Roleplay: A Crossing of Imaginary Realities
(Kyle Aubray and Patrick V. Hearst are played by Elizabeth. For more about her characters and the goings-on at AU, check out this or this)
Saturday, 16 March 2002. Hartsfield, Vermont. Kyle Aubray, having registered in the lobby of the Tennyson Hotel for the East Coast Leadership Conference (otherwise known as the ECLC), takes the elevator to the sixth floor to drop off his luggage and check out his room before the conference officially starts. He goes into Rm. 612, a suite with two bedrooms joined by a living room. "Hullo?" he calls out, dumping his suitcase and coat on the floor for the time being. "Anybody here?"
Ron Corwell, having arrived a few minutes before, is in one of the bedrooms, going through his suitcase, though he's not exactly unpacking. Chances are, he's looking for something that he forgot back at NYU. As Kyle comes in, he pokes his head out the doorway into the living room. "Yeah?"
Kyle grins amiably. "I take it you're one of my roommates." He crosses the room and holds out his hand. "Kyle Aubray. From Atlantic."
Ron grins back and shakes his hand. "Ron Corwell. NYU. Our other roommate hasn't gotten here yet, so make yourself at home."
Kyle retrieves his stuff, hauls it into the bedroom that Ron has occupied, and begins to unpack. "You don't sound like a Noo Yawhrker," he observes cheerfully as he hangs up a suit. "Where are you from?"
Ron chuckles. "Nah, I'm from California. Malibu, actually. So when people say they're speaking english, they generally are." He grins.
Kyle laughs. "Ah, yes. You're from one of those places where people talk, not twolk. What made you decide on NYU?...And I bet you get asked that a lot, don't you?"
"Actually, yeah. Except people back home generally add, 'Are you crazy?' to that." Ron shrugs. "I started out going to Pepperdine, actually, but going to college in the same city your parents live in is not the most fun thing in the world. So I went for the other extreme."
"Sounds familiar. My parents both work at my hometown's university, so it was pretty much ruled out." Kyle zips up his empty suitcase and shoves it under the bed, then sits on it and absently flips on the TV to ESPN. "Do any extracurriculars at NYU?"
Ron leans against the wall. "Where are you from originally, then?" In response to his question, he shakes his head. "New York's interesting enough on its own, really. You?"
"Pocatello, Idaho," Kyle replies, scowling briefly at the NCAA basketball tournament scores; it would figure Sheridan would be knocked out in the first round by a fourteen seed. His smile quickly returns, however, and he says to Ron: "Oh, a little of everything." He nods toward the TV. "You a sports fan?"
Ron nods. "Yeah, some. Enough so that it's annoying being the only UCLA fan in at least a thousand mile radius." He grins. It obviously doesn't bother him that much, but he likes to joke about it nonetheless.
Kyle smiles wryly. And here he had just been saying to Meredith that he didn't want UCLA to win again...."Well, no need to ask who you're rooting for in the tournament," he observes. "What's your favorite?"
Ron laughs despite himself. "Oh, come on. I haven't been living here quite long enough to give up old loyalties." He thinks for a moment. "Probably basketball. But I'm not real picky."
Kyle opens his mouth to inquire about Ron's Final Four picks, but he is cut off by the sound of the hotel room door opening and closing. He gets up off the bed and walks into the living room, where a tall, slender dark-haired boy, about twenty or twenty-one, is standing, surveying the surroundings with a disgruntled expression. Before even saying hello, the newcomer states, "My God, this place is positively primitive." He glances at Kyle. "You would think they would hold a conference this large in a place with a hint of sophistication."
Ron follows Kyle and raises an eyebrow slightly at the newcomers comment. Casting a glance a Kyle, he says quietly, but probably loud enough for their third roommate to hear, "And nice to meet you too."
Kyle smirks at Ron's remark, but says to their roommate amicably enough: "They always hold this at hotels associated with a university, and Hartsfield has one of the best hotel schools in the country, so I imagine the service here will be good. And somehow, I doubt the organizers can afford to put us all up at the Waldorf."
The newcomer looks disdainfully from Ron to Kyle, shrugs slightly, and mutters superciliously: "I suppose." Then, in a belated response to Ron's comment, he introduces himself haughtily: "Patrick V. Hearst. Harvard." He places a lot of proud emphasis on his school's name.
Ron doesn't move from the doorway of the bedroom. "Ron Corwell. NYU." After a moment he add, in a tone that is at least trying to be friendly, "Don't worry, I think you'll survive."
Patrick fixes him with an exasperated glare. "Of course I'll survive," he sniffs. "But I didn't expect to be...roughing it at what is supposed to be the most prominent leadership conference in the nation." His icy gray eyes flicker toward Kyle. "What about you?"
"Kyle Aubray. Atlantic." Kyle's tone is still polite, but the warmth is rapidly fading.
"Oh," responds Patrick, unimpressed. "Atlantic and NYU were both safety schools for me."
Ron's eyebrow goes up again. "Good for you. But last I checked we weren't here to rate colleges."
Kyle respects Ron's neutral remark, but he can't resist saying: "Atlantic was your safety school, huh? That's ironic, because Harvard was mine."
Patrick's eyes narrow. "How do you mean?" he asks reproachfully.
Kyle smiles and shrugs. "Well, I knew if I couldn't play football anywhere else, I could there."
Ron grins and adds, "Besides, everyone knows that once you get into Harvard it's a piece of cake." Hey, Kyle started it.
Kyle chuckles inwardly. "Yeah - what is it, 92% of Harvard students graduate with honors? Hey, y'know, that reminds me. I've always been curious to know just what you have to do to not graduate with honors there."
Patrick scowls furiously and snaps, "You're only saying that because you couldn't get in if you tried." He turns on his heel and strides into the opposite bedroom, slamming the door shut.
"Nice fellow," Kyle observes ironically.
Ron shakes his head slightly. "Mmm. Hopefully we'll be lucky and see him as little as possible." A moment later, though, he grins and his tone changes. "And you didn't tell me that you were that Kyle Aubray, by the way."
"Nothing like a little false humility," Kyle says cheerfully. "As for Einstein in there, no doubt he'll want to avoid us petit bourgeois as much as possible." He glances at his watch. "First meeting in ten minutes. I'm meeting the other AU delegates in the lobby. Wanna sit with us?"
"Better for all of us," Ron notes wryly, then nods. "Sure." They head out.