dinohouse | Snagged shamelessly from Bakerstreet.

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Snagged shamelessly from Bakerstreet.

Roommates meme!

SINGLE WHITE FEMALE - Wow, college is going to be so fun! My roommate and I get along really well, Mom, you should hear all about it! We like the same music and movies and celebrities and...well, she's a bit obsessive, she got her hair cut and dyed like mine and keeps going on and on about how she wants contacts the same color as my eyes, but she's really nice! She just got in, I'll call you later, bye Mom! (TL;DR - You have a roommate who wants to be you. Have fun)

I DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOU THINK - He could not be more aggravating. Blaring music you think is shit, never taking out the trash, pissing on the floor when he's drunk and not even cleaning it up, bringing over people you can't stand at all hours of the day and night and now what? You cleaned all the dishes in the house and he had to have a bowl of cereal. A bowl he didn't even bother to rinse out. Time for some conflict of the YELLING REALLY LOUDLY!!!! kind.

STAR-CROSSED LOVERS - Obligatory sex option. You've been roommates for a while, but recently those furtive glances have been returned, they put their hand over yours when reaching for the coffee pot, and if something doesn't happen soon, you're going to end up a crying mess or flouncing out to get some poon elsewhere in frustration. Are you going to mesh well, or are you going to find out there's condoms in the house and have to make a trip to the gas station at two in the morning and deal with the worker staring at you as you buy XXLarge condoms?

BURY ME WITH IT - Your roommate is dying. Maybe they came home with a fatal diagnosis and can't help but spill. Maybe you watched them rescue a child from getting hit by a car and heard the thunk of their back breaking beneath ridiculously large tires. Console, comfort, hear their last words, tears and sorrow and a whole bucket load of angst.

HAN SOLO IS GAY - Technology is fun. You roommate takes it too far. Fight to the death. Offender may bring up that he wouldn't be able to do it if his roomie wasn't dumbass enough to leave his laptop laying around in the first place. Offender may have stolen it for the evulz. You never sent this text...

WILDCARD - seriously do whatever you want anon suggested it HERE IT IS

Post with character/universe and the person who replies to you is your new, exciting roommate! (With issues.)

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I give him a smile, something a little closer to real this time. "We should go a round or two sometime," I say, trying to keep my tone jovial. "I could probably learn something from you."

Keep everyone close, friends and enemies. Learn from everyone. Who better to practice this on than my roommate?

"So are you headed somewhere after your tour here?" I know I am, but Joe might be here for a long while yet, or even indefinitely. I might just be the first roommate of a dozen for him...and depending on how things turn out, that might be a good thing.

I consider sparring with him for a moment. I've never (knowingly) sparred with a member of E.F. Could be a useful learning experience. "Maybe so." I wonder briefly how old he is. He doesn't seem any older than me, might even be younger. And the way he talks, it doesn't seem very likely he's seen a lot of active combat.

"Not sure. I never really know until my orders are handed down." I'm used to it. That's what being a Special Officer is like. "I'm near enough to a promotion. If that goes through, I'll most likely end up stationed with a forward fleet. Maybe even in the Emperor's Vanguard." I roll my eyes a bit. It's a feeble joke, but it's a joke nonetheless, at least among S.O.'s. A place in the Emperor's Vanguard is an easy ride, sure, but you're also never about to see active combat again.

Which is actually the last thing I want, ever.

He's near a promotion, is he? That's something special. Something in the back of my head nags at me, and I begin to get the feeling I might have heard of this guy before. Pressing for details right now isn't likely to go over well, though. "Good luck on your promotion, then."

He rolls his eyes when he talks about where he might be stationed, and - not for the first time - I'm reminded of how different our responsibilities can be. "You wouldn't see much action there, would you?" I shake my head lightly and lean it against the wall, just right so the clips don't dig into my skull. "See, for the E.F., that's a high-class assignment. Something to shoot for."

I catch his eyes and hold his gaze for a moment, then smile when he wishes me luck. Must be an E.F. thing. Anyone sharing my rank would rather break my arm (if they even could) than see me get promoted over them.

Not to say I don't feel the same way about most of them. But I also know I'm more capable and infinitely more loyal than any of them.

