"I don't believe I do live on a campus," Spock said, not objecting to the rest because he did like to think he was still learning, and he was certainly non-traditional in many ways.
"I'm a junior," Linda said. She felt rude, suddenly, talking to this guy in what had to be his room and not even introducing herself. So she held out her hand. "Linda. I ... think I came home with your roommate last night."
One of Spock's eyebrows went up, as it was known to do, at the gesture. Most Humans knew Vulcans didn't shake hands, and wouldn't try, but he wasn't most Vulcans, so he politely took her hand and said gravely, "Linda. I am Spock." He didn't have a roommate, either, but she seemed to be confused on several levels, so he wasn't going to correct her and make it worse. Perhaps he had acquired a roommate, through whatever mysterious circumstances he found himself in this place.
"Welcome to ... wherever the hell we are, Spock," Linda said, releasing his hand and glancing around the room. "Did you go home with someone last night? Someone that disappeared on you? Maybe we got ditched."
Politely gender-neutral, that. And Spock didn't look like the kind of guy who trawled bars for college girls (or guys) but that was ageist, to assume things about his behavior based on what she could interpret about his physical age.
"Something like that," Linda said, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between her teeth. "... You don't mind if I smoke, do you?"
She fucking needed one, all of a sudden. Waking up in a dorm room with an old guy and without her supposed date for last night: maybe this was a bad dream from late-night take-out.
Spock was somewhat astonished, as smoking had been abolished some time before his time, but perhaps she had some sort of religious reason? "It is a health hazard," he said, "and at my age I believe those are to be avoided, so I think it would be best if I excused myself." He rose from the bed and found a pair of shoes that, somewhat surprisingly, fit him.
"No, I really should be attempting to find out what is going on here," Spock said as he headed for the door. "Enjoy your...smoke." He paused in the door and said, "Live long and prosper."
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"I thought non-traditional students didn't live on campus," Linda blurted out.
She was usually not so tactless, but -- there was an elderly guy. No way she'd been drunk enough for a threeway involving guys.
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The mysteriously absent Elena.
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Politely gender-neutral, that. And Spock didn't look like the kind of guy who trawled bars for college girls (or guys) but that was ageist, to assume things about his behavior based on what she could interpret about his physical age.
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She fucking needed one, all of a sudden. Waking up in a dorm room with an old guy and without her supposed date for last night: maybe this was a bad dream from late-night take-out.
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She wasn't a pack-a-day nicotine fiend or anything. She'd cope.
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Shame she only had her cigarettes on her and not any weed. Getting stoned led to plenty of enlightenment.
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