(no subject)

[dinahdanger]

WHO: Dinah Dixon & Quentin Youngblood
WHAT: Did you know you can’t trust ice cream?
WHEN: Thursday, Oct 12.
WHERE: That there cafeteria.
WARNING: Like I’m sure they swear and stuff.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Dinah said, mouth full of coffee-flavored ice cream as she returned from the kitchens. She didn’t actually understand coffee-flavored ice cream, because coffee was gross and ice cream was supposed to be delicious, but she’d taken it anyway. In the name of research. And being polite. The house elves were just so nice about it. Sitting down across from Quentin, she set her bowl of ice cream on the table with a loud clunk. There were at least four different flavors in the bowl, and none of them were probably going to taste good together, but she was determined to find that out the hard way. “I don’t know what you’re doing but my Danger Senses tell me you’re doing it wrong.” It wasn’t until after she’d finished speaking that she bothered to swallow her ice cream. Dinah’s parents missed giving her an etiquette lesson or two. Quentin held up the sheet of paper he was working on. At the center of the sheet was a bubble proclaiming the question, “Who is ????????” and branching out from that bubble were close to four dozen other names also inside of bubbles. Some of them were people they went to school with, including Dinah Danger. But others were much more vague like That squirrel that looked at me funny five weeks ago and Thorn’s left mustache. “Nah, you just jealous I’m getting closer to cracking this case than you are,” Quentin said, sounding pleased with himself. “Whaaatever,” Dinah said and rolled her eyes. Her eyes were in serious danger of getting stuck that way if she kept this up. “I've never been jealous of anyone in my life.” She crammed another spoonful of coffee ice cream in her mouth and immediately turned herself into a liar, because she was super jealous of literally anyone who had better tasting ice cream. She leaned in closer to inspect the sheet of paper. There were, like, a lot of names on there, and she was already bored with the joke that got them there. She was just also unwilling to admit that. “It can't be the squirrel, they're wooing another squirrel and they're way too cute to be messing around.” Dinah scraped what was left of the coffee ice cream to the side, digging into the butterscotch scoop below. “Which is why you're supposed to do all the lists and rankings first. So you don't waste your time with this.” “That squirrel was suspicious as fuck,” Quentin argued. “He's going on the list.” Quentin was very serious about this dumb joke he didn't even wanna participate in in the first place. “I already made a ranking system anyway. See. The larger the name, the closer to the top they are.” Suspicious as fuck squirrel was written pretty large. It was almost as large as the central question. “And you weirdos already made a list. And that's like - all the fucking necessary lists so.” He didn't have a follow up to that because that was totally how people end sentences. “That list wasn't comprehensive,” Dinah insisted. “The squirrel wasn't even on it. This is why we should be working together.” She took another bite of her ice cream and wrinkled her nose. The coffee flavor had seeped into the butterscotch and now everything was just awful. “And it needs color,” she continued, pushing her bowl of tainted ice cream aside in favor of her bag, which rattled from the millions of writing and illustrating utensils freely rolling around inside. Dinah reached a hand inside and tossed literal handful of pens and pencils on the table between them. “It needs, like, all of this color and I need better ice cream.” Quentin clearly took her shoving her bowl away from her as a sign that she was shoving it toward him, so he reached out and dragged the bowl the rest of the way. “How you gonna even colorcode a list? What'll the colors stand for because it can't be whose suspicious as fuck because they're all suspicious as fuck. It's a fucking suspicious list is what it is. What's their ulterior motive here? And why’s Castillo dating a walking question mark that's probably a squirrel in disguise?” Quentin took a bite of the butterscotch ice cream. “And why'd you add coffee to your ice cream?” He added. “Levels of suspicious,” Dinah said, already grabbing for the terribly formatted list as Quentin was handily distracted by her ice cream. “Obviously.” She twisted the list toward her, grabbed a purple marker, and wrote QUENTIN YOUNGBLOOD over all of it. It was the biggest, which meant he was the most suspicious. She hoped he was proud that he finally won something. “And I didn't add coffee, I tried a glorious rainbow of flavors and coffee ruined it.” After a microsecond of thought, she grabbed a red pen and wrote at the bottom of the dumb list: Coffee-Flavoured Ice Cream. Because it was definitely suspicious as fuck. Quentin