Move-In Day

Log Info

Title: Move-In Day
Emitter: None
Characters: Miles, Summer
NPCs: None
Place: Baldwin Hall
Time: Mid-Afternoon, June 23rd, 2010
Summary: Summer's arrival is actually rather refreshingly normal. And moreover, she carries bribery in the form of food. Miles offers warnings about the dorm and information on the school.

Summer
Straight, sleek lengths of blonde hair tumble about a broad-cheekboned face, the mixture of a few black and brown strands inamongst the gold proving that this colour, at the very least, does not come from a bottle. Her eyes are a mid-blue, framed by long lashes a few shades darker than her hair and brows. Her face is more defined than the classic oval, cheekbones and jawline eye-catchingly striking, piquant and interesting rather than classically beautiful. She has a figure that dates back to the '50's, all curves and legs up to /there/; coupled with the warm, mixed gold of her hair, she does seem, at times, a few decades' worth of knockback in a package that's in that nebulous age between sixteen and twenty.

She isn't dressed to accentuate her curves today, wearing a comfortable pair of old brown corduroy pants that fit around the hips and fall straight from there to trod-upon hems, a pair of battered sneakers the culprit of the wear-and-tear today. A heathered grey t-shirt, however, clings in all the right places despite its casual look, the v-neck showing creamy skin. Her hair's pulled back from her face into two untidy knots at the base of her skull, a few too-short strands left to fall diagonally across her forehead.

Miles
You see nothing. No, seriously. Move along, citizen.

The middle of the week, and someone's moving in. This school's kind of insane, really, but teens with powers — or teens at all, really — aren't known for keeping schedules. There are fewer boxes than most come with, and all of various sorts (some are fruit boxes, others, yes, liquor boxes, but all conveniently sized) piled out in the common area just outside the open door next to Miles' room. The new occupant is just coming in with another pair of boxes from outside, puffing a wayward strand of blonde hair out of her eyes as the door swings shut behind her. She sets the boxes down and fans herself with a hand, catching her breath.

So this week, Miles had compromising pictures taken of him to secure a meeting, only to arrive at the meeting to find a note saying the blackmailer had had to leave. This left him with a certain amount of mixed feelings about the whole matter, and a faint worry that they may have left evidence behind in their room. The room Summer's now moving into. Which is why there's a knock on the wall right next to her, and a voice speaking out of thin air. "So, uh. Say. Need a hand?"

"Sure! Just, careful with that box there, it's full of breakable knicknack—" Summer begins to say, turning towards the voice. And, judging by her expression, finding the lack of a person to look at rather eerie indeed. She rubs at her eyes with the heel of one hand. "There /is/ someone there, right?"

"Yeah. I'm you're next door neighbor." The one with the sign that says 'no, seriously, there's -no ghost-.' on it, presumably. "Figured I'd play meet and greet first -before- you got told that you had to exorcise the local haunt." A pause. "If they tell you that it's a practical joke, by the way." The box indicated floats into the air, and actually flickers out of visibility. "So where do you want it?" A pause. "Oh. Call me Miles."

"Good to know." Summer's tone is light and breezy, balance evidently restored by the continued explanation — no, she's /not/ crazy. "Besides, I don't really deal with ghosts, and I'm anything but religious, so exorcism's right out the door." She snags a box of her own, huffing briefly and turning back in time to see the box disappear. "On the desk?" Pause. "It /will/ come back into visibility, right?"

"Yeah, once I'm not touching it. Doesn't work with other -people- so much but if I'm carrying something, it's covered." The box flickers back into visibility when it's on the desk. "The school nurse says my brain automatically tells people that they don't see me. Just sort of edits just out everything but my voice."

Summer holds up one hand, finger pointed at the ceiling as though she's about to make an argument. She pauses, however, then shakes her head. "I don't know if that's awesome or terrible," she admits, setting her own box — books, apparently, to judge by the solid *thump* against the surface — on the desk and trying to be careful not to run into him. "Thanks, though. Oh. I'm Summer Sinclair." She offers a hand in his voice's direction. "Nice to meet you, Miles. What grade're you in?"

"Sophomore. Technically." He shakes the offered hand- the sense of touch, at least, isn't edited, and his hands are quite large, by the feel of it. "I'm having to repeat a year because when I first got here I wasn't so much of a talker. They marked me as absent from classes for most of the first semester. Now I just kind of blather on so people know I'm here."

