Dahlia Meadows anticipated the arrival of her new roommate.  The Residential Advisor had told her to make the new girl feel welcome, and the perky sorority girl did just that.  At five-seven, the black-haired and freckled sorority girl was an expert at fluffy and immaterial greetings.  Her natural ability was already proving to be one of her greatest assets, as combined with her physical allure it served to distract people from what actually mattered.  There was a successful career in business waiting for her at daddy’s bank, after all, and she had to prove to him that being a sorority girl taught her more than just how to fuck and get wasted-- not necessarily in that order.<br/><br/>The new roommate seemed like a perfect match until she opened her mouth.  Question after question, Dahlia was pushed and pulled into answering the endlessly inane and asinine questions.  Trivialities such as ‘Where’s the bookstore?’ and ‘Who do I talk to about scheduling?’ soon gave way into more meaningful questions about now missing Francesca Connor.<br/><br/>“Franny and I didn’t get along much,” she answered to the increasingly prying interrogation.  “No, I don’t know where she went.  She was a bit of a nerd, really.  Never went out, never even tried to join a sorority like I did, not like the Mu Iota would want her.  Why am I living in the dorms?  Not much room for a sorority house in the city.  Some of the sisters have a place, but its too tiny for us all.   No, I don’t think Franny had any enemies.  I think she did Quiz Bowl… and maybe one of the feminist’s groups, but I could be mistaken about that.  Her research advisor?  Um… you don’t pick an advisor when you’re just a first year.  Oh, she was in room 418, with that Asian girl.  However her name is pronounced."<br/><br/>Dahlia was on the verge of screaming in frustration, but her calculated persona would not allow such an expression of emotion.  Her salvation and release would have to come elsewhere, and it soon did.<br/><br/>A knock came at the door, and a slightly chubby bold girl poked her head into the dorm room.  “Is this the new girl?”<br/><br/>“Sure is,” answered Dahlia, backing away slowly to cede her RA to the girl’s incessant barrage of questions.<br/><br/>“Do you mind if I get a picture of you?” asked the pudgy RA.<br/><br/>Dahlia watched as the two entered into the hallway.  The flash snapped, but Julia Heim shook the Polaroid camera in frustration.  “Damnit, that picture didn’t come out right,” she said as she slipped the still developing photo into her pocket “Let me take another.”  The flash lit again, and the decrepit old camera spat out another picture of Worrell Hall’s newest resident.  “Perfect.  Now let’s put it up on the bulletin board.  Here, I’ll show you.”<br/><br/>Ten minutes later, Amanda Earnhart returned to the dorm room.<br/><br/>“That’s your closet, that’s your dresser, and you have the bed near the window.  I have a sorority meeting in a bit, so if you have any other questions, just write them on the white board.  Oh, and make sure you meet with the head of your department, whatever it is.”  She rushed out the door before she could get waylaid by even more questioning.<br/>