fandomhighdorms | The Roof [Thursday evening]

So. She was really, obviously,stupid to think that things would be different here, right? Like...she could just have friends here, and be happy, and oh, god, last week she'd had a party and people had come and no one had made fun of her or paid her at all, and she had a homecoming date, and --

Well. Probably not, anymore. Olive was back to feeling just as ostracized as she had back in Ojai. And it wasn't even that she was embarrassed about what she'd done -- that was a little bit of it, sure. But the reason she was up here on the roof, crying, her knees tucked up to her chest -- and crap, now the cliches were following her, too -- was that she'd gotten used to things just being...normal here. And now the whole thing had followed her after all, and there was a common room of people she actually cared about laughing at her all trussed up in lingerie, who all knew about all of the lying.

So, yeah. Cliche or not, she would just sit here and feel sorry for herself, and then run back down to her room and pack her things before Karolina could notice she was gone. Or something. That didn't seem like the most intelligent course of action, but she couldn't think clearly at the moment.

[totally open, obviously.]

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"What's a Twilick?" Olive asked, taking a chip but not eating it. People were apparently just going to bring her food tonight.

To be fair, Atton had been offering pretty much everyone Pringles tonight, mostly because he didn't want to admit to actually finding them pretty disgusting.

"Not human, two tails growing out the back of their head, any color of the rainbow, prone to making real bad decisions," he offered. "Firefights and pole dancing kind of decisions."

"You just said they have tails on their heads, Atton," Olive sighed. "My brain. Let's be mindful of it tonight. It's waterlogged. Your strippers have head-tails?"

"Head-tails," Atton confirmed. "They call them lekku, just in case you were wondering."

"Well, now I've learned something today," Olive said, managing a wobbly little smile. "It's kinda different when it's not a random alien stripper and, you know, me, but thanks."

Atton shrugged, looking casual and slightly tipsy and not at all like he'd been spending the past half hour or so puzzling out whether he'd left some kind of paper trail for some nosy not-a-printable-Twi'lek-word to find.

"I don't see the big deal," he said. "Unless there's a body buried somewhere that we still don't know about."

"No, but like...people's respect," Olive offered, quietly. "You guys all saw me in my little corsetty bullshit and now it's like...poof. Gone."

Olive was making a few assumptions, yes.

"Plus I ruined a guy's marriage. And sold my reputation for a labelmaker."

"Okay, please don't mistake this for sympathy," Atton prefaced, then plugged on into, "But one, you didn't ruin the guy's marriage, his wife did. And she tried to make you the fall guy, which, just some advice, you don't actually want to go along with that. Two, what respect? I just found out your secrets are as squeaky clean as the rest of you."

Sorry, Olive, but if that had happened to Atton instead of you, he wouldn't be out here crying. He'd have run away twenty seconds in and hoped he'd be able to reach the causeway before Sia and the Skywalker clan lightsabered him in half.

"Squeaky clean?" Olive stared at him. "You look at that and go 'squeaky clean'?"

Someone needed a touch of perspective, seriously.

"You lied about sleeping with people and in return they gave you-- what, free office supplies?" Atton said. "I mean, really. Who doesn't lie about that at least once?"

"Um, me," Olive said. "Before this, anyway. But now I'm wondering how many people I know who've made stuff up like this."

"Probably everybody. And if they haven't yet, they will," Atton said. "Feel lucky. You got this one done ahead of at least... part of the curve."

"Yeah, but I don't have anything to show for it," Olive pointed out.

"Oh, so you spend all this time sobbing about it and now you want something out of it?" Atton asked, eyeballing her. "You're a rough audience."

"There was no sobbing!" Olive said indignantly. "I had something in my eye. A leaf."

"Right," Atton said. "Guess I should start looking out for myself, seeing as how it's rabid leaf season."

Look, don't challenge his hyperbole. It only lead to sarcasm.

"Yeah, it's fall," Olive pointed out. "Leaves falling!"

It was a strong argument.

"Yeah, I can tell the roof is covered in them."

It was not.

The Roof [Thursday evening]

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