ArchivedLogs:Rainy Saturday

Rainy Saturday
Dramatis Personae Anole, Ghost, Shane	2014-03-29 '
Location <XS> Study
Quieter than the neighboring library, the study actually /is/ a retreat for those who want to sit and work. Lacking the larger social tables, this room has only single solitary chairs, individual soft lamps assigned to each. The high bay windows allow plenty of light, and the understated elegance of the room with its grated fireplace (often crackling, in winter) is an invitation to quiet work. Saturday mornings around the school tend to be quiet, many students enjoying the opportunity to sleep in. Outside it's grey and wet, a light rain pattering down against the study's large windows. In here though, it's still warm and cosy; Shane looks comfortable-snug where he has tucked himself (still in pajamas, soft black cotton pants and a Xavier's sweatshirt worn open with no shirt beneath) into a large armchair. He has a blanket draped over him, and he has perhaps been reading -- he has a copy of /Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy/ open on his lap -- but at the moment he seems kind of drowsily half-dozing, cheek mooshed into his palm and gills slowly fluttering, his elbow propped against the armrest. Anole is similarly pajama'd when he arrives, slipping furtively into the study with a lightweight messenger bag slung over his shoulder; he has a cup off hot cocoa in his hand. In black and white plaid pants and a baggy RENT t-shirt, the thick scarred stump of his arm is -- now peeking out, /just/ a little bit, from beneath the edge of his left sleeve. It looks considerably /more/ scaly than the rest of his dappled-scaly green skin. He's been heading towards an empty chair when he notices Shane bundled up maybe-asleep. He redirects his path, moving instead towards the other boy's chair and for a long moment just peeking down at him uncertainly. Quietly, he sets his cocoa and his bag down on the floor at the foot of Shane's chair and gently reaches down with one hand to tuck the blanket more warmly over Shane. Then sits down on the floor, settling cross-legged at the foot of Shane's armchair to lean back against it and open his bag up, pulling out a French 1 textbook and notebook. Ghost is dressed less pajama'd, instead wearing a gray t-shirt, a matching XS hoodie, pajama pants (her only pajama remains), and barefoot as usual, her PRESS hat resting softly on her head. She possesses a notebook under one arm, and a bag over the other, as she takes a seat near Anole and Shane, quietly removing some stuff for writing, as she begins to jot down some stuff in the notebook. Probably for a new article or something! She periodically looks up to the others though, but isn't sure if they want to be disturbed or not, so elects not to speak at this moment. Shane stirs, eyes squeezing a little tighter, gills rippling a little faster, as new sounds and smells enter the room. It's hard to tell how alert he really is, though; after these initial small twitches of response he settles down further, nestling under the blanket Anole pulls over him. A small contented smile curls across his face as he snuggles warmer beneath the blanket. His hand falls, book tumbling down from his grip to splash off the end of the chair towards Anole. Anole gives a very small /squeak/ as the book tumbles down to thump against the hard carapace atop his head and fall to the floor. Distracted from his own schoolwork, he reaches for it, picking the novel up to examine the blurb on its back cover. He glances up at Ghost when she arrives, giving her a timid-shy smile. He picks up his cocoa, starting to lift it towards his mouth, but then instead leans forward to offer it out towards Ghost with an inviting lift of brows. Sip? Ghost takes a small nod as she sees Anole offering the cocoa, taking a /teeeeny/ sip before passing it back, a small smile on her face. She's getting back to writing..which is slowly derailing into tiny doodles of sharks and lizards and ghosts, with all of their stick figure real life representatives riding them. Except she doesn't have color, so it's /a bit/ confusing. The squeak startles Shane, perhaps; he tenses up beneath his blanket, his gills stilling instantly. His eyes crack open, small slivers of black visible for just a moment before he closes them again. One arm reaches out from beneath the blanket, shoulder stretching as his mouth opens in a yawn, huge-wide enough that for a moment the sharp /rows/ of his teeth are visible where usually the recessed secondary and tertiary rows are hidden away behind the more prominent teeth up front. He settles back down, his hand dropping to grope around for his book. Which he doesn't /find/, of course; instead he finds the spiky top of Anole's head. His brow creases in a small perplexed frown as he pats at the top of the lizardboy's head. Pat. Pat pat /pat/? His claws curl inward in brief scritching. This is not book. The squeak turns into a tiny laugh as Anole finds himself with patting hand fumbling at his head. He tips his head back, which serves only to moosh his /face/ up against Shane's patting hand now, too. He headbutts lightly upward, then, hard shell and hard spikes butting against Shane's hand. Scooting slightly forward, he picks up Shane's novel and presses it into the other boy's hand instead of his head. And then scoots forward /more/ to reclaim his cocoa mug, taking a long sip himself and peering -- cautiously? hesitant? like maybe he should /not/ be peering? -- at Ghost's writing. The doodles put a wider smile on his face. Ghost laughs briefly at the others, before getting back to drawing. Spotting Anole's smile as he peers, she smiles back, turning it around to fully show him what she's got so far. A spectral girl riding a ghost, a sharky boy riding a..landshark, and a lizardy boy riding a chameleon are travelling across a papery realm, as a giant dragon sits on top of a castle. It's all rather crude and stick figurish, and above it is numerous terrible ideas for articles, most of them rather boring as well. Shane's fingers close around his book, and he draws it in under his blanket, scrunching himself down to disappear beneath the blanket for a moment too. He emerges a short moment later, though, blinking a little blearily at the world. At first there is only a sleepy-disgruntled frown on his face, but it melts away into an easy content smile as he wakes more fully and sees the other two in the room. He rearranges himself in his seat, shifting to lean against the /opposite/ armrest with his head closer to Ghost. His chin rests on the armrest, eyes drifting over towards her book in curiosity as she turns her sketches around to show them to Anole. His hand reaches out with little grabby motions for Anole's cocoa mug. Gimme. Anole stretches his hand back, relinquishing his mug to Shane with a very small smirk. He actually grins outright at the drawings, tapping his finger against the sharkboy-sharksteed when Shane looks over. And then taps his finger against one /particularly/ boring article idea, raising his eyebrows to Ghost like -- /really/? -- with another small chuckle. The smile on his face is still wide as he scoots back over to take up his spot in front of Shane's chair once more, this time /actually/ opening his French textbook to maybe start on work. As Anole points to the article idea, Ghost's face is blushing, with a sheepish grin present. She laughs a bit at Shane's 'gimme' thing, as she flips the notebook around, doodles something rapidly, and flips it back. Sharkboy now has a mug in his hand. Once they both get a good look, she's flipping it back to continue doodli- er, working. The addition to the doodle earns a /wide/ grin from Shane. He lifts his mug to Ghost in salute and then, carefully, sets the mug down atop Anole's hard scaly head, nestling it between a trio of headspikes to hold its place. He settles back below his blanket, eyes closing and his gills lazily opening and closing in quiet contentment as he drifts back off to sleep. Anole's eyes open wider. His initial startled breath of laughter cuts off into a careful /stillness/ so that he doesn't spill the cocoa. Just reaches up to pluck it off the top of his head and take a long swig. Then get back to work.