fandomhigh | BWI Airport Portalocity Lounge, Saturday Morning

Celia had had a trying morning, thus far.

She'd boarded a train in New York at the crack of dawn with a large trunk that she was pretending to struggle to carry. Hector had given her a cursory pat on the top of her hat and a tug to one stray curl, accompanied by a stern look that Celia knew meant Don't make me regret this. She'd fallen asleep on the train, and the conductor had awoken her...here. She'd not expected Maryland to be quite so much...brighter, or louder or confusing -- and in fact, Celia had been to Baltimore before, once, and she was very sure that this was unsettlingly different. She'd stumbled off the train, been ushered through a security checkpoint filled with people dressed strangely and giving her even stranger looks and now she was...here.

If not for the glittering sign bearing the name 'Fandom High,' she'd think she was in the wrong place.

Celia slumped gratefully into a chair, dropping her trunk on the floor beside her, and let out a sigh. Then she immediately straightened up. It wouldn't do to have her new classmates think her a lazy slob at first meeting.

[YAY NEWBIE SHUTTLE.]

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'Excuse you how?' Elsa blinked, slightly taken aback by that reply, before lifting a hand slightly, as though trying to grope around in mid-air for what might be appropriate to say.

"I'm sorry, I was just... wondering if perhaps you would like to borrow a cloak?"

Eleanor flushed. She was violating the dress code. It wasn't as though she'd chosen to wear this; she imagined the diving suit would have gone over worse, and that was her only alternative.

"I'm fine," she lied, straightening her shoulders. "I hardly noticed the chill."

She didn't need the other girl's pity, or her charity.

"There's a..." Elsa flushed a little, herself, and then ducked her head as she realized what she was about to ask. Of course it was cold. There was snow outside, through those windows past the long black roadways and the odd metal machines that were sitting on them. "I mean, my apologies. I didn't mean to presume..."

She was so bad at social interaction. Why did she have to be so bad at social interaction?

"It just... looks as though you've had a difficult journey."

To say the least.

Eleanor felt churlish, suddenly. Perhaps it was a kindly-meant offer, and she had thrown it back at into the girl's face.

Impulsively, she took a seat near the blonde-haired girl, drawing a deep breath.

"I left in rather a hurry," she admitted, in a low tone. "There wasn't ... time to pack, exactly."

Or, say, change her clothing. She hadn't had anything to change into, but that was beside the point.

Elsa gave a small nod. She understood leaving in a hurry, at least, though Gerda and Kai wouldn't have let her leave without at least a change of clothes.

"It... happens, sometimes," Elsa offered, worrying her lip with her teeth for a moment. "If there's anything I can do...?"

Yes, she was offering again, though the offer was a touch more tentative, this time around. She didn't want to offend.

"No, I'm all right," Eleanor said quickly. Too quickly, perhaps. But she was all right and she didn't want to be indebted to this girl, as kind as she seemed.

She flushed, hearing how that sounded in her own head. "I'm sorry," she said, glancing over. "I'm not ... very good at conversation."

To say she was out of practice implied that, at one time, she'd been in practice. Which wasn't true in the least.

The apology actually made Elsa feel slightly better.

"Well, then you're in good company," she noted, smiling faintly. "I'm hardly the world's greatest conversationalist, myself."

She was actually a fairly accomplished isolationist, actually. Which was probably not helping this encounter along.

Eleanor couldn't believe it, but she was smiling, too.

"You're doing better than I am," she said lightly. "If we're both this poor at it, it's a wonder we haven't come to blows."

"I'm far more likely to walk away than throw a punch," Elsa noted, actually slightly amused at the thought. "I'm no fighter, not really."

Because she didn't want to hurt anyone.

"So, there, you'd have me beat right off the bat."

"I only fight when I must," Eleanor said, which was true enough. She hadn't chased down splicers to kill; she'd only gone for the ones who targeted Father. "So you're the better conversationalist and I'm the better fighter. What else can we take turns mastering?"

How about self-control? Stubbornness? Hiding?

"I suppose there's a whole world of things to draw from," Elsa said, thoughtfully. "Geometry, perhaps? Or singing?"

She was excellent at both.

"We may have to share geometry," Eleanor said. "I'm quite fond of triangles. But I can't sing. That was Aunt Gracie."

How delightful it had been, those few bright months when Aunt Gracie had been her caretaker. Stories while she brushed Eleanor's hair, and bluesy lullabies at night.

"I think I can handle sharing geometry," Elsa allowed. "I've got a good eye for fractals, myself."

For some reason.

"Is there anything else you enjoy?"

Tinkering with alarms, resurrecting her dead father, looting corpses ... most of what Eleanor enjoyed wasn't anything she could share.

She bit her lip and tried to come up with something that was passably interesting.

"I like learning new languages," she said, "though my pronunciation is a bit iffy."

Reading it from a book wasn't all that helpful.

"I've studied a few over the years, myself," Elsa replied, "but learning is difficult when you don't have somebody to practice with. That was always where I tripped up."

One of these days, she would commit a horrible social faux-pas with a dignitary from a neighboring kingdom, or... or...

Or not. The gates were still shut, after all.

"I'd suggest we help one another," Eleanor said, "but it seems like we might just reinforce our mistakes instead."

"Do you suppose we'd be making the same mistakes, though?" Elsa smiled faintly. "I imagine if we are, then at least we can console ourselves knowing that it's not us, it's probably them."

She was joking.

"If we find any native speakers, we can correct them," Eleanor agreed. "They must have been improperly taught."

"Really, it's a pity they've gone their entire lives never knowing the truth," Elsa mused. "They should be thankful we're around to assist."

BWI Airport Portalocity Lounge, Saturday Morning

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