"Technically?" Summer echoes, brows arching upwards. The explanation comes as she shakes his hand, then lets go, sidestepping where he ought to be to grab another box. Her bed — brought from home, evidently, something light and simple probably from IKEA — is already made up and put under a window, a pile of unsorted clothes bursting from a suitcase atop it. "Just grab boxes and pile them on the desk. I'll sort them out later. And ouch, that sucks." She sets the box down and pats at about where she thinks his shoulder should be. It's probably more like his elbow, but oh well. "I'm not all that happy about summer — don't laugh — school, but at least it's not repeating an entire year."

"I wouldn't laugh, you've probably -heard- all those jokes already. I mean, I know how that goes. I've been the tallest guy in my class since the fourth grade and my name is Miles. Think about it." Boxes start to disappear and reappear, stacked as directed. "Don't suppose you've seen anything odd in here? A stray cellphone, pictures, anything like that?"

Rummaging through the stacks of stuff on her bed, Summer snickers. "Sorry, sorry, I think that's almost worse than mine," she says laughingly, sticking some clothes on hangers and setting them in the closet. "I'll leave off the jokes, then. Mutual agreement. Sound good?" The question gives her pause. "Nope. Only things I found in here were some flowers." She jerks her chin towards a vase containing a single rose surrounded by a few complementary flowers. "Did you lose your phone or something?"

"Totally sounds good." He sounds like he's grinning, anyway, though you can't actually see it. "And Not…exactly. See, the girl who just moved out of this room? Kind of..um. I'm not sure how to describe it. She snuck into the mens' showers when I was in there and snapped pictures, said she was going to mail them all around unless I sang a duet with her. SO I was sort of hoping or…uh worried that when she cleared out she left the evidence behind."

There is a pause. "Taking a photo of the invisible guy seems like a pretty dumb thing to t— oh wait, you said your brain tells other people's brains that you're not there. So you can be seen on cameras and stuff?" Summer's voice starts out amused and then turns to interest. "Sorry, though, haven't seen anything like that. Sounds like the dorm's full of pranksters. You sing much, or was this just on a whim?"

"Right. Cameras, horrible robot optics, that sort of thing." At her negative reply, he sighs. "Not sure if that's good or bad, actually. At least it's not sitting around for anyone to find, though. And…um. Sort of. I was in drama club at my old school, before…this. We did a few musicals. Not exactly viable for live performances now, though, now, though, obviously." Another box is set under the desk. "And yeah, we're kind of the prank dorm. I'm not sure if the ghost thing is a prank on me or the newbies, though."

Thankfully, there aren't all that many boxes; Summer evidently packed fairly lightly. "Horrible robot optics. Sounds like there's a story there." She opens a little cooler to one side of her bed, pulling out a tupperware container and opening it. Within? Caramel brownies. "For helping me out. No pranks, I promise; I baked them before I left home." Regardless of whether he takes one, she sets it on an empty part of the desk before settling on the edge of her bed with her own brownie. "I tried out for the school musical once. It got in the way of volleyball practice though, so I didn't get to actually do it."

He takes a brownie- fortunately, he doesn't, for example, swallow and have the food stay visible or anything- once it's in his mouth, it's gone. "These are great." There's a faint creak as he leans against the wall. "Volleyball? Cool. I got lucky, I guess. Drama club's active performances were all spring/summer and football was in the fall, so I didn't have much practice conflict. Not that I got to play much. I was only JV before I got my powers and had to come here." A quick look at her, and he offers, "Too bad, though. You would have been a hell of a leading lady."

"I did tennis in the spring, so I didn't really have much free time." So, Summer's something of a jock, it'd seem. She sighs contentedly as she takes another bite of brownie, catching a few crumbs before they fall. "And thanks. Cooking's a hobby — do you know if they'll let me use the kitchen sometimes? — and I wanted to make sure I had bribes for some help for the first couple days." Her honesty about the purpose of the brownies might be laudable, but her grin's pretty relaxed and amused about it. "You haven't heard me try to sing; I never got picked out for any sort of special music lesson or anything, so I'm pretty sure my voice's nothing special," she points out. "Though thanks again."

"Well, no, I haven't, but I'm mostly biased because back at my old school, the female performers were all…tiny. 4'11", 5'1", tops. I wouldn't get a crick in my neck opposite you." He shrugs. "But anyway. You can bribe me with food like this any old time."

