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Tate didn't have any papers due; she had given up on monitoring what the police knew. The more she learned the more she realized they didn't seem to know anything, and telling them that the terrorists were in fact pretty-suited sailor soldiers of love and justice (or dastardly murderers masquerading at being military) seemed more likely to get her thrown in the looney bin than taken seriously. With midterms coming up, she didn't need to be locked up for her own protection. She needed to be in the library, studying, because it was hard to turn the pages of a textbook or type names into JSTOR with your arms in a straightjacket.

Which was exactly why she'd chosen to wear her aqua cable-knit sweater with the awful black cats on the front. (It did so much to convince the general public of her generally sane demeanor.) Marlo had tried multiple times to get her to give up on the kitten sweater, so many times that she'd finally resorted to just not wearing it around him. No matter that it gave her an advantage in Battleship because the younger Xanis brother couldn't take his eyes off the gaping yellow of the cats' unnerving gaze.

That entire last paragraph, by the way, was sarcasm. Tate loved her sweater, but she knew that it was not everyone's speed. She also knew she didn't care, and if you couldn't handle the hideous cat sweater then you were poorly equipped for life. Sort of like people who couldn't grasp the basics of tort law, she supposed, tapping her pen on the side of her textbook.

She was aware of the person leaning their chair back towards her without really acknowledging it; growing up in her house gave you a great sense of when you were being watched or snuck up on. Tate did jump when the person actually spoke to her, half-turning in her seat. When she caught sight of the other student, her stomach twisted itself into a funny little butterfly knot and she blurted, "I like yours too," and then covered her mouth, evidently annoyed by the outburst. Way to lack self-control, Konstantin. You can't win Big Brother if you tell everyone your secret right off.

Now to the more pertinent puzzle, which was... was this person a boy or girl? Attempting to get points back on her own mental scale, she asked in as dry a tone as she could muster, "Do you usually wear sunglasses indoors, though?"

Without the sunglasses blocking her face and the blonde not quite so awkwardly placed, Tate was easily able to suss out that the attractive stranger was a female. Which didn't really help with the confusion at all, because her stomach was still doing acrobatics (she gave its most recent flip an eight out of ten, only surpassed by the triple tuck it'd done on the Surrounding battlefield) and she was sure she had to look constipated. (She didn't; if anything she just looked like one of those terrible people who is trying dreadfully hard to suppress a mixture of confusion and sincere, possibly lustful, interest. Definitely embarrassing, but not really related to any bodily function.) She resolved this, a little, by digging the heels of her palms into her knees, and nodding in what could have been curt dismissal had the blonde not promptly settled herself into the empty chair to Tate's right.

The auburn-haired young woman scooted her chair away as a first reaction, and then for reasons she couldn't really explain she shifted it halfway back. "Of course not," she said, as if the idea of a useless major was utter anathema to her. She adjusted the cuffs on her aqua-colored cat sweater and sat forward, resting her forearm against the edge of the table with her pen in hand. "Why would I waste my money?"

At the question of the law course, she shrugged one shoulder, then rolled it back; until she'd been interrupted, she hadn't been aware of how cramped she had been over the steno pad that lay open to the left of the textbook. "Edwards. He's a miserable b*****d, isn't he? I tried to get Mallory, but his only lecture was during my work hours. Have you taken it, yet?" There she went again, running at the mouth. How many details did she need to give?

She offered a hand after a moment. "Tate," she said, by way of introduction, which was not very polite but neither was she, apparently.

It was a bit odd to be on the other side of an evaluating glance, sort of like when you went to the doctor and had to get into that superbly uncomfortable paper gown in nothing but your skivvies and wait. Tate felt like she ought to cover her chest with an arm, or something, and that was completely illogical because she had three layers of clothing on. Nor was Kess even looking there. The reaction was curious, and she'd consider it again later. (If the older woman hadn't been sitting right there, she would have even made a note.)

"Hm," was Tate's contribution to the statement of unofficial class attendance. There were some lectures she wished she had time to sit in on, but things being what they were...

Well. "I'm not finished annotating the chapter," she said, tone definitely dismissive, rolling her shoulders again, though she made no move to lean back over the pages of dry legal mumbo-jumbo. Christ, she just wanted to get to the fun part of criminal law, not... Torts. Did they even need the police to pursue a tort? No. They didn't. It was like saying you needed a lawyer to purchase a torte--she had one in the fridge at home, actually, heavy pound cake from her German cousins with thick sugar icing. She'd been saving it, actually, for a reward after this test--

Almost preoccupied then with thoughts of torts and torte, she accepted the flyer and glanced over it. "It's at night," was the intelligent comment, and then she flipped the page over as if expecting to see more. "Zombie themed?" After a moment, she shook her head. "Pity I'm rubbish at costuming."

The idea of the portly and dour professor secretly being a zombie amused Tate so much she had to hide her smile with one hand, scratching her cheek as if it wouldn't be blindingly obvious what she was doing anyway. Her shoulders were shaking as if under the influence of an extremely localized earthquake. If the snuffling noises were any clue, Tate was having a good laugh about Professor Edwards. She wouldn't be able to look at him with a straight face for days. "Zombies, speaking as a party theme," she said once the giggles had subsided, "is only a few points higher on the scale of frightening than My Little Pony." Obviously she'd never watched Friendship is Magic, although perhaps the tall brunette ought to have; certainly she would have revised her hierarchy of Possible Halloween Party Themes.

She considered the flyer again. "Are either of them even legal," she asked, considering the advertised booze. "I don't recognize either name. I won't pretend that I know many people, though..." Tate shrugged after a moment's more consideration of the flyer. "D'you mind if I keep this, or do you need it back?"

True, she could copy the information, but her notes section was so organized right now. She didn't have space to mock up the layout and copy over everything for later consideration. It'd be more convenient for Kess to just hand it over, she thought. "An experience I surely shouldn't miss," she said grudgingly after a moment.

She nodded, a solemn expression on her face even though she kind of wanted to smile like an idiot. "Of course. I'll take your word for it, I've never seen them beyond the animated examples." Even the one tour through Crystal Academy with Giselle (god that was so long ago) hadn't gone near the stables, and Tate had never been interested in horses particularly so she hadn't sought them out.

The brunette kept her head down to hide the smile that was trying to poke through as she tucked the sheet of paper into the back of her steno. "Well, someone needs to take a chill pill," she said dryly of the over-achiever mentioned, "I don't suppose they got all of these approved by administration, either?" It was a rhetorical question, and Tate let that be known when she continued directly onward in the conversation. She'd caught a glance at her watch and winced, clearly reminded of something she'd rather not be. "We'll see, and Moses supposes I'll let you know." She shut her textbook with a definitive snap, and crisply held out a hand for Kess to shake. "It was a pleasure," she said, cheerfully.