necroslacker | room 216 ; thursday afternoon

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room 216 ; thursday afternoon

The constant rain made skateboarding hard. Sam had tried earlier this morning and had just gotten soaked and nearly killed for his troubles. Nearly skating into one of those...robot things wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done. The cyborgs had just registered as a hollow outline in his head, proving that there wasn't life, not even undead, in them.

It hadn't taken him long to pick up his board and beat feet back to the dorms. His soaked clothes had been wrung out as much as possible and then dropped into his hamper. Laundry would have to happen soon. For now, he'd found a worn pair of shorts and a t-shirt which meant he could put the laundry thing off for another day or two.

There was a record spinning on his turntable but he'd turned it low even if The Clash was really meant to be blasted.

Sam was just moving to sit down on his bed when Ashley suddenly appeared, Blackberry in hand. She went to say something but stopped while she listened. The face she made wasn't a good one, Sam could tell.

"They were overrated," Ashley decided with a frown. "Overrated and loud."

"I like them," Sam said lamely.

"Yeah, and you also like lettuce wraps," Ashley pointed out in a tone that clearly said he was crazy for that. "You're not the best judge of things."

Sam groaned and shook his head. "Something I can do for you, Ashley?"

"Been practicing?" Ashley asked, raising an eyebrow. Sam figured she already knew the answer.

"It's not like I can just draw a circle in my room here and raise the dead," Sam pointed out. So, that was a no.

"Sam." Ashley glared at him. "You're never going to be able to deal with all this power if you don't practice. God, I'm not saying raise zombies everyday but if the dead, they're gonna get kind of wary of you if you don't know what you're doing."

"I know." And he did. That was why he wasn't looking at Ashley. "I'll work on it."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Ashley said. "Remember, the Council's meeting in about a week. You're expected there."

"Yeah." Sam scratched his cheek. "I'll be there."

"Good." Ashley said crisply. Again, it looked like she might say something but then she just blinked out and Sam was left sitting on his bed and frowning at the floor.

[Door & post are open! Cut for length because I got wordy. Remember, if you're a regular human, you're not going to see Ashley unless you get close enough to Sam. So, squirrels, it's like he's just talking to the air.]

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"Nah, he just has a tendency to do stupid shit if people tell him to. He's probably fine then." Probably. Because that might not stop anyone for doing something weird. "We're from the same town."

"You're Stan." Sam remembered Butters mentioning Stan's name during some of the...really weird (and from him, that was saying something) stories about Butters had.

"Which means you know the hated Cartman guy too," Sam deduced. "He that much of an ass or is Butters just exaggerating to get my sympathy?"

He didn't think anyone could exaggerate those stories but, well, he was a smartass sometimes.

"One time, he tried to exterminate the Jews by using that Passion movie."

That might answer the question.

"He's a fat fuck that people only put up with because they have to."

Stan didn't mince any words at all, did he? Sam wasn't even going to touch that whole Jewish thing because he didn't know enough about religion or that movie to know if that was even freaking possible.

"So, why do you all have to put up with him?" Sam asked. He'd been meaning to ask Butters the same question. "Is your hometown full of masochists?"

Stan just sighed. "You have no idea, brother."

"At least he's not here?" Sam offered optimistically. "You guys didn't tell him where you were going, did you? I'm not gonna find this guy knocking on my door, asking where Butters is tomorrow, right?"

"If he does, just ignore him. We made him think he was dead once by doing that." A beat. "Though, we only found that out afterwards."

...right. Sam was just really gonna wonder about Stan and Butters' hometown and how people were even still alive there.

"How are the two of you not seriously bored here?" As far as Sam knew, there was no one here that would believe they were dead if they were ignored or no one who was that big a jackass.

He hadn't met everyone though.

"Its not that bad." Yes it was. "I mean,we're next to some weird future Japan right now. That's way weirder."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I was inches away from extermination earlier today," Sam said and rubbed his neck, thankful to even still have it.

"You guys gone out and explored?" Sam asked after he got over the subject of his near death experience. "Seems like the rain would make that uncomfortable."

"So you wear a hat or something." There was an unsaid but clear addition of 'you pussy' in his tone. "We were thinking about going sometime soon. If you want to come too. That Jim kid is coming along."

And they would have a goddamn adventure whether they liked it or not.

Sam knew he couldn't use his powers to raise the dead and have them go after Stan but something told him he'd be tempted. Besides, he had to wonder if, after some of Butters' stories, that hadn't already happened somewhere for them.

"I don't know Jim." He made friends slowly. "You guys got a specific destination in mind or just going in to see what's around?"

UNDEAD ATTACKING? WELL. AT LEAST THEY'RE NOT HOMELESS.

"See what looks cool pretty much," Stan replied. "Try to keep Butters from making any robot friends, though. It's... a long story. Needless to say, it involves Cartman."

"How is Butters even alive?" Sam felt the need to ask because seriously. Sam was beginning to wonder if Butters was superhuman.

"...I honestly don't know," Stan admitted.

"Resilient kid," Sam decided, shrugging. "When are you guys looking to go into the city?"

"I'm not sure yet. Maybe this weekend?"

"I've got no plans so I should be around," Sam decided. If he was with people, maybe it'd be less likely that a cyborg would try and kill him.

"Is Butters gonna dress up like an animal?" Sam asked after a pause.

"Probably not."

Sam nodded because, well, what else was there to say in response to that?

"I'll be sure to find a hat," Sam said dryly, giving Stan a look for that one. "Maybe a fedora or a beret."

Yeah, no.

"...only if you want people to mistake you for a gay Frenchman." Do you want that, Sam? Do you? Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Sam rolled his eyes and said, "You're the one that knows the question. Guess that means you've asked it before, haven't you?"

"We had a French kid in school." He was British, Stan. British.

"And he was the one you asked that question to?" Sam asked, pretty sure that's not what Stan was going for.

"If we had to, yeah." Translation: ALL THE TIME.

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