fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room, Saturday Morning

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Third Floor Common Room, Saturday Morning

Peter prided himself in being able to adapt to any situation in a short span of time. By the end of this week, he was genuinely no longer thrown by their current location. Skeptical of half the stories that had been told him, yes, but a touch of healthy skepticism had never helped anyone.

He'd also noticed the importance everyone here seemed to put on their friendships with one another. Their little common room get-togethers. And, wel, it was obvious he was already a little behind, PR-wise, here. So what else could he do but move his ass to the common room in the morning and set out some cereal? Enough to make it look like a properly catered breakfast.

It took a little planning, sure. But if his brother had managed to make friends here - of course he had - then he'd just have to pretend to be just as loveable as Ender to get ahead.

So, cereal, a stack of plates, bread, stuff like that. And Peter with a bowl of cornflakes, watching the news.

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Alexander considered, decided that he, at least, should very much like eggs over cereal, and then gave a nod, going almost mechanically for where the pan was kept. "I feel," he said, "that perhaps the breakfast is lacking some, and they're simple enough. Would you like to partake in any?"

"I definitely wouldn't be saying no to some eggs," Peter said, grinning. He sat on back. "I've had cereal, but I'm a growing boy, and it is such a staple."

Laying it on a little thick, Wiggin.

"A lot more nutritious than some of these more convenient options, such as cereal," noted Alexander, trying not to sound too judgmental toward such things. He could easily come to appreciate any food, but some things just didn't seem to agree with him as much as...actual food. "How do you prefer them? Over easy? Sunny side up? Scrambled?"

"Scrambled," Peter said. Not because he had any particular favorite kind of egg, but because it sounded like the generally more difficult option.

Not that he knew anything about eggs. "So how long have you lived on this floor?"

Scrambled it was, then, which meant that Alexander might take the liberty to enjoy cooking and make them a little bit more than just eggs, too, with cheese and maybe some peppers and onions and...

He liked cooking, okay? It took on a whole new feeling when you weren't doing it for tyranical, meglomaniac wi--

--wait.

"Oh, for a while now," Alexander said. "I moved down from the fourth not too long after starting; my mother did not quite approve of my having a female roommate. Are you also a resident of this floor, or merely visiting a different common room for a little change in scenery?"

"I moved in here last month," said the boy who was not a tyrannical, megalomaniac anything right now outside his little blogosphere bubble. Please don't point this out to him - it's a sore spot. "But it's been a very welcoming place so far, and look, I still haven't been proven wrong about that."

"You're not likely to be proven wrong on that," Alexander agreed. "It's a very nice place, filled with mostly good people. I'm Alexander, by the way; I live down in 316."

"Peter," he offered. "318. So that makes you my neighbour, I think. Clearly I haven't been getting out enough."

"On the other hand," Alexander offered, "neither have I. With the island moving so much, I've been keeping myself fairly busy."

"Spending a lot of time off the causeway?" Peter said. "Tokyo's an awful place, isn't it?"

Alexander suppressed a shudder. "It has certainly not been my favorite locale so far," he admitted. "So I've been finding more reasons to stay inside more than anything else lately. But Iceland and Alexandria; I found them utterly fascinating. Tokyo is far more terrifying, to be honest. I am...very unaccustomed to so many people in so little space, and the machinery is incredibly overwhelming. I am....from a much simpler time."

Peter made a quick mental note of that - some people just shared this stuff way too easily, really. "Couple of centuries back?" he guessed. "I'm not a big time travel expert."

Alexander took a moment to think, before giving a rueful smile and scrabbling Peter's eggs. "Closer to half a millennium, I believe, if you calculate by which period in this planet's history best matches my own. Probably more. My world is completely different than this one, though. It's rather fascinating how it all came to be, how my mother even knew this place existed..."

And yet a whole kingdom could not be found. How did that make any sense? It didn't.

Babble babble babble fascinating babble different world babble.

"My mother just found herself a nice folder," Peter said, with a not-entirely-genuine smile. "Maybe yours found a piece of parchment?"

Alexander chuckled, taking the cheesy scrambled eggs off the head and sliding them onto a plate. "Ye Olde Fandome Highe," he said. "No better training ground for young princes and scholars and demi-gods and witches."

He passed the plate over, in a fashion probably a little too natural to really be as joking as he intended. "Your eggs, sir."

Man, this guy must work catering or something. And 'sir'-- Peter liked the sound of that.

He took the plate. "So which one are you?" he asked, hiding the real curiosity under the guise of friendly conversation. "Prince, scholar, demi-god, or witch?"

And Alexander really had gotten quite comfortable with conversations like this, but not entirely enough to be completely honest about everything. Besides, there was quite a bit of pride for two of those options, and very little for the third.

"Both answers A and B," he answered with a smile. "And you, Peter?"

"Oh, I aspire to option B," Peter said, lightly. Though now the question popped up: prince of what, exactly?

There was a lot of royalty among the juvie bait here. "But that's about it."

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Third Floor Common Room, Saturday Morning

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