Evan: …are you okay?
Tori: O__o I'm FINE! Why?
Evan: You sure? You must be really bored..
Tori: *twitch* I'm serious! Why don't you people understand? I can have fun anytime, ANYWHERE! Now go inside and skank.
Evan: Tori, you're at a ska show…lying on the couch. Do you have a headache or something? Want some Tylenol?
Tori: … *glare* I'm having fun in my HEAD. Now GO inside and have FUN of your OWN.
Evan: *leaves*
Quatre: *comes out five seconds later* Tori, are you okay?
Tori: ARGH!!!!!!!!!!
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"Duet?" I asked, choking down the lump of fear that had risen in my throat.
The mattress creaked and groaned as she sat up, then whined as she leaned over to switch on the lamp on the dresser. The only other furniture besides the two beds on opposite sides of the room were the huge military trunks at the foot of each bed, mismatched dressers at the head of each bed against the wall and a TV on a table against the far wall in the middle. The two short book cases on either side were stacked with books and plastic models and comics and sketch pads and all manner of entertainment as well as photo albums and some innocent-looking cases of paintballs. There were two paintball guns hanging from hooks on either side of the book cases.
The walls were mostly bare except near the beds. The wall next to Duet's bed as well as the side of the dresser serving as her headboard were almost completely wallpapered in posters from anime magazines with the occasional tear-out of a rifle or revolver. The few remaining white spaces were masked by photographs of the other housemates covered in dirt, fresh out of the shower, being tormented in their sleep and in other typical situations. Duo's space was peppered with more friendly photos but dominated mostly by a humongous map of Earth and the surrounding colonies. There were thumbtacks and little pieces of paper with notes and dates taped all over it. Occasionally a photo would accompany one of the thumb tacks, usually of the boys and Duet goofing off or proudly displaying some strange battle token like jackets taken off soldiers and officers or just their hats. It was somewhat gruesome, but still came off as lighthearted when accompanied by Duet's childish grin or Trowa's shrug and half-smile.
"Have a seat, Cass," Duet said, patting the spot next to her. I approached hesitantly and sat down, the mattress expressing its disapproval once again.
She sat half-Indian style with her left foot on the floor and the right foot beneath her left thigh. She gripped her ankle, arms straight, and looked at me expectantly. It was a confusing position, expressing neither introverted nor extroverted tendencies but a well-hidden timid streak. I knew she was psychoanalyzing me right back though, picking at posture and pupil dilation and the way I'd wrapped my towel. It was one of those things women do unconsciously, but she'd latched onto that innate ability and perfected it.
"Are you alright?"
Duet tipped me a grim half-smirk and fell backwards onto the bed. "Men… They never ask for directions, they make up the rules as they go, and they're completely impossible. Why do we put up with them?"
"They're entertaining, I suppose," I replied. Duet laughed. She grabbed the pillow off the end of the bed and hugged it to herself.
"Do you like them?"
"Like who? Duo and everyone?
"No, men. Boys in general."
"Oh. Just checking." I had to take a few seconds to think about what she'd just said. "Yes, of course." I thought I heard someone in the hall and adjusted my towel in case they decided to come in.
"There are clothes in the dresser," Duet mumbled into the pillowcase.
"Oh, ah-"
"Any lingerie you happen across is Duo's, not mine. Grab whatever you want."
"T-thank you," I said. I looked down at her as she was, lost in thought, chewing absent-mindedly on the corner of the pillow. She was a good three or four inches shorter than me with a fine-toned Caucasian build. Slim waist, wide hips, long legs that folded neatly… I was willing to bet she cleaned up very nicely. With a good brushing, decent clothing and some eyeliner we might make an L4 prep out of her yet.
I tip-toed to her dresser with no real reason for stealth and opened the top drawer. Socks, panties and bras were in complete disarray. I shuffled through them cautiously, half expecting to find tiny zip-lock bags of cocaine or a cockroach or anything that would prove they didn't live as cleanly as I was led to believe…but in the end, all it was was a teenage girl's underwear drawer. The worst I found was a box of condoms and a few thongs. I breathed a sigh of relief, slightly disappointed for some reason, and grabbed a pair of underwear and a sports bra I hoped would fit.
