The first thing one might notice upon entering this dorm room is an almost constant, low drone. It's a combined effort from the residents of the eleven terraria throughout the room, mainly on and around one of the two desks present. Inside of them are plants, sand, bits of driftwood and a /lot/ of different insects and arachnids, all making their respective little noises. Krrt, chkk chkk. There is a small television perked atop a few game consoles, a three-seater with a dark brown coffee table in front of it, two dressers and beds on the far side of the room. One is made quite neatly, the other... not so much. Books are strewn across pillow and sheets, mostly English and Russian-language. An even greater number is piled precariously next to the bed. Numerous postcards depicting well-known European and some Russian cities are taped to the wall above it. A photo of at least a dozen people of different ages all sitting together in a small, grey living room hangs, slightly crooked, in the middle of them. One of the younger faces appears to be Ivan from several years ago.
It wouldn't be long before Ivan would discover that he's due to have a room-mate! Apparently, he's an American kid; a little 'twitchy', tends to talk *quite* a bit. When Ivan returns to his room, he'd see signs that said 'twitcher' has already arrived--the door is slightly ajar, and there is the sound of shuffling coming from inside.
Peter is currently dressed in a black hoodie, sneakers, and a BATMAN ZOMBIE T-shirt (actually, on closer inspection, it looks more like the Batman zombie is a Black Lantern...). He is currently standing on top of his bed, unfurling... a poster of a Dalek. With 'EXTERMINATE' written beneath it. Taping it to the wall.
Just in time for Ivan to be walking in on his precious dorm being decorated with something other than the postcards he so meticulously sought out from a larger collection. He's got a look of surprise on his face when he enters, a look that stays equally level as he continues into the room in a straght line and stops in the middle of it. To stare. At Peter. Directly and unwaveringly.
After a few potentiually awkward seconds of that, there is a somewhat forced back but gleeful smile. /Yay/.
Peter *feels* those googly eyes on his back... and he blinks. And turns, looking over his shoulder. And offers a sheepish little smile of his own. "Um... hi! Hello. I'm, uh, Peter. You must be--my roommate. They mentioned, uh. You don't talk much. And you like bugs." His eyes drift over to the various tanks in the room. "Spiders, insects, that sort of stuff. I'm... kind of into spiders, myself. Not, like, *that* into them," he quickly adds, pointing at one of the tanks, "but, uh," stop there Peter do not reveal to EVERYONE that you are the super-secret and super-awesome SPIDER I mean come on secret identities exist for a reason don't you know. "I like them," he finishes, as if this sums it all up. He then hops off his bed.
The sounds emanating from the tanks in the room seems to increase in volume as Ivan's face increases in happy. +20 happy, at least. The information about him not talking very much seems to be very much correct, and he waits for Peter to finish talking before scrambling to find one particular terrarium, sliding open a glass door to peer inside of it. A second later, a huge, fuzzy, blue-legged tarantula with a silver sheen obediently crawls out of the shadows and onto his hand. Ivan SWINGS around to shove the thing enthusiastically in Peter's face. "I'm /Ivan/." Quickest person to get Ivan to talk award goes to... Peter!
Peter is... twitchy. The moment Ivan starts moving fast, he tenses up; when he pops open that terrarium, Peter's eyes widen--and when that spider is produced--and *shoved* toward his face--he *JUMPS*, hopping on top of the bed, squatted down like a frog. But then, a moment later, and he's leaning forward, eyebrows grinding together--*peering* at the tarantula. "That's pretty cool," Peter admits, head cocking as he watches the spider move--then: "Does he--she?--have a name? The females are usually bigger and more colorful, right? So I'm guessing--uh, she. Because she *is* pretty colorful, and..."
The tarantula stays put pretty well, considering it's being swung about. It momentarily rears up as though to get a better look at Peter as well, but seems otherwise pretty happy sprawled out on the other teenager's hand. Ivan frowns at Peter and his... particular way of dealing with being startled, but it's not long before enthusiasm takes over again. "Yes, /she/. Her name is Lena." His accent is more clear now, almost Hollywood-Russian, if a little more authentic. "She is my oldest. Ten years." He seems very proud.
Peter blinks, head bobbing up to peer past the spider and at Ivan--"Whoa, they live *that* long?" he says. "That's like... that's *cat* old. Can I touch her?" And then Peter's hand is *darting* forward, though he doesn't touch her yet--he just holds out his hand, fingers slightly curled, out to her. And then he quickly adds: "I used to have... an ant-farm. Well, not *really* an ant-farm; I kind of made it myself. Just a bunch of ants inside a big plastic container with some dirt and bread, but eventually I had to let them go, because my aunt *freaked* when she found them, and some of them had gotten out. Into the bread-drawer. And, uh, it turned out she *really* did not like bugs. I had to convince her not to burn through two cans of Raid."
Ivan's eyebrows go up and stay there for a bit while he listens, intrigued. The spider rears up again at the movement but her owner seems unphased. Beyond almost palpable thoughts of touch it touch it touch it. He says nothing this time, but the tarantula ambles forward, calmly, and reaches ever so gently for a new perch. Namely, Peter's hand. "I didn't even make her do that." Ivan blinks, but seems pleased with his pet.
"Oh cool," Peter says, and his voice is hushed, and he is moving *so* slow--like fearful that with the slightest twitch, the spider might sprout a set of wings and proceed to *buzz* off and fly away out the nearest window. He's so intent on the spider--who he's now spreading his hand out for, letting her navigate the topography of his palm as she pleases--that he *almost* doesn't catch that particular bit of phrasing.
"...make her do that?" Peter asks, again--peering over the spider at Ivan. One can almost *hear* the sound of puzzle-pieces tumbling together into place: "Oh wow you control *spiders*? That is so *crazy*--" Not just because it is genuinely crazy, but because--now Peter's left to wonder if Mr. Jackson is making some sort of joke. Or, maybe it's just a *really* weird coincidence.
More beaming! The cloud of insects flits here and there but never strays more than a foot from around Ivan. Who is still very much excited, in his own, quiet way. He's used to people tensing up, but when they ask questions afterward is definitely a good sign! Right? "I /do/."
Brrt. Brrt.
That's not an insect sound. Or an arachnid, for that matter. Ivan's mind wanders, and with it, the flying insects scatter momentarily and the spiders on his shoulders and neck zigzag in seemingly random directions. Ivan fumbles to find something, eventually pulling a phone out of his pocket. Upon seeing the name on the screen, the insects suddenly gather back together, and disappear once more in the hems of his clothes and his hair. The tarantula is the only one that seemingly refuses to give a damn. "Sorry. Family." Ivan mutters, then promptly moves past his new roommate and back toward the door. On his way out, he presses the phone to his head and /rambles/ the likes of which no one at Xavier's will have heard him do before. Likely because it's in Russian. He sounds happy, though. And Peter's name is mentioned three times before he even walks out of earshot.
When the insects go mad, Peter snaps to attention; when they come back under Ivan's control, he lets out a sigh of relief. He *likes* bugs, but he also does *not* like masses of things flapping wildly and zig-zagging in every which direction--particularly since his instinct is to pay attention to all of it at once. When Ivan's got them all behaving, he can deal with it, but otherwise... he nods his head, watching Ivan go--smiling a bit blissfully to himself!--until he notices, then, that Lena is still on his hand.
"Oh," he says, lifting her up to look at her. "Right." Then, much quieter, out of Ivan's ear-shot: "Look, they just call me the Spider. I'm not an *actual* spider. But it's okay, I wouldn't call myself that if I didn't like them." Then, he's depositing her right back in the terrarium!
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