soldtoarmenians | Room 406, Laaaaaaate... Thursday or possibly Early Friday

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Room 406, Laaaaaaate... Thursday or possibly Early Friday

It's... entirely possible that someone randomly happened to stay up late enough to listen to the live radio broadcast instead of downloading it, for a change.

It's vaguely possible that someone -- alongside the breakfast muffins for his apparently passed-out-over-her-homework roomie -- brought home extra coffee just so he'd be awake that late, but there's really no way you could ever prove that.

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{Open for Teh Roomie whenever she awakens, if so desired.}

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"Why," she asked. "I mean, I'd totally understand why if we were back in Roswell. But why can't it be an exception here? I really don't think anyone would care. Well they'd care, but probably only because they'd want to wave glittery flags with your names on them."

There might have been a leg squeeze, but only for a second. Just because she's tactile like that.

Xander... frowned, actually. "Yeah, I--" He shook his head. "I know nobody here would care? Hell, maybe that's half the problem. It's a little--"

He shook his head, not lacking for words, just for the right ones. "Fandom's kinda... not the real world, you know? And... it'd be real easy to just go with that, what happens in Fandom stays in Fandom yay -- but then where does that leave me when I leave? I'm not gonna be here all my life; I'm not even gonna be here next year."

"I think you have a chance to be happy," she said slowly. "And even if it's only for a few weeks, you should seize that chance. Because you never know what's going to happen."

And now she's the one looking for a useful prop, but there's not to hold onto so she settles for staring at Jeramiah, asleep in his tank. "Last summer, I had a chance, with Alex. But I didn't take it. I was too afraid to get close. I didn't want to be vulnerable the way Max and Michael were. I thought there would be time. Time to get answers, time to figure out if it was worth the risk. But it turns out, there really wasn't time."

She finally looked back at Xander, her expression serious. "If I could do it over again? I'd take the risk. Because a few weeks of being really happy? Would be a hell of a lot better then spending the rest of my life thinking 'if only'. Don't make the same mistake I did."

See, now? He could totally squeeze her hand; it's in the Y-chromosome code that it's ok as long as such gestures can in theory be claimed as outgoing. 'Mutual' kind of sneaks in under the radar.

"That's got kind of a familiar ring." Whether he meant the near echo of something said not so long ago in Art History, or... any one of a dozen missed opportunities he could put names and faces to in Sunnydale, he wasn't sure. Wasn't sure the right conjunction there was 'or,' either.

Xander sighed. "I'm not saying I think you're wrong. But... you're really not wrong about the nice guy thing, you know? He doesn't deserve to be just... whatever. What happens in Fandom."

"But would he be a whatever?" she asked. "This is Fandom, not Vegas, and despite the similar concept of what happens here, stays here, I don't think the happenings can be compared. And that was a ramble wasn't it? But do you get what I mean?"

Isabel studied their hands for a minute before looking up and smiling, "Besides, doesn't Bridge get a say in this? He knows you're leaving. Yet he still came looking for you."

Xander was quiet for a moment, then gave a small smile, but didn't actually answer directly. Instead, he glanced upward - to the air vent on the ceiling.

He disentangled his hand from hers, and pointed, eyes widening comically. "Zee Oh Em Gee. I was right - it's coming in through the vents! The emo!"

Isabel couldn't help laughing as she floppped backwards on Xander's bed. "Oh no! I must angst. Woe! Horror! My life, it is ruined" she cried in between giggles.

"There's only one cure, you know," Xander said solemnly, pulling the pillow out from behind his back and lifting it over his head. "It's kinda drastic..."

"Oh no, don't you dare," Isabel said as she scrambled backwards on her elbows. "I will not go quietly!"

"Oh noes, a loud pillow fight. Heaven help us, what will the radio people think we were doing?" Xander said - as he launched the pillow at her head.

Isabel dodged. Barely. And then grabbed her own pillow, spinning around and attempting to whack Xander in the side. "They'll think DIRTY!" she laughed.

"Dude, it couldn't be worse than the rumors about Callynanders," Xander responded, knocked sideways by Isabel's sally. "Which, okay, I suspect are true, so maybe bad example. Methinks Cally protests too much about the stirrups."

"Eewww! I don't need that mental image," she giggled as she moved in to attack again. "Certain things are just better off never, ever imagined." She lifted the pillow up high, aiming right for Xander's head.

He defended with a classic technique: diving sideways and scrambling for his extra pillow, since he'd kind of lost the one he threw at her. Stupid - lesson one, never let go of your weapons.

Lesson two: classic techniques only work when you're actually good at hand to hand combat. A couple of direct blows to the head later, Xander was giggling inanely and putting up both empty hands in a warding off gesture.

Breathless and giggling as well, Isabel put down the pillow and dropped down in a sprawl next to Xander on his bed. After a few elbows to the side, and some wiggles and they wound up settled side by side on the bed. A bit squished but, comfy.

"Xander?"

"Yup?"

"You know I love you right?"

He blinked for a second or two, surprised but not unpleased, then grinned. "You know back atcha, right?"

Isabel didn't say anthing, just tipped her head a bit to the side so that it rested up against Xander's shoulder.

Xander totally resisted the urge to bean her with a pillow while her guard was down, and just smiled again.

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Room 406, Laaaaaaate... Thursday or possibly Early Friday

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