"I'm not looking…" Duet yawned and covered her face with the pillow. I didn't much care if she did looked or not. Nothing she hasn't seen. Anyway, the underwear were a little too small and the bra was a bit too tight, but I could live with it.
In the next drawer down I found pajamas; mostly flannel bottoms and tank tops. The red plaid pants I pulled out only went down to about mid-calf on me and the black muscle shirt with "Final Stage" emblazoned across the front clung to me like a second skin. I must've looked silly wearing it, but I could see Duet in this same outfit. I bet she looked adorable. It was a pleasant thought though, so I smiled at her. She still had the pillow over her face.
I stepped lightly over to her, picked up the gun she'd dropped, and half-jumped onto the bed next to her. She removed the pillow and stretched much like a cat.
"Were you really planning on using this?" I smirked and offered her the revolver. She took it out of my hand, inspected it, spun the chamber, switched the safety back on, and placed it where the pillow used to be.
"Just to scare the boy a bit. You know, do some crazy speech and start crying and waving it around and maybe take out a lamp. …not that he wouldn't beat my ass and take it right out of my hands, but at least I'd have some fun…. Eh meh… He'll probably end up sleeping on the couch anyway." She sat up, flicked a stray piece of hair over her shoulder and began inspecting her bandages. "Bandages, bandages, bandages…" she mumbled and made a face. "You weren't hurt any, were you?"
"No," I replied. I watched in fascination as she peeled back one of the larger pads and peeked underneath. We both grimaced.
"Can I come in?" someone in the hallway tapped lightly on the door and asked.
"Door's open, Tro," Duet replied. She snatched her discarded pillow back into her lap and hugged it tightly. The door opened silently and the green-eyed boy from that morning stepped in. He flicked on the light switch and the room brightened considerably. Duet snorted in disgust.
"Hey, Cassie. …I just came to check on the patient," he smiled pleasantly and knelt down in front of Duet.
"I just checked 'em. They're fine."
"Duet, you're two T-cells away from HIV and have a leukocyte count in the negatives. After this you're lucky if you're not anemic too. Just let me look," he said and reached for the gauze on her thigh.
She bopped him on the head with her pillow. The two fell into a moment of stillness, unsure how to react to the event that had just transpired.
"…are you gonna move that pillow?"
"Nope."
They wanted each other closely for another few seconds, then slowly their gazes slid towards the gun lying exposed on the bed. I had no idea what either of them was planning on doing with it, but as I theorized, the two simultaneously leapt for it. The was a yelp and a thump and Trowa had Duet pinned to the floor, the barrel under her chin and the safely long removed.
Duet's eyes narrowed menacingly, then widened in surprise. "OW! CUT OPENED! GET OFF ME!"
Trowa rolled his eyes and shifted off her. He dropped the gun and moved to inspect the side of her stomach she was clutching at. There was another lightning-quick movement and she had the gun at his temple. Trowa sighed.
"Fine… You win… Can I please just check these now? If I don't, Quatre'll murder me."
"Proceed, loser!" Duet grinned and folded her arms behind her head still clutching the gun.
It was a rather awkward situation to be in. Boring, too, as the wrestling was over and I wasn't exactly interested in the gore.
"I'm gonna go brush my hair," I announced and took my leave. I shut the bedroom door behind me. The lights were dimmer in the short hallway but the air was fresher. A peek into the living room told me Duo was still asleep on the couch although he was hard to spot even from an easier angle. I still didn't know what time it was, but I wasn't terribly tired and I could still hear people talking animatedly and laughing upstairs.
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Tori: Oh, and sorry… but the submissive thing is a quirk Duet actually possesses. As her friends, though, we never take advantage of her.
Trowa: Duet, can you get me a soda?
Duet: Get it yourself!
Trowa: Duet, can you get me a soda. *stern look*
Duet: …okay.
Tori: …do you think she even notices how easily we can bend her to our will?
Trowa: *shrugs* Hey, if it ain't broken, don't fix it.