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... Okay, so she was feeling guilty. Only a little guilty, because she was pretty sure that she had been at least slightly in the right in what she had said to Khalla. Certainly, Amaravati couldn't just out and out tell her roommate that she was in the Negaverse. General-King Charonite frowned on that kind of thing, and when he frowned, he frowned something fierce. It was the sort of frowning that could land someone in the hospital, if they weren't careful. So, she was right about not telling Khalla. Where she figured that she had gone wrong was in her delivery. Sure, she'd been upset that her roommate hadn't seemed to have time for her except to ask her uncomfortable questions. But where exactly had she earned the right to be so cruel in return?

No, Amara was in the doghouse, and knew it... which is why she had a tin of fresh cupcakes and a note for her friend. If, that was, Khalla still considered her a friend, anyway. She hoped that she did, she really did, but there was no way of knowing until she asked. Or, in this case, until she left her goodies and a note of apology. Khalla really ought to feel special, because nobody (and she did mean nobody) got apologies from her normally. Nobody but her parents and certain other authority figures. Well, maybe Sue would, but she wouldn't have written him a note. Boys didn't work like that. Anxiously, she crept into their room, and set the cupcakes down on Khalla's desk, tucking the note beneath their container.

"Um," said Amara, very articulately. She paused, and glanced at the cupcakes, looking ever so slightly flustered at being put on the spot about them. "Yes." Right, so, it was time to retreat. Amaravati went over to her own desk, and opened her laptop, setting her notes for the essay that she had to write beside her in their little holder. She'd put it off all weekend, and now she had to bang it out. Of course, that had never been too difficult for her, really. Going away and actually doing things made it easier for her to think.

When the computer booted up, she opened up the word document she'd saved on Thursday night, her fingers moving over the keys with an awkward sort of pecking-- Amaravati had never formally learned how to type, and she didn't much care for the idea of doing so now. Homework was dreadfully dull, but it was much, much better than watching Khalla read the note that she'd left her. Oh dear. This being friends business was very complicated, and involved a lot of mistake making.

In a way, it would be much simpler to have no friends at all, but it might be kind of awkward to be on bad terms with her roommate anyway. Ah well. The cupcakes she had made that morning were from the recipe she'd looked up with Khalla's help, as a silent and subtle apology about the parting remark she'd made on her way out the door. She had no idea of how to gauge what her friend might have thought of it, but in the day or so between then and now, she had determined that she had crossed a line. Normally, she was sort of habitually brusque, but that had been downright mean. ... Mean was not what she used with her (admittedly few) friends.

Being at home hadn't been nearly as relaxing as she had hoped it would be, but it had allowed her to spend most of the weekend baking up a storm. She'd done her forays into the city to search out starseeds, yes, but she had also kept herself very busy in the kitchen. Her mother hadn't much approved of her decision to spend that time cooking, though she probably would not have minded, if only Amaravati had asked her for help. Assuming, of course, that the help was with a traditional Indian dish. Her mother was stubborn that way. With a barely audible sigh, she forced herself to focus on the %#$* essay, and to stop frittering her time away with such thoughts.

"... I kind of did have to do it," Amaravati replied, staring blankly at the laptop screen. Why exactly she had to do it was, well, something of a mystery. "Look, I don't know. I just remembered what I said." And, given that she'd made a quip about the rainbow cupcakes, it had seemed like a good idea to make them, and show that she hadn't meant it. That parting shot had been particularly harsh, and... someone as gentle as Khalla probably didn't understand that sort of thing.

It was really, really weird having a conversation like this with her roommate. But then suddenly Khalla was offering to help her with her homework, and she couldn't quite turn her down. "Would you? Help me, I mean? I don't usually have a lot of trouble with essays, but the thing is, I don't quite understand this concept here," she said, pointing to a section in the book. "U.S. History has never been my strong point. I learned it from a different perspective, and they don't mesh."

From a British perspective, the 'big' American revolutionary battles weren't big at all. They were a minor footnote in a much larger war. "See, the way I learned it, the war was mostly between France and Britain." Though, yes, America definitely had been a part of it. Biting her lip, she tried to sort things out. "Why did they decide... err, maybe it's best if you read this portion here." Shaking her head, Amara flipped a pen over and over in her hand.

Glancing up, she realized that Khalla had apologized back. "Hey, don't worry about it. You've got nothing to apologize for." After all, how could she really hold it against her roommate that she had wanted her attention and it hadn't been handed to her on a silver platter? As spoiled as she was, she was used to getting what she wanted, and sometimes that meant pushing people around. At the end of the day, though, that was pretty %$*#^@ behavior, and she felt a twinge of guilt even thinking about it now.

