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Misha laughed at his sheepish admission and shook her head. The reaction, judging by her expression and warm smile, reflected a charmed sort of amusement, nothing mean or judgmental. "No, no. I get that," she assured him. "I was in my own room for ages. Sylvia and I just moved in together after Halloween." She grinned, winking. "It's amazing what a few drinks will encourage you to ask."

She lifted her cup again for a long, satisfying sip of her drink. Then she shrugged one shoulder upwards in an elegant motion. "I gave up my old apartment," she admitted. "Not right away, of course. But it wasn't fair to keep my old roommate hanging like that so I told her to start looking. Besides, it was silly to pay for something I wasn't using. She found one of our other friends to take over the lease with her and, bam, my stuff is in storage until I can finish going through it. When I go home to Philly now, I can just stay at my parents' place. Unless I move back again but this place is it for now, I think."

Misha cocked her head to one side, studying him. "If you get the job here, are you going to give up your place in San Francisco? Which, by the way, I hear is amazing. I've never been."

"Mmhm, I know." Misha smiled gently but there was a spark of mischief that grew in her eyes as she watched him lay out his reasoning. "It's okay, Tom. A lot of guys have problems with commitment." Then she laughed, a musical little giggle that proved her comment meant nothing more than a joke about his resistance to giving up his own apartment. She could not fault him for it; Misha well knew that not everyone was as ragingly extroverted as she was.

Setting her cup down, she reached across the table to touch the back of his hand briefly. "I don't think we all need to rush to get roommates," she continued. "There's so much room in the dorms still that, unless we suddenly get bus-loads of new Chosen, we will be good on space for a while. I think a lot of people are still sans roomie. I just like being around people too much."

The admission came with a charmingly lopsided smile.

Awww, kitty! Misha's amusement at how Tom reacted to her touch was pushed aside at the mention of his pet. She had never had a pet of her own. First, her parents had said they were too much work. Then she was in a college dorm. Then she had roommates who were either allergic or opposed.

Then, of course, there had been hurdles like security pet deposits.

She smiled at Tom. "What's her name? What kind of cat is she?" Misha paused in her questions to think, biting her lower lip for a moment. Then she shook her head. "I bet you can bring her here. We have an Artemis dorm, after all. The gods can't be against animals if we have that."

Misha lit up like fairy lights, smiling ear to ear. "Can I really?" she asked. "I would put my lap entirely at her disposal, of course. That's only to be expected when it comes to princesses. We can be a pretty spoiled bunch." She giggled. Then she leaned forward a bit over her cup, spinning it idly in her hands. "But we are really lovely when we get what we want. Should I bring her treats or do you have her on a special diet?"

The abrupt change in her line of comments should have seemed strange but, delivered as it was with the same vein of flippancy throughout, Misha managed to swing things between flirty and serious without a blink of her eye.

"But with good reason, right?" Misha's expression reflected pure sweetness and a sort of teasing earnestness. Then she laughed cheerfully, shrugged with one shoulder, and rearranged herself in her chair. With absent ease, she twisted her body and recrossed her legs, one elbow coming to rest on the table between them. "It's a thing," she admitted. "I like to think it's only-child syndrome, too. I'm one and it sounds like Persia is now, too, and she's embracing it. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"