(Untitled)

[lolita_damon]

Week Name/Date/Time: 'Join the Club' / Wednesday, 15th March 2006 / 9:00 PM
Location: 7th year Ravenclaw boys' dorm
Open To: Troy
Currently Involving: Lolita

Lolita now considered Noah Ogilvy to be Troy's partner-in-crime. Or a sort of henchman. Because as Troy was confined to his room up in the Ravenclaw dorms, the Frog had apparently sent Noah as a

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[lolita_damon]

Lolita entered the room and greeted him wordlessly with a nod, as always, momentarily forgetting what he had been through, and that perhaps she should be a bit more sympathetic. The lack of words was quickly history, because she could never resist saying something bitterly sarcastic for too long--or just something bitter, maybe. Hmm, it depended on the case.

In this case, said insensitive comment was "Nice to know you think some St. Mungo's time means you're exempt from clothing, unlike the rest of us."

Trying to keep any potential hints of softness or concern from her face, she turned away from Troy for a moment, looking for a chair to pull up--and at the same time rearranging her expression. Troy must never be allowed to know exactly how hard it had been for Lolita to sit through the last few days, wondering how badly he'd gotten himself hurt. She'd ALSO wondered that if he'd thrown himself into near-depression after a random fistfight with Ben Connelly, he probably go suicidal after a random encounter of St. Mungo's caliber. ...But he seemed...surprisingly...alive.

She found a chair and sat a distance away from Troy, not wanting to get too close. "Er," she began, unsure of what to say, as every word of hers tended to completely clash with common decency. "How many fingers am I holding up?" she asked, jokingly holding up three, just to avoid sentimentality.

[frogleygoof]

Troy looked up absently, mid-word with a "Jemima, did you get sandwi. . ." and stopped abruptly when he saw Lolita. His eyes beamed up at her and he practically threw the parchment off to the side of his bed, giving her his full attention. He ran his hands through his hair and hoped he didn't smell too bad, glad she couldn't see the wounds under the bandages.

He laughed happily and sat up a bit, leaving room on the side of his bed, in his usual hopes that she'd take a seat next to him. His eyes widened a bit and he blushed, looking around for a t-shirt or something. "Clearly you've never been to St. Mungo's. You'd be surprised, it's a total naked party there. They encourage you to lie around in your knickers. Good for the healing process or summat. Thankfully for you, Lolita Damned Damon, I have to wear pants here."

Pulling a t-shirt over his head slowly, he frowned a bit as she sat a distance away from him, wondering whether or not to pull the 'Come closer, love, I cannot see thee' act. Nah. He'd hold that off. Troy grinned and tilted his head to the side a bit, replying, "It's not my vision that's off. Three. And where's my chocolate and flowers and teddy bear dressed as a doctor, holding the Get-Well-Soon card?" He nodded and bit his lip, looking at her with a jokingly expectant grin.

[lolita_damon]

"Jemima?" Lolita echoed with a half-laugh, eyebrow raised. Not knowing it was Troy's nickname for Noah Ogilvy, she took a dramatic look around the room. "Oh, I wasn't aware you hid girls in your room. Doesn't make me any less surprised, though. And no, no sandwiches. Though I have several sheets of parchment--sometimes they taste the same...I suppose if you're desperately hungry...?" She shrugged, hiding her seriousness behind usual monotone humour.

When he moved over to give her a spot to sit, Lolita automatically stood, but halfway over changed her mind. That was definitely too close. Instead she stood by a nearby window, pulling aside the curtains a bit to let a shaft of light in. If she were Troy, she'd have gone mad already from bed-confinement.

Despite once promising to be nicer to people, Lolita couldn't hold back a bitter laugh. "Bet you had lots of fun there, hmmn? 'Naked party', eh. You'd be right at home."

Still facing the window, she traced a pattern on the windowsill, standing largely in silence. Words had never been her thing. Sensitive words? Doubly not so. She was getting this nagging feeling that she should say something more along the lines of 'MAN I'M GLAD YOU'RE ALIVE AND HOLY CRAP DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT', but...that would be highly...no. Just NO.

A teddy bear? Not a chance. But Troy's good spirit was a sign he was as normal as ever. Or, rather, as normal as never. "Don't be stupid; an off-brain creates off-vision. Apparently you didn't learn that in kindergarten." She made a sweeping, mock-apologetic gesture, "And I'm terribly sorry about the lack of chocolate. I hadn't known you had a thing for fattening junk." Tilting her head thoughfully, she added, "I do, however, bring get-well wishes, believe it or not. I'm not a complete monster, no matter what you may think."

