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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"Plus, neither of us even did anything that emb-" -- he cut himself off when she laughed. "Oh, wow, I am so glad you like it. Seriously. I figured either you'd be into it ... or you'd start checking under my bed for jars of eyeballs."

He thought she probably knew he wasn't a serial killer, but he had given her a necklace of an anatomical heart. So.

"Um, no, it's hilarious," Olive told him, shaking her head as she flipped her hair out of the way so she could put the necklace on. "I'm not really...hearts-and-flowers girl, generally, 'cause I think they're fake and dumb, so." Once she had the clasp done, she reached out to tug him closer -- gifts and birthdays all added up to makeouts, right?

She thought so.

"Yeah, I figured if I was giving you a heart it had to be kind of twisted," Victor told her as he watched her get the clasp into place. "Otherwise it's just way too cheesy for you."

Birthdays were definitely kissing occasions, so it was hardly difficult to persuade him to lean in and enthusiastically kiss her back.

"So when do I have to be on my game for you?" Olive asked, pulling back just a bit before nudging her nose against his. "February, right? I'm glad to get a few months to think up something good."

Olive was bad at gifts, generally. And remembering dates. It was the sort of perfect storm that required a few months' planning.

Victor wasn't going to answer until he stole another kiss. "February 16th," he confirmed, a long moment later. "So you could roll it into Valentine's day and get me a moped or something. I wouldn't mind."

"You wouldn't mind that?" Olive asked, amused. "How 'bout a Vespa? I hear those are traditional for a first Valentine's Day together. Plus, fun colors and I can ride on the back."

She thought ahead.

"If it's tradition, I'll take one as long as you don't make it pink," Victor bantered in return. "Just 'cause it'd clash with your hair."

"But you seem like such a 'pink' sort of guy," Olive mused. "It'd all be very European of us. I'll have to start drinking cappuccinos and wearing scarves."

"Saying 'ciao,'" Victor added. "And totally not looking like assholes for doing it, because we're European so we're allowed. Sure, you changed my mind. I want a pink Vespa now."

He managed not to laugh while he said this.

"How will we assure people we're not just American hispters?" Olive wondered. "I'd hate to be mistaken for something so bourgeois."

Using the word 'bourgeois' was probably a good start.

"You could wear a beret," Victor suggested helpfully.

Pretentious Americans never, ever wore those.

"Maybe I should start smoking and stop recycling, because caring about my health and that of the planet? Also super-American," Olive mused.

Fifth Floor Common Room [Tuesday afternoon onwards]

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