obviously, TV never lies..."

Sam knew TV lied all the time so he laughed to show he didn't really think TV was the be all end all of things.

"Well, I wouldn't call them the heights of comfort, but they were okay. Like, blue shirt, tartan tie, burgundy jacket (http://media.photobucket.com/image/recent/Ryder0/Strange.jpg)?" Marshall shrugged. "At least you never had to think about what to wear in the morning. And we didn't have to wear them all the time -- only during school hours."

"Okay, yeah, those are some benefits of uniforms I hadn't really thought about," he agreed, nodding. "Less laundry to do too and when you suck at laundry, like I do, that's a good thing. You bring the uniform with you to this place?"

"Nah. No point, really." Marshall shook his head.

"I mean, if there isn't a uniform, why bother wearing one?"

"I dunno," Sam said and snickered. "In case the laundry machines here eat all your clothes? Sort of an emergency outfit. I thought everyone had one of those."

No, he didn't. Sam didn't know why he was making stuff up on the fly but he was. It was fun to pretend he was normal.

"... There's a trick to that," Marshall pointed out. "Don't put all of your clothes in the washing machine at once."

"Yeah, but that's the easy way," Sam laughed and shook his head. "And who's to say you're gonna have money for that? Feeding quarters into a washing machine to do five loads of laundry can get expensive. I've lived that way before. Sometimes, it was a choice between food or laundry."

That wasn't entirely untrue though they'd always found a way to eat. "Or we'd just go over to my mom's house and mooch off of her."

Marshall blinked. "Oh. I've never... That's never really been an issue for me, I guess."

"Flush in the wallet, huh?" Sam guessed. He was still getting used to his newfound wealth. The urge to feed quarters into washing machines at the laundromat was still there.

"No, it's-" Marshall stammered. "Not really. Just... Lived at home, and then there was laundry at Blake Holsey."

When Marshall stammered, Sam wondered if he'd hit a sore spot but he wasn't gonna push especially on a first meeting.

"I dropped out of school so I had to fend for myself for awhile. And considering I thought that meant getting a job at a fast food joint, my clothes often smelled like grease which meant many late nights at the laundromat. I still think I smell like grease sometimes."

Not a sore spot, so much as that Marshall felt a little flustered over the fact that, if not rich, he was still well-off enough to not worry about things like whether he was spending his money on laundry or food. It felt a little awkward to be all, 'Yeah, I went to this private school with uniforms.'

Marshall took an exaggerated sniff. "No, no grease," he assured Sam, offering a smile. "Must have done enough laundry."

"Or taken enough showers," he quipped easily. "I haven't really worked there in months but the smell kind of sticks even if I was banned from fryer. You burn a few burgers and you're permanently stuck at the register, taking orders. So unfair."

"Oh, completely," Marshall agreed. "Totally unfair!"

He leaned back, stopping the stretching. "So where're you from?" he asked. "Anywhere near here?"

"Seattle. I'd say it's halfway across the country but considering where we are, I don't think that's true anymore. Halfway across the world maybe?"

He didn't do geography. He'd known where his apartment was and that was good enough. "What about you? Close by?"

Marshall shook his head. "Ottawa. It's, uh, up north? Canada."

"Never been. Heard it's cold though," Sam quipped with a light smile. "How'd you end up down here? Pretty long trip for you, isn't it? Passports and customs and all that time consuming stuff."

"It is not cold!" Marshall fumed. "I mean, okay, during the winter, yes, but it's not like it's the Arctic or anything! We have hot summers!"

Not that this was a sore spot or anything.

[Off for at least a couple of hours -- SP?]

"No offense meant, no offense meant," Sam said hastily, holding up a hand. "Guess you hear that a lot, don't you? It's gotta be either that or quips about hockey."

[Works for me since I'm probably gonna have to sleep soon!]

Marshall nodded. "Usually at the same time," he explained. "Sorry, didn't mean to bite your head off.

"Although I guess when you use a sane temperature scale, you have to forgive people when they think it drops seventy degrees the minute you cross the border."

"No, no, it's okay," Sam said, waving off the apology. "It's cool. I think every place has their stereotypes. Canada's are just more...well known than other places. Cold, hockey and maybe good bottled water. Seattle's just got rain and a sucky football team."

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Deck | Friday After Lunch

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