You are now again WILLY, and you are running to catch up with the black-haired boy as soon as the blonde departs.

"Hey, you, wait." You shout, waving your arms. "You there, boy."

The black-haired boy turns and looks at you questioningly. The first thing you notice is that his eyes are a stunning shade of blue, then you catch the fact he is wearing glasses and when he smiles and waves back at you, you notice his front teeth are slightly larger than they should be.

"Hello," he says as you catch up, panting, "Do you... uh... need anything? Are you okay?"

"What's your name?" You demand. He looks rather taken aback at the sudden question, not to mention your somewhat impolite meeting. Remembering your manners, you hold out your hand to shake his. Instead, he slaps your hand sideways as a high-five. Or rather, a low five.

"I'm John Egbert. Who're you?" you says with a wide grin. You blink and wonder if his cheeks ever hurt from how hard he's smiling.

"Willy Vegase." You state, "Who's that guy you were with?"

"Oh, uh, Dave?" he questions, his expression rather confused. "How'd you know I was walking back with him?"

"I saw you." you respond, but at the last second you add in, "While I was heading back to my dorm, that is."

"The Exiles?" he asks, tilting his head in the direction of the red building, "That's cool. Is it any different than the Prospit or Derse dorms?"

"No, we just have a vending machine with cookies on the first floor rather than on the second."

"Betty Crocker?"

"Of course."

He shakes with something that you interpret as hatred. This boy does not like cookies. How sad.

"Why'd you ask about Dave?" John cuts through your thoughts as sharply as a knife.

Oh.

You didn't feel like explaining, and rather you threw out a lame excuse.

"I haven't seen you around here before," you say, rather innocently. He looks at you with a puzzled expression, then nods. You let out a silent sigh of relief that he didn't press you for more information. "Maybe we could talk another time."

"Yeah, that seems like a good idea." John agrees, and you hold out your hand again. This time, he shakes it firmly. His hand is cold.

"Well met, John." You say, and you are impressed with how polite that sounded.

"Well met, Willy." He echoes, and you easily catch how he struggles not to laugh. Maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought.

After another short good-bye, you turn around and head back to your dorm. As you reach the building, you can feel a stare on you. You turn around, and someone is looking at you across the field. Its hard to see clearly, but you could swear whoever was staring at you was judging you.

And it definately wasn't John.