Trishna home

The fact that Georgiana was wearing purple, along with altering her hair into having stripes of that color, had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she'd finally obtained a particular piece of loot. Nothing at all. And there were no similar reasons related to why she so rarely wore orange.

And that she was up at a reasonable time wasn't related to wanting to snag the 360 before anyone else, either.

She needed to shoot something. Without questions or squeamishness or anything else that could potentially come with younger guests. Or, well, beating Flood corpses repeatedly with an energy sword might qualify. Work off the rustiness from school.

There was a pile of pillows at one end of the couch, and she shoved her feet into them, half-laying, half-sitting. Might as well get comfortable.

Which was right when the green light on her controller began to flicker. "Great." Flipping it over and pulling off the small cover on the back revealed two small, and likely drained, batteries. So she rolled off the couch with a thunk, sending the pillows and a remote or two to the floor with smaller noises, before starting to dig about in a nearby basket for some form of hopefully functional battery. Next year, she was asking for the rechargeable packs.

Sasha's slippers padded quietly against the wooden floor as he made his way from the kitchen back to the den.  Two left over lebkuchen[1] were balanced precariously on the top of a tall glass of milk to free up the Ravenclaw's other hand to tap out a text on his iphone. 

Though Wednesday had brought about an end to the insane ten day run of twenty-two midterms and GCSE exams, Sasha's internal clock still hadn't quite adjusted to the Trishna household's not-exactly-early-rising schedule.  Even back home over holidays, barn chores or show schedules typically saw the young man up before dawn.  These last few days, rising after six had felt like a thorough sleep in, but he still often found himself awake at least a couple hours before anyone else stirred. 

Having heard the mutters, clunks and other extraneous noises, Baldur trotted into the den ahead of the boy, tail sweeping in a lazy, low wag as he greeted the most recent resident to awake.  To the dog's delight, Georgiana was on the floor, conveniently at dog-level. 

Sasha hesitated at the doorway, glancing awkwardly down at the items in his hand.  "Oh.  Um.  Allo."  Georgiana seemed to have already made herself comfortable, scattering his pillows in the process.  And, she was in very ... odd ... attire for ... playing video games on a Saturday morning.  Did she consider herself fully dressed? 

"Should I ..."  He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do.  It was her den, after all.  And, he couldn't exactly look at her, either, to gauge how annoyed (or not) she was at being disturbed.  Her ... shirt ... was somewhat lacking in the strap department. 

1.	Lebkuchen are a traditional, spiced ginger cake-like cookie often served at the Christmas Markets around the holidays in Germany.  They would have been one of the several noticeably German contributions Jacoba would have made to the Trishna holidays

Oooh, puppy. Georgiana shot it her patented I will pet you if you don't lick me glare, then tossed a few pillows aside in her search for batteries. They had to be there somewhere.

And Schlawkward was being...schlawkward. "Want to play? Just going to start up some campaign, three doesn't have the anti-noob rule." Going back if either of you died in Halo 2 had been brutal. Mr. I have a Wii wasn't someone she expected to be decent with a proper console like that 360. Though having cookies for breakfast meant he couldn't be an utter dweeb, right? Optimism. The early hour had to be getting to her.

Still no batteries. One of the pillows got kicked out of the way now, and the controller thunked a little as she set it down before leaning just a little too far over to reach for the dog's head. "Once I find the damn batteries. You see them?" After that, they could see if he was the sort who killed more of his teammates than the enemy. Put him on Tapendra's team, in that case.

Standing in the doorway, trying to give Georgiana's current ... dilemma ... due attention without watching too closely, Sasha's gaze shifted between long, safe gazes at the dog and quick, short glances towards the Slytherin.  "Play?" Sasha repeated, his attention settling, briefly, on Kafka's Das Schloß[ sitting on the coffee table. 

Luckily, the Ravenclaw thought better of declining the offer to play video games in favor of reading early twentieth century German literature.  He probably wouldn't hear the last of it for quite some time.

"Sure.  I can try.  What are we playing?" He'd gathered it was the third version of whatever the game was but had missed the actual title.  Or, she assumed it was supposed to be obvious.  Sasha turned his attention, briefly, back to his phone and tapped out a few more messages as he crossed to the coffee table.  "I put them away," Sasha answered, freeing his hands and moving over towards one of the chest of drawers along the wall.  He fetched a couple pair from them carefully aligned rows in a small plastic container in the top drawer before returning to the couch. 

"You do know it's winter, right?" Sasha held out the batteries, still taking care not to look too closely at Georgiana.  "Isn't it a bit...cold?" 

Batteries were important, though. Sort of thing to be left laying out under cushions and where it was easily grabbed. "Halo 3." Click; slide the controller open, few more clicks, on to the next one. Once she'd done that, she set one of the controllers down on the couch.

She then planted her feet on the floor and leaned back against the couch, neck stretched, and chest puffed out just a little for show. "Not as cold as being hung by my toes from the Astronomy tower if I tried to wear this at school. Now come on, it's not that hard."

