Victoria Hughes's Story

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Morning hit her like a truck. She rolled over with a groan, hitting against something flat and cold. It was a cellphone but not one she recognized. Where was hers? Peeling back the covers, she shielded herself from the daylight with her arm. It did nothing. She blindly stumbled onto the floor, pawing at her nightstand for her sunglasses. Her lovely "hangover" glasses were large and black, protecting her from the cruelty of the sun. Armed with those, she could better address the night before. There was a party. There was alcohol. And there was definitely a lot of cute people. But it didn't give her any clues as to whose phone she had. And the more she looked at it, the less she knew. So she decided to do the smart thing and get ready. She pulled on a black tank top, a black sweatshirt and camo pants, paired with her boots. She looked like she was about to go to war and with a headache clanging inside her skull, she felt like it too.

She headed towards the communal kitchen and already people were milling about, being far more cheerful than they needed to be. She spotted Victoria immediately. "My savior!" she said, heading towards her adorable protege. "Would you be a dear and make me some oatmeal too? With some yogurt and granola and some fruit... and no oatmeal?" she grinned, pulling out the coffee to give it a sniff. It smelled stale but that wasn't unusual. It was warm at least. She slid the mysterious phone onto the counter. "Hey, is this yours? I found it in my bed this morning," she said, wrapping her fingers around a cup of black coffee. The thick sludge would give her just enough strength to survive the day.

To tell the truth, Jack held no particular fondness for sleeping in or getting up early. It rather depended on the circumstances, he believed. He could stay up all night working on a story or essay or in a deep discussion with a friend or he could go to bed early and wake up at the crack of dawn. In short, it depended on what he felt like. His only desire was that he'd have a cup of tea waiting for him in the morning.

He was not surprised to see other people in the kitchen. The Ink Saber dorm had a well-earned reputation for early risers. He nodded in greeting to a couple of people as he set himself to making a pot of tea. It was a habit he took from home. It was strange being so far away from home, though the two countries weren't two different. Visiting another Anglophone country was less of a culture shock than visiting, say, Turkey. But while Americans liked coffee in the morning, Jack felt that good Earl Grey tea was a must in the morning.

He raised an eyebrow when he saw a frustrated Eleanor enter the kitchen. He smiled at her friendly. They were as different as night and day, but Jack liked to think that they were friends. He set his cup of tea down and poured Eleanor a cup before placing the tea pot on the counter along with a few empty cups for anyone who wanted one. As he exited he stopped to greet Jade as he walked. It was nice to know someone else from the UK here and he admired her work as much as he did Eleanor's, though his fellow Brit only shared her work in class when she had to.

"Good morning. Excellent story last class."

That was his way. Short and friendly. If she was willing to talk more, he'd love to, but if not, he still had a gloomy Eleanor to cheer up. He took a seat on the couch next to said person and silently offered her a cup of tea. Looking at her laptop, he smiled.

"Paradise Lost is fascinating. I just finished my paper last night. Most people do not understand it, particularly the rhyme and meter. My copy has most of the words on the first few pages underlined, like the owner was expecting gold everywhere until the evidently gave up on reading it and sold it on ebay."

It was an offer to help if there ever was one and honestly, Jack liked this type of stuff. He gave a short nod to Rainier. He knew he was Eleanor's friend, but the two hadn't had the chance to talk that much.





When John woke up, it was with a slight headache. He had been hard at work the night before shoring up his latest essay's defenses. He and a few of his political science teachers did not exactly see eye to eye on great many of things. It was only natural that they would be more critical of arguments which contradicted their own opinions.

He got dressed, deciding to wear black today based on the fact that he seemed to look good in it, and proceeded towards the dorm's kitchen. Rather than making breakfast from scratch, he opened up the refrigerator and found a container with his name taped across it. Day old pizza was a favorite breakfast food of his. It was only thing his dad knew how to cook in the morning.

