vertigo [ rogue ]

— MAYBE IT'S NOT MY WEEKEND !

BUT IT'S GONNA BE MY YEAR.

This party was a blast. Good music, good booze, and the bowl of punch in the middle of the table was so damn perfect that he'd nearly creamed his pants drinking it for the first time. Cal grinned as he crashed his plastic cup against that of a new friend's, laughing as he gulped back the rest of his drink. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun at a party, but let's face it-- if he was having fun, he probably wouldn't remember the majority of this night when he woke up anyway. Except for maybe the part where he picked up some random person and partook in some epic bedroom exploration, but that would be for later on. Right now, he was going to concentrate on actually enjoying the party for what it was worth, and that meant getting to know people. The romping around could come later that night-- it was still too early to get wasted off his face.

"Gonna go sit down for a bit. Catch ya later, Caleb."

With a smirk and a wink at his friend, Cal gave the other blonde a casual wave before finding himself in the midst of the crowd. There weren't too many people, which was nice; he could get a good look around and decide just who he'd be going for later that day. He wasn't looking for a pick-me-up just yet though-- right now he just wanted to mingle before going for it. Grey eyes skimmed the area until they fell onto a girl who was sitting on a nearby vouch alone. The blonde couldn't help but raise a brow with curiosity. She seemed like she'd been there for a while. He frowned, tapping his chin. Now, he could leave her alone and not disturb her peace, but hey. If she didn't want to talk or socialise, he'd get the hint soon enough.

It wouldn't be that hard to tell the difference between politeness and actually being friendly. She already had a drink in her hand so Cal decided not to go and get her another, and hence the blonde found himself flopping down on the couch just next to her, not too near, not too far. Just enough to be friendly.

Hey, she was kinda cute. Cal leaned back in his chair, grey eyes meeting dark browns. He did his best to speak the next sentence with a straight face.

"You are one well-defined function-- okay, okay, I don't think I can say that one and take myself seriously," he said, letting out a chuckle. "In all seriousness, I'm Cal. How'd you know Jules?"

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— MAYBE IT'S NOT MY WEEKEND !

BUT IT'S GONNA BE MY YEAR.

That pickup line hadn't been his best (or well, worst) one. He was quite partial to 'I'm not being obtuse, but you're acute girl' and 'I wish I was your derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves', but he wasn't sure whether her heart would be able to take being told that by a man as dashing and charming as he was. He believed in starting slow, after all. Either way, she hadn't even gotten any sort of response to his evident genius. How insulting. (Not really.) Normally, he'd have pegged it to her being stunned by his good looks, sheer wit and sex appeal. Maybe she was jealous of his beautiful blonde locks--

Okay, no. She was probably just thinking 'what the fuck is this guy on'.

Quite the normal reaction to him, if he was to be fair. The acknowledging-that-your-bad-pickup-line-was-bad technique didn't always work on everyone, and he made a mental note that the bad puns weren't going to fly either. Time to rethink and regroup. Cal wasn't exactly looking for anything per se, though he did note that she seemed rather out of place in the party, as though she was trying to isolate and distance herself from the rest of them. For a second he contemplated shutting up (yes, he was capable of thinking that thought) but decided against it-- she'd made a statement and he would respond. He'd get the hint soon enough if she really didn't want to be in his company.

"Ah, Jules is my friend. He's one of the guys that lives here." He'd nearly moved in with him and Caleb, but their budget wouldn't have allowed for a place that allowed pets. Meanwhile, Cal had missed Puggerpillar too much to just leave the poor baby behind, and had decided to search for housing elsewhere. Besides, he was pretty stoked that he'd get to live with Whaleboy instead. "Know only one person? So now I can be Number Two." He beamed.

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— MAYBE IT'S NOT MY WEEKEND !

BUT IT'S GONNA BE MY YEAR.

"It can be clean!" Only because Caleb went around picking up after Jules' shit like the proper housewife he was, or a dog owner that was picking up after his dog's poop in the park. "Sometimes." He smirked, raising an eyebrow. No more needed to be said, and for someone who spoke as much as Cal, that meant a lot. Interviews, huh?

"Oh come on. No one-way ticket to the finals?" It wasn't like he had competition or anything. Please, who wouldn't want to be friends with him? (Okay, from the sounds of it, her.) But she seemed amused enough to be shooting sarcastic remarks back in his direction, so he supposed that he wasn't bothering her too much. Cal could be inconsiderate but he knew when to leave a lady alone, and right now she was giving him the green light to prance around her being fabulous. It was then when she commented on her beer, and Cal held out his cup of punch.

"Here, try some of this. What are you drinking?" He glanced over to look in her cup. It didn't hurt that she was kind of cute when she seemed all disgruntled and disgusted. Not bad, he might even give her an eight out of ten. Shame she was almost 3853253% not likely to be easy enough for him to take home. Oh well, wasn't he supposed to be trying to be friends? "Ah, beer."

"Pro tip. Nobody actually likes beer the first few times they have it, they only pretend to. I wouldn't bother if I was you. It isn't worth it. Why don't we change cups? You can have my punch and I'll have what you're having."

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— MAYBE IT'S NOT MY WEEKEND !

