Scene #2685: That's Profilin'

Owner	Pose
Roman Talleday	There were quite a number of troubles to be found out in Tokyo, and despite many of them having very little to do with the Dark Roast or the Leaves of Sweet Aroma, Cure Chai had been busy. There was something to be said for having to stop a giant plush octopus with exploding stuffing from attacking a takoyaki stand. And he ''had'' said plenty, most of it colourfully rude. Cure Chai had barely managed to pull himself half way through the window, entering his dorm room from the outside. He was a little worse for wear, with his princely clothing singed and half blasted, and soot clinging to his skin in patches. The white swirl on his bangs remained somehow undisturbed. "Hurry, hurry! Before somebody sees, Stir-stir!" Darjeela's voice urged as the chipmunk-like fairy floated behind him, ineffectually pushing at him with her paws as if to shove him through the window faster. "Yeah, yeah, cool your cup," the Henshin fell away, as Roman awkwardly pulled further in with an attempt to bring his leg up over sill, "I got the dorm all to myself, anyw--whoa!" When he looked up to see another person in the dorm, he nearly fell backwards right out of the window again.
Lincoln Blackwell	He had planned on a rather uneventful evening. A desk by the foot of his bed had a laptop opened and a book lay beside. It wasn't intensive study, but it was certainly enough that he'd be able to get through the next few classes without failure. Even that, however, had required some light food to fuel his evening academics. Lincoln hadn't even had enough time to really figure out what was happening, noodles dangling from his mouth and into a steaming foam cup of ramen. He was staring at Roman as he entered in through the window. Then he rapidly slurped the food away, swallowed hard, and levelled chopsticks at the evident miscreant. Lincoln jolted up from his chair. "That's breakin' and enterin'!" It took the blonde a moment longer to process precisely what he was seeing, but then he straightened up a little bit. "Hold up a minute--" "Darjeela?" It was another voice, not terribly dissimilar from the fairy shoving at Roman. "Is that you, pour-pour?" A fuzzy green face popped up from the hood of Lincoln's salmon hoodie.
Roman Talleday	"Oh no!" Darjeela, hovering in the air with a little flailing, panicked at first. She grabbed at blonde hair in an attempt--again, very ineffectual--to pull Roman upwards. "There's somebody in your dorm room, Stir-stir!" "Yeah, no, I can-- ''Agh!''-- I see that!" Roman was abandoned swiftly as the other small voice sounded, however, left to fend for himself at the window ledge. "Oolong?" With a fluffing of tail, the fairy zipped through the air towards the bunkbeds, full of relief, "Oolong! Oh, I was so worried about you, Stir-stir!" "Help--"
Lincoln Blackwell	Oolong emerged fully from the folds of fabric, lifting clear to hurtle toward his pink counterpart. "Where have you been, pour-pour?" It was there, in the middle of the room, that the fairies came together. Green and pink swirling about a few feet above the floor in a tiny, chimpunky hug. The green one--Oolong--peppered the other with little chittering kisses. ''Help--'' Lincoln had been watching this reunion with a mixture of confusion and amusement before that word slapped him in the back of the brain. "Oh!" The blonde tossed chopsticks to the desk and then darted across the room to try to catch the other, window-dangling, blonde. "I gotcha! Don't go fallin' out on my first night, people'll talk!"
Roman Talleday	Helped up, Roman hurled his weight inwards, unceremoniously falling to the floor in front of the other boy's feet. Half winding himself in a bedraggled heap. "Ough-- cheers..." "Oh, Oolong!" There was a very affectionate nuzzling taking place as the pink fairy grew misty eyed. "After the Dark Roast sent those awful brutes after us and we got separated," Darjeela explained, "I had to hide for a while... I was in a tea shop, protecting the Leaf we found! But they didn't let up on trying to find me at all, Stir-stir." Her tail twitched, and she waved a paw towards Roman. "But this boy who worked there protected me! He became Cure Chai and promised to help us!"
Lincoln Blackwell	Lincoln was offering Roman a hand again. "You alright there? You want some cup noodles, man?" It seemed like the appropriate thing to ask, given the circumstances. Lincoln wasn't really all that used to people climbing in through his window. "''He's'' Cure Chai?" Oolong asked incredulously, leaning to one side--still hovering in the air, mind--to spy the boy crumpled by the window. "He doesn't look like he could make trouble for the Dark Roast, pour-pour." The green chipmunk huffed a little, but turned his shiny little eyes back to Darjeela. "I got caught by none other than Professor Java. I would have been in real trouble if it weren't for my boy coming along. ''He's'' Cure Matcha."
Roman Talleday	"I'll live," Roman sniffed as he got back on his feet, stretching out uncomfortably, "Cup noodles sounds like a bit of me..." "Professor Java was already in England, too? Oh, Oolong, that's awful!" Darjeela hugged at the other fairy, upset for the ordeal of it all, "You must have gone through so much, Stir-stir!" "Wait, he's English?" Roman frowned to squint at Lincoln. "You are, aren't you? You're bloody English-- they can't just be putting us blokes together like this in the same dorm and all, that's profilin'." It wasn't. "And I'm still talkin' to you in slangy Japanese," He snorted, tugging at the front of his shirt to flap it for the warmth, switching to English. "That spellwork's proper strong, translatin' straight from the King's like that, isn't it? That's mental."
