fandomhigh | Fandom High Welcome Picnic, Front Lawn of the School, All Day: Part III

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!event: welcome picnic

Fandom High Welcome Picnic, Front Lawn of the School, All Day: Part III

Since the area with all the informational signs was bound to get a bit clogged up, even more tables and chairs had been set up on the lawn, in a slightly different spot.

[OCD is up! This is the SECOND post for general mingling. Use this post if your browser can't handle the comment load of the first mingling post. Roommates, fake siblings and teachers are here.]

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"Is Alex at least short for anything?"

"No." If it was, he wasn't going to share. "Just Alex. I don't really do nicknames."

Oh, we'll have to see about that. "Simple and sweet, then."

"Just like me." He smiled, shrugged innocently. "It's suited me well for the many years I've had it."

Turtle arched an eyebrow. Did he just admit he was simple? She would have mentioned something about it, but she hadn't gotten a look at the class lists yet, and wouldn't want to offend a potential voter.

"And how many years would that be?"

He was going more for the sweet part but, eh, whatever. She had a hunchback.

"Enough to be a wise man," he answered. "It's not the years, it's the mileage."

"Oh, is that so? And how's the mileage? Don't people typically want a car with lower mileage?"

"Mileage is fine," he said, careful not to lose track of what they were really talking about (or so he thought) here. "And I don't know. I don't go out and do car surveys."

And Turtle sometimes read them just for fun.

"Trust me; people don't want to stick with a car with too much mileage. Maybe just run it out until it shuts down because they don't have anything better, but if they're looking for a good car, they want something that hasn't already been driven to the ground already."

And Turtle was pretty sure she was still using this as a metaphor for people.

"Are you like forty five or something?" Alex asked. "My grandma talks like that."

"Your grandma's only forty five?"

That just seemed like just bad math. Or a long series of way too young moms. Her mom was probably forty five (although Grace would probably swear up and down that it was thirty five, despite her mid-twenty-year-old daughter).

"Forty five, seventy five, I don't really care," he said, shrugging. And he hadn't seen her since he was like two. "You talk like you're old."

"I talk," said Turtle, "like a mature and responsible person with a growing business on her hands, because that's what I am."

Mature, as evidenced by the roll of her eyes.

"Is that another way of saying you're pregnant?" Look, people used abstract terms and she'd already proven her talent with that.

"No!" Turtle's eyes practically popped out of her head.

"God no!"

"No, no, no! That means my store just went franchise, geez! Do I look pregnant?"

Then she thought about how the conversation had been going so far.

"Don't answer that, ohmygod."

He could do that. He'd just stand there and laugh. And think of her as a pregnant hunchback.

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Fandom High Welcome Picnic, Front Lawn of the School, All Day: Part III

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