"Bit of an understatement." I scoff a little. "A spot in the Vanguard is like... Like handing your sword over and getting a flag in return. It's all show. All style, no real substance." I stretch my legs out and cross my arms behind my head. "If I'm going to end up anywhere near Famille, I'd rather be on the ground, you know?" I consider the idea of actually taking the 'honor' of a place in the Vanguard at face value, but that's really not what I was groomed for.

I can see it in his movements, his unease at the thought of not fighting. He's not in this for the glory, he's here because it's what he's good at. Suddenly I wonder, against all odds, if we were placed in the same room on purpose. If someone knew how similar we really are.

I stretch my legs out across the bed, rotating my feet at the ankles to get the cricks out. "I'm not too familiar with how things work on your side of things," I start slowly, the back of my head still nagging at me, "but it seems like if you ace your combat application regularly, but flub one or two significant political interactions, you'd probably still be ranked high, but passed over for the Vanguard."

They're not going to throw somebody who can't keep their tongue still on the emperor's ship, after all. There's something to be said about a little bit of well-applied disobedience.

I watch his legs stretch out, watch his feet turn. He's small, kind of scrawny almost, but there's something to be said for sinewy strength. I'm not exactly all brute force and no finesse myself.

I blink at his thoughts on the matter. I'd never really considered that. Not that I could apply anything he's implying. For me, messing about with, as he says, 'significant political interactions' could be a death sentence for me where it would simply keep someone, anyone else away from the Emperor.

Still, I find myself appreciating his words, his... attempt, such as it is. It's friendly. Not something you run into much in my circles. "I'll keep that in mind." I smirk. "You weren't lying, when you said E.F. was big on the politics."

I grin - I can't help it this time, and it seems safe enough to be actually friendly instead of just faking it. "You have to be," I say as I pull my legs back in and fold them under me. "If you can't read between the lines, the E.F. has no use for you. And if you can't read between those lines and know when to keep your mouth shut, nobody will even notice you're missing."

It's a joke that's bandied about quite a bit, but that's mainly because we know it's true. I know Joe's department is a little less lethal, but that's mainly because they can always be demoted to canon fodder. In theory, at least.

His smile is genuine. I can't clearly remember the last time I saw a real smile like that.

Well, that's a lie. I could, theoretically, remember it perfectly. I choose not to, to keep my past cleanly divided from my present.

"You're spies, then." It's a gamble, being so blunt, but he seems to be alright with plain and straightforward talk.

"Definitely not the place for everyone."

I'm still a little surprised he doesn't automatically know who I am, or at least know of me in an existential sort of way. Unless he does, and he's just very crafty about not letting on. It occurs to me that we might be sharing quarters specifically because of his rank and position, and it's possible relation to my history.

Not that I care. I've left it behind.

Ah, now I remember. His face hadn't been shared - he probably flies under the radar more than he thinks he does - but my memory's finally caught up and the nagging in the back of my head disappears.

I shrug a bit at his blatant labeling. "In a way, yes. I'd probably go as far as to say we're as much spies as you're mindless thugs." I give him a small wink to let him know I'm poking fun.

I'd brought it up before as a friendly gesture, but now I really am itching to go a round against him. I've been in plenty of combat simulations, and a few supervised incidents, but I'm curious to see how someone like me would actually fare against another Zangyack. You never know who you'll end up fighting in this job, after all.

I find myself watching his face more and more as he relaxes around me. It's... nice, though I'd never admit it aloud. Everyone ranked above me tends to look down on me, everyone below me is perpetually afraid for some reason. And, well, those who share my rank are as bloodthirsty a lot as Zangyack has to offer. That's why we've got as far as we have with our skins intact.

But this, this is entirely different. And I find I don't care a bit whether it's some kind of ridiculous test or something. If he can relax, I can relax too.

I answer his wink with an approving nod of my head. "That we are."

I'm not even sure if he's joking or not, and I love it. A playful soldier, who ever would have guessed?

But even more so, I'm curious about him. My brain is digging through the scraps of his history I've retained, trying to sort them alongside this roommate I've suddenly found myself with. Somehow I figured he would have been a bit more straight-laced, or at the very least, angsty.

