Kitty
Kitty laughs along with Boone, but runs a hand though her messy hair awkwardly; is he laughing at her? Does she really look that tragic, right now? She shakes her head a little, and tries to brush the thought away. She'd never bothered about looking like a dope in the name of literature before, it's silly to start fussing over herself just for Boone.
He asks why she's come to visit him so early, and she's about to say that she'd come about something that's hot and wet and far more interesting than paperwork, but then realises that it sounds...extremely inappropriate, and before she can think of something else to say in reply, Chloe rushes into the room, spraying her with water as she passes. Kitty raises her hand to her, now damp, face. Now she looks even more ridiculous in front of Boone. Fabulous. Chloe speaks so fast that the whole speech becomes one long word, and Kitty's eyebrow raises of it's own accord; at eighteen, Chloe's maybe a little old to appreciate being called 'cute', but she certainly looks it right now, while she's dripping wet and clinging to Boone like a long-lost sibling. Chloe splashes her with water again on her way out, and leaves a puddle on the classroom floor where she'd been standing.
She grins back at him when he insists that he's not as popular as he seems, "Don't worry. I know it's all political." she gestures at the notice scrawled on his board, "They're probably just trying to sweeten you up for good marks." she quips. She considers asking him, if a hug buys you a passing mark, what will a kiss get? But quickly disregards the idea; he might think she's trying to imply something...Gods, why is she so tangled right now?!
She takes the mug from him gratefully, "Mmmm..." she breathes it in; Boone's private stash of coffee smells much better than the crappy, school canteen variety, "You're a lifesaver, Boone." She glances down at his shirt at almost snorts into her coffee - there's a Chloe-shaped patch of damp. "Here." she takes the roll of paper from him, "Let me." She dabs at his shirt with a wad of tissue. "So...how are you? it's a little awkward to converse with him while she's so close, basically groping him in the name of tidiness.
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Sinclair
Sinclair is woken for the second time that morning by someone outside his bedroom door. He can hear them shuffling about outside before they speak. It's Rhea. He curses under his breath; he can't just ignore her and go back to sleep. "Hang on a sec." he calls out loud enough for her to hear him from the other side of the door as he heaves himself out of his nice, warm bed. Yesterday's jeans and shirt are lying in a crumpled pile at the foot of his bed, so he pulls them on quickly to cover his modesty before he answers the door. "Sorry. I was sleeping...obviously." he leans against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest, "Did Keating send you to get me? Or is this just a social call? Because you know I need by beauty sleep." he raises a questioning eyebrow at Rhea.