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even looking at him with pleading eyes, as if they’re necessary, eventually gives way to something more akin to fondness, which the spy part of her brain tells her is less effective for convincing. but soren isn’t a particularly challenging person to sway, which is why she does make an effort not to drag him into anything she doesn’t think he’d enjoy. “oh, thank you,” the reply is immediate, followed by a few swipes at his shins with her hands. ingrid smiles when he does, as if the expression was her idea all along. “that’s very reassuring. and good to know.” she taps her head as if she’s filing this knowledge away for later. “and also! you have to admit, it sounds fun.” ingrid is the type of person who has gotten what she’s wanted for the entirety of her life. while her parents have always held her and her brother to high standards, granted they maintained good grades and stayed out of trouble, they were rewarded accordingly. but when it comes to soren, ingrid doesn’t care about just getting her way. she wants him to go along with her because, well, he wants to go along with her. especially the her part, that there isn’t someone else he’d rather be spending his time with. “you know in halloweentown 2 where all the lost stuff people are missing ends up in that guy’s lair? that’s what i’ve always thought.” it seems unfair, that something might not actually be lost but then it’s whooshed away like that. she takes his hand and hefts herself up, making sure to grab her board with her free hand at the same time. ingrid doesn’t let him go, instead using her hand in his to tug him out into the dormitory hallway. “how about you hold my hand,” she swings their hands for emphasis, demonstrating that they have already achieved step one, “and i stand on the board so you help me roll? then we can switch off! and we try not to have any near death experiences while we do it.”

he exhales a breath, betraying his slight exasperation, “yes, hello.” of course, grayson is not surprised by her rather forceful hug, but he’s still a second late on reciprocating. and for all he knows, there’s a very bored dc pap tailing him and some national inquirer-esque outlet is about to report that he’s cheating on the first daughter with a mysterious blonde woman. “those are not part of the tour,” he states, pausing before adding, “partially because they don’t exist.” they do, but they’re for things like bomb shelters and evading terrorist attacks...not exactly fun. “then i’m afraid to report you’ll be seeing all of those things again.” grayson fidgets nervously, still unaccustomed to being out in public without any weapons on him, but if there’s one thing he’s going to do, it’s follow white house rules to the letter. although the president knows the nature of grayson’s profession, that doesn’t extend to the rest of his staff. “so, which is it today? public or self-guided tour?” he has a feeling he already knows the answer.

post-grad life was a lot like jas thought it would be, but also completely unexpected. there was a difference between learning about what it would be like in the field and actually living it -- especially considering so much of her training revolved around more physical aspects of being an fbi agent, which didn’t pertain to her current job. she was excited when yara reached out to grab lunch, partly to catch up, of course, but also because yara actually was doing those things and jas unabashedly wanted to hear all about it. “hey!” she greeted when she got to the restaurant, pulling yara into a quick hug. “i hope you weren’t waiting long, i got caught up at home.” it was so important she finish her episode of claim to fame before leaving the apartment. “how are you, how’s life?!”

he moves closer and she instinctively reaches out to lightly grab at his legs, hands landing loosely at his shins. ingrid paws at them excitedly, as if she’s done some expert convincing, as if soren is a very hard person to convince to spend time with her. “let’s get some fresh water in those eyes!” ingrid doesn’t keep track of the humidity, but she assumes there’s moisture in the air outside, and somehow he’ll know what she’d meant by her odd comment. her fingers clench, grabbing hold of his pants more than his actual skin, inflicting minimal unintentional harm when she exclaims, “please! it’s not just okay, i’m practically begging.” for good measure, she offers him her best rendition of pleading eyes. “well, my dear soren, looks can be deceiving...by which i mean, the one time i did give it a go, i ended up skating over a stray sock and i almost broke my face.” dramatic, of course, but she did get a bruise, and is that not punishment enough for her hubris?! “but enough about my near death experiences! we only have, like, one more hour of sunlight left.” ingrid reached out to grab his hand and tugged as if she was going to roll him and his chair right out of the dorm.

as fluidly as one can possibly do such a thing, she crouches down, moving her skateboard at the same time, until she manages to sit almost right in the middle of the board. she wheels herself closer to soren, so now they’re both sitting on something that moves. ingrid leans her elbows against her knees, then rests her chin in her hands. “sometimes all it takes is coming back to it later with fresh eyes,” she suggests, in the least subtle way possible. it’s pretty good advice, actually, she thinks, but she’s greedy for his full attention and that means he’ll have to take a break from his game. “yeeees, but then i was thinking...it’s selfish to keep all the skateboarding fun to myself. i should invite soren.” she didn’t forget her helmet, but it’s sitting inconspicuously just outside his dorm, because she couldn’t think of a sneaky way to hold both her board and the helmet. hopefully nobody trips over it in the hallway.

