Room 317, Saturday Night

[chief_cheerio]

Quinn thought about it, she really did, but she decided not to go home.

Mostly -- though she wouldn't admit it -- it was about not being brave enough to go home and see what was gone. It was easier to live in denial when she was at least a little ignorant.

So she was more or less trying to do normal stuff. Like returning a prank call. If she had

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[dollpocalypse]

And then there was a knock. And a guy on the other side of the door whose only reason for not flat-out barging in was that he was concerned she might not be fully dressed.

"Dude, what the hell?"

Hello to you too, Topher.

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"You started it," Quinn said, with her usual degree of maturity and grace. "You drunk dialed me twice, and now one of your random friends is in on it too. It's juvenile."

Way to jump to conclusions, Quinn.

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Topher did a quick inventory of the people who might, by any stretch of the imagination, be called his friends.

"...did Kenzi call you?" he asked, baffled.

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"Actually I haven't seen her in a while," Quinn reported. "It was ... some random guy. Who was obsessed with geese. I didn't know the voice."

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Topher squinted at her.

"Warren?"

Maybe if he'd been telling Quinn that he wasn't a goose...

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"Didn't sound as hot as Warren." Yes, Quinn could totally assess hotness from a voice, it was a gift. "Are you seriously pretending you have no idea who did this?"

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Little-known fact about Topher, Quinn: He wasn't that great a liar.

"Sorry," he said through the door, throwing his hands up. Okay, maybe he wasn't sincerely sorry. "'Cause if it wasn't Warren or Kenzi and I'm guessing it wasn't Peter or Ender--" which was a very wise guess, "--then the only other guy I know who gets drunk would've sounded, you know."

Hot.

A beat.

"Oh, maybe it was Ben." Real nice, Topher.

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Quinn shook her head impatiently. It didn't strike her as Ben's style, either. She sighed and made a show of reaching for her phone and dialing into her messages, then held it up to Topher.

"Just listen."

She didn't add 'you break the phone, I break you.' She trusted Topher that tiny little bit.

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Well. If it had been a really cool phone, he might have wanted to play with it, but for now he was just going to keep hiding out on the other end of the door and listen.

"...yeah, I have no idea who that is," he concluded.

[chief_cheerio]

It was a totally normal phone, though the case was pink and shiny.

"Huh." A normal person would have said she was sorry, there. Quinn wasn't sure she could do that, but she did flush a bit. "I guess I just assume all drunk dialing losers know each other"

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"Well. We don't."

Apparently.

"Hey!"

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"Which part did you want to argue with?" Quinn asked, with one arched eyebrow.

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"I'm not a loser!"

Clearly.

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Quinn gave him the most scornful look she could manage. Her I am Quinn Fabray and you are a bug, bow before me look. It was a little rusty, and a little weak because it had been such a fucking awful couple of weeks, but it and some sarcasm should still have the desired effect.

"Of course you aren't."

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That... was almost as good as Peter's look, honestly.

But nowhere near as scary. Sorry, Quinn.

"And meanwhile you're so cool," Topher retorted. "Good job with that pizza party yesterday."

Sarcasm, yes. She happened to have caught him in the middle of a stressful week.

[chief_cheerio]

Quinn shrugged. "We were trying to get people out of their rooms. Maybe it'll help. What are you doing that's so amazing?"

A beat. "And I am pretty cool, yeah."