"... I thought I had gotten all the materials I missed from that day," Amaravati said, glancing over the paper. "Yes, this is precisely what I needed. Thank you." It was strange that with this quiet, subdued mood not a swear word passed her lips. It was very strange, but she was becoming accustomed to it. Glancing up from the sheet of paper, she met Khalla's eyes, holding them there. "I don't suppose you would want to do something one of these days? Something that doesn't involve studying, or sneaking around?" Which they had both done a lot of, of late.

Amara was trying not to think very hard about why the ever studious Khalla was sneaking around, as picturing her up to some sort of elicit behavior was truly mind bending. Not in a good way, either. Khalla was Khalla, and that meant that she was, essentially, a goody-twoshoes. Perhaps the local homeless shelter needed volunteers to stay late. That seemed like her friend's style, really.

Friend. Why she insisted on calling Khalla a friend, Amara didn't know. But... perhaps friendship was truly beginning to exist where there had mostly been enforced camaraderie. Her thoughts had begun to wander again when tiny, sharp claws pricked her skin. "Ow! %$#$it, Classy! Why'd you have to go and do a thing like that for?" Glaring down at the kitten who was purring up a storm, she sighed, and picked her up. "What is it now?"

Classy had been perfectly fine for the day or so that she had been left alone-- Amara had been sure to leave enough food out for the little cat, and while Sue might've been inclined to scold her for leaving Classy unattended, Amara felt no guilt for it. "I have already fed you, cat. Pest." Scratching her Egyptian Mau under the chin, the girl shook her head. "You are absolutely impossible, you know." Absolutely $%#$ing impossible. There were very few redeeming qualities there, weren't there? Except... Classy tended to sleep with her in her bed, and all right, that was kind of cute.

Giving a little harrumph, Amaravati glared down at the cat who was occupied with purring her heart out. "She might not be so bad to you, but I assure you, I do not enjoy being clawed." Little %*#@ing minx! Classy could be just awful, and what was worse was that she tended to turn around and play sweet, innocent kitty for Khalla. It was almost as if the cat knew that her name was being besmirched. Wicked little creature! Amara knew better, of course, and she would never fall for Classy's stunts.

Naturally, it was at the time that Amara had firmly made that decision that Classy began to lick her, purring up a storm. "Oh all right, you rotten thing. I do love you." Frowning at the kitten, she petted her, and the purring just got louder. With a noise of disgust, Amaravati transferred the cat to Khalla. "Here, you hold onto her. I've got to at least try to get this essay written. I've managed a good share of the research paper--" And she still unhappy about having had to do that,"-- so I'd better get this done."

As soon as possible. "Thanks again, though. Maybe we can do some of that volunteer stuff you like so much sometime." The offer was somewhat grudging, as the girl herself had very little interest whatsoever in volunteer work. Still, it had to look good on her resume and her transcript, right? Or whatever it was. College aps? She had already chosen a college, though, so resume it was. Maybe if she made a habit of volunteering (and she cringed a little at the thought), she would be able to spend more quality time with her roommate, who seemed to think that a day was not well spent if it did not involve some act of charity.

Typical Khalla. "And maybe, just maybe you'll consider doing something else for a change." Crazy thought, that. It wasn't that she thought Khalla's hobbies were boring, exactly. It was more that the idea of wearing a hairnet in a soup kitchen was hugely unappealing. The handing out of soup she might've stood for, but really? A hairnet?

Cat dealt with, Amara was free to focus on important things, like the essay that was waiting to be written. She stared at the computer screen for a moment longer, before typing out the url into her browser, and hitting enter. The website, from the looks of it, was bound to be much more informative than the stupid bloody book had been. It had left her guessing, left her in the dark, and she hated that $#@#ing feeling. "Right. So, I'm going to work on my essay. Why don't you let me know when you're free next, hmmn? We can make plans."

Not right now, though. Right now, Amaravati was rather busy sorting out what she needed from the information she was being provided. Her hands moved over the keys with that awkward gait of before, pecking at the keyboard. It might well take her a long time to write the essay when it came down to it, but at least it would be written. Absently, she typed up notes from the website, notes which she would expand on when she actually began to write the paper.

"Kay, you should eat your cupcakes before they get cold," she told her roommate, too wrapped up in what she was doing to pay close attention. "Or one of them at least." Classy would probably like part of a cupcake. The spoiled little creature was too manipulative by far. It apparently had never occurred to Classy that cupcakes and other bread-like products were not designed for mischievous little kittens. Shooting a glare in said cat's direction, Amaravati turned back to her work, quickly becoming absorbed in it once more.