Lincoln Blackwell	"I hardly even notice when it's happenin'." Lincoln agreed with Roman as he made his way back across the room toward a small electric kettle. A plastic bottle of water was opened and tipped in, then he flicked the power before setting an unopened instant ramen cup down ready. Then, of course, he returned to his own. Lincoln slurped a mouthful off, drank a little of the broth, and chewed for a bit. He waved his chopsticks at Roman slowly until he could swallow. "If we were true random picks for dorm allocations, how's it we're both English ''and'' both tea Cures? D'you think they ''know''?" Lincoln sounded midly suspicious, but there was sense to be made of it. Of course, right now, he wasn't really considering the fact that they were both ''late arrivals'' to the school year and, therefore, had just happened to be assigned the same dorm as a result of that. No, ''that'' one would make sense. "Yeah, Professor Java." Lincoln filled in for Oolong now with a sniff of complaint. "He was pretendin' to be my chemistry teacher, Mister Timms. Absolute bellend." "Cure Matcha sent him running, pour-pour." The green chipmunk almost bragged.
Roman Talleday	"Is you bein' funny?" Roman snorted, half amused and half suspect. "Of course they knew about us. How'd you think it was you ended in a swank Academy like this for, otherwise? I sure didn't have the paper for all this." Blue eyes scanned the other boy, raking him up and down, and he wandered further in. "Same with how I got to speakin' Japanese all polished, like. They gave me weird candy what made my head go funny for a bit, said to take that before readin' through the materials. I was flippin' through the booklets like they was magazines at the dentist, after that." Darjeela floated closer to inspect Lincoln too, sniffing at him, and breezing about his head for a bit. "Hmm... You do smell very sweet, too. It takes somebody very brave to take on Professor Java like that. You must have a very good heart, Stir-stir!" "Yeah... I stomped on Macchiato's mob ''and'' I took on Sucre-Bleu, here. But bashin' your chemistry teacher sounds like you was hard up." Shaking his head, though, Roman gestured his arm towards the bed. "You gunnin' for the top bunk then, or what?"
Lincoln Blackwell	"I got a football scholarship?" Lincoln pulled a face and shook his head. "I was already in at Manchester Grammar, man. But, I'll admit, this is still a little bit nicer even than that." He hadn't had to live in dorms on campus back home, but he ''had'' seen them. These weren't exactly the largest apartments in the world either, but they were still generally nicer. Better kept. Things smelled cleaner, somehow. Then again, Manchester always smelled a little bit damp. "And, just so you know, he was cookin' up some nasty cold brew what made the kids weird." Lincoln frowned at the unsubtle implication that he wasn't quite as accomplished as Roman. Even if it ''was'' true, he didn't have to ''say'' it. At least this bloke's fairy got him. She seemed nicer than Oolong, too. Not that he wasn't fond of his little friend, but Oolong did have a tendency to be--well--''acerbic''. "No, I don't want the top bunk." The blonde sighed. "I sleepwalk." "I found him roaming about in the garden the night after he found me." Oolong explained aside to Darjeela. "At first, I thought he'd found one of the Leaves. In the end, though, he was just talking to a sage bush, pour-pour."
Roman Talleday	Darjeela nodded with vague understanding. "When Roman saved me, he came charging in with a baseball bat and yelling a lot. It was night time, but I'm pretty sure he was awake." Pink tail swished and the fairy's nose twitched. "It turns out his father does the same thing when he hears unexplained noises in his kitchen, Stir-stir." "That's what you get for nibblin' at his chocolate digestives, Darjeela," Roman waved his finger, dismissive, "I gave you fair warnin'. That man's made of ears." He turned his attention back to Lincoln with a blink and a still furrowed brow. "Well, you wouldn't get far from up there, would you? You'd be sleep-''falling'', then. Wake yourself up and all." He sniffed. "Problem solved."
Lincoln Blackwell	"No, all I'd be gettin' from that is a concussion, man." Lincoln scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "My dad always says I need all the sense I can keep." "So, he's ''rash'' then?" Oolong had floated his way a little closer to Roman now, hovering about him in some kind of inspection. "My boy there was sneaky when he broke me out. It was also night, of course, but he didn't come in screaming, pour-pour. Maybe they can both learn a little from one another?" The kettle clicked off automatically and Lincoln set his food aside to open the fresh cup. With flavour sachets removed and contents readded as per the precise instructions on the cup, it was then topped off with water and covered over. A pair of clean chopsticks were set on top. "It'll be a couple of minutes." Lincoln apologised. "I'm Lincoln, by the way. But, people just call me Linc mostly." Except his dad. His dad had a lot of other names to call him, very few of them flattering but fortunately in a playful rather than sincere way. "Your dad sounds pretty full on, yeah?"
