The sun was shining in vain in the chilled Connecticut fall, leaves falling from their near-bare branches as wind blew, making the courtyard of your new, Ivy League school. You had your bags already in your dorm, though you saw no sign of your roommate save solid black sheets on the bed opposite yours. The clearing was full of young men and women who were deemed the best and brightest, and you were happy to be one of them. You scanned the faces, looking for anyone you thought you could be friends with before you froze to death. You were from the south, and while you were far from a country hick, you were still used to the warm sun of your homeland.

The only person you saw not already engaged in conversation was the one who was talking the most. He was a young man, mid twenties maybe, who had wavy, but soft looking black hair, making a stunning contrast to his crimson turtleneck sweater, something you envied in your tee shirt as you shivered, and eyes so light a blue they were almost pure white. His skin was pale to the point of being nearly grey, and he spoke with a loud clear voice, though no one seemed to be paying attention. He was talking about the injustices of various forms of social classes, from the Indian caste system to the heritage system of colonial America, with mulattos and the like, to simply monetary injustices in modern nations. You found his points interesting if nothing else, and walked over to where he was giving the speech, drinking in each word, presuming him to be a professor by the professional tone of his voice.

You were shivering as you listened, but were too engrossed in the way the words fell from his mouth as if it were Arachne's loom, and any minute Athena would come down and tell him that the sentences he was weaving were too beautiful. Each gesture with his hands was like the winning move in a chess game, concise, and definitive. His posture was perfect, and you couldn't help but thinking that there was one thing he looked like. A debater; something that you would recognize, considering you were one yourself, and at least decent considering your entire tuition was being paid for by the activity. He looked down at you and stopped, making you pout. You were quite enjoying the oratorical genius.

"Hello, did you need something?" He asked, his voice sounding even deeper and smoother now that he wasn't giving a speech.

"No. I was just enjoying your speech, sir." You said, still under the impression that he was a teacher, or at least an upperclassman.

"I'm no sir. I'm just a sophomore here." He said, smiling a little and rubbing the back of his neck. "However if there is anything you need, I would be more than happy to assist you. There is little better for the soul than to guide another person, be it through life or to the restroom." He said, and you smiled, deciding that you defiantly liked him. Yeah, he talked a lot, but once again, you were a debater. Everyone like you talked way too much. It was the reason they had to give you certain time scales for which person to speak uninterrupted.

"Oh! I thought you looked a little young to be a teacher. I'm (y/n). It's nice to meet you," you said, extending a hand. He nodded, and took it into his own, warm in spite of the chill.

"Kankri Vantas. It's a pleasure to meet you, young miss." He said, bowing slightly, and you half expected him to kiss your hand. You sort of wished you had a large ring, to make it both more likely, and more ironic.

"So, if you aren't a professor, I assume you'll be my senior on the debate team?" You inquired, and his face seemed to light up.

"Indeed. So nice to meet someone interested in discussing the plights of today's society. It's quite remarkable when one is able to really appreciate the wrongs of the world and be willing to change them through the power of the non-violent word. Have you read my blog? It's been up for just a month, but I feel that one day it will help raise awareness for the various injustices plaguing modern society." You giggled a bit at his dorky enthusiasm. Now you knew what it was like to have a conversation with you.

"I swear, that must be what I sound like when someone starts talking about politics." You said, beginning to laugh so hard your already frozen lungs began to burn.

"I see. You are a political annalist then…" the two of you went on, deciding halfway through to move into the building to seek shelter from the chill, but still fervently going back and forth about whatever issues you could come up with between you. While he remained mostly calm, you noticed that he could become quite upset if one of his pet issues were touched upon, and even more so if you disagreed with them. Not that you did not have your own set of issues that were like having a static shock with a gas pump.

You looked at your phone, and realized that your first class started in ten minutes, and was all the way across campus. You made a hurried rush to the building, assuming that you would see him at practice, but not having enough time to get your books for the class.

You arrived in your history course five minutes late, though luckily the teacher arrived a moment after you, and was likely just wondering why you were breathing so heavily. He went over the class rules, and did normal administrative stuff, while giving a brief framework of the semester. You sighed, happy not to have missed any actually instruction without your notebook. The bell rang, and you ran out, going straight to your dorm, knowing that you'd need your calculator for your Algebra class, something you were dreading like a lobster in a fancy reserant. No matter what you did, death seemed imminent.

The day passed without a hitch, though you were fairly tired from your double major coarse load. European History and Pre-law were odd to juggle, but it was working quite well for you. Or at least it seemed that way to you. You ran to the room where you would no doubt find Kankri, along with the rest of your team, waiting for your coach to come in and teach you about something you should already know. The topics for debate changed every year, and this year's was about the class systems of the modernized world. You bet that Kankri would have a field day with that one.

You walked in, and saw him, another boy with nearly the same features, but wearing a black sweater, and three other boys, all of them looking rather stereotypical for nerdy speech kid.

"Hey, Kankri." You said, smiling at them, and hating the looks of amazement they gave you. You were used to being the only girl, but it still sucked actually having to convince the men that you were just as good as them.

