fandomhighdorms | Fifth Floor Common Room, Thursday Afternoon

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Fifth Floor Common Room, Thursday Afternoon

A new week, a new term, new classes... and an old card game.

So far, Atton didn't have much to complain about regarding his classes (except for all the things he did complain about) but he was pretty glad they were over for the week. After all, the school had flooded with a bunch of new students who, presumably, didn't know how to play pazaak so good (or at all). So now he was stretching out in the common room, watching something called The Real Hustle (or whatever) while playing a friendly game of cards against himself.

Good. Friendly. Accessible! He might even switch to poker if you asked real nice. He was a nice guy like that.

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"Total douchebag." She and Jackson probably weren't going to become the best of friends. "Old Lace tried to jump on him without me even telling her to. He probably gives off some kind of jerk vibe."

Lizard vibe, Gert. Lizard.

"He bathes in eau du jerk," Jim joked, nodding. "Did you see what I was talking about with the preppiness and all? Or was he not sticking his nose in the ear because of the dinosaur?"

"I got the idea from how conceited he was," Gert replied. "And his inability to decide which way he wanted to insult Old Lace. 'Little pet' and 'oversized lizard' aren't even close to the same thing."

Gert felt personally compelled to grammar-lawyer people whenever possible, yes.

Edited 2013-01-10 19:16 (UTC)

"He's a total winner," Jim said, all sarcasm. "I'm sorry you had to meet him but I do like being right about people. If you ever wanna mess with him, just make the excuse of coming to see me even if I'm not there."

"As much as I'd love to have the pleasure of his company again, I think I'll probably pass," Gert said dryly. "If only because he seemed to have the impression I especially wanted to come back soon."

Jim snickered and shook his head. "Don't worry, you're not the only one that doesn't wanna come visit him. He makes friends left and right, I swear. As far as I'm concerned, he's the worst you're gonna find on this island."

And he was harmless if annoying.

"Lucky me," Gert said dryly. "Except really. He sucks."

Charming, Gert.

"So you have any idea how to play this game?" she asked, nodding toward Atton's cards.

"I don't even know what he's playing," Jim admitted with a shrug. "You got any idea?"

"Not solitaire," she offered back. "I've never gotten the point of playing a game against myself. What's the point of not competing?"

"My thoughts exactly," Jim agreed. "Because then I can't win and who doesn't wanna win?"

He wanted to win everything.

"Exactly," Gert agreed. "Not that I have any shot of winning this one, so I'm just watching."

"Yeah, I'd like to have at least an idea of what's going on before diving in," Jim agreed. He watched Atton for a little longer. "Though, I'm not much for cards anyway. Kinda boring."

"What do you prefer?" It was a valid question. "Oh, right, you do the whole spaceship thing. Is there a NASCAR version of that?"

"I like anything fast," Jim confirmed. "Fast cars, fast fights, fast anything. It's a little more exciting than sitting and playing cards or sitting and meditating about life."

"Sitting has its appeal for me," Gert said. "Not so much meditating. But the only way you'll get me in a fast-moving vehicle is if we're escaping an explosion."

Oddly specific, Gert, but okay.

"That something you have to do often?" Jim asked because that was pretty damn specific.

She shrugged. "Maybe every so often."

"Sounds like you have a story or two," Jim remarked. "Like just about everyone else in this place. You causing the explosions or running away from the bad guys?"

"Metaphorical explosions," Gert clarified. "And metaphorical getaway vehicle. But closer to the latter."

She hadn't decided yet exactly how upfront she wanted to be about her backstory now that she was here, but not that upfront, apparently.

"What's your story?" Since he'd said just about everyone here had one, and all.

"I'm one of the people that doesn't have a story."

That was a lie.

"Just a kid from a farm in the future."

"Right." It wasn't that she was suspicious about him not having a story, more that she couldn't picture him being from a farm. "Good to know there are still plants in the future, I guess."

"Hey, I'd be a little concerned about how we'd be breathing if there weren't," Jim remarked. "It'd be a little difficult."

"Don't ask me," Gert said. "I just know if one of the crazy-rich scientists in my world takes that up as a challenge, by the time I get home there probably won't be trees anymore." That might be a tiny bit hyperbolic, Gert. Just a bit.

"Well, there's no one in my future that's done that yet," Jim said, shrugging. "There are still farms, still trees, still tire swings. There's just spaceships taking off in the background and aliens."

"Well, we have those. More of the aliens than the spaceships." All the cool aliens took interdimensional portals these days. It was a thing.

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pursuedthestars - 2013-01-11 01:38 (UTC) - Expand

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