Haunted House College AU

[worthallthis]

While the army is covering tuition, it doesn't cover living expenses, and temporary work on-campus is better than temporary work off-campus. So when the drama department managed to raise funds for a haunted house in one of the frat houses, James put on his best "I can kill you with my pinky" look, a shabby suit (shabby is really all he has, so, lucky), and his growing out hair loose around his face and "interviewed" for a spot as in-character for a creepy fucky as possible.

He had to refuse the first offer to be one of the ghosts inside. Dropping the character and donning a slightly sheepish smile, "Really not that keen on jumping out an' scaring people. Especially the ones that get punchy when they're scared." When the interviewer looked at his resume, saw his army tour (the whole "captured and tortured" thing isn't on there, but it doesn't have to be), she just nodded and stuck him at introductions and taking tickets. The pay isn't great, but it'll cover meals for a while.

So he shows up for opening night, gets his face done all pale with stage-make up and his suit a little spruced up with a very fancy shirt underneath from the costume department, and takes in the faces of the other people who'd been brought on.

Comments

[worthallthis]

He doesn't know if it'll turn him off to them. At the very least, he needs to see this one through to get paid. And he'd said he would.

At least next time, he's pretty sure nobody will try that particular prank. He'd rather have walked in on somebody getting a blow-job.

"Well. You did a pretty convincing job of looking dead, at least," he offers. He could tell she wasn't, but he's already shown her the damn metal arm, he's not going to let on he can hear heartbeats and breathing and shit. "Full marks, there."

[shadowsran]

One hand rubs the back of her neck self consciously. No room for flattery, at present.

"Not something I'll get to show off again anytime soon, I'm thinking. But thank you." Any other day, she'd be quite proud. On the comedown, it's still...too fresh. She'll be wincing about this for years. "The offer's standing, not wasting it on beers twenty feet away. Anything going forward I can help with, really, let me know. This was all. A bad idea, a terrible thing to pull on someone's first go."

[worthallthis]

He considers her a minute as he finishes the first beer. "I'll think about it," is what he finally says, plucking up the second and pushing to his feet. "Gotta get back to work, for now, I think. You here for the rest of the run?"

[shadowsran]

"Yeah." Time has completely gone out the window, so she'll take the shift in focus to mean they're nearly due back to posts, and take it at face value. "The rest of the night'll be. Quiet." Not something she can technically guarantee, but she's a little desperate.

"I'll, uh, check in when we close?"

[worthallthis]

"Sounds good." He bumps her shoulder lightly with the cold beer bottle, then heads on out, squaring his shoulders and looking for all the world like he hadn't been shaking and practicing grounding techniques five minutes ago. He tosses casually over his shoulder, "Better put those curtains back, or your room won't look half as scary as it did for the first half of the night."

[shadowsran]

"Fair point."

Hardy har. She sits a minute, composing herself, and eventually...has to grab those curtains, yeah.

The rest of the night is uneventful and blessedly so. Some exchanges over the reclaiming of places she would have rather avoided, really she's looking to put most of the night behind her, but it's back to business as usual. (An incredibly panicked reapplication of stage makeup was the closest she came to real worry afterward.)

And the night...ends, as nights do. Actors are thankfully asked only to return their costume and dismantle their portion of set, which is quick work for anyone half as industrious as her. There's a last round in the rest room - divvying up food to take home, a cherished tradition - but she'd rather not chance missing a final check-in.

So she works quickly and races, in street clothes and the same done-up face, to the entryway. Nothing for him to take apart, no telling if he'd have taken off.

"Hey--"

[worthallthis]

He's still here, chatting with one of the guys doing clean-up, helping put the podium he'd been using back inside. He absolutely doesn't look like he had a panic attack a couple hours ago, it's impossible to tell there was anything unpleasant about the night, at all.

He gives her a little salute as she approaches, with the empty beer bottle, that he meets her halfway with, as he's carting it back to the clean-up in the break room to trash with the rest. "How'd the rest of the night go?"

[shadowsran]

"It was fine! Good, normal everything all around." Not her chief concern in the slightest, but then the demeanor he has going answers a lot of her question before she can even voice it. "Everything was good out here too, then-?"

[worthallthis]

"Had one rowdy drunk guy, but I handled it," James says with a shrug and a smile. He tosses the empty bottle into the recycling bag, from four feet away, and makes the mark easily. Pauses then to claim a final slice of pizza (always hungry, these days), and finishes for her benefit, "Everybody else seemed to enjoy the show, and was pretty nice to boot."

[shadowsran]

Thank christ. Taken only marginally aback by the cool, it's primarily relief stilling her. Good shot. "Good. Great-! That's a relief. Just wanted to check and see, you know, the night on the whole wasn't bad. It's always good to get new people in, and I'd hate to see somebody have a - bad first experience and bail. Worth coming back, you think?"

[worthallthis]

"As long as they're paying me," he promises with half a smile. Then, in the interest of honesty, he adds, "We'll see about next time there's one of these things. Ain't just that, anyway, though I doubt you're the only person with a mind for practical jokes." This whole night has been kind of exhausting. While he loves people still, even after everything, interacting with them for this long, having to keep a character, had been tiring.

[shadowsran]

"Well if you're around again, I'd make sure no jokes happened. They're a rowdy bunch, but if I brought it up - not you, specifically, just the idea - they'd probably be a lot better about it." There's little to sell him on, of course. He'll make his own call. Just a shame, were a resignation to do with a poor decision not made on his part.

