fandomhigh | The Library; Monday [ 10/20 ]

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The Library; Monday [ 10/20 ]

Cal realized that he could only convince himself that he wasn't really nervous for so long. All his efforts came crashing down when he managed to spill his coffee all over the desk and, in the scramble to clean it up, hit his head soundly from underneath, and then fell backwards only to smack his head against the wall as well.

And then, when he sat down, the chair fell out from underneath him.

Actually, once he finally did manage to sit down, button up his jacket in hopes to cover most of the coffee stain, and then cleaned up the desk, he told himself that maybe it wasn't nervousness after all at all! Fandom Weirdness! That had to be it! It was just Fandom giving him a bad, bad...really bad morning...

He let out a little groan, knowing he couldn't just hide under the desk, and waited for the oppression of his fate to just weigh him down completely and crush him.

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Cal took a moment to shift, to go through his things and extract the neatly printed sheet. "It got some coffee spilled on it earlier," he explained, vaguely apologetic as he handed it over.

"Conversation didn't go well?" She asked, looking the quiz over.

"...That actually happened when I first got here," he admitted, mumbling a little and about two seconds away from a sigh.

"I was asking more after the mood," She replied, grabbing a pen to begin.

To that, Cal could only grunt, and let her work on her quiz in silence. What sort of mood did she expect him to be in, although, to be fair, he had only told her that Ino would be coming around, not what they'd talk about, but still...

So there was silence as she finished the quiz. He wasn't talking and she wasn't exactly the type to push it. "Done."

"Let's have a look," Cal said, holding out his hand, and managed a small, faint grin. "Two weeks and names that probably sound more like home. I'm going to be very disappointed if there's any red on this here paper when I'm done with it."

"Any red will be for spelling the... northern ones." So many stans.

"Considering how much I'd fail at spelling," Cal admitted as he started looking over them, "I don't think I can consciously mark you down for that."

"I still say your world has too many countries. It's confusing," Temari said, leaning against the desk. "How do you know who your enemy is?"

"By who has the bigger bombs and the better aim," Cal said with a shrug. "We've evolved a bit beyond the head band method of discerning."

"They're a tradition," She replied loftily.

"There are still symbols like that to discern factions in this world," he offered, thoughtfully, as he read down Temari's paper. "Symbols of peace. Symbols of war. It's just that the people in charge are usually powerful enough to ignore them entirely if they so choose."

Cocking her head thoughtfully, Temari couldn't disagree with that assessment. "You'd get along with my boss. He thinks too much into this as well."

Cal shrugged slightly, handing back the corrected quiz. "Blame my hippie brother. Listen to enough of that rhetoric, and some of it does kind of stick. I wouldn't say I think about it that much at all, though."

He paused, before adding, "Good job."

"Hippie?"

"Granola muncher?" Cal offered as a substitute, grinning slightly as he tried to think of a better way to explain it to Fanbutt.

...That didn't help her at all. Cue the blank look she gave him.

"Is that a sexual term?"

Cal blinked, and then let out a bark of a laugh that he couldn't help, even if it did make him go a little pink. "No," he said, "that's carpet muncher."

And that was the term that drove him on the chase that ended in being hit with a tractor, so he was quick to move on.

"The hippies were a by-product of a peace movement from my time. Pro-peace, pro-love, anti-war, anti-bath. My brother was a big hippie, ran off to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to join a commune, and then off to Canada to avoid being drafted into the war."

"No wonder he had to flee, he'd be killed easily." Temari, queen of the bizarre statements.

Cal couldn't disagree with that one. "Not everyone's built to fight, though," he added, feeling a need to defend Chapter Eleven at least a little. Even if he did spit in Cal's face, slam his head into doors, he was still his brother. He had been a damn good one, too, in light of this whole identity business.

"They recruit normal people to fight where you're from?" Temari asked, curious about this part of his world.

Cal nodded. "I don't know if it's changed at all, but in the last war from my time, they started a draft. If you were male and over the age of eighteen, you were eligible. They'd pluck a date out like a lottery number, and if that was your birthday, you were off to war. Or Canada, to try to get out of it."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"The war itself didn't make any sense," Cal admitted, especially since he knew that was true and it wasn't just a case of him not paying attention to social studies or the news. "It was all the way in Veitnam, and we were doing a shitty job, and no one wanted to fight it, so they tried to draft people in, but if you don't want to fight a war..."

He wasn't sure if he needed to finish that thought or not, frowning a little. Would Temari think that people who had no desire to fight in a war had no point in being in it...or would she think something much worse about people who didn't want to fight?

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