fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room, Late Saturday Morning

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Third Floor Common Room, Late Saturday Morning

There was oatmeal on the counter in the common room, and it looked fine. Just perfectly normal, as oatmeal should. You shouldn't be fooled, though. Isabelle had experimented with some spices there – you know, to just make it better, just in general, as you do when you're an enthusiastic amateur cook – and the end result, well, it wasn't great. At all.

As usual.

Isabelle herself was on a couch, using her phone to check out potential ideas for what she might want to do for her upcoming birthday.

Oh, and she was having cereal. Maybe that should have been a warning sign about the oatmeal.

[ooc: Open! It is never too early or late to meet Izzy or find out she can't cook. Also, entertain me. ... Now in the right place.]

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"It's classic."

Which didn't mean it was good but it'd still been something he'd liked to watch as a kid.

"But no, you don't resemble a giant yellow bird. Wouldn't wanna offend you, you might go read another book since you're such a book worm."

Of course she was. "Though, that'd be pretty dumb to take offense to. Really thin skinned and all."

"It wouldn't exactly be a compliment," Isabelle retorted. "And how many pretty girls have you met who like being called big birds?"

"I haven't exactly taken a pretty girl poll," Will quipped, shrugging. "There might be one or two out there. Unless you know everyone in the world, you can't rule it out."

But most girls probably didn't want to be compared to a big bird.

"And I probably will never take a pretty girl poll because that's a one way ticket to getting punched in the nose anyway."

"Or the throat."

Some girls were more imaginative than others. She also said that far too brightly.

This probably had something to do with why she'd beat up her fake little sib within a day of meeting him.

"You're right, it's much too dangerous."

"And I'd like to avoid any throat punching until at least my second month here."

Weird to think he might be there that long, though.

"But you seem excited at the prospect. That's...terrifying."

Not really but he could sound like he was appropriately terrified.

"No, I'm just very skilled," Isabelle replied easily. Although being terrified could also be a legitimate and appropriate reaction around her, sometimes. "I'm not going to punch you in the throat. Not unless you give me reason to."

"Not really something I'm looking to do," he said, waving a hand in the air. "So, not something I'm really worried about either, no matter how terrifying you might be."

She ranked pretty low right now but he also didn't know her. "Very skilled, though? The cooking just a subsection of that skill set?"

"Oh, it's a very minor subsection." In fact, some would have gone so far as to say it wasn't a skill she possessed at all! "My main areas of interest are elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?" he repeated since it was a word that just lent itself to prompting. "Like astronomy?"

First word that came to mind.

"No. Mythology and martial arts."

It was weird how well that worked as kind of a joke while still actually being pretty close to the truth.

"Two vastly different things," Will remarked, arching his eyebrows. "How'd you manage to get into those?"

Isabelle had an easy answer ready for that as well, which she provided while scraping the last of the cereal out of the bowl. "Oh, it's a family tradition."

Also not really a lie.

"Interesting family," Will remarked, pushing himself up so he could throw his carton of orange juice away. "Nothing like that in my family."

Lie.

"Well," Isabelle said, shrugging lazily, "we can't all be as interesting as some people are."

And Shadowhunters were plenty interesting.

"Shouldn't make assumptions like that," Will chided, wandering back over to take a look at the oatmeal. To take or not to take...

"Other ways for people to be interesting besides majoring in two completely different topics," he added after a moment.

"They're not even that different." Actually, for Shadowhunters, mythology and martial arts were intrinsically connected, for obvious reasons. But she wasn't stating that in so many words.

She was watching him check out her oatmeal. Better not look like it was disgusting any way now, Will. "And saying everyone can't be interesting is hardly an assumption."

Well, he could smell the spices and while he knew some oatmeal had cinnamon in it, he wasn't sure cinnamon smelled like this. But, he kept his face impassive.

"Everyone's interesting in their own way," he said, channeling his complete mystery of a father on that one. "And I just don't typically connect mythology and martial arts. Maybe it's a me thing. My last classes consisted of a class on realpolitik and the a class on the American ideal."

They didn't sound like much but he'd learned a lot.

Isabelle shrugged and shook her head. "Neither of those things mean anything to me." Unsurprisingly. She might've lived in New York but she came from a very different culture. "You'd think someone who's dealt with wendigo would be able to connect martial arts to that somehow."

Although maybe everyone didn't solve problems with violence.

Will shrugged a shoulder.

"Maybe it's different for me," he said, still contemplating the oatmeal. "What you see as mythology could be science fiction or fantasy to me. Admittedly, different words but similar meaning. I'd just connect the latter two with martial arts a little more easily."

The images Dave had shown him in the medical center popped into his head and he frowned down at the oatmeal.

"Not that hard to slot a wendigo into multiple places," he said, distracted. "And I'd connect mythology more easily with weaponry rather than basic martial arts."

Edited 2014-01-12 02:07 (UTC)

Isabelle snorted. "Who said anything about basic?"

Yeah, of course she was going to say something about that.

"Poor word choice," he returned with a shrug. "I know nothing about martial arts besides what I've seen on television and in movies. Point still stands."

Such a mundie.

Isabelle just shrugged. Hey, she wasn't going to argue about it. It wasn't really worth the effort, even though it might have been amusing.

Such a wrong assumption.

"If you say so," Will quipped in response to that shrug. He didn't really mind one way or another. "Good talk, very good talk."

In the end, he was just going to not take any oatmeal. The smell of spice had changed his mind.

"Nice to meet you, by the way," he added, heading for the door and flipping her a wave. "See you around."

Isabelle waved back, but sort of absently, already getting back to her phone.

Birthday things to plan.

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Third Floor Common Room, Late Saturday Morning

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