izzyalienqueen | Room 406, Sunday morning/early afternoon

When Isabel woke Sunday morning, she was surprised to see that Xander hadn't returned to the room during the night. After showering and getting dressed, she fed Jeramiah, grateful that he ate dried meal worms instead of live ones.

"Well, looks like we missed all the excitement yesterday. Do you think I should go look for Xander?"

"Croak..."

"Okay what does that mean? He's fine? He's been eaten by the snow monsters? Or do you just want more food?"

"Ribbit..."

"More food, okay..." She dropped a few more meal worms into the tank and then eyed Xander's computer. She'd seen it sitting in the second floor common room last night but didn't see Xander around so she'd brought it back to the room for safe keeping. The last thing she felt like doing was more homework. It was still early, she'd wait a little while and then go looking for him. But in the meantime she hoped Xander wouldn't mind if she used the computer to play solitare.

Opening it up, she pressed the power button, and settled down to play.

[ooc: Open to anyone who wants to stop by. ~~AFK until 3:30 EST though~~ I'm back!]

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Xander, after trudging, or possibly squelching, up from the 2nd floor, pushed open the door. Hair a mess, clothes and hands spattered in paint and getting white fingerprints on the door handle, he noticed a note on the floor, and bent to pick it up before letting the door fall shut behind him.

Seeing Isabel at his computer, he definitely squelched, but that would the squelching of momentary panic at the thought that she might have opened the folder marked OH GOD DO NOT PLAY ME ESPECIALLY IN FRONT OF JAYE TYLER. OR RORY. He said, without his voice remotely cracking at all, "Oh hey, you brought my laptop back; thanks. Was wondering where it ended up."

Isabel looked up when the door opened. "Oh my god, Xander what happened? Are you okay?"

Jumping to her feet she went over to help him. And then stopped when she noticed that the white substance he was covered in was paint. Wet paint. He didn't appear to be injured so she stepped back and out of the way. "I saw your laptop in the common room last night. With all the strangers around I didn't want anything to happen to it so I brought it back." She looked a bit embarrassed as she continued, "I'm sorry for using it without asking, but I couldn't stand to look at homework any more. I've been playing solitare."

Xander told himself that if she had opened the wrong folder before hitting the games, well, denial was ~~a familiar place~~ probably better for all concerned. "No problem; go for it."

He looked down at himself. "Not like I'm in any state to be touching it, after all. I'm fine, just had a little trapped in the closet problem that Lee Adama finally ended up helping me out with."

"I really need to get one of these for myself. Maybe for my birthday."

She frowned, "Trapped in a closet? What happened?"

"I went looking for extension cords, thinking maybe we could. Um. Blowdry the snow monsters." He grimaced and waved his hand. "I know, I know. But like the peanut butter and pickle relish sandwiches when I was eight, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Xander shrugged, and carefully opened the folded note. "Anyway, door locked behind me, and I ended up spending the entire night in the 2nd floor Janitor's closet."

Peanut butter and pickle relish, hmm, maybe with tabasco? She really needed to get some lunch if that was sounding good. Isabel laughed, "It sounds like a great idea. At least you were trying to do something."

Flopping down on her bed, she added, "I spent the whole battle here. Sleeping. My Western Lit homework put me to sleep and I didn't wake up till the victory party was half over."

"Wait, you spent the whole night locked in the janitor's closet? So that thing about Lee helping you out of the closet was literal as opposed to metaphorical?"

"Metaphorical?" Xander answered, distracted as he squinted at the note in front of him. The handwriting was vaguely familiar, very neat in a girly kind of way. "It's kind of metaphorical now, in the sense that it's an ex-closet. Pining for the fjords. Lee broke down the door."

He frowned. "Nocturnal study group? Bzuh?"

Isabel couldn't decide if Xander was really that distracted or just a master at avoiding the issue. Maybe there was some truth to that phone call she'd gotten in the beginning of the term. She shrugged, it really didn't matter to her either way. And hey, Lee was pretty...

"Nocturnal study group? What's that?"

Call Angel if you have questions. Xander read - not aloud - and retroactively recognised the handwriting, having seen it on various research notes back in Sunnydale. Oh. Still bzuh, then, because since when did Angel invite him to anything, but given the phrasing, it sounded kind of seekrit and scoobylike.

"Oh, yeah, that," he said quickly, shoving the note into the pocket of the cleanish shirt that was hanging on his chair. "Study session for Magical Theory - I, ah. Forgot about it, with everything else that's gone down this weekend."

"Yeah, it's been that kind of weekend." She motioned at the paint that was slowly drying on his shirt and skin. "You might want to hit the shower and get the paint washed off before it dries. Unless you're going for a new look."

"Also, I'm going to be doing some laundry later today. If you want I can wash what you're wearing now so the paint won't stain it permanently." He'd never have to know that she used anything more then regular laundry detergent.

"Yeah, good call, especially since I haven't been back here since what, Friday night?"

Xander blinked, then his eyes darted up to the frog tank. "Oh god, Jeremiah - he hasn't been fed since then! Geez, I'm worse than my parents. Mom might not cook but at least there was always some kind of food."

Isabel wrinkled her nose. "Ewww!" And then pointed in the direction of the shower. "That way. Fast!"

"Don't worry about Jeremiah, I fed him this morning. I didn't want him to be hungry."

Xander snorted. "Gee, thanks." He grabbed the clean shirt off his chair and headed for his dresser to add more clothes to that, then turned around and added with a grin, "And also, gee, thanks. For frog-feeding."

Clean clothes in hand, he ducked into the bathroom. A few moments later, a paint-spattered hand reached out through the barely-cracked door and dropped an equally paint-spattered t-shirt and pair of jeans outside it, before snaking back in. "And there would be another gee, thanks..."

"Anytime. He's sweet." She said as he closed the bathroom door.

When the door opened again and his clothes dropped out, she got up and picked them up gingerly. Carefully folding them to minimize paint exposure. If she happened to finish drying the paint until she had time and privacy to remove it, well that just kept things neat. "I'd say anytime, but I really don't want to make a habit of doing your laundry," she called through the door.

Xander wondered privately as he started the hot water running why she was going with the 'doing laundry' story, but hey, if his roomie wasn't comfy talking about whatever weird All-Temperature Cheer powers she had, he could follow. God knew Buffy hadn't exactly been big on letting people know she was a Slayer for a long time.

"Not a problem; can't say I really make a habit of it myself," he called back, though his voice was probably muffled by the sound of the shower as he stepped into it and started sluicing the paint out of his hair.

Blech. Hopeful~~LEE~~ly Lee wasn't having quite as hard a time of it in his shower, he thought, thoughtful~~LEE~~ly.

Not that he was thinking of Lee in the shower. Well, he was thinking of Lee in his shower, but not in Lee's shower. Except now he sort of was thinking of Lee's shower, but only because he was following the thought-pattern to its logical conclusion. As you do. Logica~~LEE~~ly.

Right, then.

Room 406, Sunday morning/early afternoon

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