Okay, I'll start)
Lucas walks into the dorm, setting his guitar case on an empty bed and then his bag, looking around, he wondered who his dorm mate would be, if he would like them. Hopefully, he did, because he was stuck with them. He sits down, laying back and closing his eyes, humming to himself.
Tristan was out on his morning run, like usual, his sense finely tuned to walls and people to avoid running into them, since he couldn't see them.
He finishes up his run and walks back into the dorm, not noticing that there was someone in the dorm with him. He was, after all, blind.
So when he runs into a living person, he instinctively steps back and starts to apologize.
"I'm so sorry!" he exclaims.
Lucas huffs, "Watch where you're going." He grunts, moving away. Without a second thought, he kept speaking, "What, are you blind? Most people would notice someone standing in the middle of a room."
He rolls his eyes, turning to the bed and opening his case quietly.
"Yes, I am blind." Tristan says shortly, no longer sounding apologetic at all. "Do you have an issue with that?"
Lucas turns, quiet for a moment, holding his guitar in his hand, "Oh- no, not really, just make sure you're careful until you get used to where my things are. I don't want my stuff broken. It's all too expensive for me to just buy a replacement."
Tristan sighs.
"Look, I'll be perfectly honest with you, I may be blind but all my other senses work just fine. Better, actually, that yours." he replies, walking over to one side of the room that already had cases and baggage. He literally avoided everything perfectly fine, like he did have sight.
Lucas rolls his eyes, “Never said that. I know most blind people keep things in specific spots and/or memorize where they put stuff. I’m not an idiot. I was literally just asking or telling you to be careful.”
He sits down on the bed he had claimed, fingering the stings on his guitar quietly.
Gtg, be back in an hour and a half
"I don't have the greatest memory. I literally rely on instinct and my sense of touch and hearing." Tristan snorts. "As for telling me to be careful there's no need."
He grabs a new shirt and some basketball shorts from one of his cases and maneuvers his way to the bathroom, kicking the door shut. Shortly after, the sound of the shower could be heard.
Gtg, be back in an hour and a half
Alrighty see ya!
Lucas rolls his eyes, “Whatever. . .” He mumbles, absently plucking the strings. He debated playing a whole song, but decided against it for now. Instead, he’d spend his time finishing the song he was writing.
I’m back)
After about 20 minutes, Tristan comes out of the bathroom, bare-chested, towelling off his hair. He was in the basketball short's he'd just chosen; they were very short on him.
"Sorry for being rude earlier - just not a big fan of people who make comments like that without thinking." he says.
Lucas looks over at him, silent for a moment, “Well, you should get used to it. I alway speak without thinking.” He looks away, back to his sheet of paper.
Tristan raises an eyebrow.
"Wow. You really do, don't you?" he snorts. He was a bit annoyed now.
Lucas sigh looking up, “Look, I won’t be sorry for my personality, but please, just try to get used to it. I don’t want us to hate each other and be miserable, because whether we like it or not, we’re stuck together.”
He grabs his guitar, leaning back, and playing a cord, wincing when it sounded completly wrong. The springs were out of tune due to the long flight.
(Ok, where are they, cause Luc’s from London-)
"Look, all I'm saying is, be careful with what you say. I may be nice and forgiving, but you make too many careless comments and I'll pop you in the mouth. Sorry. Not sorry. I can't stand thoughtless people. They irritate me greatly." Tristan sighs.
(I was thinking they might be going to college somewhere in Europe; maybe Germany or Portugal? Or they could be in the U.K.-)
(Hmm. . . how about Ireland?)
(That works!)
Lucas’s gaze snaps back up, tuning his guitar as he growls, “Look. I’m not thoughtless, I just have a habit to say the first thing on my mind. And don’t you ever lay your hands on me like that.”
(Ok!)
"'It's just my personality.'" Tristan says back. "As for being thoughtless, saying the first thing that comes to mind definitely qualifies as 'thoughtless.' After all, if you put in no thought beyond your first reaction, how can you say that you think?"
Lucas huffs, “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say its the first thing on my mind, but close enough to it. And I do think. I just say what I think. And I think threatening someone is worse than asking if you were blind.” Lucas smirk, looking back to his instrument, “Anyways, I honestly don’t care if you pop me in the mouth, as long as you don’t touch my stuff, we’re fine.”
He finishes tuning the guitar and strummed the cord, grinning when it was perfectly tuned. He looks to the song on his paper, thinking for a moment before making a few notations and absently plucking at the strings.
Tristan sighs. "Then think more carefully. And as for threats, a poorly stated sentence can be just as bad as a threat. Besides, you didn't ask. You simply made an offhand statement and expected me to say 'no.' On top of all that, I have nothing against your 'stuff,' as you put it. I have something against you right now because you keep saying things that make very little sense to me."
He simply stops talking after his little rant, pulling on his shirt, sliding on some sandals and grabbing his keys before stepping out.
Lucas frowns, humming to himself, and then sighs, mulling that over, “I never expected you to say no. . .” He mutters.
(What time do we think it is?)