* so i could be lovely , FRED

[EMILY ANNETTE EVANS]

Being hung-over was not cool. In fact it was one of the most annoying thing Emily could imagine. Her mouth tasted like cigarettes and vomit, her head was pounding like a tit, and her stomach seemed intent on making sure it emptied everything from inside it’s walls- including the stomach lining. It was fucking disgusting. And, to make things worse, the brunette couldn’t actually remember last night. She had no idea if she’d had a good night or a shit one. The hang-over was easier to deal with if you had great memories of the night before. However if you blacked out, like Em always seemed to, it was fuggen hell trying to cope with feeling like shyte the next day. It was like you had nothing to show for the pain you were feeling. And actually, Emily really didn’t. She was sans a pair of undies after whatever had happened last night, and that wasn’t exactly cool.

At least she knew where the missing panties were though. Her lovely friend Cory had informed her that last night, Emily had entrusted the panties to her. Saving them from some un-known boys. Now, while the story was overly amusing, Em was a little troubled by it. For one, she had no idea why she had taken off her underclothes. Had it been for a little drunken coitus? If that was true, then cool. It would just be nice to know who. Like, did she need to avoid them now, or had she found herself a nice new ‘friendly’ friend? These were questions she really wanted answers to. Questions that she really should know the answer to. Wow, maybe she had to stop drinking so much? It wasn’t like she needed to be drunk to let some guy slap his chrod against her breasticles. She didn’t exactly have any boundaries, or a list of things she just wasn’t okay with. The gossip was right, she was pretty much was a Sunday morning. You know, easy?

For lack of nothing better to do, because she wasn’t going to any of her classes today that was for sure, Emily had slipped on some tights and an over-sized singlet and made her way down to the dinning hall. Sure, she felt like throwing up, but like, wasn’t greasy food supposed to help? Or like, tacos or something? Oh man, tacos. Even the thought of that was making her a little queasy. Still though, she made her way out of the dorm building and towards R block. Once she was inside the building, she walked bare-foot to the dinning hall. Not really paying attention to those around her. She wasn’t really in the mood to do much socializing. The normally vibrant little butterfly needed some total R and R. Which was often hard to get when you went to boarding school. There was always someone around, getting in the way of things.

Getting a tray of food, she really didn’t notice what, Em moved to a random table. Plonking herself and the tray down. Fuuu, Why had she not thought to wear some sun-glasses? The harsh lights in the large room were hurting her eyes. At least it was quiet though, due to the odd time she was choosing to eat. She wasn’t sure she’d have been able to deal if it was crowded and noisy. Digging in her food, Em moved it around instead of eating it. She wasn’t sure she could stomach food right now. Once, she didn’t eat for like, three days. Not so she could be lovely though, because she was drunk for like a week and couldn’t stomach food. That had been a bad week though. One she’d try not to remember, if she even had memories if it, that was.

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[FREDERICK ASHLEY BIRKIN]

One needed food to function properly, and if such wasn't true, one would likely not find Frederick Birkin lurking in the dining hall. Of course, it was arguable that he was even eating at all: while a fork was held in his right hand, a small hardback book was gripped in his left, and his copper eyes were absorbed in the pages of this book. Every few minutes, Frederick would scrape up a minute amount of food - without so much as peaking at it through his peripheral - before eating it, not really tasting it or caring about it. The dining hall wasn't loud, compared to usually, but the boy would have been prepared anyway; he had had years of "training" in the department of drowning out other people, and he did so constantly.

His short brown hair had been brushed thoroughly before he had left his dormitory, a brown long-sleeved shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans dressing his body and a pair of white sneakers keeping his feet warm -- and safe from the ails of rocks and unsteady ground. Frederick had brought with him only ten dollars, his cellphone, and the hardback book, half of which he had finished between awaking and the current moment.

The main reason for Frederick having chosen to eat now was that it lacked people, which meant that he would not have to deal with people eating near him. It wasn't that he was socially awkward, or anything; the boy merely disliked dealing with others, as most of them acted stupidly on a regular basis. He had plenty of friends, but on that note, he didn't really care to make any more friends. It was only when he heard the sound of someone sitting down two seats away from him that the boy remembered that he was not the only person in the world, and he glanced down at his food, which was nowhere near halfway done. Damn book, he mused, more so with amusement than with frustration.

In a silent and tiny amount of appreciation for this slap into the real world, Frederick's eyes moved toward the person who had sat nearby, and his eyes narrowed somewhat. Emily was his friend, more or less; she wasn't necessarily stupid, but she seemed to lack common sense on a regular basis, by Frederick's standards. Now, for instance, something seemed to be off about her, and using the past as his guide, he had an idea as to exactly what was off. Being the wonderfully kind kid that he was, the boy decided to test his theory -- even if Emily wouldn't appreciate it very much. After all, a simple inquiry as to the truth of the matter would not have sufficed well enough.

