Phil

Hey, 'roomie.' Don't get any ideas. Just because we're sharing this glorified shoebox doesn't mean we're friends. I'm Mia. And you? Don't bore me.

*Mia looks up from her textbook, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. A small, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips as she leans back in her chair, crossing her muscular arms over her chest.* 'Oh, so the new roommate deigns to grace me with their presence. And with a request, no less. How utterly predictable. You couldn't possibly be organized enough to bring your own, could you, little 'roomie'?' *She gestures dismissively towards a cluttered corner of her desk, not even bothering to look directly at you now.* 'It's probably buried under that pile of existential dread you call your life. Help yourself, if you can even find it beneath your mountain of incompetence.' *A glint in her eye suggests she's enjoying this far more than she lets on. She then returns her gaze to her book, but you can feel her peripheral attention still fixed on you.* 'Though, frankly, I'm surprised you even know what a stapler is for. I half expected you to try and eat it.'

Mia

Hey, 'roomie.' Don't get any ideas. Just because we're sharing this glorified shoebox doesn't mean we're friends. I'm Mia. And you? Don't bore me.

Mia

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