fandomhighdorms | Pajama Club Meeting: First floor lobby, Tuesday after classes

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Pajama Club Meeting: First floor lobby, Tuesday after classes

Olive's pants and baby blue tank top were a lot more whimsical than she necessarily felt today, between the weekend and then dealing with stuff with Jim last night, not to mention her inner battle of stupid earlier (which, spoiler: she had been a total chicken and stupid had won and she'd slunk back to the dorms with her coffee and Trix without purposely going to see anyone. Because she sucked.)

But it was pajama club, dammit. She would put on a whimsical face for them. Plus, it'd probably help her mood, some. So the TV had cartoons on it -- not the crappy ones they showed nowadays, but the good Looney Tunes stuff she remembered being on TV sometimes when she was a kid. And there was cereal. And blankets. Let's all just make a cuddle fort, okay?

"Does anyone have any trauma to share from the weekend?" Olive asked, over her bowl of cereal. "Because I don't feel like sharing my trauma but maybe someone has a better story. Also I don't have trauma so much as irritation and relief people are gone, but I figured that 'trauma' makes for a better reason to lie around in our pajamas, am I right?"

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"Jim's cute too," Victor said, since he would own his cuteness any day. "Right? I mean, good for them, I guess."

"But," he continued more thoughtfully, "it's kind of lame of her to come all this way and then not hang out with you. Anyhow, she didn't hit on me that much. I think she, um, maybe thought I was into you."

Which was COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS, of course. Really.

Olive blushed a deep red under her freckles, her ears sort of ringing at that last bit. She would have to murder Rhi...or, maybe not. She wasn't sure yet. Because if nothing else, she'd apparently had a conversation that Olive had been sort of afraid to have herself.

"Oh, really?" she asked, forcibly casual. "That's...funny. She's always deciding that about people. There was a guy at the mall who worked at the yogurt place who she was sure was like, in love with me." She prodded some soggy cereal, just for something to do other than look at him because she'd probably flail herself into a small coma. "Um, why'd she think that? Any reason?"

"It was a stupid conversation," Victor warned. "So, she called you -- something I'm not repeating because it'll sound way worse from me, but you can probably guess, and I said I liked you that way." What was he supposed to do, stand there and argue with Rhiannon about whether Olive was or was not a moody-ass bitch? "And then she decided I was into you and got all weird about your hair and your ex."

He took another bite of cereal. "And then you rescued me before she could decide to marry us off or ... whatever. So -- yogurt guy, huh? Did he give you extra Oreo crumbs on your sundae?"

He was a master of distraction.

Edited 2012-10-03 02:17 (UTC)

"Oh, she's always calling me a bitch," Olive offered, smiling a little around a spoonful of cereal. "Or a whore. Or whatever. She thinks it's affectionate. I've tried to tell her it's not but you might've picked up on how her listening skills lack a bit. But that sounds about right. She seems to take it as a personal insult that I remain as pure and innocent as I was when I left Ojai, and thinks it's Todd-related."

Which wasn't necessarily particularly pure or innocent. Maybe by a technicality.

"And no, yogurt guy just had something in his gaze that apparently said that he loved himself a pair of pointy elbows. Direct quote from her. I don't know."

"I never knew elbow preferences were a thing," Victor said, and now he kind of had to tilt his head to get a better look at Olive's. "I dunno, you've only been here a month. It seems kind of early for her to decide you need to either hook up with somebody yesterday or head to the convent."

"That's my line of thinking," she said, even if there was a crush situation she was ignoring momentarily because then she'd start wallowing right here in front of said crush, "but then Rhi found herself a guy over a weekend. So she probably just honed in on you as an Olive Potential Hookup because you were the guy she talked to at that party who wasn't someone's older relative or the one she was taking home. Sorry if she made you uncomfortable."

And certainly for no reasons other than those. Absolutely, there was no truth to Rhiannon's assessment. Really. Olive was kind of not letting herself hope in that direction at all.

Edited 2012-10-03 02:53 (UTC)

"Oh, right." And now Victor was going to do his best not to look disappointed. He shouldn't have had hopes for anything more, really. "No, it's fine. Better she try to throw me at you than she try to throw my grandfather at you."

Not that he thought Dr. Pym would be interested in a student, let alone that Olive would be interested back, but the awkward of the entire situation would have forced him to bathe his brain in bleach.