As he microwaved a plate full of five cheese pizza, he saw a pot of tea ready for anyone who wanted one and poured himself a cup. As he took it out, he saw Victoria preparing herself some oatmeal and a smiled played at his lips.

"Awfully traditional this morning, aren't we?" John commented playfully. The two of them could not be more different, she an upper-class girl with revolutionary sympathies and he, an adamant capitalist from a working class background. He took a small bite of his pizza before setting his plate down on the counter and taking a sip of tea.

The alarm rang at 8 o'clock sharp. After a few jabs at the snooze button, Alec prepared himself mentally for the day ahead. Part of him just wanted to lie in bed for the rest of the day. But as he neatly tucked in the last corner, he thought against it. Instead he dressed in a buttoned up shirt and a sweater vest. But he spoiled the preppy exterior by rolling up his sleeves and leaving his hair a wavy mess. He took his journal with him and stuck a pen behind his ear.

As he headed into the common room, he saw the others going about their morning and took a bracing sigh. Maybe he should have just stayed in bed. He poured himself some coffee and toast and sat near the TV, half-listening to the news. Then he set to work on his latest poem. It was a mess of words on a page, littered with notes and lines, splotches and scribbles. It had to be perfect and yet no matter what he did, perfection slipped through his fingers. The problem was, he lacked inspiration. His immediate world was orderly and neat and all the chaos he left at home was far away. Everything was black and white and left his pages an uninspired mess. What he needed was to break out of his comfort zone but even the idea left him ill at ease.

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It didn't take very long for more people to start pouring into the kitchen. Jade was one of the first, waving to Rainier before plopping down next to Eleanor. He waved back, a grin flitting across his face. "Morning. What are you reading?"
The words prompted Eleanor to look up from the worn pages of her novel to answer the question. "Hm? Oh, uh, The Metamorphosis. Franz Kafka. It's really good." There was an almost smile playing on her lips, an almost light in her eyes-- the kind that was only present when she found beauty in the lines of a book. Honestly, she could start talking about The Metamorphosis and never stop. There was so much to explore in the subtle subtext of Kafka's words, so much to be found by simply reading and rereading.

Jack came in shortly after, carrying two mugs of tea. El eagerly accepted the one he handed to her, shooting him a grateful smile in return. They weren't much alike, Jack and her, but the got along very well, and she was grateful for the that. When she was initially set to go off to college, she had anticipated having no friends, as she had in high school. But there she was, sitting next to three good ones, and suddenly she realized just how lucky she had been to get transferred to the Ink Saber dorm.
Rainier, again, returned to wave offered to him with a friendly smile. He hadn't spoken much to Jack; he was the quiet sort, radically different from his two best friends, but they were friendly, and he certainly didn't mind his presence.

"Paradise Lost is fascinating. I just finished my paper last night. Most people do not understand it, particularly the rhyme and meter. My copy has most of the words on the first few pages underlined, like the owner was expecting gold everywhere until the evidently gave up on reading it and sold it on ebay."
El couldn't help but let out a frustrated groan at his words. She took another sip of her tea, brow furrowed in concentration, before she effectively decided on the right words to express her feelings about the famous poem.
"I love it. Everything about it, it's just--. It's brilliant. And I feel like there's so much to say about it, and there's so much I want to say about it, but I can't figure out how to get it all nice and neat on the paper, and it's just driving me mad."

With another slightly angry sip of her tea, she sank back into the cushions of the sofa with a heavyhearted sigh. "Do you guys think they'll ever open a discussion class where we can just talk about these things instead of writing twenty page papers on them?"

Her sulking was interrupted by the arrival of Elijah, one of the loud ones. She admired his ability to jump into the fray without a second glance, but he was so optimistic. Clearly.
Rainier moved over a little, making room for him on the couch. Laughter spilled from his mouth as Elijah went on about the evils of the news. Eleanor, noticing his pointed look that went along with his comments about misery and spreading it, shot him a quick glare before turning her attention back to Jack and Jade. She didn't need his approval.

