fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [01/27].

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Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [01/27].

Well. The normalcy around here had been nice...while it lasted.

Wayne should have expected he'd been having it going a bit too easily around here lateleh, so he didn't feel too terribly surprised when he walked into the common room that morning to get a start on breakfast and found that all of the cabinets had been turned into foam.

Which...well. The stove and fridge were all still normal, but one couldn't help looking at the mugs and plates and bowls just shoved into these new design features without worrying a bit about the basic structural integrity of the thing and just feeling generally uncomfortable about it in general. It seemed to be working fine fer right now, but just seemed like not so good an idea and he was really hoping it was just a little Fandom blip of weirdness and not something that was intended to stay.

Perhaps it was a good thing, too, that the foam kitchen was so distracting that Wayne hadn't even noticed the temporary upholsery work on the couch.

[[ open breakfast is open, and I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY, PERSON WHO KNOWS WHO SHE IS ]]

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Nina had spent most of yesterday working on Mae's gloves and her class and then she'd woken up, today, feeling achy and lethargic with an incipient cold or flu (she couldn't tell which yet) and she sort of dragged herself to breakfast, dismally, only to lean in the common room, take a bleary look around, and dissolve into giggles.

It didn't make her feel better but, at the same time, it did.

[:D :D :D]

Edited 2020-01-27 14:20 (UTC)

And Wayne frowned, because it was one thing to have the common room acting all fruity-loops, and another thing entirely to have Nina...not.

The giggles were a good sign, though, but not as good as her usual exuberance and greeting would have been.

"Nina," he said, with a tone of warning in it, and suspicion, "....how are ya now?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!!!!!!!" she protested. "How are you???????"

Nina was, however, making her way to the couches rather than over to the kitchen for food.

…

"………. why are the couches jeans??????????????"

She was still going to sit on it, but really now…

"Oh, not so bad," Wayne drawled in response to the first (and important) question, and then grunted a bit before getting to the second (and not so important, in his opinion) question, the one that required him to look over and actually notice the couch, which then prompted another disapproving grunt.

Of course it was denim.

"And fuck if I know," he admitted. "Why the fuck does anything around here do anything? Stove still works, though, so that's what matters. Fix you up a plate, Nina?"

He would not say that she looked like she could use a good meal and some rest and a good dose of that vitamin C in the orange juice she usually helped herself to, but he felt it wasn't needed to be said, it was implied in his tone and his squint.

And she probably could use all those things, it was true, but the idea of eating her usual sort of breakfast made her feel a bit nauseous just considering it.

"No, thank you," she said, resting her chin against the arm of the couch. "I'm not very hungry today!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'll just, like, revel in your company……….."

"Breakfast," Wayne stated, with a skeptical squint at that last part, "is the most important meal of the day, Nina, and you've got a big day ahead of you, what with yer class and all! You've got to at least eat a little something. Some fruit, or mebbe some eggs. That's good protein."

The idea of eggs sounded revolting right now.

"I guess I could do fruit………..," she said doubtfully.

Well, then, Wayne was just going to go ahead and put some fruit on a plate for Nina, right along side the toast he'd had the foresight to pop into the toaster so that it was just about ready to pop up in time for him to go pass it on over to her, handing it over with a nod.

"Fruit it is!" he declared. "And you knows what they say, Nina. If you don't take care of a cold, she'll stay for seven days. But, if you take care of it, she'll be gone in a week."

Nina stared at her plate, wondering if it was worth the effort to note that she hadn't said anything at all about toast as well as fruit…

It was Wayne.

… It was probably not worth the effort.

"…isn't that just saying that it'll be around for a week either way???"

And the fact that Nina would even consider it not worth the effort would be all the evidence Wayne needed to prove his theory about her being quite a bit under the weather.

He was, it should be noted, just trying to look out for her.

"More or less," he agreed. "Either way, how 'bout some orange juice? At least some water?"

And it was sweet, it really was, but she was both unused to that sort of thing and also still had to host class today.