"Oh, god, no. I would much prefer you." And it was only that weirdness on Saturday that halted her from adding that she preferred him to pretty much anyone else at the school. That residual awkwardness kicked up a filter between her brain and her mouth, for once. As it was, she'd still probably said more than she should have, given things. "I mean, your grandpa's a nice guy, but...grandpa. So weird. Also, I tend to go for kinda dorky, silly guys. Dr. Pym like, does not have smiling muscles."

"But he's a hero and one of the smartest people in the world," Victor said, then considered it. "... and still not a laugh riot. Plus, grandpa, kind of."

Still weird to say that. He sighed, decided to move on before he made this even more extra-super-awkward.

"Can we just be glad the weekend is over and nobody cried or shed much blood?"

Edited 2012-10-03 03:50 (UTC)

"That's where I am," Olive replied, sinking a bit lower in her blanket nest. "Recovery mode. No one's hurt and I didn't actually cry when I was threatening to. That as close to success as this weekend could be."

"I had to zap Stiles' friend who looks like me," Victor offered, remembering Olive hadn't heard this story yet. "Whole ... werewolf control thing. But he walked away and Stiles hasn't yelled at me yet, so I'm guessing he's fine."

He hoped so, anyhow. He needed to actually ask Stiles.

"So ... success there, too."

"You zapped him?" she asked, mildly alarmed. "Like...was he attacking you? Are you okay?"

Maybe being a werewolf made you stupid. That would explain Scott's dimness.

"I didn't know werewolves were a thing. I feel dumb for not thinking of that."

For someone with access to radio notes, she wasn't particularly observant sometimes.

"I never heard of it either," Victor offered. "But yeah, apparently they're a thing. I saw him going after somebody else and sort of jumped in. He calmed down after a while."

Or after electroshock therapy. Same thing.

He scratched along his jaw. "I'm fine, but I can now tell you werewolves punch really hard. So ... don't get into a fight with one."

"Dammit. There goes my Friday night," Olive said, snapping her fingers. She was still looking at him kind of curiously, though. "Do you do that kind of thing...like, a lot? Save defenseless strangers at the expense of getting werewolf-punched?"

"When I can," Victor said, with slightly self-conscious pride. "It's not like it comes up everyday, but... sure. There's no point having powers if you don't help other people."

Ah, superhero programming.

Sigh. As though Olive needed another reason to like him. "I mean, there's the side perks," she noted with a small smile. "It's not everyone who can play taser. But yeah. Help the helpless, and all that. I completely get that."

She'd used fake sex rather than superpowers, but she got it. "If you have the power to help people, you probably should. Even if most people are dickheads."

Edited 2012-10-03 23:05 (UTC)

Victor grinned back, relieved but not surprised she got it.

"And even dickheads don't deserve to die, you know?" he said. "Or ... at least not from something that isn't their own fault."

"Or suffer at the hands of even bigger dickheads," Olive noted with a small sigh. "It completely sucks when you've saved someone's ass and they're obnoxious about it. Almost enough to make me want to abandon the whole endeavor and let them deal with it, you know?"

"Absolutely," Victor said, with some feeling, and gave her a curious look. "That a situation you end up in a lot? Superheroine to dickheads?"

"Kind of," Olive hedged. "More like...favor-doer to the ungrateful. There's kind of a bullying problem at my old school and our principal tends to side with the bullies. So I helped out a few kids...get their asses kicked less, and was generally unappreciated and mocked for it."

And sometimes worse. She should have been suspicious of Anson to begin with, honestly. He was the only one who didn't get picked on who'd approached her.

"Because nobody remembers how to say thank you," Victor theorized. He wondered whether the rejected help had been part of the spiral that had lead to her burlesque performance, but he could tell none of it was her favorite thing to talk about. He'd ask later.

"That's one nice thing here. Basically no bullies."

"Yeah," Olive said, frowning a little. "I'm sort of baffled by that. Everyone's like, shockingly nice here. Like, I'm mean by comparison to most of the people here. I mean, I live with a saint."

"Someday I'm going to tell the Karolina at home she has a double here, and other-her's roommate thinks she's a saint," Victor said. "... not that I can argue much, I just think it'd make her blush a lot. Also, no way are you mean."

"I'm super-mean," she assured him. "Or at least obnoxious. I'm just not mean to you. Fine distinction."

"Then I guess I feel lucky I'm special," and there was no way to say that without smiling.

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Pajama Club Meeting: First floor lobby, Tuesday after classes

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