Roman Talleday	''So he's rash, then?'' "You're a rash," Roman returned lamely, giving Oolong a harrassed look to mumble, "You little... green-mean-machine..." "He's very strong and kind, Oolong! My nose never steers me wrong, and that boy is one of the sweetest I've ever smelled, Stir-stir!" Darjeela seemed to have great faith in her choice-- in both of the boys already, in fact. She nodded. "They'll blend together perfectly." Roman removed his shirt now, casually tossing it up towards the top bunk in some show of claiming it. He didn't say more about the sleepwalking matter. It seemed he'd naturally conceded, despite the jokes. A lanyard with an old looking tamagotchi was also removed from around his neck, and hung on one of the hooks on the wall for clothing. "Yeah, he's slavic, a former Ballerino and a cop. So Red's a real specific flavour of intense." He agreed, stepping up to offer a hand-- fully expecting a slap up, by the approach. "He put the Voznesensky in Roman Voznesensky-Talleday. But Rome's the word."
Lincoln Blackwell	Oolong hissed at Roman and fluttered his way back to Darjeela. "They need to be more than just sweet to take on the Dark Roast, pour-pour. Don't worry. ''I'' will whip them into shape." For a floating green chipmunk, he sounded awfully certain of himself. Lincoln couldn't have explained ''why'' he did what he did. He saw Roman approach with his hand in a very particular way and he just fell into the rhythm of it. Slap, backwards slap, clasp, slipping fingers free but hooking them right at the end, and then they pressed their thumbs together. He squinted. It was probably some Pretty Cure thing he wasn't quite aware of just yet. "Yeah, cool. Rome." Lincoln sniffed to himself, gaze running over Roman. "Do you normally take your shirt of for noodles, man?"
Roman Talleday	It ''was'' very weird, when he stopped to think on it, that they somehow mirrored one another in a perfect combination of intuitive hand movements. It felt strangely natural, as if they had fallen into a secret synergy for a moment there. But Roman didn't dwell on it long. "Not that I need a reason to take my shirt off in the cicada-screamin' hell this part calls Summer," Roman tutted, "But I'm not about to go spillin' noodle juice on my shirt like a muffin, am I? Me and chopsticks ain't friends yet."
Lincoln Blackwell	"What? You didn't eat Chinese back home?" Lincoln pulled a face. "You're from, what? The East End?" Of London, of course. Since they'd switched to English, he could work at placing the accent. He wasn't quite sure the exact suburb, but he knew where that particular sound came from. He sure as hell wasn't a Scouse. "Doesn't matter." He nodded toward the cup. "It should be ready now, you can add the fried onions if you want. Just stir it up a bit first." As if Roman had never had cup noodles before. in the interim, Lincoln had slurped another mouthful up. "It is a little bit warm. Got an ice cream earlier--you know they got, like, ''squid ink'' flavour?"
Roman Talleday	"What even is that? Like suckin' on a pen too hard, but cold?" Roman pulled a face, and simply reached for his cup of noodles as is. "And don't be shamin' me for keepin' it to the cutlery drawer. Sorry I can't snippy-snap my sticks together and tweeze food into my face without droppin' none. I'm not a crab." He took the onion sachet, tore it with his teeth, and emptied some into his mouth directly. Then, tearing lid clear, he tipped back the noodle cup itself to sip broth and bite off a measure of noodle, and then chewed. Darjeela watched this, and then offered the other fairy a look before whispering, "See, Oolong? Roman thinks outside the box, and he's a good problem solver! He's adaptable, Stir-stir." "Anyway, bit further out than that. I come outta Chelmsford, yeah?"
Lincoln Blackwell	Lincoln watched Roman tear the sachet open and empty it into his mouth. So, of course, he was already pulling a confused face by the time the cup was sipped of it's broth and then his brows knit together sharply. "Oh, what's that about then?" The blonde almost sounded offended even as he offered up an accusation. "You're a maniac." His tongue darted against his own teeth, as if he could feel the plastic ripping himself. A shudder ran through him before he shook his head. "Nah, I asked right? Had this girl with me at the time. Real pretty, violet hair, couldn't miss her if you tried. But, she said it was just vanilla flavour but coloured with the ink." Lincoln shrugged. "I was like, what's the point then? I ended up just eatin' the matcha mint one." Oolong watched Roman for the minute. "That's not a box, Darjeela. That's a noodle pot, pour-pour. Lincoln at least knows how to follow the instructions."
Roman Talleday	"How am I the maniac when you're out here eatin' icecream what's flavoured like tea and ''toothpaste'', but?" Roman returned Lincoln with a scrunched expression, scrutinising him just as much. "That's absolutely mingin', Linc. You can't be turnin' your nose up at dark-mode vanilla for that. That's illegal." Darjeela drifted to settle her paws on top of Oolong's green head, and rubbed gently at it as if to relax him. "Sometimes you have have to forge your own way in life, Stir-stir!" She cooed, "But, I have a good feeling about them, Oolong. Don't you?"