[frogleygoof]

Troy smirked, "Yeah, Jemima. I thought you were Noah for a second. He's late in bringing me back food, he is. . ." He shook his head, grinning up at her. "Psh, I don't hide girls in my room. No need to now, of course."

He laughed out loud, wincing a bit at feeling his cuts and scars under his bandages. "Yeah, I did. You'd be surprised, Claw tower is Naked Party central. I'd invite you, of course, but wasn't sure if you were interested, Damon. We play Chess and Connect-Four, it really is a good old fun time."

Troy turned his head to face her, grinning up and nodding in thanks for opening a window. "I don't have an off-brain. I have. . .an off-chest. Yeah. An off-chest. Doesn't affect my vision. It affects. . .Naked Parties." He yawned and replied, "Oy, shut it, you silly Hufflepuff. I love you, I don't think you're a monster. Please, Inferiority Complex, it kills me." His eyes seemed to beam stupidly as he said, "Well-wishes from you are much better than chocolate. And they're not empty calories, either."

[lolita_damon]

((so I suck at life and failed to remember I had 9PM as the time, so therefore there would be NO sunny window, just...moonbeams, maybe. *facepalm*))

"Noah is Jemima?" Lolita said in wonderment. "How often do you blokes get drunk up here? One doesn't think of such names while sober." Actually, come to think of it, Sober-Troy was probably the equivalent of High-Lolita, so she couldn't really say anything. Sad.

She visibly flinched when Troy winced, and immediately hoped it hadn't showed. Trying to draw attention away, she continued to stare at the curtains, seeming to be very interested in the navy patterning. She felt stupid, standing silently, but the way she saw it? 'Stupid and taciturn' sure beat 'gibbering mess.' As long as she was alive, she was NOT going to go down THAT particular road.

"Generic old-people games. Sounds thrilling. Forgive me for being jealous," she said with an eyeroll, then asking, "...You all right there? Are you sure your innards aren't hanging out?"

In a very final sort of way, Lolita shook her head, trying hard not to burst out laughing. "I'm really done talking about naked parties, okay? Moving on--new subject matter, please and thank you."

[frogleygoof]

((OOC: HAHAHAHAA! Nah, I failed as well :P It's all good.))

"Nah, I was completely sober. Named him during Quidditch practice. Jemima, as in Jemima Puddleduck. You know, shawl and bonnet, eggs threatened by a fox. . ." Troy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's a Beatrix Potter book. Muggle thing, actually."

"Yeah. We tried Twister one time, but Noah complained. Best to stick to Mahjong tiles and Bridge. Bingo, too, on special occasions."

Troy nodded, "I'm fine. I just have to stay in bed until Friday night. So I can play on Saturday morning." He tilted his head to the side and snickered, "Oh come on now, you know you're dying to hear about the Naked Parties." He giggled childishly and sighed, stretching his arms above his head and folding them behind. "New subject? Fine. What would you like to discuss, Miss Damon? We could talk about your inferiority complex, if you like. I'd love to convince you otherwise."

[lolita_damon]

The sober thing was sadly believable. Troy Frogley was just that weird, even when his blood was perfectly devoid of toxins. Though Lolita wasn't really complaining--the weirdness, actually, was almost endearing. Almost.

She shook her head and shrugged, not recognizing the author's name. "The only time I've heard the name 'Beatrix' in my life was when Thatcher Hale decided it made sense to compare me to Beatrix Kiddo. Whoever that is. His imaginary friend, I suppose. I wouldn't put it past him to have one."

Mention of playing on Saturday gave Lolita pause. Could he really go directly to the pitch? Saturday would only be his third full day back, and he was heading for more serious injuries if he really intended to play so soon. "You're playing on Saturday? Really, where do you GET these craptastic ideas, pull them out of your arse? You scared the bloody hell out of me getting yourself half-killed. If you had half a brain cell at all, you'd do well to stay off the pitch. For another week at least."

Folding her arms, she glared at him silently for a bit before replying defensively (and yes, a just a tad bit childishly), "I do NOT have an inferiority complex. Though if you'd like to discuss YOUR Freudian complex, have at it."

[frogleygoof]

"Beatrix Kiddo? Kind of sounds. . .Nabokovian. . ." Troy smirked, knowing just how much Lolita hated him bringing up that novel of her namesake.

His brow furrowed a bit and he pouted up at her, sitting up a bit more straight now. "Well. . .yeah. I mean, they said at St. Mungo's I'd be all ready to play if I just stayed in bed until then. It's not craptastic," he whined childishly. "I'm team captain now. If I don't play, then. . .Davison'll just be laughing at me from overseas wherever she is. It's for appearances, Lolita. Besides, I've played Quidditch with a dislocated shoulder before."