Leaving his tray and lifting his book, Frederick manoeuvred from his spot at the table and - using Emily's concentration on making a mess of her food - stood near her, book held up slightly in both hands. Without taking another moment to reconsider, he opened his hands, allowing the book to fall with a rather loud bang to the floor. He had no idea if the noise would be loud enough to have the intended effect (or even if the event was close enough to Emily), but it was worth a shot.

As though nothing happened, he sat to Emily's right, crossing his arms over the table, turning his head to look at her face. "Morning, sunshine," he said, a rather sarcastic and bitter tone to his voice, as though he was angry.

[EMILY ANNETTE EVANS]

Emily hadn’t exactly looked at where she was sitting. It would be nice to think that maybe, had she noticed, she’d have made some effort to be friendly towards the boy. They were, after all, what she would consider friends. However being perfectly honest with herself, Emily wasn’t sure that noticing him would have made any difference at all. She was in such a foul mood because of her wretched hang-over that she was more likely to offer him a scowl of recognition before dropping down in her spot to sulk and play with her food. Normally, Em was a pretty friendly girl. She liked people, and liked to have fun. However when her head was pounding like a bitch and all she wanted to do was sleep, she could be rather ill tempered and sullen. She did attempt to curb that when she had to interact, however it wasn’t always easy. Especially when people provoked her.

As the book fell to the floor, and the resulting bang was heard, Emily let out a loud shout. “Mother chucker!” The sound had taken her completely by surprise. Jolting the dancer from her stupor. Being in the mood she was, Emily didn’t even stop to consider that the noise had been an accident. No, she was convinced that it had been on purpose and its purpose was to annoy her. Of course, little did she realise exactly how right she was, it was just her mind coming to its own conclusions. Still though, it was frustrating as shit. Who did stuff like that anyway? Someone completely unhinged she was guessing. God, there was some off people in the world. Couldn’t they just leave her alone when she had a hangover? She could be amused by them later, right now she just wanted piece and quiet. Why was that so much to ask for?

Being so sluggish with her actions at that moment meant that before she even sat up straight enough to turn around and investigate the noise, the person responsible had already sat down beside her. Well, of course she couldn’t be sure that it had been Fred, but the evidence was rather stacking up against him at this point. Emily scowled at his less then positive greeting. Why was he being mean to her? “What?” She snapped, slipping into a very moody posture, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t always have to act like one of the sunshine twins on uppers. God, you’d think it’s against the rules to have a bad day or something.” Of course, while she seemed rather annoyed now, Emily never stayed angry at people for too long. Life was too short for that kind of thing.

“By the way..” she started, picking up her fork to stab at her food, scowl still firmly set on her lips. “Did you, by any chance, oh I don’t know, make an obscenely loud noise a few seconds ago?” Raising an eyebrow, she looked away from her food, to eye the boy she was seriously reconsidering calling a friend.

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[FREDERICK ASHLEY BIRKIN]

“Mother chucker!”

Had Frederick been a bit more sadistic, he likely would have acquired amusement from her expressions. These expressions were the ones that he had been expecting in the first place, but for some reason, he felt angrier still than he did relieved. Her slouched posture suggested to him just how conscious she was to her surroundings and just how pleased she was to be in the dining hall of all places at the moment. He himself slouched in a somewhat defeated manner, but not necessarily for himself.

“What?”

Although Frederick hadn't really moved all that quickly, he had managed to evade her attention until he had sat beside her, and her wonderful greeting caused the boy to roll his eyes. Strike two. "A bad day?" he mused, a tone of unintentional superiority clearly present. "You have a bloody hangover," he had wanted to say, but the boy knew better than to progress the situation. When she mentioned the noise, Frederick raised one eyebrow, but his lips remained straight and devoid a betrayal of his intentional answers.

"Does it matter?" His voice had been rather quick, and Frederick had forgotten to cover the British accent that often leaked at the most spontaneous of moments. He had gotten rather well in the past few years at masking the accent, instead choosing to speak a little more "Northern North America," but it had indeed only been a few years since his family had moved to the States. "It's not like you could catch me if I ran, or anything."

His facial features and the tone of his voice still exhibited a sense of anger, but his words were obviously teasing. He wasn't her brother, uncle, father ... there was nothing that he could do now.

[EMILY ANNETTE EVANS]

Bah. Why did she even like this kid? For right now, she could not endow him with a single positive quality. He was annoying as hell, really, and he’d be fun to push off a cliff or something. Maybe not push off a cliff. Even with a hang-over she wasn’t that violent. However something that made him suffer would be fun. Maybe she should get him completely and utterly trashed, while staying sober enough herself that she could be rather chipper in the morning to annoy the hell out of him. Hmm that would be fucking fantastic. In fact, if she wasn’t so hung-over she’d have been making plans then and there. Oh well, she’d made a mental note to make a plan. Of course, who knew if that mental note would stick or not. Her brain was lacking in post-its right now. Apparently, drinking used up all your mental post-its. Funny that.