/That/ provokes a laugh from the blonde. "Something about drama must appeal to the short people, because most of the girls in my old school's drama club were tiny, too." Summer's chuckle is low as she pushes to her feet, opening a few boxes. "Help yourself. I need to get rid of the brownies before they start to go stale and the caramel crystallizes." She rummages around in the box, then pulls out a multiple-photo frame, pointing at one particular picture. Indeed, several of the girls come up to Summer's shoulder in the photo. "Those three're drama club, so I get what you mean." She sets the frame on the shelf beside the flowers, then moves to the window to fling it open. It's sunny out, and warm. "Hm. We might get some rain tonight, but it'll cool off a bit, which'll be good."

More brownies disappear. "Don't mind if I do, then." The voice shifts away from the wall, to join her near the window. "Something to do with weather, I take it?" A pause. "I mean, why you got sent here."

"Got it in one." Summer leans against the window, elbows propped on the sill and her head halfway out into the sunshine. "More accurate than any weather channel you might want, that's me. I haven't sorted out the chicken and the egg dilemma where my powers're concerned, though." She glances over her shoulder automatically, then shakes her head. "It's definitely going to take some getting used to, this school. What other powers do people around here have?"

"A fair few folks who are really strong and tough. That almost seems to be the default package, in some ways, though how they express it differs. Two or three super-brains. Shapeshifters, folks who can control energy…the works. A guy who can mimic the powers of anyone he touches- you might want to stay away from him, just in case. He doesn't always get full -control- over what you can do. Oh. One kid with no powers at all- he's the sidekick of some sort of vigilante who's here to learn how to deal with other people who have powers or something, I think." A pause. "There's also a guy who can turn your powers off, temporarily, but it never lasts, or else I'd be visible all the time."

"And anyone I should watch out for personality-wise? Thanks for the head's up about the guy with mimicking abilities, that'd be kind of … bad, especially if he freaked out over it." Summer shudders slightly at the thought. "Sounds like you wish it /did/ last longer. That bad, huh?"

"Not a fan of not being able to turn it off, no. I mean…I can't exactly go and hang out off-campus. Restaurants are out unless someone wants to order a double-sized meal and doesn't mind looking like they're crazy for talking to someone who isn't there. Hell, I can't even just go for a drive without a mannequin or a CPR dummy in my lap." A shrug. "But I figure I'm not as bad off as some, so I probably shouldn't complain. Or dump it on you, for that matter, sorry." He absently pats her shoulder. "As for folks you should be aware of, um. You may want to stay away from the Fein kid. He seems to collect girls. And some of them are crazy."

"I'm kind of used to it. My friends figure that since it's just Mom and me, if they dump all their problems on me I'm not going to run to my parents and get the gossip chain started." Summer grins at some memory, then pats his hand on her shoulder before straightening up. "Oh, one of those. I'm not going to ask if he's at least cute. Wrong target audience there. And all girls are crazy, didn't you know?"

"Well, based on the girl who used to live here, you may have a point." Miles coughs, and there's another sense that he's eyeing her. "So what's -your- crazy?"

"That's not something you ask a girl the first time you meet her," Summer says, mock-prim, before she sticks her tongue out at him. Or rather, where his voice is coming from. "I meant in a general sense. To us, boys are crazy, so I figure it has to go both ways."

His finger taps the tip of her tongue, lightly. "I am perfectly sane. Except for the whole 'acts out in order to be noticed because of my powers' thing. That's a little messed up." A cough. "Anyway, when I said crazy I meant…rumor is one of them tried to shoot him or something. Over a two year old breakup."

"Ack." No more raspberrying at the invisible guy. Summer rolls her eyes at the story, then pauses. "Wait. You're serious? What the hell!" She stares out the window, where the sunlight is somewhat dimmed by high clouds. "We're in /high school/. That's like freaking out because your friend ate your red crayon in kindergarten or something."

"I know!" There's the sound of him rubbing his face. "I think it's what convinced a friend of mine to try to create a hormone-damper."

"Let me know if that works. Sometimes I think I'd like it for myself," is Summer's rather droll response. "In the meantime, I'd better get back to unpacking if I want to get everything where it needs to be before, like, next month or something. It was good to meet you, Miles, seriously."

"Sure, I'll let you get back to it then. And if you need anything that can be solved by an invisible man, feel free to bribe me with more food. Or just knock on the wall, I'm right next door." A pause. "Apologies in advance if I ever wake you up by kicking a would be exorcist -through- the thing, but the walls are pretty sturdy here, it shouldn't be a problem. Later!" Presumably, he's left now. Hopefully.

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