Jason
It seemed like the teenager was spending more and more time in the cold kitchen doing various things. This had to be the third or fourth night they've been here. It had become like a second home at the Cradle sitting in here just doing whatever preoccupied the uncanny valley looking teenager. Right now, they were trying to actually be productive instead of sitting in here on their phone doing nothing. Ozzy was hunched over on their stool, their back contorted in a way that made them seem so much smaller than if they were sitting up. In front of them sat a thick physics book they seemed to be extremely honed in on. A pen held tightly in their long, boney fingers as they chewed on the cap, trying to wrap their head around each word as their eyes scanned. 

Actually doing their school work assigned by the teachers was quickly becoming increasingly more boring. Especially when this shit made them want to collapse in their bed. That fucking thing in their head should take the form of this physics book to torture them next. They took the pen away from their mouth, plopping their head into the book, debating whether or not crying over this was worth it. It would be in they were still in the comfort of their dorm room.

Ozzy stood, pushing the stool out from beneath them with their legs. The person ran their tongue along the teeth, debating packing up shop and going back to their dorm room. Their dark eyes flickered to the clock in the room's corner. It wasn't too late. They could stay here for a bit longer till people started questioning why they were wandering the halls again at 5 am like a werido. Their long, boney fingers slammed the workbook shut. It bounced off the walls in the room a lot louder than they were expecting. Ozzy paused their breathing, trying to discern if someone had heard that. After the following moments of silence, they moved on.

Stalking over to the kitchen counter, they swiped the kettle off the table, filling it up with water. As they set it down and turned it on, their mouth opened to speak. "Bana o şeytani kitap gibi acı çektirmediğin için teşekkürler çaydanlık. (Thank you, teapot, for not making me suffer like that evil book.)" They murmured to the kettle, patting the side of it like it was some type of animal. Ozzy turned facing the door, their large hands instinctively finding the edges of the counter, allowing them to easily lean on to. Their eyes closed as they listened to the soft noises emitting from the kettle swaying back and forth as if it was music.
Donna
Anthony has always had quite the small presence. Unnoticeable in a room full of people, practically invisible in a room with only two. He had to put in a legitimate effort to be noticed more than half the time... And he preferred it that way. Observation was more his speed, always had been, and being something akin to a ghost made that job a lot easier. Haunting conversations as an ever-present force. 

This evening in the kitchen was no exception. He'd continued to make his rounds around campus, still making an effort to learn the entire structure, format, and layout of the buildings. This notebook was sure to reach max capacity soon.

He'd taken note of the other figure inhabiting the room, clearly hard at work, and clearly aiming to remain undisturbed.
Their body language exhibited frustration, clearly brought on by academic stress; something Anthony only experienced vicariously. It'd never been a problem for him. Likely never would be.
In any case, he had no intention to break the silence.

His eyes shot an occasional glance in her direction, giving them a few longer-than-they-should-be stares. Contemplating.. Something. Unsure of what.
His thoughts continued to chug, not bringing him anywhere of substance.

When the book slammed shut, reverberating off of the linoleum, he admittedly jumped out of his skin a fair bit. The unexpected clap of one end of the textbook colliding with the other caused his breath to hitch, and as the room's other heartbeat seemed to listen for a response, he didn't give one. 

He made his way to the kitchen, and Anthony listened intently to the conversation he seemed to be having with himself. The conversation in a different language — no less — a language he was unfamiliar with. He listened to their words and the upcoming hum of a tea kettle in tandem, taking in the sounds. Debating if he should make some of his own. He drew closer, with silent footsteps behind them.

*If you're going to live here, you should get to know them.*
*You knew everyone at the station.*
*Then again, you didn't talk much to them either.*
*Whatever.*
*Good practice, is it not?*
*Come on, say something!*
*They don't even know you're here.*
*Go!*

**"Hello?"** 
That was all that came from such a long string of connections. One word. One stoic greeting.
One... Likely shock to the other person.
Jason
Ozzy's eyes shot open mid-sway. The voice that had suddenly made it's appearance in the room obviously startling them. Their eyes flickered around the room before landing on the owner of the voice. Their head tilted to the side staring at the boy as if examining him. The long puffy curls hung to the side as they stared at him for a moment. After a moment a loopy grin appeared on their face their dark eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

"Hi!" The teenager suddenly started laughing to themselves, their whole body shaking with chuckles. "I'm sorry you scared me." They finally got out between bouts of laughter, finding the boy's sudden appearance hilarious. Their voice came out distorted by the laughter and thick accent that accompanied it. After a little bit longer, they seemed to calm down. Ozzy swallowed before speaking again. "Well hello. I haven't seen you before, have I?" They greeted the other again, staring at the boy.

The boy was tiny. Maybe that was a stupid thing for them to say, considering their height. But the boy was! He was like a little mouse. Ozzy pushed themselves off the counter, straightening their back and neck. "You know this kitchen is for everyone, right? You don't have to stand at the door waiting for someone to invite you in." Ozzy twirled around on their heel back to the kettle, staring at it. 

"You aren't like a vampire or something." The teen joked. They might as well continue the tradition they seemingly started with Uriel. Their long bony fingers hooked onto the cabinet, pulling it open. They quickly swiped two mugs off the shelf, placing them side by side in front of them. Silence spilled in the room as the kettle seemed to slow with its noises as the water boiled. Ozzy's hands became preoccupied as they slowly began preparing the cups for him and the other occupant of the otherwise empty kitchen.

Ozzy's fingers dug into the box placed conveniently next to the kettle by them earlier. The label hidden from view of the boy behind them. They pulled out two tea bags, dropping one into each cup with a satisfying plop. The water seemed to darken almost instantly, turning a light brown color. Large hands grabbed both mugs off the counter as Ozzy finished up, bringing the two cups over to the island that sat in the middle of the kitchen. Their fingers nudged one mug towards the boy, an offer for him to take it.
Donna
Anthony immediately made note of the staccatoed laughs being presented from the taller of the two, mentally scribbling down a few of the plethora of personality traits he'd already given him.
*A talker.*
*Unstable, maybe.*
*Imaginative.*
*I already know how this is going to work.*

He wasn't laughing. He was giving them a wide-eyed stare, blinking on occasion. He didn't get what was so funny.
**"No."** In response to the first question, he gave an incredibly typical one-word answer, accompanied by a distinct head shake.
When he was essentially invited to come closer, he followed the direction given. Wasn't one to defy an opportunity to learn.
Tea never hurt, either.

He wasn't a vampire, no, although perhaps he carried some of the otherworldly, eerie traits that would be associated with one.
Silence. Mystique. Waiting for someone to invite him in. Good one.
As this new individual began to craft the herbal brew, he scanned her up, up, up and down. They were very tall, but very FAR from the intimidation that one would associate with the height.
He watched this new character carefully.

**"What kind of tea?"** A pause. **"I couldn't see the label."**
He muttered this quietly, likely not grabbing this person's attention, as before he knew it, the mug was pushed toward him in a comforting, inviting manner.
The warm, white plaster of the cup beckoned him, the light liquid inside smelling like heavenly.
His social anxiety nipped at his heels, but he chose to brave it nonetheless.
**"Yeah. What... Kind of tea?"**
His voice was flat. Not bored or upset, but flat. Devoid of emotion, really, seldom some curious undertones.
Talking to people here was easier. Much easier. 

They seemed to have a level of understanding. They carried a level of intrigue alongside it. So colorful; a breath of fresh air.
He hadn't been proven wrong yet, anyway.