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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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!"

And there went Warren, displaying one eloquently raised eyebrow.

"That wouldn't be because I freaked out the last time we were playing, would it?"

"...You worried me," she said, which meant 'Yes.' "And even though it wasn't cradle's fault--I'd do anything to not have to see you like that again."

Which meant if he really didn't want to ever play again, she wouldn't make him.

Warren ducked his head and closed his eyes, lifting a hand to run fingers through his hair with a sigh. The reaction hadn't entirely been him, either, but his frustration with that game had been real enough.

"I won't be like that again. Cradle or none, I won't lose myself like I did then, Karla. Not again."

"It's not that I think you will," Karla said, leaning over the table to try to lace her fingers with his. His claws were barely given a second thought. "But it still scared me. And if cradle was a kind of trigger for that..." She shrugged. "We don't actually have to play it anymore."

Warren let her take his hand, and gave hers a little squeeze.

"No, it's fine. It's not my favorite game in the world, but I think my reaction was... way more about the fact that there was an alien disease trying to take over my brain, and all."

That sort of thing tended to make people act weird.

Like cursing and punching walls. That had been really not like him.

"How about we compromise," Karla said, giving him a smile. "You let me join the frat and I'll try to teach everyone cradle. If none of the males like it, I'll never ask you to play again."

How could you turn that offer down, Warren? How?

Was she insane?

"I think no amount of healing factor in my blood wouldn't be able to save me if I pulled that. When I die, Bobby gets all the stuff in my room, okay?"

That's a no.

Karla was pouting at him. Again. "You're exaggerating."

Of everyone who signed up, only Ben, Seifer, and possibly Goose could take him. And Ben already played cradle.

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