"Not to burst your bubble, man, but I'm pretty sure wars aren't caused by the news alone. Maybe a little something called political tension? I like to keep up with current events, is all. Never know when it might come in handy," Rain returned, mimicking Elijah's sagely tone. "What're you gonna do if a pretty girl decides to bust out the big guns on a first date and wants to talk about the Russian tension?" There was an eyebrow raised as Rain put up his best
"Got You Now" look.

As the two spoke, another figure walked in. El and Rain both nodded at Alec as he entered, Rainier accompanying his nod with a friendly wave. He was glad to see his roommate up and about, and especially glad to see he looked like he had gotten some sleep.
He took a seat near them, and El's eyes watched him closely as he did. She recognized that look. She herself had worn it plenty of times, late into nights when she should have been sleeping but was instead angrily tearing up scribbled on sheets of paper.
"Writer's block, huh?" she said softly to him. Her sentiment was accompanied with a sympathetic smile, and she glanced quickly at the two people sitting next to her. No doubt they had been victims of the same demon once or twice before.

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"My savior!"
Selene's sudden appearance and exclamation jolted Victoria out of her reverie, making her jump a little. She laughed a little, slightly breathy, at her overreaction when she turned and caught sight of her friend's face, and again at her request.
"Sooo, what you're telling me is that you want a fruit parfait?" Vic swatted Selene lightly on the arm, a clearly teasing smile on her face. "Go down to the deli or something for that. It's either flavorless oatmeal or it's nothing." She waved the mug back and forth with a mocking smile as she spoke in a tone made to make the oatmeal seem tantalizing. In reality, it tasted like crap and everyone knew it. Would it kill people to buy the cinnamon apple variety for once?

She put a spoonful of the tasteless mush in her mouth as Selene slid a phone she didn't recognize onto the counter.
"Nope, sorry," she mumbled around a mouthful of oatmeal, "never seen it before." She ignored the strange feeling that came with the knowledge that Selene had somehow picked up some stranger's phone.

The bane of her existence walked in shortly after. Rather, a person she didn't like much. Well, that wasn't true either. She liked him as a person plenty, but sometimes found herself ready to scream because of the disparity in their views. She'd resolved to simply not talking about politics around him, but wondered how long that would last given both their tendencies to speak their minds.
"Awfully traditional this morning, aren't we?" he commented teasingly on her food choice. She stuck her tongue out at him childishly with a smile, before forcing herself to take another bite of the bland oatmeal.
"Oh my god, what is that?" she exclaimed with a laugh when he pulled the pizza from the microwave. She hadn't been paying attention before, focused on Selene, but she recoiled at the sight of his meal choice. Placing the tips of two fingers in her mouth, she pretended to gag. "Talk about my oatmeal all you want, but at least I'm not eating day old pizza for breakfast."

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*Beep, Beep, Beep*

Nichole Esme d'Mac Ealair woke to the aggravating sound of her bedside clock. Without rising from the comfort of her bed, instead she dragged her hand out from beneath the heavy mountain of blankets that hovered over her, and hit the 'snooze button.' She grunted to herself as she dismantle the blankets and sat up in a sloppy position.

*Click* There was suddenly a flash from a camera that seemed to stun her.

"This is definitely going on my twitter page." A familiar voice said.

Nichole was startled when she found her best friend, Herman Andrews, lounging at the edge of her bed with a cream cheese bagel in his hand. "What the hell, Herman?" she bellowed as she rubbed her eyes back to reality.

"Dayumm! It wouldn't kill you to at least look presentable even when you wake up. You need Jesus, honey." He then took a huge chunk of the bagel and gorged it down as if he was a deranged savage who hadn't eaten in days; months even.

A low growl escaped Nichole's lips as she charged herself at him, "Herman!" However, he was already running down the hallway and she followed almost tripping as she went. She chased him all the way into the kitchen where students were already hanging out, seeing the two already going at it again early in the morning made everyone turned within a three-standing radius turned to look at them; at Nichole for she was still dressed in her kiddie pajamas.