That the difficulty she chose showcased a large, alien skull with crossed swords behind it seemed to disagree, but she held her controller lightly as she flickered through menus. "Use the one joystick to move, the other's for the camera. Triggers to shoot, obviously. Try not to kill me. All the zombies must die." There were a few things she was forgetting, but hey, he'd find out. Basics down, at least. "Oh, and the blue things? Sticky grenades."

"Oh." 

Halo 3.  He'd seen glimpses of the previous versions - either when he was over at a teammate's house or when Anna had commandeered the television in the solar as her version of going outside.  But, those glimpses didn't amount to much more than a few moments of watching things die.  That was the extent of his familiarity with the game. 

Sasha glanced, quickly, at Georgiana before diverting his attention to looking over the offered controller.  "Most of the time...that does sound cold," Sasha admitted, catching himself before pointing out the Astronomy tower usually wasn't that cold.  That probably wasn't her point.  A little late, but he had managed to realize this was probably one of those times it was best to just agree. 

"Do I need to chose a character?" Sasha asked, glancing between the screen, his controller and (on the few occasions he forgot) Georgiana.  That's where most of his games started.  Sometimes it was as simple as deciding between Mario and Luigi.  Other times, there were character classes and hair color to figure out.  "What do I do with sticky grenades?"  And, what was the likelihood Georgiana would do something strange if he did kill her?

Someone seemed to be getting over the silly questions regarding clothes. Not that his following ones were any more sensible, but hey, what else could you expect from someone with just a Wii. "Nah, you can just use a guest profile. Doesn't show for campaign anyways, so no matter. We're all the Arbiter or John-117 for it. Not throwing you into Live yet."

At least there were some headsets around she hadn't broken. Magically color-hanging hair, electronics, and loud, angry twelve-year-olds screaming from across the internet? Bad combination. "Like the sacrifices to survive for more than a few seconds. Isn't Splinter Cell." Even she didn't want to go wandering back into the brutal neck-snapping of noobs that had been multiplayer there.

"Just watch the cutscenes. Least if you want to follow anything. Leave the buttons til it's over." And with a few more presses on the controller, the introduction began.

Just use the guest profile?  Sasha glanced towards Georgiana but immediately turned forward, again, a bright blush rising in his cheeks.  That  outfit was just ... it needed it's own warning sign.  An alarm that sounded when people accidentally got too close to looking. 

He was hardly a hardcore gamer - far from it.  He was definitely more of the 'spend twenty minutes stomping smiley mushrooms while the staff finishes cooking dinner' sort.  Even so, even he knew the implications of 'just using the guest profile.'  But, he couldn't go and call his poor ... whatever he was going to end up being.  Mortal peril seemed a given and one didn't send someone out in such and just call them 'guest.'  Or, the 117^th John.  "Alright.  Spencer.  He's...we're...Spencer's ready."  Sasha shrugged and shook his head.  He hadn't played Splinter Cell, either, but he doubted he needed to confess it. 

"Pretty," Sasha said, despite himself, as the cutscene started with a starry sky.  Of course, pretty scenes never lasted long in games.  "I don't think blowing smoke in his face will help.  So, we're in the army?  Why don't people just ... alright.  Nevermind.  So, we shoot things?"

Spencer? "It's a first person shooter. Yeah, we shoot things." Gigi's camera movements still felt a bit jerky; the perils of high sensitivity and long time away, but she always picked it back up pretty quickly.

"And nah, they're Marines, we're space navy. Master Chief Petty Officer. American space navy, or so says the series of tubes." Yes, evil robotic forces, she was the sort that looked up military ranks for video game characters on the internets. "Just follow them for now, it's the introduction. Marines don't count as things." Getting your AI teammates on your case with noob bait on the team wasn't helpful.

Just took a little bit before those joysticks felt natural again. "If we're not shooting aliens, it's zombies. Don't have a stick up your ass 'bout spoilers, I hope."

There was a distinct challenge with first person shooters.  Generally, other things were shooting at you while you were shooting at them. 

Sasha glanced at Georgiana.  "Space navy?" he repeated before looking forward.  "Ah, yes.  Those brave men and women that navigate all those vast oceans and gulfs between the planets."  Sasha turned back to the screen, grinning and chuckling less-than-sauvely at his own joke. 

"So, what happens if I die?" Sasha asked, following Georgiana's lead and fiddling with the joysticks without pressing any buttons.  "Do I, I don't know, regenerate?  Or is it like monopoly where I end up watching the rest of it."  Which, really, didn't happen much.  Monopoly was one of those games that, for obvious reason, he did fairly well at. He had a feeling Georgiana didn't play Monopoly, though. 

Still waiting to get past the game set up (all Mario required was a half dozen beeps arranged in a neat arpeggio), Sasha settled back against the couch and rested his feet on the coffee table.  "I don't have a stick ... I've never heard of having the military objective clearly outlined being considered a spoiler.  Do you think I can count this as part of training if I end up serving?"

It was always space navies, but Gigi supposed he wouldn't have known it. She rolled her eyes, then hurriedly fixed her character's direction to follow the Marines again. "If you die, you'll respawn next to me once people aren't trying to pop my head off."

