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"I been a few times. Most of that junk comes from fights in the haunted house though." After all, the best information on strengths and weaknesses came from individuals displaying their strengths and weaknesses.

Her eyes went back to the rubik's cube, having a sort of restless feeling that she couldn't quite place. Maybe because their conversation felt so ... normal? Uncharged? She undid on side of her coat, slipping the uncomfortable fabric off her back and onto the floor next to her. Stuffy jackets were not her thing.

Click click. "What were you tryin' ta write a song for anyways?"

"Prolly 'cause you need a heart to write from it," Chel said with a snort. "All you got is black ash, woe is Jack." She put a hand to her forehead and then continued her casual fixation on the small colored squares.

When he asked what it was for, Chel shrugged. "Riptide's in the infirmary, figured I'd take him something to keep him busy. s**t gets dry in there." Her voice diminished as she spoke, coming to a subtle murmur. "M'sure he's all wrapped up in his thoughts. s**t sucks."

Chel nodded. "I learned a while back. Bunch of my friends and I bought some for fun. They gave up and just moved the stickers til it worked, but I figured this ******** out." She poked her nose up and said, "I could teach you, maybe. It's real easy once you learn the white cross."

He began talking about her "files" and she looked up. "Sup?"

Chel gave Jack a sideways grin and said, "If you think me writin' a few things down means I recovered, you're dumb as a doornail in the winter." Click click click. "But I guess the headphones helped a lot." The same sort of awkward communication. They weren't meant for the lacier stuff.

Click.

Almost mundanely the cube was solved and Chel held it up. "Tadah~ Can't read a book, but damn if I can't match up tiny squares." She tossed the plastic his way and said, "Mix it up, will ya?" After all, she couldn't give Ripley a perfectly good cube.

With the cube out of her hands, she stood up, stretching herself out. "Appreciate the awkward as ******** middle school compliment though, Jackles." Really, she did.

"Mmm that's my Jack," she crooned as he insulted her. "I worked pretty hard on those, y'know." It seemed no matter how he worded himself, Chel would find a way to be contrary.

She stood up and moved herself to the bed, taking the place of the papers, which were gingerly pushed aside. "What, don't tell me brown's not yer thing now? Gotta tell Hanna the bad news dang..."

"My thing is whatever I feel like it is," she contested. "Only had pink for so long 'cause I didn't have the money for dye." She twirled a strand around her finger, tugging it lightly. "Kinda miss it I guess though." It was cut short. "Can't risk that s**t though. Layin' low still."

She snorted at his secrecy and said, "I still ain't got what you got against redheads. They're ********' hot in their own right." She shrugged and said, "The struggle of bein' bi is so real." Chel was, of course, pan, but she didn't have that word in her lexicon.

Chel frowned. "You're bein' a d**k." Even Chel had standards. "Didn't you learn in school that it ain't nice to lump people together."

When he picked up the guitar, she snatched the cube back, sighing at how lamely he'd jumbled it. Way too easy.

"Bein' bi ain't an excuse for anything. Just kinda stupid to limit yourself. Why wouldn't I want to offer myself to everyone?" She grinned, head slowly falling to his shoulder to lean on (or more accurately, the side of his arm). "Don't mean I'll ******** anyone, just means I'm more accepting than ya. All hail me."