fandomhigh | The Club Fair, Gym, Friday Afternoon

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!event: club fair

The Club Fair, Gym, Friday Afternoon

Though he'd heard about something like it being in the works, the club fair wasn't what Simon had been looking for.

Regardless, it was what he found, just as it was being set up. He almost left straight away, to avoid being in anyone's way, but then his curiosity won out. So, he decided to stay and take a look at the club schedule.

Couldn't hurt, could it?

[ooc: ~~Wait for the OCD!~~ OCD achieved, have at!]

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"One of the leaders is my beloved and totally wonderful boyfriend with the stated goal of spoiling me rotten?" Karla asked, looking very pleased with this fact. "Lucky day for Karla!"

Blinking. Warren was now blinking.

"It is?"

So she could... Brag about her billionaire winged boyfriend who also ran the fraternity?

The suspicion. Oh, the suspicion.

"... Why?"

Karla gave him her cutest smile. It was the one with the dimples. "Oh, you know, silly!" C'mon. The adorable had to work. "Third time's a charm, right?"

"Third time for..."

Warren was probably missing something hugely important about this. Probably.

"To join the frat!"

Obviously, Warren. Keep up.

"Arthur-the-idiot refused to let me join freshman year, and then Zack wouldn't let me sophomore year because of Arthur again, but you're not only not friends with Arthur, you're my boyfriend! Whom I love very much!"

It was important point!

"So I think I shouldn't have any trouble joining the frat this year, right?"

And now Warren was blinking at Karla, looking a bit dazed. A bit baffled.

"Why would you want to?"

When there was a sorority table right across the way!

Yeah. A sorority run by Rilla Blythe. Any fun potential it had had just went screaming for the door.

"Because the frat's activities always sounded more fun," Karla said. "And why not?"

Warren bit down on the knee-jerk 'because you're a girl' reply. That was probably not the right thing to say to his girlfriend. Especially not right now.

"You know those times when the boyos get those looks on their faces, and they all retreat into the same room where they put up a bunch of shields and presumably start beating one another up or playing card games or something because if they don't have a moment to themselves to be shamelessly, unapologetically male about everything they do, they're going to just start screaming and maybe break things?"

... It seemed like a good example.

"Frat is kind of like that."

Dammit. He had an excellent point. "But you can go off and do stupid male things any time. Why do you need a club for it?"

Now Karla was pouting at you, Warren. Pouting.

"Because it's easier to do stupid male things together as a big group when we all have a set time to meet and a room set aside to accommodate us. Just like the sorority has all of the same, so that they can do whatever female things they want."

Darn her and her pout. It was adorable. And Warren was trying to stand firm, here.

"I don't want to do those female things," Karla said. Still pouting. "It's all hairstyles and short skirts and makeup."

She was being grossly unfair to the sorority, she knew. But still. Rilla.

"...And good deeds for charity."

There. Fairer.

"So... we could start throwing parties more often or something, and just do some of the same stuff we do in the frat," Warren offered. "But I think the guys really need their guys-only space."

Karla gave him a look. "To do what, exactly?" Karla asked. "Are we females so terrifying?"

Actually? Yes.

Yeah, Warren was countering that look with a look of his own.

"Anyone who could take pleasure in playing something like cradle cannot possibly ask me that question with a clear conscience," he countered.

Karla had to laugh at that. "Cradle is a fun game!" she protested. Which, granted, probably didn't carry too much weight while she was laughing like that. "Lots of people really like it!"

None of them male.

"Lots of girls like it," Warren stated. "Cradle is like the female equivalent of manly chest-thumping after successfully shooting a moose in the Canadian wilderness, somewhere before the moment where they realize that they have to clean all of the shit out of it before their wives will let any piece of that animal into the house."

... Warren watched a lot of television growing up.

"...I have no idea what the Hell you're talking about," Karla said, looking very, very confused. "Cradle has nothing to do with hunting."

Mother Night, Karla. Metaphor.

~~LIKE STUBBING YOUR TOE!~~

"So far as I can tell, cradle doesn't have anything to do with fun, either. It's way more on the 'what have I done wrong in my life to deserve this punishment' end of the spectrum."

Warren didn't speak like this often!

But damn, cradle deserved it.

Karla looked hurt at that. "That's not true!" she argued. "It is fun! You just...didn't give it a chance!"

Or drunk enough while giving it that chance.

"How many chances do I have to give it before it counts?"

How many afternoons had he lost to that female-brained male-torture-instrument?

[ICONS. STOP CHANGING ON ME!]

"How many do you think you'll need before you like it?" Karla asked.

It was a legitimate question!

She had to be kidding.

"... I don't think I'll live long enough to play the game that many times," he intoned. "Have you ever met a male who understands it? Because I sure as hell don't."

Stupid cradle.

"Maybe you just need to go over the rules again?" Karla suggested, flashing an unsure-but-game grin at him. "It'll be more fun if you understand it, really."

"Which rules? There are only twenty-six different sets of them."

He wasn't just learning one game, he was learning damn near thirty. All at the same time.

Also part of the evil of cradle.

"Well, it's more twenty-five variations on a central theme..."

Karla, you weren't helping your case, here.

"Besides, I haven't made you play in like a month!"

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