the calm before the storm/painting each other's nails
people have been placing bets for years on when leblanc and munro will be whirlwinded into a mandatory bonding exercise.
“i call bullshit,” clea says by way of greeting, sits a good foot away from him on the floor of the gym while the rest of them wait -- they’ve known each other for years now, but clea always errs on the side of too careful. misha appreciates it.
“same,” misha says. “on what?”
“on the bonding,” clea elaborates. “has anyone ever tried that? just sitting down and telling the dean why its plans are like, bombing?”
misha snorts, but he smiles so clea knows he isn’t annoyed. “god, truong, where have you been all my life.”
“just here,” clea says. misha watches their shoulder phase in and out of existence. “netflix and chilling, in the like, literal sense.”
misha points to bottles of nail polish he can see in clea’s clear bag, next to crumpled gum wrappings and green alien keychains. “necessities only.” his dean impression is terrible.
“hey,” clea protests, but they smile, so misha knows they aren’t annoyed. “you’d be surprised how a sick nail color can save people from going troppo.”
misha offers his hand to clea.