"I guess orange juice might be nice," Nina allowed, since it would be easier to cope with than the whole actually chewing and swallowing bit right around now.

And it was just the fact that Wayne suspected Nina still planned to host her class today even if she was feeling a bit under the weather was the whole reason Wayne was being so...Wayne about it.

He might not be Nina's big brother, but he was someone's, and old habits died hard, especially when they came stubbornly dyed in the wool flannel.

And so, lo and behold, in just the few shakes of a lamb's tail, there was a glass of OJ being passed on over to.

"Way ya go," said Wayne. "That should help."

Sabine took two steps in and said, "Uhhh."

And to that, Wayne could only have but one response: to go about his business as usual like nothing at all was amiss or questionable or mildly troubling.

"Sabine," he greeted her with a nod. "How are ya now?"

"Good, why are things foam."

It was barely a question but also necessary.

Was it really, though? Was it really necessary, Sabine?

Wayne let out a low growl somewhere deep in his throat.

"Because why the fuck not," he stated, sounding just a bit annoyed at the fact that this even needed to be discussed. "Why does anything wind up goin' the way it goes 'round here? Mebbe the room wanted to redecorate. Mebbe it was jus' feelin' particularleh soft. Who the fuck even knows? But I'll do ya one better, Sabine: do we even wants to know?"

"I really do, yeah," she admitted, nodding.

And there was really only one follow-up to a response like that.

"Well," said Wayne, emphatically, "what fer?"

"Because I like understanding things. And I want to know if the things inside the foam are also foam, and if not, what makes them special?" she explained.

"Seems to me," said Wayne, who, at this point, started fixing up a plate despite them not having gotten to point, but fixing plates was something he understood, so it was always a good place to start, "that tryin' to make sense of half the stuff that goes on here is like taking a shortcut to crazy town. Mebbe," and now the plate was full, and so he passed it on to Sabine, "if the foam were still here tomorrow, then I'd understand wantin' to understand why that particular redesign choice, but I feel as though, until that point, odds are it'll be cleared up and back to normal in the A.M., so what's the point in worrgin' about it?"

"I'm not worrying," she said, taking the plate "but I am wondering. And will continue to wonder. Thank you."

Wayne nodded his yer welcome as she took the plate, since it sort of went without saying, realleh.

"And jus' how many," he proposed, "of the weird things that go on around here have you gotten those answer fer, anyhow? Jus' seems a bit of a waste to botherin' thinkin' about things that can't really be answered. If you do figgur it ouwt, though," he nodded again, "more power to ya."

"Few if any of those things. I still wonder, though," Sabine shrugged. "Some people are just inquisitive."

Wayne took a moment to consider this. "Fair enough," he allowed, "I s'pose, but some things prolly are also best left unanswered, every now'n'again, too."

There was...a pause.

"'Specially 'round here."

"Sometimes. It's more fun to think about it, though." This was what happened to a creative brain that was also too damn smart.

And Wayne was what you got when a brain was far more practical than creative, but plenty smart in its own right, too.

Which was why Sabine was getting a look that passed from the foam cabinets with their cups and plates just shoved right in back to her, with an arch of his eyebrow that begged to asked the question of just what was so fun about thinking about that.

"Saaaaaaaabiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiineeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," Nina whined plaintively, from where she was curled up on the couch of pants. "Take my fruit, please???"

And her toast.

She'd only agreed to them because Wayne had been all Wayne about it.

She didn't want them.

"What's wrong with your fruit?" Sabine asked. She could make a guess.

"I'm not hungry," she said, a touch sulkily.

She should probably eat.

Mostly she'd been moping at her plate and wishing she'd brought Foomy with her to eat it for her.

"Have you eaten at all?" Sabine asked her.

………..

"Does orange juice count????" she tried, with the air of someone who didn't really expect that to work, but who nonetheless hoped.

"Nope. So you should probably try some fruit," Sabine told her.

Ugh.

"Why are you betraying me……….," she complained.

"It's literally for your own good," said Sabine, who'd apparently turned her Big Sister on.

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Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [01/27].

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