Chapter Text
Rhoslyn is sitting on the couch in the common room when Alison finally emerges from her room for some apple juice. Well, “sitting” might be a little bit incorrect; she was laying upside down on the sitting bit, her legs hanging over the back and her hair streaming behind her down to the floor. “punɯpƎ puɐ ǝplᴉɥʇɐW 'uuᴉℲ 'pɐǝɥǝq pǝʍ pǝq ¡ǝɔᴉl∀ ʎǝH.”
Alison groans. “Rhos c’mon, it’s too early for this.” She shuffles over to the fridge and sticks her head in, then sighs. “Bed Mathilde, wed Finn, behead Edmund. Why the redheads?”
“snoᴉɹnɔ ʇsnɾ 'ɥO,” she says airily. “¿ɥnɥ uuᴉℲ”
“What about Finn?” Kestrin asks, entering while still pulling his green “MILF: Man I Love Frogs” t-shirt over his head. Rhoslyn chokes and turns the right way up on the couch, face red because *ehem* she had been upside down. Yup, that’s the reason. Totally.
“Oh nothing, we were just playing a game of bed, wed, behead,” Alison says breezily, sensing an opportunity to flip the tables on her roommate. “What about you Kestrin? Bed wed behead, Finn, Hans, or… oh I don’t know, Rhoslyn here?”
Kestrin pauses his dressing to consider the question, causing Rhoslyn’s eyes to wander in a way that would have been quite scandalous in the middle ages. Luckily they aren’t medieval huh? “Do I have to kill one of them?”
“Yup,” Alison says, ignoring the rude sign Rhoslyn is making where Kestrin can’t see it.
“Kill Finn, wed Rhoslyn, bed Hans,” he says solemnly, going over to the stove. “Toad in a hole either of you?”
“Yes please,” Alison says, finally giving up locating a clean glass for her juice and instead just plopping down next to Rhoslyn with the bottle in hand.
Just then, Hans pops his head in. “Who’s bedding me? And are those eggs I can smell?” He is followed by Finn and Quincy, the former also sniffing the air. Hans takes the armchair, and Alison has a mini heart attack as Finn sits next to her.
“If it is, you must have a truly remarkable nose seeing as I haven’t even started cooking them yet,” Kestrin says, busying himself in a cupboard and ignoring the first part of that question.
“I’ll take two,” Finn says. “I’m starving.”
Quincy raises an eyebrow. “You literally ate three eggs, two pieces of toast, and five bits of bacon just before we arrived.”
“Shut it, theatre kid,” Finn says, yawning.
“Shut it yourself, jock.”
“Make me.”
“I’ll have a piece of toast as well,” Hans calls, hoping to stop the bickering. Kestrin nods, and whirls on Rhoslyn, pointing the spatula at her. She nearly squeaks in alarm.
“Do you want one as well Rhos?”
Oh god oh fuck, he just spoke to me, PANIC . “Um, sure,” she says with a bright smile. “Thank you.”
“Just one?”
“Yes please. Thank you.” Oh god oh god oh god...
“So that’s…” Kestrin squints as he tallies the numbers.
“Six or seven,” Alison says helpfully. “Depending on how many you’re having.”
“I don’t think we have that many eggs,” he mutters, putting on an apron proclaiming “women want me, cows fear me” and grabbing the bread from the shelf.
Hans looks at the bottle of juice Alison is holding. “Mind if I have some of that?”
“I mean if you want? ” Alison takes a huge mouthful before passing it over. Undeterred, Hans takes a drink and passes it back. “Since Rhoslyn started this stupid game, Quincy, bed wed behead Edmund, Kestrin and Mary.”
As Quincy opens his mouth, Kestrin calls from where he is cracking an egg. “Oi! Since I was asked last time, shouldn’t it be my turn?”
“Good point,” Alison concedes. “Go ahead then.”
Kestrin turns on Finn, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Mr Finnegas, bed, wed behead … Hans, Alison and myself.”
Quincy cackles loudy and all eyes turn to the glaring irishman.
“Well, I’ll behead you for that,” he says with a huff. “And wed Alison since she doesn’t snore like a certain swede I know.”
“Ironic considering I’m not the bedding sort,” Hans remarks. “And I do not snore”. A chorus of “no really, you do,” comes from Finn, Quincy and Kestrin, and he glares at the room in general.
“Finn’s turn,” Rhoslyn calls in a singsong voice. Finn thinks for a moment.
“Quincy. Same people as Alison gave ye. Edmund, Mary, Kestrin.”
“Well, aren't I popular,” Kestrin remarks brightly. Quincy groans.
“Behead Mary since she’s Irish,” Quincy says, ignoring Finn’s sudden indignant spluttering. “Bed Kestrin since he’s making me food and … oh god, I didn’t think this through. Can I change my answer?”
“No you cannot,” Finn says balefully. Kestrin frowns and does a quick finger tally.
“Wait, Quincy you didn’t ask for any food. Do you want one?”
“No not really, I just said it.”
“I’ll have his,” Finn says, making a ‘I’ll get you back later’ gesture at Quincy.
“In that case, yes I will eat mine,” Quincy says, ignoring him.
“Rhos, you’ve been awfully quiet,” Alison says, trying to break up the fighting. “Penny for your thoughts?”
And then he grabs me and slams me to the wall, and- “Hm? What?” Rhoslyn says, snapping back to reality. Alison laughs.
“Off with the fairies huh? Or should I say the-”
“Breakfast is ready!” Kestrin calls, managing to balance all six plates on his bare arms to carry them to the dining table. Rhoslyn follows him hungrily.