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[hastrustissues]

There's a baggie burning a hole in her pocket and a bottle hanging loose in her hand as she moves from floor to floor of the Compound, trying to remember which room Santana had mentioned she was living in. It's not in her nature to write things down, and most of the time, she has a damn good memory without assistance from any outside aid, but she'

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[straightupbitch]

As with all things, there are as many benefits to living in the Compound as there are inconveniences (for lack of a nastier, angrier word). It isn't enough for Santana to considering roughing it out in one of those huts without ready access to air conditioning and haircare products, but she will never be at peace with the fact that none of the rooms have doors. If ever she meets the entity whose grand idea it was to partition dorm rooms with curtains, it will not be a pretty confrontation. Presently, she will settle for venting her anger and frustrations on whatever - or whomever - is nearest, so when she hears a faint knock interrupt the otherwise quiet and still mood of the dormitory, she whips the curtain aside and bounds down the hall in search of a target

[hastrustissues]

Wichita isn't one to show visible embarrassment after making a flub. It's not her fault whoever designed this floor decided not to divide the rooms with actual walls, but rather than sweat her error, she simply shrugs, hoisting up the large bottle in one hand by way of an invitation, smiling encouragingly as she meets Santana's gaze.

"Looking for you," she replies, as if that was the most obvious reason for why she would be even here in the first place. The truth of the matter is she doesn't know very many people on the island - more accurately, she hasn't allowed herself to get close enough to feel like she can trust anyone, and so if anyone's to blame for her lack of friends, she has to point the finger at herself and her own issues. Regardless, Santana seems like a person she can get along with, even if she only has their brief encounters to go on.

[straightupbitch]

Santana similarly has few friends around here, which is an expected consequence of her resolve to hate everyone. That resolve falters, however, around certain people. Wichita bearing booze quickly finds herself lumped into that small category. With a satisfied nod, Santana says, "Okay, I'm down. Rec room? I'd offer my room but my roommate's, like, one of those uptight British chicks from boarding school movies."

[hastrustissues]

"Sure," Wichita replies, with an amiable shrug. "Or we could head out to the beach. Probably less chance of our scarring the impressionable children with everything I've brought." She wrinkles up her nose slightly, in a small face of incredulousness and light amusement, at the mention of Santana's roommate. "Seriously? That's got to be a downer, man. I'd say you could come room with me, but I'm shacking up with my boyfriend and I wouldn't want to subject anyone to that. Not even my own sister."