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The Devil's Nest, Tuesday Evening

It hadn't really hit home for Emma that the summer was almost over until her ESU orientation packet in the mail.

Whenever she wasn't busy with her hostess duties or trying to convince Tiny to give her a drink, Emma would be going over her information. Apparently she had a survey to fill out to help match her with a roommate.

The Devil's Nest was open, and the DJ was spinning the best of Madonna remixes. Come celebrate the end of classes!

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Get carded, pay your cover, and chat with the hostess.

Where Tiny will serve those who are of age to drink.

Dance the night away or sit down and gossip with your friends.

You have to be invited to get past the velvet rope.

Here and aroundish!

"Hello, Emma," Peter said. He looked untroubled this time around - for obvious reasons. "College paperwork, huh?"

"They seem to think a survey will match me with a roommate," she replied glibly, filling in circles almost at random. "Although I doubt they even read these. They probably sort us through a random number generator or something."

Peter leaned onto the counter, peeking over at her circles. "Test that theory. Tell them that you're highly allergic to sunlight," he advised, merrily, "and can't sleep in a bedroom without pubic hair on the ceiling."

"I did write that I'm allergic to morning people, but I'm sure I've woken up in far worse places than a bedroom like that and survived," Emma commented, considering it. "What else could I say?"

Peter looked thoughtful. "You could test how discriminatory they are by listing some kind of rare disease," he said, "Wouldn't that be a trip?"

"Ah, but I do have a rare disease," Emma pointed out. "The last thing I need is to get kicked out for mutation. God forbid they be forced to breathe the same air as me."

Peter rolled his eyes impatiently. "That's not a disease, it's a fortuitous asset," he said. "Really, I don't think you're keeping to the spirit of this exercise."

"Here I thought the spirit of the exercise was to come up with unlikely scenarios to see if they notice," Emma teased. "Sadly, I would not be surprised if they start making people get screened for the x gene at the same time as your immunization shots for college."

"Perhaps I ought to say that I refuse to room with anyone with an IQ of less than MENSA level. Or that I require a sacrifice of virgins to the coffee gods."

"Get your roommate sodomized by a coffee pot?" Peter asked, pulling a face. (Because he was just a little disgusting.) "Now Emma, that's really disgusting. But the MENSA, that's a good idea."

"Then we'd know if they actually read these," Emma pointed out. "Maybe I'll be given a single room."

If only. That would be lovely.

"Although it's telling that your mind immediately went to sodomization, Mr. Wiggin. I was thinking more along the lines of traditional blood rites or tossing people into volcanoes."

"We could do that, but that's old stuff. Why be boring?" Peter grinned.

"Having a luau on a volcano? That's classic, not boring," Emma objected. "Have you no sense of fun?"

Eric was in his usual location, drinking his normal beverage, and looking faintly bored.

Sadly, also as usual.

"I'm just trying to encourage you to think more creatively," he retorted. "You do work at the local porn boutique, don't you?"

He was kind of enjoying himself right now.

"You can always get creative with tradition," Emma smirked. "Don't worry, darling, if you need me to give you new ideas for the merchandise, I'm sure I can oblige."

"But getting creative with tradition, that's harder than coming up with something completely new, almost. How many ways can you break the rules?"

"Breaking the rules is only rarely in your advantage, anyway," Peter pointed out, affably enough. "It's a tougher exercise mentally, surely, but you're probably going to get a lot further learning how to bend them instead."

Hence why Peter had spent so much time trying to cultivate the image of being a peacemaker among certain people.

"Especially when you're dealing with sex toys and you don't want to get bruised," he added.

"Now who isn't getting creative?" Emma asked. "Don't be so narrow-minded, Wiggin. Bruises can be fun too."

Peter raised his eyebrows - exaggeratedly. He wasn't actually interested in sex enough in that way to have any real mental images to speak of. "Wow, you really like to crack the whip, don't you?"

"A whip would leave a welt, not a bruise," Emma pointed out. "Do you have any idea how to use any of the toys at the store?"

Peter didn't roll his eyes, but he did think, seriously, you think I don't know that?

Being corrected would never sit right with him. "Stick it in and press the button," he said, "I should've known you were angling for a physical demonstration."

Oh, Peter.

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The Devil's Nest, Tuesday Evening

Emma's Station

The Bar

Dance Floor & Public Lounge

The VIP Lounge

OOC

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Re: The VIP Lounge

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