tour from hell || Ash & Quinn
Ash was not qualified for the position in which they currently found themselves. Their first time on UMAC’s campus had been a hopeless endeavor to find anything that even remotely resembled an office. When they finally did, the information was less than helpful. They then had to go to the disability center and find out who could interpret for them, after which they had to try and explain why a student that had enrolled in the school, made it to their junior year without problem, had suddenly developed a need for an interpreter. It was easier to pass that off at the college than it was to explain at home when their parents suddenly wondered why their child, having been born hearing, was suddenly deaf.
Someday they’d find a way to break that news to their not-parents. They currently had bigger fish to fry. Like the fact that they had, apparently, signed up to lead a new student around campus to introduce them to the different buildings and places offered. Laughable, considering the fact that they didn’t know their way around the campus on their own. Rather than seek out their interpreter, they’d waved off the thought and decided to make it up. They could do this just fine, right? Not like the information that was provided needed to be helpful in the end. They’d just share what they knew.
If they found the student, that was. Their attention had been more focused on their cell phone--which had none of the good apps they would have hoped for because other them was a total square that thought political news apps were the only thing a person needed. Gross.
Slouched down in a chair, they switched to the camera feature and checked their hair and makeup. If nothing else, that still worked. Vanity could be preserved, even in a new dimension. It’s not like they had much else going for them. Given the fact that they’d missed most of their classes from a lack of understanding where they were going, something that might’ve fucked with other-Ash’s GPA should they ever switch back. The only thing the other version of themselves would have to worry about was whether or not they woke up in time for lunch. Glancing up occasionally, they laid eyes on a younger person walking into the office where they were supposed to meet. Friendliness wasn’t their crowning personality trait, but they offered a single wave with the assumption that was probably ‘Quinn’.
Switching back to texting, they typed ‘Here for the tour?’ onto the phone and held it out in Quinn’s direction so he could read it.
