Xaviers!

After some success -- and a smash upside the head -- the last time he hid in Sam and Tereza's room, Will was at it again.

His first attempt had taught him a couple things:

1) The thing he was replacing couldn't be left somewhere where people would find it. That was a dead giveaway
2) The best time to slip in was when they would be coming back after a long day; while he had gotten better at hiding his telepathic presence, if Sam was expecting him; he'd be toast. And not in a fun way.
3) Tereza was all bark and no bite, or else she would have used that screwdriver. He'd have to try to get her goat a little more. Were-wolf? More like were-chicken.

He'd have to remember that one; that one was pretty good, he chuckled to himself.


So, the game was afoot. Another electronic device? No, they may be expecting that, this time -- and while Sam hadn't fiddled for too long, apparently, there was a switch that caused his voice to override the sounds on the radio/speakers/whatever. That was probably psychosomatic -- a side-effect from being deprived communication for so long floating through space? Something to talk about with a therapist at some point. Either way, that was a dead giveaway.

Nail clippers had worked out fine, but again, that's something they might expect now, and who uses nail clippers regularly? No, no, he could get stuck in the drawer for weeks, and he had a party to go to with Shane. Sure, he could always shift back and walk out, but it's not really a victory if there's never a chance to be discovered, right?

It was cold outside, being December and all. Sam's apartment back in the DOWER house had had a nice fireplace, but dorm rooms don't get that luxury, so there wasn't a log or something he could easily replace. Something warming, however, might well be what the doctor ordered here -- though Tereza had her own fur coat, and Sam could as well, if'n she wanted, so the cold would effect them less than some others in the dorm.

Coffee machine? No guarantee they would use it before going out and about during the day. Similarly, a sweater or gloves or something could stay back in the closet for days, and he didn't have that time at the moment. A candle? Who uses candles for heat anymore; this wasn't Dickenzian England

So...

Will quickly stripped their bed, removing the blanket between the sheets and top comforter. He emptied their hamper, shoving the blanket all the way down to the bottom, and flopping any dirty clothes he could find on top of it -- after all, who digs deep into their laundry on a regular basis? Satisfied that it was well hidden -- though it made the hamper a little too full -- he returned to the bed, stretching his form out as he wrapped himself around the mattress, sliding up the comforter over his flattening and vanishing head as he did so. The perfect hiding spot!

...It was entirely possible he hadn't really thought this one all the way through.

Tereza barrels in, chasing Samantha with both of them splotched with snow. "Your resolve will crack. I know it will," she says with a grin.

"Well I don't know," she smirks, sitting down at a desk chair, not taking her coat off yet.

"All that travel, plus using your powers? You must be very tired."

"I have plenty of energy," she grins, licking her canines. "Long flight cooped up with Laura. I need to burn off some of it"

"Well then, maybe you should have thought of that before you shoved snow up my coat, aye?"

"Okay then," she smirks as she starts to strip out of her now-wet things, "I guess I don't have to tell you about the Yakuza then."

"The Yakuza? What Yakuza?"

"The one I can neither confirm nor deny that I got into a fight with," she says, now wearing very little as she flops down onto the bed.

"...you're not seriously making me strip just to find out about a fight you got in."

"I'm not making you do anything," she says. "You're the one sitting there in a coat with snow on the inside. I'm just making conversation."

The bed seemed to squeak a little tiny bit as Tereza flopped down onto it. Maybe they should call maintenance in the morning?

"Fiiiiiiine," she grumbles, unzipping her coat and unwinding her scarf.

"Take it easy there, eh?"

She glances at the bed and shrugs, "Maybe I'm putting on weight? We already know you are," she teases Sam.

"I think most people aren't wearing their freshman fifteen this well," she smirks as she slips her jacket off, the newfound definition in her arms now obvious.

"No, that tends to be a more 'round the middle' style." She picks at the blanket, obviously getting more comfortable.

"Besides, I'd bet you still don't have any problem picking me up," she smirks.

Tereza half sits up, "Shall we test that theory?"

"Oh, so that's what gets you interested."

"You still haven't told me about the Yakuza," she chuckles.

Was the blanket a little more plush than normal? Meh, it was probably fine.

"Two thugs versus Laura and myself. They really never stood a chance." She taps her forehead, "She was actually pretty well behaved during that."

"I'm not sure this was worth caving for," she chuckles, shucking off her boots.

"Maybe that's a good thing, though? That you agreed on something for once?"

"We don't always disagree about outcomes, but methods are... a sort point sometimes."

"So you both agreed that beating up thugs is fun," she smirks.

"I think that's something we can agree on," she says with a toothy grin.

"And that's why we get along," she grins back, peeling off the rest of her wet clothes.

Tereza's grin broadens, "Think we can continue to 'get along'?"

The blanket sunk slightly out of Tereza's fingertips as she grinned.

"Well I think it's laundry day soon, but we do alright," she chuckles as she walks over to the bed.

"We are going through a lot of clothes," she says, glancing at the hamper before being distracted again by Sam.

If it was one of those mesh, see-through hampers, they might catch a flash of blue, too bulky to be regular clothes, hidden away in the bottom. Then again, the bottom of the laundry basket may not be the bottoms that Sam and Tereza were particularly paying attention to at this point in time.

"I'm so glad you're back safe," Sam says, wrapping her arms around Tereza and leaning in for a kiss.

Tereza leans into the kiss, grabbing the edge of the blanket with a free hand and rolling to pull it over them.

Eep!

In for a penny, in for a pound, Will wasn't exactly struggling to free herself from Tereza's grip. This had gone a bit further than his cunning plan had led him to believe, but swings and roundabouts and other British expressions.

Tereza's a little too distracted by her girlfriend to notice the difference in the blanket movement from their own movements, at least for the moment. She does, however, plant one hand on the corner of the blanket as she moves, effectively holding it in place.

Sam pauses, an odd look on her face as she draws back from the kiss.

Both Tereza and Will can feel the sensation of the flock brushing past.

Other than the "eep", Will's mind was pretty quiet -- though repeatedly quiet. Like repeating static or white noise, unless the ravens particularly honed in on the blanket in particular. The "speed" of the static had increased fairly dramatically, though, since Sam and Tereza had come over onto the bed. And underneath the static, if one cared to stop and listen, there was a faint sound of an old Irish song.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li...

Sam drawing back followed by the flock put a concerned look on Tereza's face. "Something wrong, Sam? I swear I'm really me."

"Quiet," Sam murmurs. "I need to hear."

The flock starts to crowd in, focusing on the immediate area.

Over in Killarney, many years ago
Me mother sang a song to me in tones so soft and low
Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way
And I'd give the world if I could hear that song of hers today

Yeah, definitely a soft and soothing song in a lilting Irish accent beneath the static, occasionally dipping down even further underneath.

The voice was not immediately familiar, though it may be intended to bring up memories of home -- or like a song stuck in the back of her head for some reason. Songs stuck in the back of your head don't come from your blanket, though.

"...where are you?" She furrows her brow and grits her teeth, the flock trying to push through the static.