The "Alice and the Cheshire Cat" poster. The weird dangly beads in the doorframe. The drawer full of stoner paraphernalia. Oh no. Oooooh no no no. You have got to be kidding. Not one of those types. Didn't this particular breed of hippie imbecile die out after Grace Slick hit menopause or something?

Uhg, look at him. Paisley bedspread, flower press, those goddamn jangly coin things hanging from his stupid lime colored vest. No no no no no nono.

Jonathan had only gotten so far as his new room's doorway, in which he still stood, struck and stupefied by an overwhelming pang of disgust. He was already less than thrilled at the prospect of a roommate in the first place, but on actually taking agander at the fucking thing, the lad was all but ready to pitch himself out the window with the intention of sprinting towards the nearest vocational school's mediocre bosom, arms outstretched. He might have stood there gawking all afternoon if the little bastard hadn't found it in him to take some social initiative.

"Oh!" he cried in delight, so prim and absurdly foppish for an eighteen year old Millennial. "You must be Jonathan!"

"Yyyyeah. And you're—" he tilted back on his heel to peer at the label on the door, returning with a look of even stronger disbelief, and a tone that expressed all of the resentment and vitriol a skulking ex-mall goth could muster. "Jervis Tetch."

"That's me alright!"

What kind of a fucking name was Jervis.

Crane didn't have much time to wonder.

"Well, don't just do something, stand there! Come in, come in, here, let me take a suitcase for you."

As he was ushered into his new dwelling, Jonathan barely stifled an irate groan. Are we quoting Disney movies now? Is that what we're doing now? Egad, it was worse than he'd thought. But true to his word, the boy, chipper as anything, took his new roommate's largest suitcase and flung it towards his naked mattress, the one adjacent to Tetch's own immaculately made bed, leaving his counterpart in the center of the room with only a satchel bag and a rolled up poster in hand. Said counterpart, meanwhile, was doing his level best to pretend that he wasn't standing on a bright purple shag rug.

With his good, polite deed done, Jervis turned back around and displayed a row of huge, bracket-bound teeth. "So Jonathan! Where are you from then?" Oh joy, getting-to-know-you time.

"Georgia," he said, paying special care to disguise his accent. He had to take an acting class or something, his twang made him sound like some kind of inbred hick, and it needed to be trained out, pronto. Jervis, on the other hand, sounded like a Londoner, but he could have easily just been a teaboo.

"I'm from London!" Natch. The lankier kid set about hanging his own posters up meanwhile, half wishing to paste it over the Alice one. Jervisbabbled on as he continued to unpack, commenting upon every minor inane detail his brain could summon up, orientation this and team-building exercises that, and isn't it just so abso-fucking-lootly frabjous to be here?

One could only hope that it was the excitement of freshman year that had him so chatty, or else the next eight months would likely exist as his concomitant's own little circle of Hell.