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Room 209, Saturday
After yesterday's StuCo meeting, Sparkle had retreated back to his room and pulled his phone out again. Melanie had been encouraging him to call more, had been hinting that they had a few possible homes lined up, and people were interested in meeting him. A few of them even sounded promising to Sparkle, who had made wide eyes at the prospect of being set up with a nice gay couple in Ohio, because holy shit that would be about as perfect as it possibly could get without somehow travelling back in time and setting him up with a decent family when he was six.
He'd told that to Melanie at one point, and she'd laughed and informed him that she'd look into that, but since time travel hadn't been invented yet... Which had mostly just meant that, shit, yes, a normal world sounded good and okay, he didn't say that, but he had the weirdest feeling like maybe he could. She'd been a lot of the same places he'd been. He could tell Melanie that he'd died like three times since coming to this stupid fucking island and she'd sympathize with him and tell him that she got it, that dying sucked, and she'd do her best to set him up with a family where dying happened relatively infrequently.
Sparkle wouldn't think anything of it if she did. There was just so much... so much future to sort out, and wherever he wound up, they would make sure that he had a crack at college and god, it was almost too good to be true. But only almost, right?
"Yeah," he said, continuing into what had to be the fifteenth consecutive hour on the phone, having the same animated conversation, "acting, right? Like, the odds are shitty, but it's something I know I can pull off. Are there any good schools for that in Ohio?"
His phone's battery had died long ago. Sparkle didn't care.
[OOC: Down the rabbit hole we go. Open if anyone wants to drop in, otherwise establishy!]
He'd told that to Melanie at one point, and she'd laughed and informed him that she'd look into that, but since time travel hadn't been invented yet... Which had mostly just meant that, shit, yes, a normal world sounded good and okay, he didn't say that, but he had the weirdest feeling like maybe he could. She'd been a lot of the same places he'd been. He could tell Melanie that he'd died like three times since coming to this stupid fucking island and she'd sympathize with him and tell him that she got it, that dying sucked, and she'd do her best to set him up with a family where dying happened relatively infrequently.
Sparkle wouldn't think anything of it if she did. There was just so much... so much future to sort out, and wherever he wound up, they would make sure that he had a crack at college and god, it was almost too good to be true. But only almost, right?
"Yeah," he said, continuing into what had to be the fifteenth consecutive hour on the phone, having the same animated conversation, "acting, right? Like, the odds are shitty, but it's something I know I can pull off. Are there any good schools for that in Ohio?"
His phone's battery had died long ago. Sparkle didn't care.
[OOC: Down the rabbit hole we go. Open if anyone wants to drop in, otherwise establishy!]
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He was so not thrilled, here. Hopefully more of that stomping would get that point across!
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Sparkle was acting like a giant toddler.
The fact that that meant she had to be acting like his (rather terrible, to be entirely honest) mother made Karina grimace at his back. Even if that was the grossest thing ever, she was still going to do it because, clearly, he couldn't be trusted to take care of himself.
She followed him.
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He stifled a yawn as he reached the men's room door, and then, giving a pointed look over his shoulder, he stepped inside.
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Karina stomped her feet a little and set her shoulders.
Then she followed right in after him.
Her faith was at zero here, Sparkle. This was how bad it was.
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Sparkle was at least as far as the showers, giving them an angry look as if they were the source of all of his frustrations.
"You going to follow me in and wash my back for me, too?"
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A beat.
"Am I going to have to follow you in to make sure you shower properly?"
God, oh god, she hoped not.
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He dumped his shirt on a countertop, and then turned his back and started undoing his fly.
"You can, like, set the shampoo and soap down. I have this handled, you know."
What was he going to do? Turn the water on and stand spitefully outside the shower stall? It wasn't like that would get him back to the phone any faster.