There was no where to look without meeting curious eyes.

Herman came over to her, his hips swaying side to side and arms spread out. "You're just the cutiest wittle thing," He embraced her, squeezing her hard to the point where she couldn't breath. But of course Nichole didn't mind. Herman was well-known for giving out the best hugs...and kisses. He was a true ladies man at are. If he wasn't strickly dickly that it.

Nichole tried very hard not to be tempted in Herman's affections to the point where she softly nudged him away. "You're such an ass,"

Herman only stuck his tongue out as he scarfed down what was left of his food while at the same time he hoped over the couch and sat next to Rainer. "Hey, at least I'm not the only one who thinks that." he winked at Rainer flirtatiously in a way that told him that he knew what was going on between the two of them.

Nichole was over by the fridge and drinking out of the carton of orange juice when she heard him which made her turn her head towards him as he spoke. "Oh, get a life."

"Not until you get yours." he came over and snatched the carton from Nichole's lips causing her to spill some on her pj's, and went back toward the couch.

"Jerk!" She shouted after him.

He flashed her the finger, "Kiss my ass, bish. Kiss my ass."

Nichole couldn't other than smile at him. He was always such a jokester, but she loved him for that.

She leaned against the counter, unable to tolerate standing upright. With a groan, she said, "But then I'd have to move. It took all my energy just to get here..." She looked over her sunglasses at Victoria and pouted. "Ugh... if I must. I may actually die if I don't eat something. Although I may die if I eat the oatmeal. I guess we'll find out," With an indignant huff, she shook the bag of oatmeal and poured in hot coffee. It wasn't going to taste amazing anyway but this way, she'd get something out of it. However, at the first bite, she regretted her decision.

She began tapping at the phone, hoping to miraculously guess the code to open its secrets. However it merely stared back at her, empty and just a little judgmental. Selene rubbed her temples, hoping to urge life back into her brain. Where the hell did she pick up a phone? But nothing came to her. Then John walked up with a snide remark to her friend. She was tempted to join in but the smell of microwave pizza made her stomach churn.

"Hey, pizza boy, you wouldn't happen to be missing a phone, would you? I found it at a party last night," she said, with a wan smile, waving the phone, "Oh no, it couldn't be yours. You might actually have fun at a party and you couldn't have that, could you?" It was the best she could do under the circumstances. "Bourgeois" revolutionaries had to stick together.

Jack watched as El fumed at his words. He knew that it wasn't him that she was angry at. It was the essay in particular and the class in general. This was confirmed by her reply.

"I love it. Everything about it, it's just--. It's brilliant. And I feel like there's so much to say about it, and there's so much I want to say about it, but I can't figure out how to get it all nice and neat on the paper, and it's just driving me mad."

With another slightly angry sip of her tea, she sank back into the cushions of the sofa with a heavyhearted sigh. Jack watched her thoughtfully. Her expression rather reminded him of a melancholy angel at one of the cemeteries he visited back home. "Do you guys think they'll ever open a discussion class where we can just talk about these things instead of writing twenty page papers on them?"

"I don't know. The professors are very set in their ways. I'd love it if-"

"They show nothing but misery so you feel miserable. Then what do you do with that misery? You spread it around," a rather cheerful if thoughtless voice rang out.

Jack shot him a quick glare before turning his attention back to Eleanor.

"The highest virtue can morph into a devil once you make it a god," he murmured softly. His mind was racing. He had said something like that before, but when? It was a strange feeling. At once, he felt as though he had thought of something he had never thought before and yet, he also felt as though he had only forgotten, perhaps in a dream.

"Discussion would be welcome, yes," he continued. He smiled self-deprecatingly at his friend, "Sorry, I get distracted."





