xp_logs | Angelo and Monet

In which they have a random conversation in the kitchen, about trips to California, the pool party, Paige, and Jono.

Angelo was in the kitchen, making himself a late morning snack/early lunch. As he turned to the fridge in search of sandwich filling, he heard the door open and looked over his shoulder to see who it was.

Monet tripped in as only someone wearing designer sandals can manage, light of foot and lighter of mood. She was almost at the fridge when she looked up and realised that Angelo was in the way. "Good morning!" she carroled.

Angelo grinned, pulling out what he'd wanted and moving aside to let her at the fridge. "Mornin'."

Monet beamed. "My baby sisters and Mum and Dad are coming for a week. We're going to California!" She reached into the fridge for the milk, still frighteningly cheerful.

"Oh, that's nice", Angelo answered sincerely. "How long's it been since you saw them? I'm actually plannin' a trip to Cali myself, with Lorna an' Alex an' some others."

"Since Christmas," Monet smiled. "I probably won't be even remotely in the same parts of California as you, because Daddy has taste, but I hope you have a good time."

Angelo raised an eyebrow at the "taste" comment, but reminded himself that this was Monet. It was only to be expected, and that had almost been nice, from her. "Thanks. You too."

"I will," Monet poured the milk and went cookie hunting. She stopped, for a second, obviously thinking about something. "So," she added, "have you gotten your results back yet?"

Angelo paused in making his sandwich to answer. "Not yet, no. Or not for all of them, anyway. Guess they need another day or two for markin'. But the ones I have got, I didn't do too bad. You?"

"What I've gotten back, I aced," Monet said. She lifted herself up to sit on the counter. "I didn't really have anything to do except study." She had evidently dismissed natural disasters, demon invasions and shoot-outs as not being worthy distractions.

Angelo blinked at that implication, but let it pass, figuring most of what had happened recently hadn't directly involved Monet in any way. "Which ones have you gotten back, then?"

"Maths, Speech and World History," Monet said. "What about the party?" As always her change of directions were abrupt. "Are you going?"

Angelo grinned. "Yeah, wouldn't miss it. Guess you will be?"

"I guess so, I mean, why not?" Monet shrugged.

Angelo nodded. "Yeah, it should be fun. Be nice to wind down after finals."

"Plus, a party!" Monet added. "And the opportunity to see who really can't dance." She paused. "Aside from Doug."

Angelo laughed. "I think Angie might disagree with you there. But yeah, parties are always good."

Monet laughed. "What, did someone finally explain to the boy that dancing is a language? I can't wait to see him then." She tilted her head at him. suddenly curious. "So you, who're you gonna dance with?"

Angelo blinked at her in slight surprise. Could it really have escaped her attention completely? "Well. Paige, probably."

"Only Paige?" she asked. "Plus, y'know, that's boring."

"Well, she is my girlfriend", Angelo answered carefully. "But if anyone else asks, maybe. We'll see."

Monet shrugged. "Well, that's boring," she nibbled on a cookie. "Do you think anything interesting will happen between anyone?"

Angelo chuckled. "Couldn't say. It's always possible."

Monet jumped off the counter. "You don't even gossip good," she sighed. "See, when I thought you and Jono and Paige were a threesome, at least that was interesting." She put her dishes in the dishwasher. "That leaves me to get vicarious kink gossip from Amanda and Manuel."

Angelo stared at her. "Why do people keep thinkin' that? Well, apart from the thing with the telepathic sharin', but, still... Sorry we're so borin'."

Monet shrugged. "You guys have a vibe. Maybe you're just really really good friends."

Angelo raised an eyebrow. "Not that close, really. But whatever you say."

Monet shrugged again. "Your life." She headed towards the door.

Angelo watched her leave, shaking his head in bemusement. "She's... odd", he noted to himself, before turning back to his sandwich.