"My first teacher always taught us that nobody is who they look like at first sight," I say carefully, thinking back to the orphanage and the ex-soldier whose job it was to find potential Zangyack recruits. "I can't assume anything about anybody - that'll just get me killed, you know?"

I'm not dense enough not to notice that he's examining me as easily and carefully as I'm examining him.

Fair enough.

I chuckle softly. "It's good advice for anyone in Zangyack." I admit. Probably why I'd never bothered to put too much thought into E.F. "Too much guesswork isn't smart, after all."

"Nope," I reply with a smile. Hrm. No reaction. Maybe I'll try a different angle.

"You don't get far in the E.F. without somebody showing you the ropes, though." Sure, we had basic training, and some group lessons, but nobody made it further without some one-on-one with someone who actually knew what they were doing. "Is it like that for you guys, too?"

Is he... toying with me?

I should have anticipated this. When have I ever been put in one-on-one situations where I wasn't expected to make some kind of show? Never, is the answer, but I'm fairly certain I'm not supposed to kill him. So I'm not sure what he wants from me.

Well, I can guess. But it's something I try not to talk about.

"You don't need someone, if that's what you mean. As long as you can keep yourself alive, you can maintain, sometimes even climb a few rungs, theoretically speaking." I smirk. I'm pretty sure now that he knows who I am, or at least a part of my story. "I had a superior who took me under his wing for a while. It... didn't work out."

I nod slowly, making sure to keep my expression interested, yet neutral. Time to veer away from the target. "Oi, climbing the ladder," I groan, spreading my legs back out and flopping over onto the pillow at the head of my bed. "If only it really was as easy as passing a few tests and bang! There you are, where you want to be."

I shift my head over to meet his eyes again, then roll mine. "But nope. Step by step of the way, you've got to please somebody somewhere. Nothing's truly fair around here, you know? Everyone's watching over everyone. Can't hardly even relax."

He changes the direction of the conversation as easily as he started it. I scoff a little. Politics, again, it seems like it's all politics with him, and I'm starting to think that maybe I'm being just a little bit paranoid in assuming this is some kind of test.

"That's military." I point out. "I figured we all knew what we were getting into from the start. Follow orders, do what you're told, attention, at ease..." And he's right. There's always someone to please. It's an Empire, after all, not a Republic. There's only so far we can get before we plateau, being not a part of the Imperial family.

"True enough." We all knew what we were getting into. I just knew I had to aspire for something a little more, or I wasn't going to last long. By my hand or theirs.

I chuckle to myself for a moment, and catch Joe's eye. "All this from underwear," I point out, referring back to the beginning of our conversation.

I wonder how he can be so... pleasant. I might even hazard a guess at chipper. It can't simply be the difference between typical navy and the fabled Elite Forces. It has to be something else.

Maybe it's just something about him.

He wouldn't be the first.

I take a sharp breath to distract myself from a momentary spike of pain behind my ear. I try not to let the pain show on my face, and instead smirk at him. "Funny how that works."

He inhales oddly, and even though he hides it I can still note that something was wrong there. Even as he smirks, I can see a faint slowness of facial muscle indicating that he's forcing the expression.

Interesting.

"The huge, intricate web that is conversation," I agree, closing my eyes to chuckle for a moment. I'm paying every bit of attention I can spare, but I don't want to look like I am. That hadn't been an intended trigger, after all. "But you seem like a good guy, Joe Gibken."

I give a wink and a smile. "Even if I had to use underwear to get to know you."

I shake my head a bit when he closes his eyes, trying to set my head back in order before he catches me at it. It's nothing, it's no real trouble at all, but it's not something I'm ready nor willing to discuss. With anyone.

"Same to you, Don Dogoier." I smirk a little with a shrug. "Despite the underwear."

I shift towards the edge of my bed, stretching my legs out and considering finding a decently sized room to do some training in. Free time is still such a nebulous and often useless part of my day.

I can see the restlessness as he stretches out on his bed, and I roll over on my back to stare up at our drab ceiling.

We don't have to have all the conversations now. We'll at least have some time to talk further, and probably a lot of it.

All I know is that when I get the chance next, I'll be heading to the E.F. archives and doing a bit more digging. I find myself wanting to know a good deal more about my new roommate.

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Snagged shamelessly from Bakerstreet.

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