intraspective | Room 504, Friday Early Evening

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cal,
room 504

Room 504, Friday Early Evening

Ino had spent most the day out training and, after showering and making crackers with cheese (which was, pretty much, the easiest thing ever to make and done because she was lazy), carted her plate back to her room (a whole few feet, all things considered) she curled up on her bed, leaving her door open.

And booted up Kabuto's laptop to poke around the internet and see what she wanted to buy herself for her birthday.

What? She could totally buy herself a gift, and it was only twelve days away...

[Open door, open post!]

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Cal had had a pretty busy day, but now that all of that was over, tomorrow was starting to weigh on his mind, a faint nervousness settling in, and he decided to either ask for advice or seek distraction.

Either of which he figured he could find in Ino. Which one would be determined heavily by her mood.

So there he was, at her door, knocking on the frame to get her attention.

Considering abject boredom was pretty much her mental setting right now, she blinked up from the laptop and grinned at him.

"Cal! What're you at the door for, geez, get in here."

"Yes, ma'am," Cal said, nodding before sauntering in, hands in his pockets, and tilting his head at what Ino might be working on. "What are you up to?"

She wrinkled her nose cheerfully at him.

"I'm indulging in consumerism," Ino informed him. "As I totally am allowed to buy myself a birthday gift."

"Well, sure," Cal said, deciding to take the initiative and drop onto an open space on Ino's bed to sit. "But that's not how it's supposed to work, you know."

She tucked her feet in a bit more and didn't comment. He was totally allowed to sit on her bed.

"Amber's gone," Ino pointed out, "so I can't count on anyone to hold a party for me, see, and it's silly to hold a party for myself, because wow that seems tacky," somehow, "so present shopping seemed like a better idea."

A beat.

"Also, I was bored."

"Do you want me to hold a party for you?" Cal asked, a slow grin blossoming on his face, one that might suggest that a certain level of insanity might be needed to take up on that offer.

She eyed him dubiously.

"If I say yes," she asked, "are you going to do anything that'll make me snarly when I show up at the party?"

Feel the trust, Cal.

"Wouldn't that limit me to, like, the two things that don't make you snarly?" Cal asked with an innocent seeming smile.

"There's more than two things that don't make me snarly," she protested, mildly indignant. "But you're you."

"And, contrary to popular belief, I actually don't have a death wish," Cal informed her. "At least not until after the first issue of the paper's out. When's your birthday, anyway?"

Oh, now she was totally giving him wounded eyes.

"You should know that, Cal."

"Do you know my birthday?" Cal challenged.

"Uh, yeah," she said, as if it were obvious. "January 24th."

She even had it marked on her calendar, geez.

"Lucky guess!" Cal insisted with a 'ppfft.'

"Nuh huh," Ino sniffed. "You just don't want to admit that I know something 'bout you that you don't know 'bout me."

"And it's September 23rd," she added off-handedly.

Edited 2009-09-12 05:51 (UTC)

"I've been in Turkey!" Cal reminded her. "They've got all sorts of weird drugs in Turkey that messes with your head!"

Not that he took any, but it was definitely a fact.

"And good. That gives me some time to plan."

"And if you took any, you deserve to have your head messed with," she informed him. "I'm still waiting for postcards to prove it."

One day, seriously, it totally had to happen.

Her lips twitched with amusement. "Guess you're going to go ahead with my party then?"

"I sent postcards!" Cal insisted. "I promise! And, sure, if you want me to, I can. But if a party will make you want to stab things, I'm not exactly sold on the idea, either."

If he didn't have to, he could be lazy. He approved of that plan.

He would.

"A party would only make me stab things if you did anything weird with it," Ino assured him, smiling winsomely. "I'm sure you could handle a nice, normal sort of party, right?"

"Seems kind of paradoxical, doesn't it? A normal party for a totally not normal girl?"

"What would you suggest for a party then?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Since I'm sooo not normal and stuff."

"I don't know!" Cal, laughing a little, threw up his hands. "I've never really planned parties before!"

That was getting more eyeing, yes.

"Part of me," she admitted, "wants to saddle you with it just to see what you come up with. The other part is pointing out that I only get one party a year."

"Oh, what, and who else is going to throw it, huh?"

That got a bit of a shrug.

"I got a few ideas 'bout who might be willing," Ino said, "but they're not as good of friends as you are."

[Sleep for me now! SP is amaaazing.]

"Well," Cal said, loftily tossing his hair over his shoulder, "if you still trust their judgment more than mine..."

[[ aaaalways! sleep well! ]]

She grinned a bit at that.

"You're not making it real easy for me to trust your judgment," she noted, "with all your dooming and such, saying you ain't never planned one before."

"Well, no one gives me the chance!" Cal insisted. "Because they trust everyone else more!"

"Alright," she said, laughing. "If it means that much to you, then fine, I trust you enough. You can plan my party."

"Okay," Cal said, throwing a skeptical look at Ino, because he couldn't help it. "It's your funeral, then."

"No," she said sweetly, "it's my sixteenth birthday party. Get it right, Cal."

"Same thing," Cal waved a dismissive hand. "Life ends at sixteen, don't you know?"

"Nooo," she said, laughing. "'Cause then we'd be havin' an awful lot of funerals 'round here, all things considered."

"Metaphorically, Ino," Cal informed her. "I was being poetic."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Not my fault your poetry sucks," she said cheerfully.

"I'd like to see you do better," Cal countered loftily.

"Uh, no," she said, flicking a bit of fluff at him. "I'm a ninja not a poet, geez."

"So much for multi-tasking," Cal said, flicking the fluff back.

"I multi-task just fine," she sniffed. "But I'm not much of one for the arts."

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Room 504, Friday Early Evening

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