#goldfinchfreehold

Then she sighs and straightens up a few things that got knocked over in the scuffle.

Soon, the Goldfinch Chimera is twittering around Sylvi's shoulders, letting her know there is someone at the door.

Symon hasn't knocked, not yet at least, and is standing, eyes shaded against the sun, and gloomily surveying the studio before him.

She notes the chimera's alert and simply says, "Come on in, Symon. It's safe." She knows he can hear her.

He heads in, closing the door behind him and standing, somewhat awkwardly, in the entryway.

Sylvi waves him over from the kitchenette. "What did you hear?"

Sylvi, ever the fashionista, may well notice that Symon looks more... put together? Then usual. While still in dark shades, he has a fitted button down top, newer (and clean) black jeans in a slender cut, and has eschewed the worn hooded sweater - though that may be due to the weather. His hair as well looks as though it has had a fairly recent cut - still long, listless lank locks, but at least trimmed in a fashionable manner so that the way they fall across his eyes looks more intentional then a bad hair day.

He slinks over close enough for Sylvi to hear his whisper. Is that... cologne? Something... vaguely fragrant- Dabbed over and dulling his normal musty-carcass stench.

Symon whispers, "Spoke to Dirk. He said you and Dagmar got into a brawl."

She does notice the new look, and definitely has questions...but they'll have to wait. "Well...yeah. I think the fact that Dirk walked in on it might have made it worse than it was going to be. Having a witness, harder to back down." She shrugs.

"Why?"

"Why did we fight?" She looks at him a moment. "You gonna really listen to my side before you decide I'm wrong?"

He leans back a bit and squints up at her through his hair. "Shouldn't I?" Dry.

Meanwhile, he discretely eyes Sylvi. Checking for wounds - or, knowing she can heal, signs of blood, torn clothing, etc.

She rolls her eyes and sighs, seeming tired and frustrated. "Fine. What happened was...you know that Dagmar's gotten a few letters from May during the year, right?"

Definitely rumpled clothing (not stylishly so) and some blood on her blouse. Not a lot, but enough to notice.

"Yeah. They sat on the table until I shoved them under her door. After that, I didn't see any."

"Yeah. And the ones I handed to her directly, she just shoved in a pocket. I assumed she was just answering them in private, but...she hasn't been answering any of them. She's totally ghosted May. And when I found out, I called her on it."

"Did they fight?" A brow goes up slightly. Good, powerful dreamers are not a dime a dozen, and not something to be idly tossed aside.

"May... she went somewhere... west coast for college. Portland, or something." Trying to remember.

"California." Sylvi shakes her head. "No, they didn't fight. But I think I figured it out. Dagmar...well, Sam..." a pause "...you won't repeat this right? She might not appreciate us talking behind her back."

He gives her a level glance, at the question.

But with an inward sigh, he nods. "I don't blab."

"I know you don't. But this is different." A pause. "Sam's still got some crazy abandonment shit. And I don't blame her, I really don't. But I'm pretty sure it's like...she's afraid May doesn't really want to keep the friendship, or will be disappointed in the friendship eventually, so she's sort of cutting to the chase? Cutting May off before May has a chance to cut her off."

A slow nod. "And you... pointed this out to her?" Seeking clarification.

A long pause.

"I was mad about it."

"May's our friend, but she reached out to her, and she hung her out to dry!"

A thoughtful frown. "Seems like a small thing to trigger a brawl. Unless Dirk exaggerated, or got his broken face somewhere else."

He revises, "Pointing it out, that is." Not saying that the friendship was trivial.

A deep breath and a slow exhale. "I told her she was being a coward."

"More than once."

He winces. "That was stupid." He says, bluntly.

"I was mad," she repeats.

"She kept justifying it."

She rubs her jaw absently.

"Yeah. She would." Symon taps his fingers against a leg thoughtfully, "Where did she go?"

A shrug. "Out. She didn't tell me where."

Then she mutters. "I feel so stupid that I didn't really realize what she was doing sooner."

"Without her phone?" He asks, confirming. "I don't think she's at the lodge. Any idea where else she might go?" An exhale. "Or maybe I just need to wait until she cools down and comes back." A mutter.

Glancing to Sylvi. "Hm?"

She takes Dagmar's phone out of her pocket and hands it to him. "I think she'd rather it were with you," she mutters.

"If she's not at the Lodge or at the Barn, then I don't know."

"And I mean I wish I'd understood that she was just ignoring the letters. She's been weird all semester, and...I just didn't catch this part."

He mutters, "I noticed. Thought she was just... uncomfortable away from home. Figured she would settle in. Maybe by next semester."

"That's what I thought, too. I mean, hell, I was uncomfortable."

Symon looks discomforted. "You were?"

"Pfft. Yeah." As if it's obvious. "It may surprise you to know that many Princeton students have opinions about people who create YouTube cosmetics videos."

Having accepted the phone, he slid it into a back pocket. "You always seem to forge your way through any social situation without trouble."

"Well, what worked in high school doesn't always seem to work in college. I managed, but...I kind of wanted to quit for the first few weeks."

"It was... unpleasant, at first. I don't like change." He admits, quietly. "Focusing on schoolwork distracted from that enough to help."

A short amused sound. "You sure got focused. Would have been nice to see more of you. But I know you've got a hard major."