"Oh my god, what is that?" Victoria exclaimed with a laugh when he pulled the pizza from the microwave. Placing the tips of two fingers in her mouth, she pretended to gag. "Talk about my oatmeal all you want, but at least I'm not eating day old pizza for breakfast."

"Lovely, Vicky. We all have our tastes..." he began only to be interrupted by another person whom he did not see eye to eye with. His interactions with this one, however, was slightly less cordial than the interactions he had with Vicky as exemplified by her statements.

"Hey, pizza boy, you wouldn't happen to be missing a phone, would you? I found it at a party last night," Selene de Beaulieu said, with a wan smile, waving the phone, "Oh no, it couldn't be yours. You might actually have fun at a party and you couldn't have that, could you?"

"Words often have different meanings according to the person using them. Your definition of fun and mine diverge greatly. A party is not exactly fun for me if I cannot remember the events it entailed... Or the person leaving my bed."

He took a large bite from his pizza and held out his free hand in a "truce" gesture, his tone teasing rather than insulting.

"But, to each their own. I'd die for your right to party."

Selene toyed with the idea of throwing the phone at his head. Instead she took a large scoop of oatmeal and flung it towards his head. "So nice to have you on my side, John," she said. She didn't mind being accused of promiscuity but what she hated was being accused of being irresponsible. Granted, the longer she stared at the phone, the longer it tortured her.

Selene tilted her head towards Victoria. "What really pisses me off, is that I can't find my phone. I bet you it got switched," Again she attempted to hammer in a code with no such luck. When Herman and Nichole made their grand entrance Selene leaned back in her chair. "Babydoll, did I steal your phone last night, purely by accident? Or have I lost my mind?"

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He laughed, once more, at Elijah's words. He was never really quite sure if he was laughing at them, or with them. Either way, at least he got a good laugh out of it. These days, with teachers on his back like soul sucking harpies, he needed it. "Right, because I'm sure the starving peasants just need a bit of good news to brighten up their day." He threw his hands up lightly in a gesture of surrender with another laugh. If there was anybody that could find a way to dispute anything, it was Elijah. "Fine, but don't come crying to me when Miss America shows up asking for help with rehearsing her Q and A section."

There was some fiasco in the kitchen, and Rainier looked over curiously in time to catch Herman taunting Nichole. He rolled his eyes at the sight--it was nothing new-- before turning his attention back to the conversation at hand.

Shooting an incredulous glance in Elijah's direction, Rain scoffed softly at his comments. "C'mon, you don't think all I do is watch the news all the time, do you? I go out, I have fun! I'll have you know, I went on a date," he paused, looking up to the ceiling, mouthing something and counting on one of his hands, "three weeks ago. I went a date three weeks ago and it was lovely." He smiled triumphantly, neglecting to mention that the date only lasted about an hour before his date announced she had "somewhere else to be."

There was a sudden discomfort as Herman decided to join in on the party, jumping over the couch to sit next to him. Geez, they needed to get a bigger couch. Rain let out an 'Oof' at Herman's intrusion, scooting over a little to make some room for him. "Hey, at least I'm not the only one who thinks that."

Rain glanced over in surprise, silent for a moment as if he were unsure if Herman was referring to him. Then he began to laugh. "You couldn't be referring to me, could you Herman?" he began innocently. "Because I'm a human and she's a hell-beast, and we all know interspecies relationships never work out."

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She made a face at John's choice of name for her. She hated Vicky, too many grade school horror memories. "Yeah, some tastes just happen to be grosser than others," Vic muttered under her breath as Selene interjected, asking once more about the mystery phone. She laughed, choking slightly around another mouthful of cereal as she watched in what could only be described as amused horror at the interaction. The exchange of vaguely insulting comments could only end in tragedy, but Vic was very interested in seeing the exact kind.

