Moving Day (Scott)

Kenny whistled to himself as he strolled across the campus grounds, wheeling a bright red hand truck in front of him. Well, the hand truck was actually a mini fridge, but he'd transfigured it into a hand truck so he could wheel his luggage up to his flat. He passed a boy around his age who was currently muttering swear words and levitating a bulldog harnessed to a sled full of luggage. Well, that's interesting, he thought, doubling back.

He had one requirement for the friends he made at uni--don't be boring. He was planning to spend the next four years here, he'd need to find people that could amuse him for at least that long. A boy whose first impression was a flying sleigh and a bulldog would be very entertaining indeed, at least for a while. Striking up a friendship seemed like a promising idea.

"Hello," he said. "Would you like some wheels? Your dog looks very uncomfortable in the air, and the sled would be easier to pull on the ground if it had wheels."

He thought for a second, his lip twisting contemplatively as he appraised the dog. "Actually, no, I know what the real problem is." He grabbed the first thing on hand--a pinecone near his foot--and tapped it with his wand. With a snap, it morphed into a pair of plush reindeer antlers. He stuck them on the dog's head.

"Much better. Could probably use some lights though, if you wanna go all out. I'm Scott, by the way. You're pretty cute," he said with a wink and cheeky grin, looking the other boy up and down. "Wanna be friends?"

Kenny took in the other guy's explanation, his face conveying a sudden understanding. "Oh, of course. Sorry, I didn't know his name. I should have asked before making assumptions, that makes much more sense."

Kenny laughed as the man agreed with his assessment. "To be honest, I just say that to everyone. But now that I think about it, you're not bad. And Han Solo-esque confidence will get you far in life."

He shrugged as the guy commented on his directness. "What can I say, you get more done if you live fast and skip the foreplay. I take the four year old approach to friendship."

When he ultimately agreed, Kenny grinned and scratched Husky's ears. "Sweet. Thanks for not killing me, Husky, I appreciate it. Let's go find some more friends and throw a wild party. I have a suitcase full of alcohol, and Mom doesn't want me drinking it all by myself. She says if I die here it'll be too expensive to have my body shipped back to America for a funeral, so she'll just tell them to burn it."

He grabbed his hand truck again and started wheeling it alongside his new friend. "What's your name, by the way?" he asked.

Kenny couldn't tell if the other guy was serious or not. He didn't sound like he was joking about his Aunt Marjorie. Either way, he was certainly interesting. He raised his eyebrows. "When I was four years old, my mom was dressing me up in cutesy clothes and handing me signs to hold at Pro-Choice rallies."

The words slipped out of his mouth without much thought, but he made sure to remember them. The worst thing he could do was be inconsistent, so he had to keep track of all the details that he told other people.

He smirked at the nickname. "That show was my fucking childhood, man. Nobody remembers it cause it's from forty years ago. But my parents made sure to introduce me to quality television as a kid."

He met the challenge with a shrug. "Gotta find a bunch of people first. I'll knock on doors and make it happen. But you're right, if you've been drinking hard lemonade on beaches since you were four, you've obviously lived a far more fulfilling life than I have."

He leaned forward against his hand truck, steering it toward the living quarters where he hoped to find enthusiastic partiers, or at least willing ones.