James
Want me to start or you? :^0
Henry
He wasn't expecting this already. 

Dakota let out a breath, one that he hadn't realized he was holding for a little too long. He fiddled around with his phone, clicking the ringer more than he could've counted, feeling a sense of dread creep up upon his spine. He felt chills crawl over his body. 

He shifted his glance over to the mess on his desk, brown-stained papers lied out neatly to make sure all the work he had done towards learning a language so in-depth wasn't gone to waste. He remembered pushing everything off to the side, some of the notebooks falling on the floor; he wasn't too fond of it, but it had been a while now — well... He *Was* Stuck in bed for the past couple of days. 

He eagerly stood up, sliding the phone in his pocket. He had finally come to terms how dirty his room actually was — it was void of personal items but filled with books and papers. Anything to keep his mind off of any terrorizing thoughts. 

He took his time, crouching down and stacking what he could properly, picking up pens and throwing them in an empty drawer in his desk, hearing the items inside rattle when he slammed it shut. After feeling as if his desk sufficed, he moved over to kicking any clothes into a corner — which were completely devoid of any color except for a dull red that didn't even match him. A dirty clothes corner was normal, right?

He huffed, feeling as if this was at least presentable enough for the person showing up. He nervously pulled at his fingers, rubbing his thumb over the top of his hand. He mumbled something in his native tongue, already feeling sweat form on his palms. 

Hopefully they didn't find him weird. Regardless, something to soothe his sweet tooth sounded nice. He couldn't stop a small smile from forming.
James
Chillier evenings had been had, attempts more unsuccessful. 

Sigrún hummed peacefully along her leisurely stride down the hall, long fingers looping through the handles of a warm coffee pot and a sizeable mug. Under her arm, a pack of cookies was safely enclosed; there were indeed too many. She could put them back all by herself, of course, *Easy*, but a brief moment of clarity revealed to the blonde colossus that they could be put to better use.

If she was at all surprised that her earlier stunt had worked, she didn't show it- this was a trip to a friend's room, with snacks and hot dirt juice. That was enough to put anyone in fine humour indeed, wasn't it?

Pressing a cold, ringed hand flat against what she hoped was the right door, the kraken girl listened. Papers shuffling, drawers closing, something muttered. She gave him a moment of grace, and then flipped her hand over and rippled her scattered knock across the surface. Her lips curled upward.

Her lucky target would open his door to.. Surprisingly not a very unsettling sight today. A ratty *Alice in Chains* Shirt hung from her toned shoulders over a dusty wine-coloured turtleneck, tucked into black cargo pants with simple chains hanging from a studded belt. Her wide, eerie eyes, ringed in lighter smudges of black, crinkled at the edges when she yawned softly first and smiled; it revealed dark-stained gums and sharp teeth.

Sig tipped her cup forward.

"Hallo! Mug."
Henry
He was hesitant to place his hand on the doorknob, his heart feeling as if it was ready to leap out of his chest. There was a moment where he contemplated his choice to go through with something as insane as this — at least, he thought it was insane. 

He shut his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before swinging the door open — the first thing he thought of was how intimidatingly *Stupid* The other looked. He tensed up lightly, ever so noticeable to the naked eye. He forced a smile, the previous one having depleted ever since he heard the furious knocks. He crossed his arms, squeezing the sweater to rid of any sweat on his palms. "*Hello.*" He mumbled, turning his head to the side. 

He stepped to the side, taking a step back to allow the other to enter. "*Uhm...*" He shrugged his shoulders, "*Other than stopping by to drop off cookies, is there any other reason you are here?*" He questioned, wrapping his hands around the mug she tilted forward, uttering a simple thank you. 

He took it upon himself to apologize for the mess in his room, letting his shoulders relax after a few minutes. "*I tried... Taking care of it but there is only so much i can do sometimes.*" He scoffed, "*Let alone do i have anything interesting, other than studying.*" He paused, "*That is if you like studying.*" 

Small talk to fill the alleged void dakota thought would help him.

Sorry its shorter 😭
James
"I, heh. Not particularly, sorry."

Sig found an adequate place to set down her thing of cookies, and turned back to pour Dakota a (hopefully) nice cup of coffee. It smelled good, at least. She certainly wasn't a great judge. It was difficult to tell where exactly she was looking; her eyes lacked that human focus to them, but they crinkled up at the corners with a glimmer of something familiar enough. She guessed that the state of his room was.. Not new. She didn't mention it.

It was smaller than hers, but had more space. It didn't look lived-in so much as rotted-in; she had had to stretch her own stuff pretty far to make her side of the dorm cozy enough to pass for a home, but. *Faen*. This kid must be losing his mind in here. He certainly looked antsy.

"I draw, usually, rather than sleep. That's a lie. I think about making art and then I faff about replaying *Kirby Epic Yarn* Until it's four in the morning and it's just us lunatics left awake blinking at the moon."

