It's really a mystery how Sam snuck a tea kettle into her dorm room. Or, for that matter, why her roommate failed to turn her in as a fire hazard, what with the heat and the danger and all.

The answer is twofold: one, Sam's roommate is a rather scary girl who scared off her last roommate by biting her. And two, her roommate has this thing about threatening to tear the RAs throat out.

Sam and Beth get along swimmingly.

Thankfully, the roommate is not in. She is likely out drinking, or partying, or some other unspecified and creepy thing.

Sam doesn't care, so Sam doesn't ask.

Sam's room is quiet and neat and rather purple. She has a grey rug (for her half of the room), a couple movie posters, and purple sheets and a dark-grey-with-purple-flowers comforter.

Beth's side of the room consists of a bed, surrounded by a yellow curtain. Sam gets the window. And the desk(s).

Beth objects to music, but is fine with natural stuff, so Sam puts on a nature CD on repeat - river rapids, ocean waves, that kind of thing. She finds it soothes the savage roomie (sometimes literally).

Sam puts the kettle on, and plops down on her bed.

She's an elf. Okay.

That's, honestly? Kinda weird. She was never much into fantasy as a kid. Too busy being told by the family that she should make something of herself. English lit, sure, but not kids stuff.

Matteo nudges his way into the room after her, looking around at this unfamiliar territory with something akin to bemusement.

So this is what a dorm room looks like.

He hovers just inside the doorway, unsure of where to stand, where to look - what to do with himself in general. He risks a step or two into the room when Sam goes to retrieve the kettle, his gaze following her closely because he's hoping for cues. Finding none, he starts nervously rocking and shifting his weight from one side to the other.

"Uhhh,... nice place," 'Teo remarks timidly.

She nods absently, looking around, checking to make sure that it's perfect-looking, bed made, clothes out of the way, makeup out of the way, everything in it's place.

Everything's fine. She relaxes.

Tad obsessive-compulsive about that, see.

"Yeah, um. Thanks. Don't touch the curtain, that's my roomies. Um. Sit down?"

There's a chair by the desk, the kind of sturdy "I am unbreakable" chair colleges provide (200 dollar fee if you set it on fire, than you ever so). Or there's the bed, next to her. The bed is probably more comfy, but she doesn't dictate what others do. Suggest, sure. Dictact? She wouldn't dare.

"...Yeah, sure. Thanks."

He trots over and settles on the bed not-so-next to her, now anxiously twiddling his thumbs. After a moment ro so of such fidgeting, he recalls hearing somewhere that t's impolite to wear your hat when inside. So, he takes his hat off, and starts fidgeting with it instead.

You know what I think?

I think there's an uncomfortable silence.

Then she gets up, gets out mugs, and finds cocoa mix. Cocoa mix solves everything, you know.

Matteo, biting the inside of his cheek, passes the hat from one hand to the other.

Finally, when the silence becomes unbearable, he noisily clears his throat and asks, "Can I help...?"

"It's really not that complicated. I mean, just waiting for it to heat...."

The water, that is.

Which has just boiled.

She pours.

"Um... which mug would you like?" There's a blue one and a brown one.

"Oh, uh-" he glances over "-either one's - hic - fine..."

Uh-oh. Nervousness-induced hiccups.

"I, um, m- hic - meant, help with other stuff. Like if y - hic - you're not feeling good..."

"Oh. Want the brown one?"

The other question will wait until she's picked up both mugs and brought them over (carefully) to the bed, whereupon she sits down again.

"Look, I.... I don't know." She offers him the brown one, handle first.

First... him. Alistor. And then this elf thing.

A lot for a girl to handle. Seriously a lot.

"Mm,...sure, brown's fine..."

Very carefully, he takes the mug and wraps both hands around it, then lowers it and gazes into its contents as if expecting to see instructions written out on the liquid's swirling surface. But of course, there aren't any. It's just normal unprophetic cocoa.

Hic

"Um,... I just figured I'd offer in case there was anything I c-"

Hic

Stupid hiccups.

"-Anything I could do."

"I don't know. I mean... it's just... weird. Like I woke up one morning and the world was... sideways."

Skewing perceptions will do that to you.

"What else is out there?"

The faun takes a tiny, cautious sip of his cocoa, pondering the question before trying to answer.

"A lot," he says finally, "But you never see most of it. Unless you lo-" hic "- Unless you look for it, and even then..."

She isn't one to change the subject if the subject is uncomfortable, but....

Actually, she is.

"I hold my breath."

To deal with hiccups, that is.

Segue much?

He stares at her.

"Pardon?"

He's confused.
What does holding one's breath have to do with what else is out there...?

Pause.

Oh!

She randomly changed the subject.

Oops.

"Oh. Sorry. I- I meant for hiccups." She laughs faintly, nervously. It's funny, rather than annoying. Right?

"Ahh, right." He nods. "...Can't hurt to try it."

'Teo draws in a deep breath and holds it in,...waits,... waits,... waits...

Then he exhales in a burst, and gasps in another breath.

"Phew. D'you think it worked...?"

"Well, we'll see, I guess."

She's actually smiling a bit, because this topic is irrevocably safe, which is a great plus.

"I don't think I could hold my breath that long." Idle small talk. When she's comfortable, she is capable of it. Who knew?

Matteo tilts his head, listening and waiting...

"Yep, I think they're gone."
Smile.

He dips his head to take another sip of cocoa.

Hic

And splashes it down his chin.
Ouch. Hot.

"Eek!"

She has a rag around somewhere. A whole box of them. She digs under the bed (under the bed is her prefered storage space), and comes up with one - her room is absurdly organized.

She offers him the rag. Because yeah, cocoa. All over. (Not really, but she has a skewed perception about some things.)