"And the drunk wasn't too bad, right-?" He's unmarred, so it must have been handled well. "No issues, is all?"

[worthallthis]

"Don't worry about it, seriously." How many times is he gonna say that? He's grouchy about it, behind his amiable front, but half the grouch is at himself, not her. "Really, it's okay." He doesn't want to ruin anybody's fun with his issues. If it's something they'd normally do, it's really more likely to be him that's the problem than them.

He finishes off the last pizza slice, dusts off his hands from the garlic crumbs. "I'm heading out. Where are you staying?" It's dark out, he probably ought to make sure she gets home okay.

[shadowsran]

At least once more, Mr. Barnes.

"That complex a block off campus?" There's little question he knows it in passing, considering the number of students living there, but considerable-if-brief surprise he'd ask. "It's a pretty safe walk? Well lit, no spooky off-roads. You?"

[worthallthis]

Harhar. He's even seen that movie.

Safe or not: "That's on my way back to my apartment. I'll walk ya." Might as well, since they're going in the same direction. Mostly. He usually goes around that block to the south, but it's almost the same distance.

[shadowsran]

"You don't have to," she says, not because she believes it's any effort - it really is a safe walk - but it's the polite thing to say anyway. That she's already angling toward the door ought to be signal enough. It can be made into a nice gesture, anyway. "I think the machine's fixed at the convenience store, if you're a slushie guy I could at least sweeten the pot."

Company'll be nice.

[worthallthis]

"I am a guy who will eat anything you put in front of him, almost, so I won't turn down a slushie." He won't turn down free food. His appetite makes keeping his kitchen stocked pretty hard. He follows her out, getting the front door of the place for her, by dint of having a longer stride. Just barely. She's got long legs, under that skirt.

[shadowsran]

"Noted!"

A phrase which here means if she ever finds out where he lives (ideally less than an hour's walk), he would hypothetically never be safe from dropped-off leftovers. "You'll get a treat for the company, then." And manners - there's an exaggerated little faux-curtsey as she steps outside. "Thanks." And they're off.

"Any other club-type deals you're into, or nah?" She tries, edging gently into more normal conversation like before.

[worthallthis]

"I'm usually too busy working on doing homework for a lot of socializing," he admits with a shrug, falling in beside her. That's only half-true, the other half being that he's so bad at crowds these days, and apparently people do stupid things and he gets panic attacks. No need to get back into that, though. "This is kind of a treat. Lots more fun than bagging groceries."

[shadowsran]

"Makes sense, I get it. Engineering stuff must be kind of a nightmare." She doesn't know anyone else in the program, but she's had acquaintances in adjacent courses and glances at discussion pieces have made her head spin. Not for her.

"There are more tame ones, you really should keep an ear out if you liked even a little of this. There's usually booths every time a new play's starting up, most of the holidays - the Valentine mixers are great, I hear. Can't carry arrows anymore, but people are great sports about it." Nothing she's taken part in personally, but she hears plenty of reminiscing. That's where the risk raises re: walking in on someone getting oral. She's mostly into the concept of the costuming, the dispensing of flowers.

"Here just for school, or are you sticking around after you graduate?"

[worthallthis]

Arrows. They used to carry arrows? For Valentine's Day? He snorts a little laugh as he realizes they were literally playing Cupid.

"Don't know yet. It depends on whether I can get a job locally or not. I can't afford grad school, so a BA will have to be enough." He's certainly not going back into the army. And he'd really rather not bag groceries forever. "What about you? You're about as far from home as I am."

[shadowsran]

The laugh is encouraging, there's a little more energy about her. At the return question, she shrugs.

"Not going home. I'm not sure about here, I figure I'll go wherever...feels right? Where work takes me, or work a few extra years doing whatever pays if I jump cities with a friend or something." Work to live, as they say, and not the reverse. She'll follow funds if she must, or a passion if she stumbles upon it. "I like it here fine, so I don't worry too much about it. Real snow is worth near anything."

[worthallthis]

Sounds like him, minus the jump-cities-with-a-friend thing. Gotta have friends who actually know you, for that.

He focuses on her, rather than him. That's easier. "You're going to have to graduate eventually, miss can't-pick-a-major," he reminds her. "What's it between, anyway? I'm sure you've got some preferences, right?"

[shadowsran]

It isn't as though she has one booked, herself - but it stands to reason she could, conceivably, by graduation. Illustration of how the wind may carry her is all.

Grinning and shrugging off that too-familiar sentiment, she huffs thought. "Natural resources and conservation, arts, maybe culinary." Broad strokes. There's a great deal she likes, and keeping eggs in all of those baskets while keeping a hold on that scholarship has been a convoluted, hilarious ride. More weird classes than she thought possible. "There's a lot to like, you know? I don't know how anybody picks anything. 'Useless major' jokes are one per person, by the way, so be careful before you blow your one freebie."

[worthallthis]

"Hey, no judgment here," he says, holding up a hand. The metal one has the glove on it again, and the simple motion of holding a hand up doesn't make any mechanical noises. It's only when he's actually exerting himself that it makes itself more obvious. "Conservation is a great career path. And if I thought I could cook worth a damn, I'd love a culinary degree." He subsists on a lot of simple, by-the-box meals, fast food (the gazillion calories in those are perfect), and frozen pizzas. And lots of sandwiches. "I didn't even know they had those. But everybody's gotta eat, right?"