Bad day? Was he retarded or something. Of course she was having a bad day. So what if his question was sarcastic or rhetorical, she was annoyed so she was going to treat him as though the question was serious. She was nice like that. “Oh no, my day’s been just lovely, thanks Captain Obvious..” Shooting him yet another glare, she kicked at him, and missed, from under the table. God-dammit. Why did life have to suck so much. Even hating Tyler so much was draining, and not offering as much comfort as she wanted. That freaking sucked. Soon she’d have to stop being angry at him and actually be a decent person. Bah, screw that for a bad joke. Emily was feeling rotten, so everyone else had to feel that way. Those were the rules, didn’t you know?

Eyes narrowed at the boy as he asked if it mattered. It did matter. For one, if was him she’d have to kick his ass. Though, okay he had a point. She was in no mood to chase him if he ran away. Kicking his ass was important, but not as important as sitting there sulking. Rolling her eyes, she glared at him yet again. “It was you, you little creep. I owe you an ass kicking.” Crossing her arms, Em glared at her food. Everything deserved a glare today, absolutely everything. “I don’t want this.” She declared, as though it was the most important thing. “Go get me jello.” She told the young man. Some of the anger leaving her voice. It was the least he could do, after torturing her anyway. “If you get me some, I won’t kick your ass later?”

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[FREDERICK ASHLEY BIRKIN]

In truth Frederick didn't care much about what others thought of him. He wasn't the nicest person in the world, but he was logical -- and at least he wasn't selfish. Rather than declare their friendship to be over, the boy was giving Emily more chances to "correct" herself, so to speak. She was a teenager, albeit a rather stubborn one, and everyone deserved a chance. He sure as heck wasn't perfect, and he never strived to be; perfection was nonexistent, and while a very small part of Frederick Birkin was an idealist, perfection was never part of his ideals.

Noticing a movement down below, Frederick glanced toward the source and noticed that her foot had changed locations. Had she attempted to kick him? He was already a bit skeptical about her concentration -- and the fact that she had missed when the two were side-by-side was no aid. "Captain Obvious..." he said quietly, as though in deep contemplation. "Does that make you Captain Wasted?"

While his voice seemed somewhat amused, the boy was not in the least. Still, he had to make the best out of this situation. Maybe, just maybe, Emily would learn from this horrible mistake. Right. There went Idealist Fred again.

“It was you, you little creep. I owe you an ass kicking.”

A snicker accompanied Frederick's thoughts, and he looked down at the girl with crossed arms. There she was again, talking about things that she wouldn't be able to accomplish in her current state -- or at any time, really, unless she caught him off guard. The sixteen-year-old nearly rolled his eyes at here somewhat childish gesture, and rather than respond in a positive way that she would more than likely have preferred, he leaned away from the table a little and crossed his own arms, careful not to lean back too far lest he fall off his seat in a rather embarrassing situation. The last thing that he needed was an opportunity for Emily Evans to take advantage of him.

"First of all, Love," he began, a very small grin present on his lips, "we can establish that you can't kick my ass. Second of all, I'm not buying - or stealing - anything for you, so fork up some cash and I'll consider getting you a food item of some sort."

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[EMILY ANNETTE EVANS]

Emily raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the young man. He wasn’t going to steal anything for her? That wasn’t exactly what she had thought of when she suggested he get her some jello. In fact, it was the last thing she had in mind. Emily found it interesting though, that his mind had gone to stealing. That’s what he thought of her? Some delinquent or something? If she wasn’t so amused, she may have been offended. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had judged Em like that. Labelled her as just some petty high school thug. Like every other troubled teen out there. She was a troubled teen, sure, but she hadn’t exactly made it a habit to steal things. In truth, yes, she had stolen in the past, but not the way she assumed Fred was thinking of her. That wasn’t what was most interested in though.

Emily looked the boy up and down. Taking him in for a moment while her sluggish mind ticked over. He’d probably never stole anything before in his life. Which Emily found strange. He was too logical- calculated every move he made. Where was the fun in that? Not only that, were was the passion? Deep down, Emily believed in passion, and living for the moment. Of course, she perhaps followed her impulses too much, but that didn’t make up for the fact that Frederic needed a heavy dose of acting with his heart, and not his head. The brunette felt sorry for him actually. Imagine living a life without passion. To Em, it seemed like such a hollow, empty way to live. A frown tugged on her lips. It must be so sad. She needed to help him! Get him out of his own head. At least for a while.

“Yes you are.” She stated, making a snap decision. It was almost as though her impulse was washing away the residue of her hang-over. She should have known this was what she needed. Something crazy to focus on. It was always this way. Give her an adventure and she’ll forget her woes and happily carry out her whim. “You’re going to steal some jello.” She flashed him a wicked grin then a wink. She knew he was going to protest, so she had to act quickly. Give him absolutely no option. No chance to say no. Grabbing his hand, she tugged him up to his feet. Offering him a comforting smile. “Trust me, this will be fun.. Just follow my lead, kay?” Giving his hand a small squeeze, she led him carefully away from the table.

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