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Bella is seriously considering refusing to tell anyone else what her major is. Honestly. The way people flinch -
Well, no, that's not fair. She'd flinch too if she were unprotected and a subtle artist walked by. Just because most don't, in fact, casually or unintentionally read thoughts, doesn't mean that none of them do. Her tutor back home thought that her aversion to having her mind read was why her arts were set up so defensively and everything else was secondary for her.
She doesn't like the flinching, but it is fair. Maybe she'll go to the lab and scribe off a few copies of a mini fact sheet so she can hand them out when she meets people. No, that would be obnoxious.
She'll wait for it to wear off. Eventually she'll make some friends who'll know how she works. Or who are other subtle artists; she's probably more likely to make friends in classes than in the dorm, anyway.
She's not sure how she feels about the mixed-sex dorms. The rooms are singles, at least - that's why she's in Thatcher Hall, automatic single rooms for no extra charge at the price of having to maybe live next door to somebody who's not all human. There's a short list of species who qualify to be out of Harlowe and in predominantly-human Thatcher. None of them scare Bella. The orientation guide called Thatcher a "salad bowl". The junior who was wandering by at the time called it a pit.
The building looks nice. Bella's room looks nice. She unpacks her stuff and then goes back out to explore a little and encounters a stark naked man.
"Dude!" she exclaims. "Put some clothes on! This is a mixed sex hall!"
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subtly_artistic
subtly_artistic
"I'd call you an asshole but you're not even doing that right," snarls the operator of the glorious cock, and he shoves past Celo to exit the kitchen.
Celo snorts.
He checks the cookies.
He determines that they are not quite ready and sets the timer for another two minutes.
He checks the cookies.
He determines that they are not quite ready and sets the timer for another two minutes.
"What, people whining when I've got something better to do than bend over for 'em? Yeah," he shrugs.
subtly_artistic
"...Okay, well, if you ever need an RA gotten, I'll be able to hear you if you think about me really hard and I'm not more than a hallway away at the time."
"Thanks," he says, with a surprised smile.
subtly_artistic
She shrugs. "I don't know how much help they'll be. I think it might be considered legally impossible to sexually assault a nymph?" She's not sure, but this sounds right; she scratches her head.
"Yep," says Celo. "Turns out keeping one chained in your basement is blasphemy, though."
He checks on the cookies again and pulls them out of the oven with his bare hands, then heals himself as soon as he's set the baking sheet on top of the stove.
subtly_artistic
"...Why did you not use oven mitts?" Bella asks. "Or at least a dishtowel, there's one right over there."
"No point," he says. "Didn't hurt that much, barely had time to blister."
subtly_artistic
"If I tried to do that I'd drop the cookies," Bella says. "Even though you can heal yourself whenever it's a weird thing to do."
"I can heal myself whenever," says Celo. "Which makes me more casual about injury, which makes me more casual about pain because I'm more used to it, which makes me more casual about injury... get the idea?"
subtly_artistic
"I guess you could build up a decent pain tolerance that way," says Bella dubiously. "But the dishtowel is right there."
"I don't care about the dishtowel," says Celo. "The dishtowel is a solution to a problem I don't have."
"Wait'll they're cool," he says, smiling crookedly, "you'll burn yourself."
And he starts laying out the next batch on the baking sheet.
And he starts laying out the next batch on the baking sheet.
"Very true," he agrees. "But I better check to make sure they won't burn ya."
He grabs a cookie off the tray and pops it in his mouth, closing his eyes and doing a little wriggle of happiness while he chews.
"Perfect," he announces, wiping a smear of chocolate from the corner of his mouth and licking it off his fingers, then collecting the rest of the cookies onto a plate. "Help yourself."
He grabs a cookie off the tray and pops it in his mouth, closing his eyes and doing a little wriggle of happiness while he chews.
"Perfect," he announces, wiping a smear of chocolate from the corner of his mouth and licking it off his fingers, then collecting the rest of the cookies onto a plate. "Help yourself."
subtly_artistic
Bella stares intently at a cookie for a moment, then gives up and picks it up. "I have," she sighs, "no talent to speak of at telekinesis. Professor Winters thinks I might be able to get a little bit, but I sure don't have any now." She bites her untelekinetically retrieved cookie.
Celo laughs.
subtly_artistic
Bella eats her cookie. This is good, she comments with her mouth full.
"Damn skippy," he says with evident satisfaction.