Side Story:
555-6721, ext. 16
In room 16 of the Boys Dormitory, the phone was ringing. Once, twice, and then the click of the receiver being picked up. "British Boys Football Appreciation League, how may I help you?" said a mirthful voice.
Jace rolled her eyes. Brits were taking over the country. Soon they'd be invading her home, her shops, her Home Depot. She didn't mind this much, but she worried about the tannin intake. "Is Tibby Parfett there? Male, has glasses, stick up his ass, answers to 'Teaboy'?"
"Hm, there are a lot of chaps with glasses, but only one here with a stick up his arse." The speaker moved the phone away from his face and yelled, "Tibby, it's for you!"
"Who is it?" a vaguely disgruntled voice replied.
"Some American bint."
"Just give me the phone, Thomas." There was some noise as the device changed hands, then Tibby's voice came on loudly. "Hullo?"
"Jace Kellen here." Even if he hadn't eventually recognized the name, the voice was unmistakable; slightly husky, bright American twang, the definite hint of the smirk in the voice. "How're y'doing?"
Instantly, Tibby burst into angry yelling. "Wha- how in blazes did you get this number?"
There was a snigger. "I tortured it out of Leta." Jace's voice dropped a tone, dark and menacing. "I know where you live. I know where you are. And there's a bomb in your room, but I'm not saying where."
Seeming more annoyed than worried, Tibby sighed, "What do you want, Jace?"
"Your immortal soul. And help with my Latin homework. It's all Greek to me. Or Latin, same goddamn retarded language. What the hell is 'puellae' again?"
"You would have trouble with that one. It's 'girls.'"
Suddenly Tibby's roommate began to laugh, screeching, "Kinnell! Tibby, what the heck is that tinkle about? Whoring?"
"Ignore that numptie in the background. 'Puellae' can be either nominative plural, in which case it's 'girls,' or genitive singular, in which case it's 'of the girl.'"
"What the heck is a 'numptie'? Ah. Girls." There was some agonized crunching as Jace chewed the end of her pen, then frantic scribbling. "I hate this passage. All about one guy molesting the other guy with a whip or a chicken or something. Why do you live with so many men?"
"I don't. It's just my roommate, Thomas, and myself." Tibby realized he was being downright friendly with Jace and froze. "Never mind that. What else do you need help with?"
"'Et de discipulo...' Why am I taking Latin again? I forget. Satan's fault, I shit you not. Three men in one room?" The redhead sniggered again. "Doesn't that constitute a brothel?"
"There are two of us. Or as you as bad at mathematics as you are at Latin?" Tibby said scornfully. "You'll really have to give me the whole sentence before I can help you with the translation of that."
"I'd assumed you'd figured out a way to clone yourself so that you could have hot manly love with the other most perfect man in the world." Jace flipped through her book. "'Nunc audietis fabulam novam de magistro Orbilio et de discipulo euis Quintis.' Congratulations on being master of the most fucked-up language on earth."
"Just pay attention," Tibby replied as he scribbled the sentence down. "Now... you all shall... and of his... I'm not really a master of Latin. I don't even like it. Your sentence means: 'Now you all shall listen to a new story about a teacher, Orbilius, and his student, Quintus.' It's not completely literal, but some of it is implied in the translation."
More scribbling. Then a rather nasty 'crack' as the pen finally gave way to Jace's teeth. "Argh. Stupid fuck of a pen. Thanks. I think that makes it all fit now..." She read it through under her breath. "Yeah. Close enough. Not like it's supposed to make sense anyway. Thanks, I think."
"Well, for what it's worth, you're welcome."
"Hmph. Hey - did you come anywhere in that Science Fair?" There was an unmistakably smug tone now.
"Second place in my category. You got a first, didn't you?"
"Yup. Idiot sods. It was a joke - I'd just spilt some cement on the floor, and it moulded into a funny shape, and I entered it in. Hilarious. 'Grats on second - obviously somebody liked tea." Jace bit down on the wrecked pen again, wondering why she was attempting Niceness and Kindness. It was to put him at ease before she pulled him down, she decided. Yes. That was it.
Tibby laughed. "Thanks. Well, I suppose we could cause even more havoc at the finals, couldn't we?"
"I'll bring the dynamite, you bring the bear on a motorcycle!" -And I'll hopefully not have to get into that damned senshi form again,- she thought darkly.
"I'd love to chat some more, Jace, but I'm in the middle of a history paper. I'll see you at Fleming on Tuesday, of course."
"Coming back into the hellhole? As you wish. Hate you and I wish you would die, of course. Bye, Teaboy."
"Bye." A click, and the phone went dead.
Jace slammed the phone down as if it was red-hot.
She'd rung up mainly to heckle - the Latin being something she could've worked out in time - but ended up actually feeling something akin to disappointment when he said goodbye. She'd liked talking to him, felt proud at making him laugh...
Knowing she was violently ill, Jace retreated to her room, vowing never to talk to Tibby Parfett again. Ever. Never. No sirree.