Abbey Chessar & Greg Jackson
Any uncertainties Chess had had as to the identity of his roommate vanished the moment he saw the boy again. Yep, Greg, that was definitely Greg. Awesome. The kid looked like a fish out of water, gasping for air and desperate to be anywhere but where he was. So why come out? Just the food? Well, Chess supposed that it was a better time than any to introduce himself properly, and at least square away any possible mishaps with that power of his.
He let out a quick but clear whistle, hoping to get the boy's attention, and gestured him over. Chess had found a small, round table with plush seats to relax on, as well as his lunch -a nice coffee and sandwich, perhaps a snack more than actual lunch- so damned if he was getting up.
"Greg, is it? it's Greg? Not Gregory?" he asked, not waiting for the boy to come over.
Greg turned sharply as the whistle shook him out of everyone else's agonized inner monologues. There was the source, seated at a small round table - his roommate, the fashionable boy with a foggy mind named Chess. The boy waved him over and Greg swallowed sharply, forcing his feet to move - if they were going to be living together, they'd have to have this little talk eventually.
"Uh, yeah, just Greg, Greg is fine. You're Chess, at least you like it when people call you Chess, I remember, so I'll call you that. If that's what you want." Greg took a seat on the opposite side of the table, doing his best to keep the other boy out of his aura. It was hard to tell if he was successful - the experience of being around all these new people was making the field... wavery. He hunched over in his seat slightly and drew his lunch tray (bearing a turkey sandwich and a carton of chocolate milk) a little closer, as though he was afraid someone would take it from him.
Fast talker, probably a fast thinker. Alright, at least the boy wasn't a stone wall or anything. He leaned back when Greg took a seat, looking over his meal choice. Typical school lunch, no branching out, fair enough. Introductions were out of the way, so that field was checked, and they could move on to what was really important at this meeting, the rules.
Chess took a sip of his coffee, cleared his throat, and began to tap his fingers in a quiet rhythm on the table. "So, I'll forward this by saying that I'm probably not going to be around the room a lot. I don't like being cramped up. Feel free to decorate or not decorate to your heart's content. I shower early in the morning, and that along with my daily rituals," he said, running a hand through his hair. "takes about half an hour, forty minutes, thereabouts. I don't mind music, movies, games, whatever you've got going on in there. If you want something in the room to change, you probably don't have to ask unless it directly involves me or my things, sound good to you?"
"Yeah, uh, that's fine. That's great, even. I'm not going to decorate, much, but, uh... I can make a little bit of a mess on, sometimes when I have bad days, and it's... don't worry about it, I clean up after myself. I won't touch your stuff, and I'll stay in the room... a lot. Like, a lot a lot, and I'll try not to make too much noise with... anything. I just read, mostly. And, uh..."
Greg swallowed. Here was the part he was dreading. "So my sort of... I have this... my whole... 'condition', thing, it makes people not want to be... around me. The guy they had look at me, he said I was a 'latent attack psychic' or... something. I have this aura that makes people, like, scared and uncomfortable, and looking in my eyes hurts people. Like, really hurts them, in the head." He tapped his glasses. "That's why I wear these. So, um, if you want to get a new roommate, you can probably, I mean there's probably a form, I wouldn't hold it against you." He looked back down to his sandwich. "Also I read minds. Sort of."
Well, it was good to hear that they were on the same terms with the room situation. Greg was introverted, would want to stay in, good, that meant Chess wouldn't have to worry about bringing anyone along when he went out. He wasn't worried about the mess, and besides, Greg seemed keen enough on cleaning it up himself.
What followed the obligatory room stuff was what interested him. "Latent attack psychic". That sounded interesting, and just a bit dangerous. Chess hadn't thought about it, but now that it was brought up he couldn't take his mind off of the fact that his fingers were shaking while they tapped against the table. Uncomfortable indeed. The eye thing also seemed concerning, but then, the boy wore glasses, so there wasn't much trouble there as long as it stayed that way.
"Sort of?" Chess asked, honing in on the last part. "Like 'taking an educated guess' sort of, or...?"
"Sort of, like... I can't tell what people are thinking always. I just get a sense of things that... it's like a... more like when people are... hurting, type thing. Like... I don't know what your favorite color is, but... I know there's a bottle of pills somewhere that you think about a lot."
Shouldn't have said that. Greg cringed, and held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, shouldn't have said that. Not my business, I can't help it. Can't, you know, turn it off. So... pretend I don't know anything, and I'll keep it all to myself. And I won't tell anyone, anything. None of my business."
Greg saw Chess's fingers shaking on the table. Guess his 'powers' were starting to take effect, but it didn't seem too bad. Yet. Maybe this'd work out after all.
Chess felt his throat tighten up, and his mouth go slightly agape. Did he just...but when did...had he really thought about it? He must have, it must have been somewhere in his mind and he just hadn't shut it down. His fingers ceased tapping, curling up into his palm, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
"Yes, do that," he said, a not-so-subtle edge to his tone. He might have gone off right then and there, and though he was never afraid of causing a scene, to Greg's defense, he'd said he couldn't turn it off. It didn't ease Chess's tension, however, knowing that in less than a moment this boy had access to something he'd made explicitly sure no one else would know. He shut his eyes and took a deep, struggled breath. This was his roommate now, and he had much more to lose by starting off bad than he did letting one slide.
"Okay, no harm, no foul," he said. "I suppose that's why we're here, to get ourselves and our powers in order. As long as it all stays right up there in that head of yours, you shouldn't even feel inclined to tell me you know something. Does that sound good?"
"Okay. Yeah, that's fine. I'll do that. Sorry, um, about that." Greg shifted and looked down at his plate. He hadn't eaten in a while, but in this public place he found his appetite was flagging. Standing up suddenly, he lifted the food and stood up suddenly. "I'm gonna, um, eat this in my room. Our room. I think, if they let me, which they should. I won't make a mess." He eyed the monitor at the door of the cafeteria, who seemed fairly swamped with new students to keep track of. "I'll leave you alone have a good... food-time... bye." Greg began marching towards the door of the cafeteria stiffly.
That had gone... surprisingly well. I mean, better than he could have expected. His roommate didn't exactly seem happy to be around him, but he hadn't already tried to get an exchange, even after Greg's telepathic social misstep. And, more importantly, he didn't seem to care too much. Greg's biggest worry had been that his roommate would try and drag him out of his room, get him a 'social life'. This was the best he could have hoped for - a live and let live.
That left Chess alone at the table, and slowly, the shaking began to subside. He let out another long breath once Greg was gone, then finished the rest of his now-cooling coffee. In the end it had gone alright, he thought. Aside from the uneasy notion that he no longer had a strict secret in his mind, the boy didn't seem malicious, didn't seem like he wanted anything in exchange for his silence, which was the most surprising thing. Information was currency in his line of work, people the products, but though he was confused by Greg's passivity, he couldn't deny the relief that came with it.
Despite knowing he was in the clear, he checked his phone for the time again anyway, before relaxing back in his seat and surveying the lunch room for other prospects. At the very least, there was conversation going on, bodies filling the space, lots of eyes.