Tensor

Chase was glad he'd brought his skiing gear. It made waiting outside in just below freezing temps easier. He'd had to rebuild his cover a bit, but thanks to Drake and his tendency to blow snow at any excuse, there was more than enough snow still for a short term assault.

It hadn't been that hard to convert his small portable tennis ball launcher for snow. It wasn't like he expected it to last any longer than the day. Not with people who could blow up buildings as a knee jerk reaction. Which was probably why this was dumb, but thus far, the most exciting thing that had happened was getting together with Gert.

That was awesome. But that just meant he had a partner-in-crime. Which was pointless unless they were making some sort of trouble. So, snowball ambush outside their dorm early Sunday morning.

For now all there was to do is drink coffee and wait for their first victims though. "So am I gonna get a treat for this genius idea?" he teased Gert as he looked back at her over his shoulder.

Gert was pacing, and Old Lace was tucked away soundly in her head although she could feel her shifting and stirring. Even with her roommate gone, it would have been irresponsible to let her out. Gert couldn't keep things the emotions from funneling to her currently. Pacing was not something she did regularly. It was typically reserved for very complex homework assignments that required concentration. There could be something relaxing in the movement, but now she was just fidgeting and there was a terrible, horrible knot in her stomach.

Calm, cool and collected were out the window, and Gert was reduced to the sort of person that she didn't like. What the fuck was wrong with her and why couldn't she seem to stop it? Gert stopped and pressed her forehead against the wall, counting under her breath. That wasn't helping, either.

What the shit was going on? How the hell was it that whenever Chase Stein was in her life the whole world seemed to get shaken and strange? And how could she get that to stop?

Did she want it to stop? That thought made her start pacing again, muttering darkly to herself. "Stop it. This is ridiculous. You are not five years old. You can control yourself better than this. Fuck." There was a note of resignation rather than anger in the swear.

Okay, time to do more broadening of Gert's horizons. Because really, who the hell, especially a girl like Gertrude Yorkes, had not seen Shrek? Shrek was epic. All of the movies were good. Even the third one where they all have kids. And the fourth one. Shrek like managed to stay awesome through all the sequels even.

So they were having a Shrek movie marathon. It was Friday night and there was absolutely no reason she could refuse. Well, there was, but Chase wasn't going to let her have that option. He'd even buy dinner again. So he was outside her door at 7pm, with his copies of all four movies, knocking.

Gert had tucked Old Lace firmly back inside her mind, shut the door, turned the keyed and bolted everything down as tightly as she could. The last thing she needed was for Old Lace to chomp down on Chase. Again. The rest time it had happened, there had been a plethora of excuses at the ready not the least of which was the fact that her power was pretty brand new and easily provoked all those years ago. He had taunted her, and Gert had lost control and defended herself in the brand new way that her genes had devised. It would not do to have a repeat now though if anyone was likely to draw that reaction out of her, it was bound to be Chase.

There was also no earthly, sensible reason for her to be the slightest bit nervous so she pushed that feeling to the back of her mind as well and locked another door. The tinge of paranoia, though, she was going to keep. The option that this could all be some sort of massive set-up was still prevalent in her brain.

Grabbing her favorite pair of drumsticks off her dresser--there was no way she was going to trust a video game to be packaged with proper drumsticks--Gert closed her door behind her and then stalked down the hall to Chase's door. She stood there, arms crossed over her chest, drumsticks in hand, looking at the door for a moment, wondering. There were lots of ways this could go terribly wrong although only a 34% of those scenarios ended with her getting kicked out of school.

She could live with those odds. Shoulders back, Gert knocked and then crossed her arms over her chest again, waiting.

Most of the time, Gert could be found in her room, headphones on and a book in front of her face. More often that not Old Lace would be curled on the floor beside her because Gert treated the projection of her own mind more like a cat than an over-the-top psychology experiment. She would pet the top of the dinosaur's head, and Old Lace would make a sound that was almost like purring but could startle newcomers into thinking she was growling and preparing to eat their liver. Old Lace had never eaten any livers. If anything she was partial to skin cells and would occasionally lick people, especially Gert, when she was in a good mood.

Old Lace was in a restless mood, though, and rather than just call her back into her own mind, Gert had relented and left her room. Instead they were sitting in the Common Area of the dorm. Gert was sitting cross legged on one of the chairs, her book open on the table and Old Lace's head in her lap. The slight growling sigh of Old Lace's breathing as she slept filled the room. Gert could see how other people might find it distracting, but it sounded like home to her.