As it resulted, she didn't have to wait too long to find out. She stood, too shocked to do anything but look horrified, as Selene's spoonful of oatmeal worked its way towards John's head. "Oh my god, Selene!" She put her bowl down on the counter with a clatter, hurriedly getting a paper towel and wetting it. She began wiping the gooey substance of his cheek as she spoke in a concerned tone over her shoulder. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." With a sigh, she handed John the towel to let him finish his own cleanup and turned back to Selene. "Probably," she shrugged. "I'd just wait it out then. Whoever's phone that is will probably want it back, so they're bound to call it eventually. Or you could try giving yours a ring. You can borrow my cell if you need it."

She turned with everyone else at the sudden commotion that came stampeding through the kitchen. When Herman turned at Selene's comment, she waved excitedly at what had to be one of her favorite upperclassmen. He was followed by Jackson, all confidence and bravado and... was that a hint of hangover she spotted in his eyes? Clearly she had missed an excellent party last night. "Ooor that solves it, I guess. Maybe next time you should make a habit of checking with your roommate," she said in a tone that was all "all that hassle for this?". Turning, with another smile planted on her face, to Jackson, she chirped a pleasant "Good morning!"

Selene shrugged her shoulders and in a careless tone, said, "Whoops, must have slipped," She watched Victoria fuss over John as if he had been seriously wounded. The little Florence Nightingale was so charming in her tenderness. Selene couldn't offer anything else to aid in John's injury but a smug smile. After the pounding in her head subsided, she might feel more remorseful or she might lob something else at him. It was hard to say.

Victoria turned to her and said, "I'd just wait it out then. Whoever's phone that is will probably want it back, so they're bound to call it eventually. Or you could try giving yours a ring. You can borrow my cell if you need it." Selene considered doing just that until Jackson sauntered in. At least, that's how she saw it. Whether he had a mountain of burdens hidden somewhere, he was always so easygoing.

She was torn away from Victoria and John and the resulting chaos of assault and battery with oatmeal, as Jackson taunted her about her phone. "Hilarious," she said casually, keeping her eyes locked onto him as he took a seat. Then she slipped off the stool and with a shaky impression of innocence, made her way over to him. From behind, she wrapped her arms around him and in a low voice, she said, "You know, I'd be more worried about my phone if I were you. Especially after that party last night... and those pictures. Very juicy, salacious stuff," Selene gently nuzzled against his ear. "At least I hope so," She pulled away with a laugh. "Oh well," she shrugged, walking back towards Victoria to use her phone.

John managed to avoid the worst of the oatmeal. Nonetheless, there was a glob on his cheek which Victoria had set to cleaning off him. He smiled at her. Really, it was just oatmeal. Still, this was typical of the girl. You could go from having a debate or argument with her but, when the chips were down, she was a kind soul. He placed a hand on her as he helped her wipe it off him.

"It's fine, Vic. Oatmeal has never hurt anyone. Not that I don't like the attention," he teased her lightly. Unfortunately, they were interrupted with Jackson's arrival, but John greeted him nonetheless.

"Good morning."




Jack watched Nichole walk in as confident and expressive as ever. He blushed a little bit at the kiss she blew at him. He hated it when she did that. The girl was a good-looking, intelligent, and confident, all attractive traits in his opinion, but that didn't mean she should be able to turn him into his high school self so easily. Strangely, the dorm as a whole contained a plethora of attractive and brilliant people. Was he not comparing Eleanor earlier to a gothic angel statue he once saw at home? He himself was " Hollywood nerdy cute" as he once heard someone describe it. It was atypical for people to be given both mental brilliance and physical beauty outside the movies. Was there a bias on the part of the college trustees?

He was interrupted from his musings, however, as he caught site of a look of hurt on Nichole's face at something Rain muttered. It vanished in a second, but it was still there.

"He didn't mean it," he told her. People seldom do.

"Love is not a feeling but an act of will. A mean word here or a kind one there builds up an inclination in one direction or the other. It builds towards healthy relationships or sickness, ill-will, apathy," he muttered to himself, his mind racing, not caring if the others heard.

