Dessert for Dinner

Log Info

Title: Dessert for Dinner
Emitter: -
Characters: Winter Storm, Elizabeth Adams
Place: Siegel Dining Hall - The Quad - Steranko Institute
Time: August 14, 2010
Summary: Winter and Elizabeth run into each other in the dining hall.

Elizabeth is making her way through the lines. The food here is incredibly varied, though she's not in the mood for anything fancy. So its meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans… and near the desert area she meets Winter. "Hey… you've got English the hour after I do, right? I'm Elizabeth." She snags a slice of chocolate cake. Life is too short not to have dessert.

Winter seems to have disdained anything like real food and instead stocked up on desserts. Maybe his life will be shorter on account of them. And life is too short in the first place. Thus, eat more desserts. It's perfect logic. So he's got chocolate cake, some kind of parfait deal, and a pair of wrapped ice cream thingies. He sets the tray down to unwrap one of these, momentarily unaware someone's addressing him at all. Most people don't seek him out.

"Huh?" He pauses. Thinks. Frowns. "I guess. Yeah. Uh… hi." Some half-forgotten bit of courtesy prompts him to belatedly add "I'm Winter."

Elizabeth grins, "Pull the all dessert meal too many times and they'll yank your dessert privledges. They've got pretty good hamburgers though." She seems utterly unintimidated by his appearance. She fishes through her purse, grabbing her student id which oddly enough, unlike every other id including his, has no photo. She heads through the check out line, swiping her ID card then looking for a seat.

Fair is fair: Winter doesn't seem intimidated either. Which is good. With a shrug he shoves the li'l plate with its chocolate cake away, although he doesn't backtrack to get a hamburger. He just 'pays' with his card — which has an unsmiling photo. A glance goes to Elizabeth's. "What, not photogenic?"

Elizabeth laughs, "No, I'm a shapeshifter. So no sense in having a photo when they don't know what I'm going to look like from day to day. Or for that matter, minute to minute. And since fingerprints, blood, everything changes when I shift, biometrics are completely useless for id'ing me." She snags a nearby table. "So is Winter your real name or a code name? Mr Mason is bugging me to choose a codename, but… I'm just not feeling it."

"Yeah?" Winter asks absently, turning his head to look at another table entirely. It's a lonely one, perhaps one he 'often' retreats to, although it's hard to have made habits having been around for barely an entire week. "It's my real name," he alows absently. Then, blinking, he looks back down to Elizabeth. "Yeah?" he repeats. "Well how do I know you're you right now, then?" he asks, tone dry.

Elizabeth says, "You don't. In fact I don't know that I'm me." She sighs, "Long story… I've got amnesia. Woke up in the hospital with no memories… and a lawyer telling me my name was Elizabeth Adams." She sips her soda. "But I try to keep my appearance more or less like this from day to day… though I'm not really sure I got the eye color right this morning.""

"Really? I don't remember who I am, either." Winter pauses. "Who're you again?" He can't help but smirk a little after asking. It's his idea of a joke. Jerk.

Elizabeth wads up a napkin and throws it Winter. "Jerk." She laughs though. "Seriously though… as far as places to recover go, I landed on my feet ending up here. Even if Mr Mason is a hard ass."

Winter still looms, and he grimaces when the napkin falls on his tray. He plucks it free and tosses it aside carelessly. Carelessly as in throwing it on the floor. By the time he glances back to his preferred table it's taken, and this earns a frown for Elizabeth.

"Whatever," he mutters, but sits. "Do your math teacher proud and call yourself 'X.' I'm sure they'll get behind that." He pauses. "Hell, /I'd/ get behind a girl callin herself 'X,'" he drawls.

Elizabeth smirks, "I bet a lot of guys would… and the triple-X jokes would start about thirty seconds later." She sips her soda. "I'll figure out something. I'm only a freshmen… I don't think they expect you to save the world until your Junior year. Since you've English an hour after me, you're what… a sophomore? Have you been here for a year, or did you transfer in?"

"Sophomore, yeah," Winter says a little sourly. He can avoid talking about it by shoving ice cream in his mouth. It's a distraction, provides some time for Elizabeth to eat as well, and hopefully Winter can ignore his own frustration. "I'm new." He prods at the parfait a little. "If you can make yourself look any way you want, you /could/ go for a triple X rating," he realizes. "And nobody would ever think you're a freshman. Haha."

Elizabeth grins, "Yeah, but my clothes don't change when I do… so I have to build up a wardrobe of clothing of various sizes and styles… Even if a twenty year old was my size, she wouldn't wear what I'm wearing now, for example." She sips her soda. "IDs will be a problem too… I need to think about it…. if nothing else, someone, somewhere at UCC is going to be making fake ids."

Winter regards Elizabeth consideringly. And, being the jerk he sometimes (often) is, he offers with absolutely no ulterior motive, "If you call yourself 'X,' /I'll/ buy you the clothes."

Elizabeth raises a eyebrow, "Heck no. When I do pick a costume it's going to be something covering and bullet-proof. And I'm not even going to ask where you'd put the X's."

"Hey. No need to mock my generosity." Winter snorts, and spoons up some more of the parfait. Look. Fruit. He's eating healthy. He probably does in reality apart from this little splurge, given he's pretty fit and all. But then, who knows what his powers are. Maybe he has a super-metabolism. He'll be the hero of us all someday. At some point he lowers his spork, and eyes Elizabeth. "You honestly think you /have/ to pick a costume?"

Elizabeth sips her soda. "Well, they don't make you. The school issues costumes for use in training in the Thunderdome. But if I'm going to go out and try and be a hero, which I do plan on doing, then I'll need a costume. Maybe one of the super-genius types can make something that will shapeshift along with me. That would be perfect… and think of the money I'd save on clothing."

Winter nods slowly, looking a little bewildered at mention of super-genius types. Here. He glances around, grimaces, and scoops up some more parfait. "And laundry," he absently comments. "Is there some law that states you have to be in costume, anyway? Not that you wouldn't look great in a catsuit, I'm sure."

Elizabeth says, "No, not really… costumes have three major purposes, really. Concealing your identity, not really a factor for me, armor or other form of protection, and making it obvious whose on what side. My boyfriend, Jack, doesn't do the whole costume thing himself."

Playing with the spork a little, Winter glances up from his (multiple) dessert to Elizabeth. "Play your cards right, get the right gadget, you could really fuck up the opponent's mind… if even the /clothes/ look like their ally's."

Elizabeth nods, "I sooo need to get one of the super genius types to make a shapeshifting costume. Jack knows a couple of them." She chuckles, "Or I could just wait until the next time something goes shooting across campus and explodes, and just look for the person running behind yelling 'It's not supposed to do that!'"

Winter snorts again, but if he had a retort, he pauses. Maybe there /are/ super scientists students who do that. He wouldn't know, though. Not yet. So his broad shoulders roll in a shrug. "Well, good luck with it," he mutters. Him? Costume? Pff.

Elizabeth finishes her meal. "Good luck to you too, Winter. I know this place can be pretty odd, but it grows on you." She flashes you a smile as she cleans up her tray and takes it over to the racks.

Turning in his seat, Winter hooks his arm over the back of the chair to watch Elizabeth go, even if it's just a short distance. "Thanks," he says, not even sure if the girl can still hear him. Then he turns back to his 'meal' with a bit of a smirk. Maybe he won't hate the school after all.

Geniuses running after their projects. Ha.

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