fandomhigh | Library; Monday [ 02/09 ].

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Library; Monday [ 02/09 ].

Well, then.

This weekend had been interesting. Cal's alarm clock had somehow, miraculously, still managed to have gone off this morning so that he could make it into the library on time, clinging to his coffee. It wouldn't matter how much of it he managed to suck down. There was nothing that was likely to shake him out of the daze he was in.

Post-surgery. Whatever it was that happened this weekend, that was him. If he'd decided to go with the surgery instead of running away from Dr. Luce's office that fateful morning.

It was a hell of a lot to swallow, so hopefully, there wasn't a lot to do today because he doubted he was going to be able to do anything but sit and stare in astonishment for a while.

...he had to find out whoever that was making that documentary. Had to.

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Even through the daze, though, as Cal sat staring at the desk, there was a few moments when he'd let out a little chuckle.

Spitting in that one guy's food was still pretty awesome, even if the whole thing was weird as hell.

"...I woke up on the grounds because this fucking little girl who looked like your ex bit me."

That was Claire's version of "hello" this morning, as she rubbed at her neck. It didn't actually hurt anymore, but she needed to for effect.

She was, however, grateful to see Call wasn't a girl anymore.

Edited 2009-02-09 11:58 (UTC)

"...What?"

Even if Cal hadn't been deeply involved in the mind-trip that was a peek at an alternate version of himself, that would still have been his answer to Claire as he tried to drag himself out of his thought and back into the real world.

Claire sighed. "This little girl. Like mini-Amber with crazy perfect curls. She bit me and drank my blood."

She broke through her self-involvement long enough to give Cal a concerned look. "Um. Callie was you, right?"

Unfortunately, the first part of that finally managed to penetrate through Cal's brain, leaving him only to gawk.

"What?" he asked again. "Are you serious?"

So he was having a hard time connecting with things today; sue him.

"I know I didn't fall asleep next to anybody else Friday!"

Claire ... may have missed the point a little.

Just a bit.

Cal's palm met his face with a slight grunt. "I think," he said, "who you fell asleep with on Friday and woke up with on Saturday is a little inconsequential when you've got mini-Amber drinking blood."

It might have been that, for a change, Cal was actually considering someone else's plight more important than his own, but, most likely, he simply didn't want to have to talk about Calliope if he could help it.

"Well, yeah, but I kind of deserved it," Claire said. "I was, like, the most annoying pretty pretty princess type known to man. In a horror movie I would totally root for the vampire to eat me."

A beat. "I guess I should worry about Amber, too..."

Claire was a generous soul.

"You weren't that annoying," Cal muttered, in a way that he hoped it wouldn't have been heard at all. He shook his head as if he hadn't said anything, and asked, "What the hell was up with that, anyway? It was weird."

There was a pause.

"The weekend, I mean. Not you being all...you know. Preppy."

Which was still pretty damn weird and Cal was grateful for the fact that it didn't take very long to look at Claire now and think on how this version was a lot better.

"I gave Molly this whole speech about how she was just jealous. Of, like, me. And I have no fucking clue what the ... weekend deal was," Claire said, splaying her hands in a show of how very much she was in the dark. "You've been here longer. You tell me."

"I don't know!" Cal said, his hands practically imitating Claire's own gesture of futility. "I've heard of turning into a different gender before or turning into animals or turning into freaking pink sparkly ponies before, but turning into someone entirely different"--in most other cases, anyway; once again, Cal seemed an exception--"is something new."

"... go back to the ponies," Claire said, before she realized that really was not the point, here. "Great. This island keeps finding new ways to screw with us. Was Callie just some girl with your name?"

She almost, now that she stopped freaking out over Princess Claire and the vampire for long enough to think about it, suspected that wasn't the case. Especially since Callie also had Cal's lips, hair and eyes. But, then, Claire had kept her red hair ... and she had no idea how any of this could have worked.

"And my old school tartan, with my old address, and parents with the same name, too," Cal muttered and then, looking like he'd almost been physically struck, realized that, Jesus Christ, his father had still been alive. Of course he would have been; if he had never run away, then there wouldn't have been a ransom, or a car chase, or...

Despite himself, Cal let out a groan, wilting until his head met the desk. "It's finally done it," he muttered to the desk. "It finally found something to make me freak out and feel insane. It got real fucking close with that truth thing, but now, it's finally done it."

Because, you see, it was all about him.

Claire finally broke through her self-involvement enough to realize Cal was even less okay than she was. "Jesus Christ, that's just ...."

She didn't have words.

"Mean."

Which was a word, if entirely insufficient.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Cal continued muttering into the desk. "Nothing happened this weekend. Nothing at all. La la la."

Except that there was video evidence of it somewhere.

CRAP.

Claire wasn't sure denial was the healthiest thing for Cal, there, but she'd at least pretend to give it a whirl if he was.

"We spent the whole time in your room mocking Rumor Gal and making out?" she asked with a kind of hopeful skepticism in her voice.

"Yes." Cal's head wasn't moving; he could pretend it was surgically attached to the desk all day if he had to. "That. Right there. I like that. Let's go with that."

"Will you be okay?"

Claire was softening, now. She could either lecture him on denial and ask him more about Callie ... or she could let him deal with it in his own Cal way, which, at the moment, looked a lot like not dealing.

Not Dealing with something was so incredibly the Cal method of dealing with something that he should practically have it trademarked.

"Yeah," he said. "It's not the worst thing to ever happen to me, anyway."

At least no one died this time.

"Well, yeah, but that's really not saying much," Claire noted helpfully.

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Second Period -- 02/09.

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Lunch -- 02/09.

Fourth Period -- 02/09.

OOC -- 02/09.