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El nodded solemnly as Jack agreed with her on the discussion front. She was well aware of the teachers being perhaps the opposite of progressive, but she it was a lovely thought nonetheless. "Yeah," she sighed, "maybe it's for the best. Not so sure how well I'd fare in a class where all we had to do was talk." It was a biting tone, a hint of resentment, of venom, in her words. She couldn't say she appreciated her inability to speak out, or perhaps loudly. In fact, she wasn't sure if her professors even knew she was in their class half the time. She tended to have that effect on people. She was the kind of person who always seemingly faded into the background, a face that no one could ever quite remember. And sometimes she appreciated it. Other times she despised it.

She bore a hint of a smile as she turned to Alec. He had always been a kindred soul, one who never judged her silence, never had difficulty remembering her name. "I understand. I haven't written anything bordering on a week, and I suspect it has something to do with the lack of quiet one can find around here." As if on cue, a loud "discussion" between Rain and Elijah broke out. When the two were in the same room together, there was rarely anything even resembling silence. If she was being honest, she would indeed have to admit that the confined space had shown its effect on her work. Back when she was still in her house, she had been alone entirely. Her father barely spoke a word to her, and as a result she had all the quiet she could ever need to let the poison take control of her pen. Now, though, there was little of that.

She watched as her friend breezed in and out of the room, causing a massive scene as she so often tended to do. A short, breathy laugh escaped her lips as she did, and, catching Rainier's eye, she gave him a pointed look. He made a face at her, scoffed, and looked away; she smiled semi-triumphantly.

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A comment came from somewhere, and he looked towards the counter and found Nichole sitting there, peeling an orange as she retorted with a biting remark. Of course. Her and her super hearing. "Ouch," he laughed. She could be vicious when she wanted to be. "Look," he said, turning to Elijah, "has it ever occurred to you guys that maybe I don't want to be in a relationship? What makes you think I'm not perfectly happy being alone?" The look on his face was vaguely reminiscent of the same one he had when he went home for break and his mother had already asked about any girls in his life for the twentieth time. "And that includes," he said sharply, with a pointed look in Elijah's direction, "meaningless hookups. They are not the solution to my 'roboticness.' " He raised his hands on the word, waving them in a way that made it clear he thought Elijah was a loon.

Just then, Nichole came by, muttering something angrily under her breath. He wondered if it had anything to do with her deviant behavior and smiled triumphantly at the thought of her getting her just desserts. His smile faded quickly as she pulled his mug from the coffee table, practically chugging down his beloved source of caffeine. "Hey! Hey, what're you doing? Oh, come on." He shook his head defeatedly, purely resigned to watching her drink the last of his coffee. He watched her go with a sigh, then turned to Elijah once more. "She won't kill me. Yeah, you sure about that?" His comment was sardonic, a little biting, as he looked down sadly into his empty mug. "Yeah, I think I'm gonna have to pass on that whole double date thing."

He took a glance at Jack, who had chimed in moments earlier. With a laugh, he responded."Didn't mean it, did I?" In that cup was the last of the hazelnut coffee we had. Pretty sure I meant it when I called her a hellbeast." He took another look at his mug, frowning slightly. "And if I didn't mean it then, I do now." Was it a drastic overreaction for a cup of coffee? Perhaps. But in Rain's defense, it was the last of the hazelnut.

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Vic let out a short scoff at John's dismissal of the offending oatmeal. "Says you. But one time when I was ten, my neighbor thought it would be a good idea to pour her oatmeal on me after a sleepover because apparently I kicked her, and I'm still convinced that was the worst day of my life." Typical of her, she got worked up halfway through her short anecdote, her voice rising a few decibels as she recounted her tale of "horror". Grounding herself, she took a deep breath and spent several moments silent before shrugging and replacing the pleasant smile she previously had on.