Sigrún's easy stream of blabber was punctuated by a clean bite through a sugary cookie, arms loosely crossed and hips tilted as though she had been here for hours already, that this was a place she relaxed in *Oh, all the time, it's splendiferous*.

"And, I dunno. There a reason you'd like me to? I wouldn't mind."

Her head tilted, and her eyes twinkled inquisitively. Powdered sugar melted on her tongue.
Henry
Dakota shuffled off to the side, finding a nice, soft place to sit down on his bed as he watched the creatures movements like a hawk. He was adamant about almost everything, wrapping the sheets around his finger and fiddling with whatever he could get his hands on. 

He huffed.

'invasion of personal space' is what he would call this, but he was aware of his own invitation to bring her into his most personal space, where he completes all his work, where he sleeps, where he does practically everything. 

He narrowed his eyes, "*Lunatics?*" It was the first thing he questioned out of everything, "*Am i a lunatic for saying up too late — i mean, i can't really help it.*" He brought his hands up, pulling the comforter over his shoulders. "*I have no idea what 'kirby epic yarn' is.*" It was his subtle hint towards not being able to connect to sig's odd hobbies. "*Nor do i draw.*" 

He found drawing rather *Useless*, not because he didn't enjoy it, but because staring at a blank sheet of paper yielded no results. It was intimidating, it was a waste of time.

Dakota only mustered a shrug in response to her question, the words were stuck in the back of his throat. Company sounded nice, to spew away the loneliness that resided in the corner of his room, but, sometimes loneliness was comforting. "*Sure, i guess.*"
James
Happily munching away, Sigrún made a slightly unsettling amount of eye contact with Dakota while he spoke. She still wandered, but whenever he opened his mouth to speak, unseen magnets drew her attention in. It may have been noticeable, though, when she put less effort into emoting- her eyebrows rose with less exaggeration, her long legs swung in shorter steps as she paced this way and that. 

He did seem uncomfortable. Perhaps she was laying it on a little thick.

"Sure we're lunatics. 'We're all mad down here,' *Heh*. I'll tell another time. Don't mind a thing." 

And that was just as true as anything, she thought. Different things were to be minded here. There had to be more to this kid's life than insomnia and hastily-organized stacks of paper. Sigrún had not come to concern anyone with herself.

Thick, wavy eyebrows knit into an odd expression, and then peacefully relax. Dakota looked like a little kitten, she thought, wrapped up in his blanket, hair in his face. Kittens were cute, but they liked their personal space. So she plopped down in his chair, propped her knee against the desk, humming something idly. The rings on her fingers jingled against the silver swords hanging from her earlobes.

"You do much exploring yet? You don't seem to be planning on sleeping tonight," Said she, swiping something from the curling streak of red on her cheek. "Or at all."

If she was indeed going to stay awhile, she might as well know a thing or two about her disgruntled host. A lot could be learned from how one wiled away the twilight. *Heheheh.*
Henry
"*Lunatics...*" The word sounded odd as it rolled off his tongues, but there was that thoughtful expression again, as he began dissecting the word into its very roots. He concluded the word meant one very thing: crazy.

*Was* He crazy? Fou. Was that how the others perceived him? 

He was overthinking again.

Dakota's glance would rapidly go from the person in front of him to his hands fiddling with the loose string from his blankets. He pulled at it, watching the blanket slowly fall apart at the seems. It was a habit he needed to break — picking at whatever was in his sights, and that included his own fingers. Self-consciousness rose because of this, and he commonly hides his hands in his pockets. It was embarrassing, how red and torn his fingernails and the skin around it was. 

With another light shrug, he only grunted in response. "*Exploring is...*" He narrowed his eyes, thinking of one specific that was hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't think of it. Dancing around it was the only option. "*It does not bring me any joy. It is merely one activity that is... Ah... When you do not enjoy it.*" 

He felt embarrassed, again. 

"*And sleep? I- i do not know, admittedly.*" He was being dry in the grand scheme of things, he had to think of something to say, and out of a whim, he was able to think of something. 

"*Why do you look so... You know.*" He waved his hand lightly, "*You look like a dead fish.*"
James
The sound of jingling and *Clink*Ing jewellery ran under Sigrún's intent focus. Her strange eyes bore into her odd friend(?), taking in his fiddling. It struck her that this setting must be strange to insert herself into like she had. Probably. To hell with starting anything reasonably, anyhow.

"*Heh??*"

From the seated sea creature's suddenly *Very* Animated, incredulous expression crackled laughter, a crunchy wheeze of sorts that one might expect from a sprite or something stealing your lunch or your true name deep in the woods. How straightforward! Sig loved this guy already.

"Fish, you're right on the money, but whaaat, *Dead*?" A dreadfully amused snicker. "*Oh*, I am very much alive."

And, blink and you'll surely miss it, the dark hollows around her eyes vanished. Sank into her skin, like ink into a sponge. The remaining purplish smudges under her eyes stayed put, but they were far less dramatic. 

"That any better?" 

