this is just like college, scott

[hardbody]

Date & Time: 7/18, early evening
Location: Unit 310
Characters: Zelgadis Greywords; Scott McCall
Summary: Zel walks in to find a new roommate, which leads to immediate friendship and understanding
Warnings: So very awkward



[It's been a long day of learning absolutely nothing new and having people stare at him for more than five seconds. Zel just wants to sit down on his government-provided bed, read quietly, and pretend that he is the sole inhabitant of the entire universe. Unfortunately, he has a habit of getting the exact opposite of whatever he wants at any given time.

Upon entering the apartment, he sees an unfamiliar young human pacing unhappily back and forth. A new arrival. Damn.]

Comments

[workout]

[Scott had gone from staring at the wall in shock to nearly wolfing out and instead punching the wall in frustration, then finally feeling guilty for cracking the wall that was apparently not in his imagination. He was pacing the room anxiously, head in his hands (only slightly melodramatic) when the door opened.

That is a blue person.]

Oh my god, are you okay? What happened to your face?

[Not even a hint of mockery - he's genuinely concerned about the stony-faced stranger standing in front of him. Not that this improves the situation, really.]

[hardbody]

[the fact that Scott isn't even trying to insult him just makes it all worse. He would put up his cowl, but he's already draped his cloak over a nearby chair. Damn it.]

Who are you? A new transport?

[workout]

A new what?

[Who knows what he thinks Zel said. Probably something to do with pot - stress and words don't really mix well for Scott. He seems dumbfounded for a second, then normal processes resume.]

Oh, transport. I guess? I mean, I was transported here. Just now. So I'm new, and a transport.

[Dude your face is really distracting why aren't you talking about your face-]

Um, but really, are you... okay?

[The inquiry is accompanied by one hand gesturing vaguely at Scott's own immensely concerned features.]

[hardbody]

[he sits down on the chair and groans. He knows that none of the apartments were designed for a sole occupant, but he had kind of hoped that some miracle would allow him to avoid his roommates for ... ever, basically.]

I was perfectly fine. [and then he came in here and saw you and you started asking about whether or not he was fine.]

[workout]

[It's becoming increasingly clear that poker is not Scott's game. Nonetheless, as Zel continues to ignore the issue of his face, Scott's concern becomes slightly diluted with suspicion.

Technically, he has seen someone with a sort of blue face before. And this guy looks... a bit scaly. Brows furrowing, Scott tries a new line of questioning.]

Were you bitten?

[Nope, he's not going to provide any context.]

[hardbody]

[Bitten. What. What is this kid going on about.]

No. [DEEP SIGH.]

It's a curse.

[workout]

[A curse, you say. Scott's brows get a bit more pinched at this, mostly because it follows right behind the 'no'. You can get it another way? How else would you get it?]

Uh, so you... how did it happen?

[Don't think about STDs, don't think about - okay, think but don't say, for the love of god.]

[hardbody]

[He shakes his head. Having this discussion--again--is the exact opposite of what he wants to do right now. It is the absolute anti-thesis of his current desires.]

It's a long story. Look, what's your name?

[this guy is clearly his roommate, and there's no getting around it. But he needs basic information, here.]

[workout]

[Scott is still side-eyeing Zel's refusal to talk about why the heck he's blue (and, by the way, his hair is purple???) pretty hard, but he's hardwired to respond to reasonable manners in kind. That and the guy isn't actually trying to kill him yet, and from Scott's experience that's usually the first sign not to trust someone.

That should say something about Scott's inability to sense danger, but sadly it mostly just says that lots of people try to kill him on sight.]

Scott McCall. What's yours?

[hardbody]

It's Zelgadis. Zelgadis Greywords.

[he would add 'nice to meet you', except for the part where he's rude. Zel stares up at the ceiling in a 'lord help me' kind of way.]

I guess we're stuck together. [he points to a door adjacent to where they're sitting, and he continues to gesture as he goes on.] That room is mine. Some other guy is in that one. And you get the third.

[workout]

[Scott looks a bit like he forgot to study for an exam as he tries to memorize Zel's name. Yeah, that's totally not going to happen.]

Okay, Zelll...... Zel. [Smooth. He glances at the doors as Zel points them out, and as he does so his earlier agitation starts creeping back in.]

But - no, that's not my room. I don't even know where I am. I have things I need to do, not here. I need to get home. [He looks directly at Zel now, expression a bit desperate.] I mean, you have things you need to get back to, right? You must have tried, there has to be way.

[hardbody]

[At least you're managing one of the syllables, Scott. Zel rolls his eyes.]

Of course I do. But I also know how to accept reality. [maybe not entirely true. Still, even he couldn't deny that a return to his world was not currently possible.] We aren't going anywhere.

[workout]

[Scott seems slightly offended by Zel's quick rejection of his meager hopes for a way out. Brows knitting together in consternation, he crossed his arms over his chest - theoretically in annoyance, but at heart the gesture is more defensive.]

Hey, you might have given up, but I can't yet. If there's any way, I need to get back home.

[This dramatic statement is followed by an awkward silence, during which he clearly formulates zero plans of action.]

But uh, in the meantime... what exactly do you do around here?

[hardbody]

There isn't a way. That's the point. A lot of people have been here a lot longer than you--and they haven't found anything.

[argh, this kid. Zel rakes a hand over his face.] Right now? Not much of anything. I've been gathering information ... but these people have that tightly controlled, too.