His eyes did, however, light up the slightest bit as he heard her say she was worried. "Psh, I did not scare the 'bloody-hell' out of you. You couldn't be scared by. . .anyone." Just to be even more of a silly git, he had to go and pout at her, letting out a sarcastic little gasp, "Lolita? Were you worried about me? Worried about me being all right? You mean. . .you mean, you would care if I were in peril?!"

"I don't have a Freudian complex? That's all sexual anyways, Damon."

[lolita_damon]

The Nabokov reference fell on decidedly deaf ears. Lolita had turned her ears to the 'filter' option to unfailingly bleep out things she didn't want to hear. So far, the list contained 'Nabokov', 'Dolores', and 'pies'. Not joking.

"Yeah, because you know 'Beatrix Kiddo' and 'Dolores Haze' are practically homphones," she said dryly. Good job catching onto that one."

She shook her head determinedly--Troy Frogley was going to say the hell AWAY from the pitch whether he liked it or not, and most likely not. "Doctors are all insane. It must be a job requirement, because half of them are stoned half the time. It comes from inhaling all those hospital fumes. And YOU'VE had quite enough of that stuff already to fill a lifetime; you don't need to go back to St. Mungo's again for a Quidditch accident. The ONE time I'm NOT trying to kill you, you won't listen to me. Brilliant." She scowled at him in frustration. "And don't look oh-so-surprised. You make it seem as if murdering people is a hobby of mine. ...Wipe that look off your face or it soon WILL be."

Lolita cringed internally at Troy's word choice. 'Sexual' was a word that sounded rather ugly to her, more so than 'shite' and all related terms. Odd.

"Oh, but isn't that what you're all about?" she shot back with a smirk.

[frogleygoof]

Troy tilted his head to the side, "I meant the whole kid f. . .Um. Never mind. It's even more awkward," he stopped, scratching his head and rearranging the feathers on his owl's wing. "You know what I mean, don't you Bob, you cheeky owl you," he said to him, sitting on the nightstand, smirking, completely ignoring his owl actually turning away from him.

"I won't overexert myself or anything, really, I won't," Troy insisted. "It's against the Slytherins, man, no contest, and their old captain's done and croaked. . ." Oops. Wrong thing to say. "It's fine. I'm just gonna' be out there for support." He stopped for a second, feeding a piece of chocolate to his owl. "Are you going to be there watching me?" he asked Lolita, looking up at her and grinning.

Troy let out a boyish, sarcastic "HAR HAR HAR!" and leaned back, scratching at his stomach. "No, not anymore. Only gets a lad into trouble. I've changed my ways," he nodded, cringing a bit himself, about the whole Hanna Kensington fiasco. . . "Um, no. I'll leave that title to Hale."

[lolita_damon]

Kid f...? Lolita almost asked, but decided against it. There was ONE f-word word that came to mind when one was discussing Nabokov, kids, and Humbert Humbert, and Lolita--Damon, that is--didn't want to hear it.

Lolita held back a scoff as she watched Troy croon at his owl. Er, at Bob. It was a bit sad how people liked to name their owls, but perhaps it was her general lack of sensitivity talking.

"You're the Ravenclaw support system?" she wondered, amused. "You mean a cheerleader? Let me know how that goes, as I'll be as far away from the pitch as humanly possible to avoid the sight of you in a miniskirt." (Ew, brain-shudder.) That last bit answered his question of her attendance quite nicely.

What was THAT, chocolate? Lolita leaned forward and tried to snatch the candy out of Troy's hands. "What the... Can you REALLY feed chocolate to owls?" she asked, shocked, "Won't it kill them?" She was thinking back to her dog at home, how her parents had nearly killed it some two years previously by stuffing it full of holiday candy.

And there he went again with the I'm-different-now insistence. She would very much have liked to believe it all, but Troy seemed to contradict his words every three hours or so. "Ah, drop the sanctimonious act," she said, arms folded, raising an eyebrow at Troy. "I think Kensington and half the school can testify against your claims, yeah? Don't even bother to deny it."

[frogleygoof]

Troy looked up at her and quickly replied, "I'm the backbone of the team. The REST of the school are my cheerleaders. Nah. Noah's the only one who wears a skirt for us."

He let out a childish little "Whoa, whoa!" as she snatched for is hand, clenching it into a fist around the candy. "That's for dogs, says the stupid jock to Lolita Damned Damon," he quipped. "Owls can eat entire rats and cough up their BONES, do you really think they can't handle chocolate? Maybe Bob just has a stomach o'steel. His favourite's peanut butter truffles, actually." He crooned at his owl yet again, "Isn't it, Bob?"

Bob began to eat a piece of parchment lying on his nightstand. "Ah, see! He even eats paper!"