She flicked at a thin silver sword dangling from her ear. The corners of her mouth quirked.

"My brethren are *Krakens*, fry. Sea monsters, creatures of breathtaking, *Maddening* Majesty- I can only hope to properly become what they've given me."

Her eyes twinkled as she leaned forward, into the voice of hers that rushed with wonder and delicate vagueness. The taunt was the best part, was it not? She curled her fingers around an armrest, one at a time.

"I wonder, Dakota... What strange magic lurks in you? If I may be so bold, certainly *Curious*, or... Willing to trade you for the rest of the cookies?"
Henry
Dakota scrunched back for lack of better words, digging the nail from his index finger into the skin around his thumb. "*Well... Obviously you are alive. I mean... Your appearance doesn't really help.*" Dakota was one to speak, looking as if something had drained all the color from his skin, with dark bags under his eyes from his insomnia. 

The blanket itself was soft enough to provide some semblance of comfort in the room, especially heat warmth, one of the things he wanted to feel at the moment. He had hesitated before responding to her next question. "*It was okay before, and it is okay now. I am just having to get used to all these new appearances i am not so used to, you know? I was used to just seeing humans... People... Not ah-*" He glanced back up, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to make out what type of deep-sea creature sig was. 

'krakens'. 

"*Kraken.*" He repeated, the sudden nickname she had given him piqued his interest; he just *Had* To ask about it. "*Fry? Are you referring to me when you say that?*" He blinked, "*I am not skinny, right?*" A lack of self-confidence formed, but he figured sig didn't mean it in some sort of bad way. Soon, he thought it was a nice nickname. 

He smiled lightly.

Snapped out of his small trance, he tuned into what the other was speaking of, and struggled to form a response. "*Music? I? You better keep the cookies then,*" He dismissively waved his hand. "*I don't listen to it. The only time i'll listen to music is when i'm forced to.*"
James
Aww. The kid's smile was sweet. It almost wasn't there, but it pulled her focus from the dust mites trickling through the air, the haziest currents of warmth rushing by her hearts. It felt familiar, and when it was gone, she remembered it.

Sigrún giggled at that last part, a hushed, raspy sound. Her skin seemed to glow a shade brighter as her dimples creased, the effect dissolving as her creature eyes opened wide again.

"Aside from how bone-chilling that statement was— I meant *Magic*. You're in the same box as the rest of us alive not-humans, so... Perhaps magic's not the right word, then. I have plenty of others! What's your supernatural inclination, your sixth sense, your.. 'parahuman' *Je ne sais quoi*?"

Leaning back (when had she started leaned forward?), Sig grabbed the rest of the cookies before she ate the rest of the ~~bargaining chips~~ peace offerings and gently tossed the pack toward Dakota's blanket pile. 

"Sugary goodness, for your secrets?"
Henry
"*Bone-chillling? What about that is bone-chilling?*" Needless to say the teenager was confused at the moment, "*I just don't like music, it's obnoxious.*" He shrugged it off, dakota had never liked a lot of sound in the first place, and music only added to that dislike. 

Magic — specifically *His* Magic — is what she was interested in. Dakota felt embarrassment settle in due to his dozing off and misinterpertation of what sigrun was trying to ask of him. "*My magic.*" He pondered, dazing in and out again. "*Oh.*"

Suddenly, dakota leaned forward and grabbed the pack of cookies. He shook the pack lightly, examining the baked sweets inside almost as if he was attempting to pick the perfect one. Ultimately, he didn't want anyone and he tossed the pack back. "*It's kind of boring, really — compared to everyone else's that is. My sweat is very cold, and it freezes things, so if i want to freeze a lot of stuff then i have to drink a lot of water.*" He went on. "*It's pretty simple. It's also why i'm cold a lot of the time.*" 

"*I don't really like sweets either.*"
James
The cookies vanished from sight. Pulled from the space between Sigrún's back and the chair, a limb— its shape and colour not to be noticed, only that it was lined with round suckers— curled around the plastic and then both were gone, with nary an acknowledgement of it on her face as she listened.

Dakota was reasonable, in ways she had evidently yet to consider; unfamiliarity was the hook in her cheek, his reel steadier than she gave away. It seemed that as soon as she started paying attention to him fully, her face turned to cast lead— that was, he would likely find, an impression not to be trusted.

"Oh, but that's hardly boring," She said, matter-of-fact. "Simple, yes, but I doubt even that- handy, too. Do you know how *Cold* You have to be to freeze salt water? Colder than fresh water. That's impressive."

Sig's fingers, glinting with silver, played with her earring some more as her pace picked up. She, evidently, had less of an aversion to sound— it was quieter now, though, the pad of her thumb catching the loudest *Clink*Ing sounds before they reached her host's ears.

"I'm cold too. Built for deep water. I'm better at oxygen than human bodies, but, *Ehh*, not so good at warmth— is that why you're sick? Being cold makes your sinuses bad at stopping sickness. Something about mucus. I got a *Wicked* Fever when I arrived here."