"Hello, (y/n). Meet the rest of the team." He stood from his leaning position. "This is John Egbert, he's from Georgia, and he's got a bit of a prankster's gambit, so be careful. This is Dirk Strider, and he's the cool kid of the group, though he's also quite good with technology and world affairs. This is Sollux Captor, the real tech guy, though he and Dirk are constantly fighting about it, and the one who just does research, because he has a lisp. This is my twin brother, Karkat. He's kind of a jerk, but in his heart he's an ok guy."

"I see. Well, I suck with computers, so I'll be of no competition to you." You nodded at the two boys with shades. Dirk had dark black ones that marked him as an otaku immediately from their pointed edges, a style that anyone else would have looked ridiculous in. Sollux had on a pair even stranger, in that they were blue and red, like 3-D glasses.

"And don't even think about dissing the shades. My computer is rigged to put everything up in 3-D, so they need to be this color." He said, frowning as if he sensed your thoughts.

"Of course, if you had simply installed a clear type rig, you could just wear any shades you wanted like me. Oh wait, could you not hack into Sony to get the blueprints?" Dirk smirked, and a small drop of sweat started forming on your temple at the thought of having to hear them arguing all the time.

"Hey. It's nice to meet you. Like Kankri said, I'm John." The dark haired, Potter-glassed boy extended his hand, and before Kankri could warn you, you felt the electric shock in your palm.

"Next time I'll just make sure I'm touching somewhere else, so it'll shock you." You said, planning already.

"Honey, you can touch me wherever you want." Dirk said, his Texan accent alluring, but his blatant hitting on you not so much.

"Anyway, since there is an odd number, who's gonna pair up?" you asked, ignoring the blonde.

"I don't actually debate. I just stay here because Kankri owns our car. Parents though him going to Yale instead of trade school made him more deserving." Karkat said, rolling his eyes.

"So basically you come here instead of walking home?"

"No. I ride the bus, but it doesn't go anywhere near our house, so I have to wait for this prick to drive me home, even though he lives on fucking campus." Karkat raged, and you quickly saw what made him not be very good with the whole public speaking thing. He got upset way too easy.

"I see. So then, who will I be with?" you asked, wanting to get down to business as soon as possible, though you were hoping that the answer would be Kankri.

"Well, you seem to be the only one who can stand this guy on a regular basis. Before we took turns, so we wouldn't go crazy." Strider pointed to Kankri, who looked away as if shamed.

"Really, he seems like just the kind of guy you'd want debating with you. He's knowledgeable, he can speak fast and still annunciate perfectly, and he has quite a projecting voice which sounds confidant yet kind. Not to mention he seems like quite the caring person, and has no flaws that I've seen other that he talks a bit much, and that's what this is all about." You said, raising an eyebrow, and then noticing how Kankri's eyes went wide, and a small blush appeared on his cheeks at the praise.

"You'll learn soon enough. But don't try and switch. We'll pull seniority and you'll be stuck with him." Strider warned.

"I'm fine with that. He seems to be a much better person than you." You glared at the pointy-shaded junior.

"Come on, Dirk, maybe she's just the kind of person who can appreciate his ranting. Every one has someone." John said, and you decided that he was kind as well, in spite of his pranking.

"Why is no one ready yet? Just because we have a girl in here doesn't mean you'll spend your time flirting. Get to work, slackers." The coach came in, a dark skinned man with a Brooklyn accent. His teacher nametag said "Jack Nior" and he seemed to be a pretty tough guy. Especially since at the mere sound of his name, people started ruffling through bags, and pulling out stacks of paper, leafing through them.

After a few minutes, you were told to have a mock round between the four of you in your new teams. While john and Dirk were quite the team, John being the kind who would make the judges like you, as well as an argument Hawke, able to find any crack in any argument, and Dirk was the perfect balance with his aggressive attitude, and impact-geared style, they still lost as soon as Kankri opened his mouth. He went on, his voice never once falling into monotone, as the words cascaded from his mouth like a Noah's flood of information, devastating everything in it's way. Not that you weren't just as good, simply that you'd think that the others would be willing to put up with anything to have someone as amazing as Kankri as their partner. Their loss, you thought as the coach yelled at them for loosing.

"Hey, Kankri…" You turned to him as you were packing your things.

"Yes?"

"Um, well, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out some time. We could go over cases, or just chill." You asked, and hoped that he wouldn't freak out, and never talk to you again. Especially since you were now perma-partners.

"That sounds good. I suppose only coming to practice would not be enough to truly get the cases set straight, and there would be no real point in not doing a little extra when we live on the same campus. I have to drive Karkat home, but if you like, we could meet after that." He said, and you were a bit crestfallen. You had essentially asked him out on a date, and he had just passed it off as a practice session.

You agreed to meet at his dorm room, one he had managed to snag without a roommate, at six. You would bring one of those 50 packs of chicken nuggets from McDonald's, and you would make the best case ever. You waved goodbye, heading to your own dorm room. At least you could be friends, and that was start, right?