#rutgers

Back to her room. She's out quickly enough - hair stuffed under a cap, and in a hoodie over leggings.

The day-old pastries at Fritz's are, to Symon, somewhat disappointing. Still a day or two too fresh, but he finds an unpopular aniseed bun!

Grumbly stomach leads Sam to ordering a breakfast sammie.

The sandwiches are not, of course, as good as anything from Kerri or Tove's kitchens, but pretty good otherwise!

Sitting in a little window seat away from the main tables, where Symon is not as like to be noticed dumping an expired creamer cup into his mug, a flash of color is seen on the street.

Squint.

A smaller version of the cat from the night before - a kitten, even, chases down the street after a backpack-toting student who rolls past on a skateboard. It easily keeps up, zipping along.

Soon turning a corner and out of sight.

"Jeez, how many of them are there?"

Symon looks up to catch a glimpse of the tail. "It's not kitten season. Then again, since when do they follow animals rules?"

"True."

"Just saying, there's a lot of them. They're nasty."

"I'll keep an eye out. Maybe ask your autumn friend."

"We're not friends yet."

"I haven't made friends yet."

Cheeks flush briefly and she shuts up to eat more of her sandwich.

"Oh." He rips off a bit of his stale bun and dips it in the tea. "I haven't really talked to anyone in my classes. Not like I've had time to. They want us to learn everything in the first semester, it feels like.

Her shoulders curl inwards a bit and she shrugs.

"But, eh. We're only a couple weeks in. We'll figure it out, right?"

"Sure."

"You doing okay? Ain't like you to miss class." He asks, the bustling cafe adding as much anonymity as an empty room, in a way.

"I was just tired. I feel better now."

"Food helps."

"Shit. It was my turn to get groceries, wasn't it."

Shrug. "I should have been on top of it." A mixture of sour and resigned.

"We had a schedule for a reason. I might not eat a lot but I do use shit up."

"I'll go after class."

A text bings on Dagmar's cellphone

TXT: Hey. Chelsea here. You missed class. Hope it's not the flu. I took notes. Let me know if you want a copy!

Frown.

TXT: Not feeling great today. be better fri.

TXT: Gotcha. Take care of yourself. Let me know if you need help with anything. L8r!

"Sounds like a friend to me." Symon observes dryly.

"Yeah. Chelsea's okay."

She taps through, looking at her contacts.

BZZT! A sudden text may surprise her!

Piper?

Hey S - bit of a longshot, but u haven't seen/heard from Prissy in the last few week? didnt think she was part of your college crew, but u never kno. TIA! 😃

Brow.

TXT: No

TXT: Didn't she go to Big Bergen?

TXT:...
...
peacemaker said he thought she moved to apartments. i haven't seen her around tho

TXT: idk, I thought she was in Hackensack

TXT: i'll check there! thank u!

Symon is leaning a bit and glancing over her texts, completely without shame.

A snort. "Doesn't Piper have enough keeping her busy then to mess with other's love lives? We have a boggan mom for that."

"Well, better to indulge her when she's on a kick, right?"

"Hey, if it keeps her out of my business, sure." Thin smile.

"True enough."

Symon's watch vibrates - no bleeping alarm for HIM, and he stands, dropping a few crumpled bills on the table. "Gotta get to lab. Sorry about the squirt gun." He says, though his little smug look doesn't LOOK very sorry.

Grunt.