"I'm not being sanctimonious, I. . ." He turned a bit nauseous at hearing her speak of the Hanna Kensington fiasco. All he did was blink up at her, not having a follow-up. At all. He knew he couldn't very well just say Yes, and that was what opened up my eyes that I don't care about the easy flighty ones like her. I only like you. No, that wouldn't fly well. At all.

Even then, Troy had a feeling she wouldn't believe him.

He just sputtered and frowned. "I. . .Fine. Yeah. I am a horndog. And that's all I am. That'll explain why you were the only girl I care to ever see," he blurted out after a bit of thought.

[lolita_damon]

Ah, yes. The usual--confident, boastful, jocky Troy. Lolita would've been insanely worried during Troy's hospital stay, but she'd somehow blocked it out, convincing herself she wasn't that weak...or even weak at all. Largely by and by, it had been a success. No one had noticed and difference whatsoever in her attitude, except perhaps that it was worse. But then, most people took that without suspicions, anyway.

"Two things--first, enough with the 'damned'," she said, trying to pry the parchment from Bob's beak. "Second--when one's owl eats paper, one should stop it."

Lolita in fact hadn't mentioned Hanna Kensington before, and even now, was vaguely surprised that she had. She hadn't meant anything by it, of course (or that was what she resolutely thought)--it was just a comment meant to be scathing but casually in-passing, as was her trademark.

Er, no, in all probability, she wouldn't have believed such a claim from Troy. Six and a half years of listening to him had conditioned her to the apparent, perpetual, general untruthfulness of Troy's randomly-given praises. If Lolita thought about it, it would seem unfair to instantly dismiss every single freaking thing he said, but given his nature, it made sense to do so. Who said life was fair? And, more importantly, who said Lolita Damon was fair? Pssh.

[frogleygoof]

Odd thing about Lolita Damon, how she could ultimately change Troy's mood. Okay, so maybe it was an odd thing about Troy, if not the slightest bit pathetic. . .

Or a lot pathetic. . .

ANYWAYS. Where a compliment or half-smile or anything but a grimace from her could send his high-spirits soaring, so a frown or remark could crash it to the ground. And with her obviously knowing about the Kensington thing?

It plummeted.

At not hearing a word from her, Troy's eyes sank and he frowned right back at her. For once, he didn't want her around. He was starting to realize that maybe he didn't want her around as much. Nearly seven years and nothing from her.

Very unfair.

Troy stroked Bob's feathers to calm himself, and grabbed a half-eaten Get Well Soon note from his family back in Hackney. "Well. Good visit," he grumbled, turning on his side, facing away from her, wishing partly she'd leave. "Best be on your way now."

[lolita_damon]

Oh, and there he had to go again, with his gloomy mopey moments, and some people said Lolita was temperamental? Obviously they didn't know Troy. These...issues of Troy's were undeniably infuriating to Lolita, no matter how much she wished she could shrug them off an pretend she didn't care. Maybe she did care; maybe she did feel bad about whacking him upside the head all the time.

What was she supposed to say now? Apparently something had just deflated Troy's bubble of happy. Dammit, he should've learned to store happy in an armored truck by now--hadn't he realised already?

"Be on my way...and go where?" she said simply, admitting to a semblance of pathetic-drifter-slash-outcast-status for (what she thought was) the first time. As far as she knew, she liked to steer away from talking about her distance from...well, people.

"What's wrong?" she said blankly, just buying time. She was still trying to work out if she should go the pissy road and tell him off, or go the sympathetic road and be sentimental. Ha. Suuure. She settled on a neutral response instead. "What is it now? You're lucky to be alive, Davison's gone, you're taking her spot as captain, you haven't recently been jumped by a sixth year Gryff...what could bloody be wrong NOW?"

[frogleygoof]

Troy didn't like being called "sanctimonious" over that, not at all. He didn't like being belittled over something he thought was important. Maybe it was stupid to think of it as important, but he believed it changed him for the better. Sure, it was naive for him to think that. Yet he had always been innocently optimistic, and maybe it was stupid for him to hope for this one bird.

Maybe Thatcher was right. Maybe she was hopeless.

Snuggling into his pillow childishly, he murmured, "I dunno. If you're just gonna' criticize me, wait until I'm one-hundred percent better. Come back tomorrow morning or summat."

At her asking what was wrong, Troy turned his head a bit and pulled the blankets up a bit, looking at her with an expression that seemed to convey 'What do you care?' "I don't like the whole Hanna Kensington thing being brought up. It's embarrassing. Especially since. . .it's getting in the way of. . ."

Troy trailed off, giving Lolita a pointed look, as if she was the answer.