shrugged. “I dunno man, I kinda like it. It's like a hot coffee sundae, y’know? like fudge but with coffee. I should see if I can make a coffee float. Like a root beer float but with coffee.” Quentin’s very important explanation was only interrupted by his eating. “Castillo ain't dating coffee flavored ice cream, Dinah Danger,” Quentin said, leaning over to look at the list. He couldn't remember writing his own name on the list so much. Weird. Dinah gave Quentin a disgusted look. A coffee float sounded like the grossest thing she'd ever briefly imagined. And Dinah had eaten literal vomit-flavored ice cream. She had maybe already forgotten about that. “He definitely could be but no one cares about that anymore, we're starting a new list.” She flipped the paper over, wrote Coffee-Flavoured Ice Cream again at the top, still in red. “Ice cream flavors you wouldn't trust with your favorite pencil, and coffee’s the worst. I got my eye on it.” Quentin made a face because he was now invested in who the question mark train actually was. His face persisted at Dinah’s new list, because on the scale of suspicious as fuck, coffee-flavored ice cream probably wasn’t at the top (surely vomit flavored had to be at the top right? Who would even choose to buy that? Who was the target market for that? Something just wasn’t adding up there). Coffee-flavored Ice Cream was homey, and inviting. It seemed like a flavor that would offer you a blanket even though it’s only just begun to get slightly chilly. “Okay, then double chocolate chip fudge ice cream has to be second, because what the fuck is that fucker trying to overcompensate for? What’s it hiding?” Dinah narrowed her eyes at Quentin, keeping a very close watch on him as she slowly reached for a green pen. “Okay, but I’m writing this in the wrong opinion color,” she said, jabbing the pen in his direction. “Because your opinion is hella wrong.” She quickly made a note of color’s meaning on the side of the list, the start of what was definitely going to be an impractically long legend. “But while we’re at it,” she looked up from the list to jab the pen toward him again. It was probably supposed to be an intimidating jab. “How do you feel about vanilla? Seems like someone just trying to sneak in everywhere, am I right??” “Wrong is subjective,” Quentin said automatically. “The word was invented to control the sheeple.” He was very clearly not aware that her pen jabbing was meant to be intimidating because not only was he not intimidated, he didn't even look suspicious. “You're right,” Quentin confirmed. “Vanilla is the ultimate camouflage flavor. It'll go far like that.” Hang on now - his tone was canting toward impressed instead of disgusted. “Nobody’ll be suspicious until it's going in for the kill and there ain't shit you can do about it then.” “Okay, but counterpoint: would vanilla really give up its stable homelife and happy family and job with benefits like that?” Even as she presented her very cogent and relevant counterpoint, Dinah wrote vanilla in navy blue ink, then wrote “suspicious, but cautious” in the convoluted legend to the right. “I just feel like chocolate sauce would never forgive vanilla if it did something, but then again… chocolate doesn’t know about caramel.” She tapped her pen on her chin, thinking very hard for a whole second, then said, “Also, totally screw rum raisin. I’ve never even had it and I hate it. It serves no purpose except to be universally hated.” Quentin leaned over. Suspicious but cautious. He liked that. He might've accidentally dripped butterscotch on that, he liked it so much. “Horse radish,” he said. Which could've been agreement, argument or the next ice cream. His tone made it hard to decipher. “Had it once,” Quentin elaborated. “Didn't taste much like horse radish which makes it suspicious as fuck and a fucking liar.” “Eugh,” Dinah said, an incredibly disgusted look on her face. Disgusted, and yet… also very curious. Ew, girl, come on. “That cannot--wait, no, it totally can be and do you think the house elves would, like… makes us some horseradish ice cream?” She looked down at their list, swapping out the navy blue pen for a dark yellow. Quentin tipped her bowl of ice cream up and noisily slurped the remainder of the melted ice cream before setting it aside. “Only one way to find out, Dinah Danger,” he said decisively. “We should ask about this vomit ice cream I heard bout too.” “Nah dude,” Dinah said as she finished explaining the very specific meaning of a dark yellow pen before jumping up. “There’s literally no need, because vomit ice cream is literally the most honest ice cream I’ve ever met and I’ll fight you if you say otherwise.”

Comments

[cheer_leader]

i'm personally offended by the coffee ice cream diss

but omg this is hilarious and adorable

[dinahdanger]

nbd Dinah just thinks your opinion is wrong, and after spending more than 20 minutes with Quentin, incredibly suspicious.