fandomhigh | BWI Portalocity Terminal [Saturday Morning]

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!event: newbie shuttle

BWI Portalocity Terminal [Saturday Morning]

Emma had flown with Angelica from Logan Airport in Boston to Baltimore so she wouldn't have to make the entire trip alone, and Angelica was grateful for that. But after a hug goodbye when the time came for Emma's flight back to Massachusetts, Angelica was alone in the lounge, waiting for the bus to Fandom High. She buried her face in a book and tried not to be too nervous about changing schools, counting out the positives. She might make new friends. Empath and Roulette wouldn't be there. She might accidentally fry someone with her microwave powers.

Oooookay, that last one wasn't too positive.

[Up early for SP! ~~Please wait for OCD!~~ The Ginger Express is now in service.]

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There was a long moment of silence while Jim attempted to absorb some of that.

No dice.

"Photoshopped?"

American?

Japanese?

Earth was already weird. Congratulations.

"Yeah, photoshopped," Stan replied, like that should be obvious. "Do you not have a computer or something?"

Jim shook his head a little. At least he knew what that meant. But mention Windows to him, and he'd probably pull a BSoD.

"No, not really," he admitted. "Books and stuff, sure. But anything with processing power higher than a basic navigational system is difficult to come by, back home."

"Ohhhh." Stan totally got that. "I have a friend who's poor too. It's cool, man. You can borrow mine if you need."

"Uh... thanks."

Sound more enthusiastic, Jim.

He'd probably feel better once he realized that the storybook he'd been reading as a three-year-old was more technologically advanced than the computer that this guy was offering to share.

Well, as long as he wasn't a douche about it...

"Just don't do any Facebook crap on it," Stan warned. "It sucks you in."

"Facebook?"

And now they were right back where they started!

"Just stay away from it." Goddamn Yatzee.

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Jim decided, trying a wary smile on for size. "Thanks for the warning, uh..."

He waved a hand a little.

"You."

"Stan," he replied. "Stan Marsh. From Colorado."

Where was Colorado? What was it with this week and totally throwing Jim off when it came to interstellar geography?

"Jim Hawkins," he replied, letting his bag hang loosely from his shoulder as he offered Stan a handshake. "From Montressor."

"Is that in Europe?" Because he clearly wasn't Canadian.

"Actually, it's not too far from the Megellanic Cloud, and the Coral Galaxy," Jim offered. "Mostly, it's just sort of in the middle of nowhere."

Space. In the middle of nowhere in the middle of space.

"Oh." A beat. "That's cool too. I was worried you were French."

The 'pussy' part went unsaid.

"Nope. Pretty sure I'm not French."

If he was French, he'd know. Right?

"Especially if French is anything like Facebook."

"Pretty close." WHAT? IT WAS TRUE.

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Jim decided, smiling a wary little smile.

He was going to have to hunt down a fleet of atlases and look up things like Europe and Colorado and Facebook, now. All because of Stan.

STAN WAS AWESOME LIKE THAT.

"So why are you going to camp?"

Jim shifted his weight uneasily at the question, and then shrugged a little before hiking his bag up onto his shoulder again.

"Got in a bit of trouble back home," he admitted. "It wasn't a big deal or anything. The cops back there just don't mind their own business. But Mom thought sending me off to some kind of boarding school would help me get my priorities sorted out again."

Or, more likely, it would keep him from embarrassing her in front of the customers again.

"...so, this is like juvvie for you?"

OH GOD, LIKE TRENT BOYETT?!

"No," Jim replied quickly, "I'm on probation. This is supposed to keep me out of juvenile hall. I haven't done anything wrong, really."

He was just surfing! Surfing!

"Uh huh." Stan bought that. "Butters thought this place might be a rehab camp too..."

"I don't need rehab, you know." Jim wasn't that kind of teen rebel! "I just need to... I don't know. Stay out of my Mom's hair for a while, I guess."

"Yeah, that would be better than sex rehab or praying the gay away like what he was thinking." Butters. seriously.

Praying the gay away? It didn't matter how many times Jim silently mouthed that one, it just wasn't going to leave his brain, now that it had been said.

... Praying the way away?

"Yeah... I'm pretty sure this is just about me surfing in restricted areas."

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