She's going to get twitchy over that if it gets on, well, anything of hers.

He's already trying to wipe the liquid off with the sleeve of his coat, but accepts the rag gratefully and carefully dabs at everywhere the cocoa landed - his chin, the front of his coat, and (who knows how it got there) his cheek.

"I think I burned my lip," he observes, trying vainly to scrub out a small stain on his sleeve before it can sink in.

"Ow," she comments, for want of anything else to say.

"You'll be okay." She isn't sure whether that's a question or a reassurance.

"Mm," is all he says.

Matteo fusses with his sleeve for a few moments more, then stops and listens, and smirks.

"Well, 't least my hiccups are gone now."

"Heh, yeah...."

Pause.

"You like the cocoa, though?"

If she's this nervous about making cocoa correctly and having it liked, imagine her cooking something complicated.

Imagine and tremble.

"Mm-hm. It's good."

Even if it was disgusting (and it isn't) he'd probably say the same.
You can't go far wrong with cocoa, after all.

"That's good."

And she sips cocoa, and is thoughtful.

Lots to think about, see.

Then she notices something, and rolls up one of her sleeves.

The bruising is now an odd shade of yellow. "Huh. That's fast."

It's a nasty bruise despite the fast healing. Big.

She forgot Matteo was in the room. She was thinking and there's never anyone in her room.

Matteo glances over at her arm as she rolls up her sleeve. His eyes widen ever so slightly, and his eyebrows knit.

"Gosh, what happened there? That looks like it hurt."

She literally jumps, and it's lucky her cocoa is A, not in her hand, and B, half gone, because otherwise Matteo wouldn't be the only one with cocoa stains, and this top is expensive.

"Oh, I."

She looks down, away, her characteristic 'um, I don't want to talk about it' look. Uncertainty. Fear? Fear.

"That's from, um, last night. It shouldn't be this faded, though. I don't heal fast."

And she bruises easily.

This applies, oddly enough, to both mind and body.

"...Oh."

He leans forwards and towards her, almost (but not quite) invading her personal space, in an attempt to see her expression. Why does she keep looking away, huh? It's not annoying so much as it's starting to really bother him. Makes him feel like she doesn't trust him.

"Mmhm, that's... kind of odd..."

The problem isn't so much that she doesn't trust him as she doesn't trust anyone.

But anyway.

She glances at him, once, questioningly. What's up? Why the closeness? Her expression is a thoughtful kindof frown, now, not something she has to hide. It's those flashes of fear (weakness) that she doesn't like showing.

"Yeah, it is odd...." Odd, and a bit frightening. She didn't like it when her body started doing things with absolutely no explanation.

He leans back, no longer nearly invading her personal space.

"Ah." Matteo snaps his fingers. "I bet that was Dr. Gardinier... he can do, um, stuff like that. Fix things, I mean."

"He can?"

She thinks about this.

"I... guess that was nice of him."

She doesn't really get the concept of people doing her favors.

"Is that what he was doing, before you...." Pause. "Why didn't you just tell me the truth to start with?"

Nevermind that she would have reacted (very) badly.

He lied to her. That's... that isn't comfortable.

It's Bad. Capital B.

"Uh... W-well,... to be honest, I didn't think you'd've wanted to know."

He ducks his head, looking ashamed and embarrassed and apologetic all at once.

"I mean, you don't seem to like the idea of - of all,... this type of thng, very much..."

"I mean... it's just... he, last night, he's part of it, and... I don't think he can be part of anything good."

Matteo is her friend, of course, but....

"And now I'm not just the weirdo of the family... I'm a different species."

Kinda weirding her out. She can hear her sister now - Oh Samantha. Oh, dear. Are you sure you don't want the surgery? It isn't that expensive these days. They're doing amazing things with lasers.... And how will you ever get a husband, dear? Children? You love children. Don't you want to have children?

For that matter, could she even have children? Was she biologically... capable?

Upsetting thought, and she knew Deborah would bring it up. Deb specialized in manipulating people 'for their own good'. Especially her little sister.

"And you lied to me." Pause. "Well... didn't tell the truth. I thought you didn't do that."

She thought she could trust him.

Now she isn't so sure.

Matteo finishes the remainder of his cocoa, and sets the mug on the floor with an audible 'clink'. Now his hands are free to fidget with his hat once again.

"It - it wasn't exactly a lie - " he protests, wilting a bit, "Okay, maybe it was, but it wasn't to hurt you or anything, I just thought it would be better if you didn't know. Better for both of us. Now you know and I've freaked you out, and - and you probably don't like me anymore..."

He stands.

"...so I should go."

"Just like that? You can leave a friendship behind... just like that?"

She's looking away again, voice soft, hiding pleading, hiding hurt.

Does she mean that little to him? Is she that worthless?

"What? No! I-"

He stares at her, looking as exasperated as a person can get without actually being angry.

"Didn't you hear what I said?"

She takes a deep breath, then looks up at him. Still seated.

Sigh.

"Maybe you could explain again?"

She isn't about to presume that she got anything right.

Her perceptions are as flawed as the rest of her.

"Uh. Right. 'Kay."

The faun rubs the bridge of his nose, frowning.

"Okay, uh,.. look. Let's make this easy." He looks at her over his hand. "With what - what you've learned today. About everything. D'you still like me?"

Blink.

"You're my friend."

She doesn't have enough of them to give them up because she doesn't like them.

Anyone who'll put up with her will do.

Especially if they're as nice and unthreatening as Matteo, might we add.

Isn't it obvious?

"Yes, but - do you still like me?"

He's pretty insistent on that.

But who'd want to hang around with someone who didn't like them, right?

"It's important."