smilestopscars | Room 210, Monday Afternoon

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Room 210, Monday Afternoon

Ezra had been away on Coterie business for most of last week. Nothing too bad, this time. Just your general run-of-the-mill intimidation where Ava had done most of the work while Ezra and Lock had looked casually imposing in the background. From the way the island had felt when he'd left, Ezra suspected he'd been pretty lucky in that regard.

Also he'd come back with a box full of stuff. A care package from his mother. Apparently him being away at an actual school – no matter how strange and unusual a school - merited a care package. He dumped the contents on his desk to rifle through them. Snacks, mostly. A few pairs of socks, a lighter, a few random knick-knacks. Things whatever random shopkeepers had lost them wouldn't miss much.

And there was a piece of cardboard. He picked it up. It was a card, it had a fox on it, and it was from his sisters. And the way he smiled at it was not the way he smiled at the people he tried (and succeeded) to charm around Fandom or anywhere else.

It was something far more private.

[ooc: I am still a little exhausted from last week, but baby steps. Open door, open post!]

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"Thought you'd run off," Ronan said gruffly, standing in Ezra's door and crossing his arms. His anger about last week had mostly abated and his urge to get off the island had lessened though he still wanted to leave.

Permanently.

The anger was a firm fixture in his body language, in how he held himself and Ronan didn't try and fix that. Didn't even want to fix that.

"Aww, you noticed?" Ezra cooed, smoothly depositing his sisters' card in a drawer before he turned to glance back towards the door. "Hope you didn't pine too much."

"I didn't pine at all." But yes, he'd noticed. "Hard not to notice when you seem to pop up all the time."

Ezra just shrugged. "I had business to attend to elsewhere."

Oh, Coterie.

Ronan didn't ask. He wouldn't have told Ezra if Ezra had asked.

"Congratulations, you missed fog and some sort of confrontation going between about fifty students and a grandfather."

Granted that grandfather had been powerful but.

"I did?"

He was more curious about that than he let on. He still allowed himself and elegantly raised eyebrow.

"What a shame. I think I saw the fog before I left, though."

"Yep."

His face got still, body tensing for a moment before admitting, "Last time I saw you, he'd done something to me too."

If Ezra wanted to know why he'd acted the way he had last time they'd seen each other.

"Well, you were somehow even more pissy than usual," Ezra allowed. Without even looking down, he picked up one of the packets of snacks. It was a small bag of chips, and he opened it. "I wouldn't have even thought that would be possible."

"Paranoia," he explained in one word. "Makes you crazy, apparently."

"Huh."

Well, it seemed like it might.

"And now? Done with being paranoid? And notice how I said nothing about being done with being pissy, because I don't think you have it in yourself to not be like that."

"Seems that way," he said, shrugging. "But, I haven't really talked to anyone since then so who knows? Guess you'll be the guinea pig."

"Joy," Ezra replied with a hint of sarcasm, although it wasn't particularly sharp. He popped a few chips into his mouth. "Always fun to be experimented on."

"Don't be such a pussy," Ronan said, ambling into Ezra's room without an invitation. "It won't hurt."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Oh, we both know there's never any guarantee of that when you're around."

Well, sometimes things hurt. Sometimes it was welcomed.

"Would you rather I left you alone with only yourself for company?" he asked, taking a cursory glance around the room before glancing back to Ezra.

Ezra shrugged. "I have no preference." He held out his little bag of chips. "Chips?"

"I'm sure you have a preference," he answered, helping himself to a chip and popping it in his mouth. "You just don't wanna say."

"Or I just don't have a preference," Ezra retorted, getting some chips for himself. "Not everyone has strong feelings about you."

"Sure they do," he answered lazily. "Most of the time, those strong feelings are just hate and dislike."

And Ronan wanted it that way.

Because he was just oh so emotionally well adjusted, wasn't he?

"Of course they are," he replied agreeably. "But that's just not where I'm at."

"Oh well." Not that he particularly cared either way. "Probably for the best. Wouldn't want you getting all attached."

Ezra waved a hand dismissively. Attachment wasn't something he did very willingly or often.

"Why are you here, anyway?"

Except to eat chips. Which was sometimes a valid reason for being places, in Ezra's eyes.

Ronan shrugged one shoulder and scratched his neck. "I was bored."

"And you thought being here might help with that?"

He ate a few more chips. The bag was almsot empty.

"You always suspicious like this?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "Talk about paranoid."

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