Angelica was hungry, but peeking around the fourth floor common room hadn't turned up anything to eat, so she trudged down the stairs to the third floor.
"Hiiiiiii," she said shyly. "Is there any cereal here?"
"Yeah," Topher agreed quietly. "'specially someone's inhaler or their tools or the special magnifyin' glass their mom bought 'em with their name on it."
He clutched these treasures tightly to his chest, just in case Angelica got any ideas.
"I don't want your inhaler," Angelica said. Ewww, that would be gross. "But if I wanted to see your magnifyin' glass I would ask first if I could, promise."
"That happens," Quinn said, going to get some cereal and a bowl for the redhead. "We live with teenage boys. It's like a plague of locusts attacked the common rooms sometimes."
"Hiiiiiii," she said shyly. "Is there any cereal here?"
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"Sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to -- sorry."
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Now she really felt bad.
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He had Trauma, you see.
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He clutched these treasures tightly to his chest, just in case Angelica got any ideas.
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"It has my name on it, right there," he told her, pointing. "Christopher A. Brink. That's me."
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