And finally, funny-voiced aliens to shoot at. "Zombies were the big spoiler for the first game. That twist before we backtracked through everything. Remind me to make you run The Library sometime." Boom, headshot.

"Do you think I can count this as part of training if I end up serving?"

She choked a little, turning it into a cough. Schlagenoobs did not seem the military sort. Unless he wanted to go about in a dress uniform made of money. "Nah, we'd have to play COD for that. They won't even give you credit for getting forty people organized enough to kill shit."

"That certainly takes the pressure off," Sasha admitted with a shrug.  Death certainly became far less intimidating when it was only a temporary setback.  And, one's 'world' waited for the strife to settle a little before you were regenerated.  "Do I get a new look?" he asked, choosing the most inopportune time to turn away from the screen an look at Georgiana. 

She was triggering the remote, which meant they were getting fired at.  Bugger.  Sasha turned forward again but not before the aliens had started shooting.  Sasha returned a few shots.  Toggled the wrong joystick.  Quickly straightened the camera.  A few more missed shots.  At this rate, he was going to be trying out the whole regeneration thing fairly quickly. 

Despite his pending screen-death, Sasha had caught Georgiana's reaction to his comment about military training.  "Family business," he offered in brief explanation while, finally, managing to shoot an alien.  He grinned, his enthusiasm a bit out of scale in contrast to the actual accomplishment.  Especially since there were more aliens still firing.  "And compulsory for guys, unless you object on moral grounds.  That wasn't exactly considered an option.  There was really only one acceptable alternative." 

Sasha shrugged, then flinched as he accidentally hit the wrong joystick while firing.  "COD?" 

Winfred had been enjoying her time at the Trishna's house. She was having fun gossiping with Cy and Juni. And Zel had been writing her regularly. And she was learning SO MUCH about muggles! She even got to peer through the fence to watch the neighbors. (Even if Professor Trishna had told her to stop doing it, she still did.)

She had just gotten dressed for the day- and was heading downstairs to find something to eat for breakfast- when she heard the bathroom door open. She turned, and was met with a terrifying sight. Winnie's eyes grew wide as she was met with Professor Trishna's bare midriff. His wet bare midriff. "MERLIN'S PANTS! PROFESSOR TRISHNA IS NAKED!" she screeched at the top of her lungs. To get back to Cy's room and hide, she'd have to go right by him. That sure as hell wasn't going to happen.

Instead, Winifred turned and ran down the stairs. "HE'S NAKED!" she screamed, running through the house. Winifred paused when she saw that Gigi and Sasha were playing something on the talking box. She had been fussed at already for walking in front of the box when people were using it. "YOUR DAD IS NAKED!" she screamed at Gigi. Of course, he hadn't actually been naked. Just not wearing a shirt. But to Winnie that was the same thing. "I SAW HIS NIPPLES! EWWWWWWWWW." With that, Winifred fell to the floor in a dramatic and very fake faint.

"Call of Duty." Sasha wasn't running into walls, at least. That got boring too quickly.

Boring wasn't a word one could apply to Winifred. Dramatic, with a side of rolled eyes and comments about kids, more like. But her outburst caused Gigi to turn her attention from the screen just long enough for a Grunt to get up in her face, squeaking. THWACK! The butt of her rifle smacked it in the face, and the force knocked it back against a rock where it wobbled a little before growing still. "He's my brother."

Gigi moved a foot over to try to poke at the now collapsed Hufflepuff. "What, never seen a dude's nipples before?" There was sheltered, and then there was...whatever Winnie was. "Cy decide what romance she's doing with Mass Effect 2?" Somehow, she wanted to be there when Winnie saw that.

Started to make people actually fussing over those scenes more believable.

Sasha glanced, again, towards Georgiana just about the time Winifred's unfortunately loud voice bellowed down the stairs.  The girl was a bit interesting in a Three Stooges kind of way.  If he'd learned one thing this past week, it was he was glad Winifred was a Hufflepuff and not a Ravenclaw.  Not that there was really any risk of that. 

With a sigh, Sasha turned his attention back to the television just in time to see poor Spencer tumble backwards and fall to the ground, motionless.  "Scheiß" he muttered, lowering the remote to wait for the game's powers that be to resurrect him so he could be killed again. 

Before he could have the pleasure, Winnifred had joined them.  In the living room.  To yell at them about the state of Professor Trishna's clothing.  Or lack there of. 

Incredulously, Sasha looked at Georgiana, shaking his head.  Whether or not Winifred had seen a guy's ... whatever - That wasn't the point!  "You don't need to notify the whole house!" Sasha hissed at Winifred, waving a hand to try to get the girl to lower her voice.  Poor Professor Trishna.  "Give him a break.  There aren't a lot of bathrooms.  You're just making it worse!" 

"Cy decide what romance she's doing with Mass Effect 2?"

Sasha blinked.  "Romance?  In a video game?"  She was talking about, well, budding ... courtship or something, right?  Not...

How exactly had he found himself in this conversation?  And, how did he go about steering it towards something less like this?