ingrid happily complies and hands a packages of choco pies to ting, then grabs another for herself and immediately rips it open. it’s her pre-meal snack, because ingrid is usually hungry, but they absolutely must do some catching up in the comfort and privacy of her hotel room before venturing out into the streets of paris for some “real” food. “weird, because it feels like it,” she comments, eyes widening slightly for dramatic effect. “nice, are we gonna move to paris? my french is pretty bad but i guess i’ll work on it next semester.” soren knows french, so there’s at least one person who can help her! he’d probably just redirect her to jas, though. “a french friend?”

they’ve only been dating for a few months, but it feels longer. not because being around aylin makes the minutes stretch on, it’s larger than that, something he can’t quite put into words. since he can’t explain it, he thinks it must be something new, like love. he’s never been in love before and when he looks at aylin, he can’t find anything not to love. he runs his thumb along the knuckles of her much smaller hand in his and tugs her closer as they walk. “do you have anywhere you have to be?” august knows aylin has a busy social and academic life, so he never assumes he’s at the top of her priorities as the boyfriend. “we can go to mine, my mum’s not home.” he has yet to introduce aylin to his mother, not on purpose, it sort of just always works out that way. plus, he’s never had a proper girlfriend before, and for some reason the idea of his mother meeting aylin makes him feel nervous.

his eyes widen slightly before he composes himself. it’s embarrassing to be, inadvertently, indirectly, cursing the person he was standing directly in front of. haneul hadn’t even had time to consider that the table was vacant because the occupant was getting her drink, just as he was. “oh, um, thanks.” it seems more rude, at this point, to reject the offer. plus, this is new york city, after all. there are no other options if he wants to sit down and wandering the streets aimlessly with a coffee in his hand is never his first choice. after a beat, he remembers her request, then hurries over to the table. “right, so...” haneul awkwardly pulls one of the chairs out with a loud screech, then hurriedly flips it around and sits on it backwards as she wheels into her spot. he’d sat down to look less awkward but this is...more. he puts his coffee on the table and attempts to casually cross his arms across the back of the chair but they slip off. “i’m, uh, tired. it’s early.”

grayson stands outside the imposing building with his coat collar pulled up, partially to keep warm, but partially to obscure his face. he’s far from being anyone of note, but his face is somewhat known, at least to those who work within the white house and being there without ruby feels extremely odd. embarrassing, frankly. when allie arrives, he frowns at her. “surely you’ve taken a white house tour already. you’ve lived here far longer than i have.” because, well, technically grayson lives in maryland. despite this fact, allie is essentially his only friend in the immediate area, and he’s more willing to do whatever she wishes when they see each other than he seems at the moment.

she’s already dropped her things off at the hotel and gets to the cafe early. tilly had tried to find a place to stay that would be convenient for stella, but she didn’t want to come across as clingy or act as a burden, even if she’s technically only in italy because of stella in the first place. when her friend arrives, tilly stands to greet her with a smile. “hi,” she says, feeling silly, even though it’s the right thing to say. after that, many next lines battle for dominance in her mind, and what ends up winning is, “you look so nice.” once she sits down, she places her hands nervously in her lap. “thank you for inviting me. i’ve only visited italy a few times, even though switzerland is so close by.”

“do i have to graduate to work at r-tech?” she asks, at the same time spooning a huge scoop of watermellon jello out of the bunny shaped container she’d made it in, which she then spills back into the tin just to watch it jiggle around. “hypothet--actually, no, do i? because i think i’ll be pretty much done here after third year and i can do an internship or something instead for the last year. and jobs are always asking you to have hands on experience instead of school, right?”

her politeness only extends as far as knocking on the dormitory door -- she pushes it open with her one free hand before he properly invites her in. behind her back she not-so-subtly hides her skateboard, her 5′4ft frame offering inadequate cover. thankfully, soren is doing just the thing she thought he’d be doing, so his attentions are elsewhere. “are you almost done with your match?” ingrid asks, peering over his shoulder at the game he’s playing. she knows better than to launch into a full conversation with someone mid-game, primarily because she’s never paying attention when someone tries to talk to her when she’s playing something.