"Well, right this moment, it looks like you've landed on your arse and you're now having a cry about it."
Whether or not Vanessa was ready for company, whether or not she even wanted it, she was getting it from an unlikely source. Pete had been in the rec room, rummaging through the wall of DVDs to borrow a few and return to his room. The great thing about living in a house full of teenagers was that there were many, many DVDs to choose from. The not so great thing was that, being teenagers, he had to sort through a lot of crap to find anything worthwhile. It already defied belief that anyone would voluntarily watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but did they really need every single season? Really? And why wasn't there any kind of organization? Why were cartoons mixed in with dramas and comedies mixed with music concerts?
Anyway. He'd finally uncovered a few gems hidden rather literally in the rough, despite the headache he was quickly developing thanks to the ungodly shrieking that seemed to be going on directly above his head. On the one hand, he thought maybe he should go check it out; teenage hormones and mutant powers being what they are, someone might well bring the entire building down with a stray thought. On the other hand, though, they were just teens, and fighting was in their blood. It'd pass. Eventually. So he went about his business, since it wasn't worth paying attention to in the first place; all he could hear was unintelligible screaming, with only the occasional word or two being at all clear enough to make out.
But then it went abruptly quiet, and that's when he started to get a bit nervous. In his experience, arguments that heated didn't end that suddenly unless one or both parties unexpectedly found themselves stricken by a case of death, and, well, teenage hormones and mutants powers being what they are . . .
So Pete had decided it was probably a good idea to at least go and check to make sure the little blighters hadn't murdered each other, since he'd inevitably get the blame, being the closest thing to a responsible, supervisory adult around at the time. But just as he got within sight of the stairs, a young woman, possibly the yelling female part of the argument, tumbled down gracelessly to the floor. Well, at least she was alive.
After announcing his presence, Pete held out his hand to help the girl get back to her feet. "You okay there, Miss . . ." Pete realized then that he actually didn't have a clue who this person was, and he trailed off accordingly.