fandomhighdorms | Fifth Floor Common Room [Tuesday afternoon onwards]

Eighteen wasn't so different from seventeen thus far, except for the fact that it was kind of a big day to be turning eighteen. Olive had gone out and done her civic duty earlier that day, and somehow the rite of casting her very first vote hadn't been all that exciting. Maybe she was too cynical, or maybe she was too ADHD in general. Either way, she'd spent most of her time in line, texting, before finally, painstakingly filling out her ballot.

She was now in the common room, as she'd emailed she would be, with a festive birthday hat cocked to one side on her head. She'd put on NBC -- though at eleven she'd change it to Comedy Central, because Jon Stewart was both more palatable and kind of hot -- and was vaguely watching the screen in between texting with Rhiannon (who was waiting in her own voting line -- god help them all.)

There was a stack of pizzas as well as some ~~moddable~~ snacks and drinks, and Olive was fine with going ahead and terming this a 'party.' As long as no one brought a case of beer again, Sparkle. And...Cade. And Atton. (It was hard to be narratively accusing when there were so many guilty parties last time.)

[party is open to alllllll.]

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"I'll even throw in a free dance to go with it," Sparkle offered, demonstrating with a quick one-two step that probably would have looked slightly less silly with actual music to go with it. "And sparklers. I have so many Sparklers Olive oh my god nothing cheers people up like miniature explosions at the ends of sticks, right? But you'll have to hold those, I can't really play my whistle with fireworks in my hands."

"You're like, a one-man show," Olive said, eyes wide. "I can hold the sparklers, because yeah, no one hates those. It'd totally cap off my birthday if we set off the sprinklers or something, though."

"That shouldn't be a problem unless you're waving the sparklers around the ceiling," Sparkle pointed out, throwing back his head and laughing. "Oh, man, but wouldn't that rock? Now you have me half tempted to try!"

... Don't let him, Olive. He would.

"Wait until things get rowdy later," Olive suggested wisely, nodding. "It'll settle things down. Crowd control!"

"So the sprinklers are for when too many people have had too much fireball?"

Because yes, Sparkle had brought whiskey to the party. Why?

Olive lifted a brow. "I am so not having any of that. The last thing I need is a MIP on my eighteenth birthday."

Oh, Olive. You're no fun.

Sparkle sniffed and put his nose into the air.

"You can save it one more year," he noted, "and then blame it on the Torontonian. Next year if you were in Ontario, I'd totally be getting you smashed to celebrate being of legal drinking age."

... Meanwhile, Sparkle was three years away from legal in Ontario himself, and that really didn't stop him.

"You know," Olive pointed out, "if I get my way, I'll be in SoCal for college, and...Mexico's right there. Their drinking age is 'Can you see over the bar?'"

It probably really said a lot about Sparkle's frame of mind when the first thing out of his mouth at that statement was, "You know, I've never been arrested in Mexico before..."

... And that was probably a good thing, Sparkle.

"Do you have, like, a checklist?" Olive wondered.

"It's a long checklist," Sparkle replied, shrugging his shoulders. "But so far the only blank filled in is Canada. Did you know it's actually really difficult to piss someone off enough to get yourself arrested around here?"

"That's comforting," Olive decided. "Try the mainland to get your American arrest on?"

"There's a thought," Sparkle mused. "Trouble with the mainland is that probably means I'll get shipped back to Canada. I mean, what with me not having like a... what, a visa or whatever? They don't care about crap like that here on the island, but apparently the rest of America is kind of anal about that sort of thing."

And, truth be told, Sparkle really didn't want to end up in prison or anything. He just wanted 'got in shit with the law' bragging rights.

"I could greencard-marry you!" Olive offered. "I think sixteen is the age of consent for that kind of thing around here."

Clearly the best solution. Clearly.

Sparkle needed a moment to kind of digest that one.

"You know, you've almost got me tempted? Don't know how Victor would like that, though."

Since the guy had personally thanked him for making Olive prettier, and therefore that much happier, for homecoming.

"I don't see no ring on this finger," Olive said, like a person who usually used impeccable grammar, so. "And we're just like, dating all...casually or whatever, anyway. But more to the point, I think Victor would be in favor of you not getting sent back to Canada, and a marriage of convenience would be permissible."

"And it's not like I'm going to get all possessive over you or anything," Sparkle agreed, grinning a bit. "I mean, no offence or anything, but I like you way better with Victor."

For, you know, reasons.

"We are sort of generally adorable," Olive noted. "I prefer that too But you and me? We could be like, a power couple of semi-controlled greencard-induced chaos. You ever need a fake marriage, I am there."

Pause.

"Unless Victor needs one more. I think he gets dibs." She had no idea why he'd need one, BUT HE STILL GOT DIBS.

"Fair enough," Sparkle laughed. "I wouldn't want to deny Victor first dibs on his casual lady or anything like that. That's how you know I'm a gentleman, you know. Best Canada has to offer."

... Or something.

Fifth Floor Common Room [Tuesday afternoon onwards]

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