Who: Alec and Rylee When: Five pm What: A break between Studying and Training, an encounter Where: Byrne Academy Rating: PG-13 for language and violent tendencies Status: In progress
Byrne Academy was Alec's in between place. He was taking a break from studying for the insanely complicated and mockingly inevitable Math test he had coming up on Friday, and instead of collapsing on his bed back at his UCLA dorm, and passing the fuck out - which is what he wanted to do. It was what he always wanted to do. Sleep was like a fucking golden apple - it was awesome but practically mythological at this point. So instead of sleeping, because there wasn't time to sleep - he could sleep when he was dead - he hubbed over to Byrne. Well first, he hubbed home to drop off his laundry - because real men had their mothers do their laundry, obviously - and then hubbed to Byrne. Just for a break, just for the cafeterria food and the library and the peopleness of it all. Just so he could turn into a cat, curl up on top of a shelf of books, or a convenient refridgerator - the tops of which were always perfectly warm - and not be judged. Or removed, and carded off to the pound. Or a nice and awesomely empty box - the confined spaces were just awesome. Yes, that's what he wanted.
But first - before all that animal goodness - Alec was in line for food. And quite happily, he had his bottle of water, three PB and J sandwichs, wrapped up in plastic-wrapping-making-them-look-all-official-like. He turned, to leave with his treasure, and find a table or something to sit at, and ran straight into a person. A person with red hair. Even if she had orange hair, he'd probably still refer to it as red. Orange seemed like such an awful color of hair - sorta like grey. Nobody wanted grey hair, nobody wanted orange hair. Well, it did sort of look orange anyway. And since his reflexes were fucking impeccable, he didn't stop himself before colliding with her. Superheroing at its best, he was. "My bad," was the only apology his sleep deprived brain could give him. He had the urge to bow and back away but he was awake enough to acknowledge how very weird that would look, and resist that urge. "Sammich?" He offered, holding up a sandwich. "It's strawberry jelly because I find that grape -- sucks. Which is a very important selection for your PB and J .... ness." Yeah, he remembered a time when he was wittier. Or maybe he was just imagining that time.