BUT IT'S GONNA BE MY YEAR.

"Can't you make a special exception for a special applicant?" Cal debated fluttering his lashes, but decided against it. He could act as stereotypically gay as he wanted around his close friends, but like it or not he had some sort of reputation to uphold around people he didn't know very well. He took the cue of her friendliness to edge in a little closer, not close enough to show any other intentions than friendship but close enough to indicate that he was interested in carrying this conversation on. Though it was then when she mentioned that she was getting another cup. Cal nodded, patting the space next to him on the couch.

"I'll save your spot. No worries." Watching as she left the couch (note to self-- nice figure, big tits for a small Asian) he grabbed his phone from his pocket. Temple Run was calling as he defended the integrity of her seat. The guards had to get their practice in somewhere anyway. He was just getting to the part where he blazed past a ton of gryphons and dashed past the shadowy woods when he ran into a wall and died.

"Fuck," he muttered. Speaking of which, where was the girl? He was about to glance through the seas of people when he noticed that someone had taken her seat. Crap. "Excuse me," he began, before jolting backwards with surprise as he realised that she'd returned.

"Holy crap do they teach you how to do that in ninja school?"

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— MAYBE IT'S NOT MY WEEKEND !

BUT IT'S GONNA BE MY YEAR.

Come on, that had totally been an opening for her to say he was a special of a different breed. Where was the self-deprecating humour, the banter, the jokes? He would have been a little disappointed, if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't have emotions and couldn't be disappointed anyway. Granted, that was a lie, but the fact that it was a lie was just a technicality. They could work out the finer details later. At least she responded to his rather racially targeted statement, humouring him with the fact that she had clan secrets. Cal chuckled, taking another gulp of his drink. Dang, was he done? Maybe he should have grabbed her beer while she had gone. Never mind, he could go and get something else.

"So how do I join this clan? Teach me your ways. I'm going to find every way possible to learn to do cool shit like this. Is there some sort of training regime or ninja ritual or something?" She had a sense of humour, he could give her that. Even if she seemed demure and reserved, at least she knew how to crack a joke. You would be surprised at the number of people out there who simply didn't, and the fact that she was actually responding and playing along was a plus in his book.

"How would you be able to stand killing someone like me? I'm sure that society could do with more Cal in their lives. No, seriously, teach me your ways."

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— MAYBE IT'S NOT MY WEEKEND !

BUT IT'S GONNA BE MY YEAR.

"Flexibility, huh." Oh, there were so many connotations that came with that word, but he wasn't going to go there. Besides, it wasn't as though she was stupid. The subtext would be loud and clear between the two of them, unless she was completely illiterate in subtlety. Heck, his vocabulary in that language wasn't very large himself, and even he would be able to read between the lines when it came to being flexible. He leaned in ever so slightly, gaze not leaving hers as she offered to teach him the ways of her people. Was she flirting with him? The thought of potentially taking her home that night crossed his mind for a second, before he dismissed it. She wasn't easy enough, and he didn't want to push her into doing anything she might not have been comfortable with.

Besides, he too enjoyed his mind games. Cal sat up, taking a long, measured sip of his drink. If she wanted to play with him he was more than happy to give her all he had got. She didn't seem as though she was completely unversed in this kind of talk, all of a sudden-- maybe she was less out of place here than he had pinpointed her as. She got a lot more interesting.

But in all honesty, was was there to offer her? A big difference between yoghurt and the average caucasian American was that yoghurt had culture. There was the English side of him, of course, but he had a feeling that passing her tea and scones wasn't exactly the most ideal form of romance.

"If you're a ninja, I'm in the MI5." Well, it made sense. His recent adventures had been a long string of running away from the passive, book-obsessed, cereal-eating po-po. If Colin could be the police he could be anything he wanted to be. "Your trade secrets, for mine."

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— MAYBE IT'S NOT MY WEEKEND !

BUT IT'S GONNA BE MY YEAR.

"Are you expressing doubt in the British secret service? Never fear, for we are used to confidentiality." It was easy to drop a line and to ham things up, to make the time they had at the party more entertaining for her and for him. She seemed interesting, at the very least-- a little out of place, perhaps, but interesting nevertheless. Kind of easy on the eyes as well. Too bad she wasn't any easier, but he supposed she did seem more like the kind of person he'd try to get to know than just have an easy fuck with. "Have some faith in humanity, have some faith in England."

Cal lifted his beer so they could clink glasses, or, well, cups. Whether she reciprocated or not he lifted the cup to his lips, pausing for a moment to meet her eyes before gulping the last few drops of his drink down.

"Or at least, you could have some faith in me."

He allowed the moment of solemnity to sink in. Was there a little seriousness to his words? Nah, Cal wasn't capable of being serious. Okay, he totally was, but not in this context. He'd once been told that he had the kind of face that meant that you couldn't tell whether he was kidding or not, even when he was trying to be serious. While he'd pretended to take offence to the statement and hence proving the person's point, he could definitely see where they were coming from.

"My lips are sealed."

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— MAYBE IT'S NOT MY WEEKEND !

BUT IT'S GONNA BE MY YEAR.

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