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Upon receiving the small stack of books, Peyton had been given strict instructions to donate them to Kostya's little collection upon completion. So, having finished the second book in the His Dark Material's series, she was on her way down the basement to drop it off. She wasn't exactly sure what room Kostya was in, but from what she'd heard there was a paper pinned to the wall. Something to indicate there were books for borrow, and a means to sign them out. She'd find it. Probably.

It wasn't until she'd stepped off the stairs and into the hall that she remembered the basement had flooded and the occupants might not even be down here anymore. "s**t." Well, she was already down here, didn't hurt to check. If he it didn't look like he'd returned to his room yet she could always drop him a message on twitter.

Pale eyes scanned the walls to either side as she walked, looking for anything that'd point her in the direction of a makeshift library.

The sound of boots was loud on the steps. Rapid smacks that were getting progressively closer. Maybe she'd get lucky, and the person coming down would be the one she was looking for. Or, if not, someone that could point her in the right direction. There weren't that many folks living down here, were there? Honestly she didn't know, it was still something of a shock that anyone would choose the basement over the rooms up a level.

She turned as the foot falls' volume indicated the source was stepping off the stairs and into the hallway, and barely had time to register that it was not in fact the Russian when the body in question smacked right into her with enough force to lay her out on her a**, book sliding across the floor and into the far wall.

There was an apology on the tip of her tongue all ready to fire off, but she bit it back at the tone, pale eyes narrowing at being called a b***h, blame thrust upon her for something that wasn't even her fault. "I think that should be my line." Her lips curled, head snapping up, ready to lay into him with a verbal assault, but she fell quiet as she realized she didn't have a damn clue who she was looking up at. Someone new, she assumed, and that cut them a tiny tiny sliver of slack.

With a huff she used the wall to get back to her feet, then crossed the hall to grab her book before turning back to face the new guy. The really short new guy.. Memory triggered, twitter message flashing through her mind, the corner of her lips twitched up in a cool little smile. "So you're who Taym was talking about.

Was it bravado, or was he really just that ******** unpleasant? The more he talked, the more she was leaning towards the latter, but this at this point she was used to unpleasantly abrasive, belligerent assholes. it stole away a lot of the bite, and Peyton was left smiling rather benignly up at the newbie. She wasn't going to rise to any baiting, if it was indeed baiting, and if it wasn't what was the point in getting upset?

No point.

<My, aren't we maturing.>

Shut the ******** up.

Warrick snickered, curling through her mind amused and content.

Taym being referred to as a 'tweaker' had breath leaving in an amused rush, and that mild smile only grew wider. "Oh, you know, this and that." She considered not telling him, letting him wonder, but she wasn't that manipulative. "Said you were my height, but clearly he was wrong." Gaze drifted to the side, down the hall, pausing on each doorway. "Close though." He only had her by 4 inches, which made him the shortest male on the island.

Returning pale eyes up to the mohawked youth, she'd give the book in her hands a little shake. "I don't suppose you know where Kostya's room is? I have a book I wanna donate to his little library."

Answered the Napoleon comment with a laugh, head shaking to send curls over her shoulders. "Really? I don't think I have any stones to throw in the height department. I dunno if you'e noticed, but even you look tall beside me." Pale eyes rolled, chin brushing her shoulder as she glanced down the hall again, this time imagining how very far away his room must be. "How lonely for you."

As the book was commented on she'd turn her attention down to it before looking back up. "You don't say." Tone was mild enough, but there was a certain amount of sarcastic disbelief.

Weight shifted to rest on one hip and a hand listed to brush hair behind her ear. "So how long have you been running around here being a pain in the a**?" Maybe he still had the fresh-from-the-pod chip on his shoulder. Naw, she was betting he was always this unpleasant.

She was quiet for a moment, considering his self imposed isolation. Pey knew who else lived down here, she even liked a good deal of them. It made her wonder which sort Leslie considered winners, if people like American and Kostya were 'losers'.

She might have asked, but she suspected maybe there wouldn't be any names in the 'winners' column.

Besides, she was a little distracted by the less-than-flattering proposition. Brows twitched upward, and she let out a softly disparaging chuckle before giving the tiniest shake of her head. Just what they needed on the island, another a*****e.

Smiling, she folded the book in her arms against her chest. "Oh, could you?" Sugary tone was a warning, but he didn't know her well enough to be aware of it. "Do tell." Lips pursed, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked up at him. "Does that line ever work?"