It didn't take long for it to fall once more, though, as she caught the rest of Jackson's comment. With something of an aggravated sigh, she reached behind her and pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket. Extending it towards Selene as she returned to her previous post, she leaned over slightly to make eye contact with Jackson. "Super not cool, Jackson, I thought for sure this whole fiasco was over and done with for a second there."

There was a little something biting in her words, a little more anger than she had ever really shown before. Truthfully her aggravation had less to do with the cell phone baiting and a lot more to do with the very public display of affection that occured only moments ago. But that wasn't something she was about to admit to herself, let alone anyone else in the nearby vicinity. "Sorry," she sighed, "it's too cold to be peppy."

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"I'd be happy to remember what the hell happened," he shrugged as he wrapped an arm around the brown-haired woman, "'sides, if there's anything about me I'm pretty sure what I have on you is worse."

Outwardly, he was pleasantly cool and collected but on the inside he was racking his brain for what happened. Good lord what had happened?

Selene de Beaulieu, the bleeding heart liberal wasn't at all the crazy social justice warrior that the less educated members of Arcane University saw her as. She had a penchant for the partying, alcohol, and yes, sex. She was a very open woman and once she roped him into anything, he was hardly going to refuse. Alcohol only made things easier. God, he cursed himself for the amount he drank last night (as well as the invention of camera phones). He hadn't bothered to check his own phone for what he had on there, but he was sure that he'd have to drink again to assuage the pain.

He was thankful for Victoria's interruption because Selene let go and he was allowed (at least for a few seconds) to have some mental breathing room.

"Aye Vic, you know I'm just playing," Jackson smiled, "you give that Cœur de pirate song a try?"

On the other side was Vic. He and Victoria had a very musical bond in one of the most literal senses of the word. They shared songs, albums, and even voices when the time was right. She could play instruments and sing. He could not always play instruments and sing. It was a match made in platonic heaven. She was generally a cheery woman so seeing her have her rare moments of sourness he didn't take it too personally.

John Carta, he didn't know so well so Jackson was about to give him a friendly "morning"...well until he saw the residual oatmeal on his face.

"John, what to you?" he asked, "you piss off the Quaker Oats guy?"

Selene keyed in her number and as it rang, she eyed Victoria and John. They were conventionally attractive together, if convention was something to shoot for. But it wasn't a union she approved of. Victoria wasn't "Vicky" as he sometimes called her. She was her own person and with John, she imagined Victoria would always be trying to prove to him just that.

As someone picked up, the night before flashed before her eyes and it ended with a knot in her stomach. "Hi... you...," she tittered. The woman's named escaped her but her voice was immediately recognizable. She rattled on with a high-pitched squeal of delight. A few details were filled. Apparently she was exchanging numbers but couldn't quite get her fingers to punch in the right numbers so in her brilliance, they exchanged phones. Selene quickly made an excuse to hang up and groaned, smacking her head against the counter.

She had never backed down from anything except for this. Selene preferred her relationships uncomplicated. "Well my phone is gone for good," she announced, "and I'm never drinking again..." She turned to Victoria and tutted, "Did that oatmeal seal itself to his face? Put some spit on that. If that doesn't work, I think we have to face the fact that it'll be a permanent feature of his face," With a shrug, she said, "I think it's an improvement,"

Her eyes locked on Jackson. While he was distracted, she crept up behind him, glancing around her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Then she eased her hand into his pocket, in search of his phone. He was probably bluffing about any possible embarrassing pictures but the curiosity was irresistible.

"Says you. But one time when I was ten, my neighbor thought it would be a good idea to pour her oatmeal on me after a sleepover because apparently I kicked her, and I'm still convinced that was the worst day of my life," Vic recounted. John tried not to smile in amusement as she got lost in the emotions associated with the memory. He didn't want her to think he was laughing at her, after all.


"John, what to you?" came a cheerful voice, "you piss off the Quaker Oats guy?"

He turned to see Jackson entering the kitchen. He grinned at the man.

"Quaker Oats guy? I wouldn't call Selene that if I were you," he joked.