D is for Date (for prom, obviously)

[Frank "Sunny" Laffont]

The sign probably caught the most attention. It was huge: free-standing it matched the table where Frank Cox (looking a good deal thinner than normal and constantly chewing on what appeared to be MREs) sat. Various glitters and swirls pointed toward Frank herself. There was a picture of a crown and the promise that she was totally gonna be prom princess. Oh, Frank had heard that there was some kinda campaign for another girl or something, and if pressed, she'd probably suggest voting for the girl (something about how the girl was dying or something sad like that). Didn't stop Frank from writing it on a poster though. She had been tempted to write a few other things on there too, bragging about how hot she was, but she figured they could see that. She did mention that she was super rich though.

"That's right!" she called, waving her hands and pointing at herself. "This super cute, super rich, super gonna-be-royal person is totally available for prom. That's right folks!" she slapped a hand on the table and then gestured at her poster. "Yours truly has not been asked by annnnnyyyyydude. So here's your chance dudes! And maybe super hot girls so long as you're, like, aware that nothing's really gonna happen because I'm totally dude-focused and all," Frank nodded sagely then slapped the table again.

"So what are you waiting for folks? I'm at my thinnest and sexiest and you know prom is when everyone gets laid! So line up and start with the asking already," and Frank gestured, sitting down and clearly hoping to get at least someone's attention. At this point, she'd probably take just about anybody who actually, y'know, asked.

[Samuel Demetrius Raiden]

Sam dragged himself out of bed, mostly due to the rumbling sound his stomach was making. He was already dreading being away from the fuzzy pile of blankets and pillows on his bed. He glanced back at them with desire in his eyes. He stood staring into space for a few more minutes, at least until his stomach rumbled him back to reality. With a sigh, he shuffled across his floor to where some shirts and pants laid, along with a black binder. He slipped on a pair of black skinny jeans. He then squirmed into his binder. Binding was so difficult, but definitely necessary for his mental well-being. Sam pushed, pulled, and squished his boobs around in the constrictive material until his chest was flat enough for him. He sighed and slipped on his t-shirt. He slipped into the bathroom, inspecting himself in the mirror. He turned to the side just to check he was as flat as he thought he was. He grabbed the brush off the counter and brushed his hair into place. Same days, Sam would go down to the cafeteria into his pajamas, other days he liked to make sure he looked perfect. 

He left the bathroom, slipped on a pair of shoes, and left the dorm. Sam made his way to the cafeteria. He snagged a tray, piling things on as he went down the line. He found an empty table and began scarfing down his food. As soon as his focus wasn't on his food, the obnoxiously loud sound of a girl calling for attention came to his ears. She was especially loud to him for the fact that his hearing amplified everything. He followed the sound to the girl. The reflections from the sparkly arrows were even worse. He winced and shook his head. Maybe if he offered, she'd shut up, plus he was feeling especially courageous today. 

He pushed himself off the table, tossed the tray where it belonged, and made his way across the cafeteria to the unfamiliar girl. He dragged up a chair, sitting backwards on it. Sam rested his elbows on the table, head on his hands. "I'll go with you," he smirked.

[Frank "Sunny" Laffont]

Frank turned to look at the strange boy who'd approached her, narrowing her eyes and looking him up and down. She didn't recognize him, but that didn't necessarily mean he was a bad choice or something. Going with a mysterious stranger could just increase her overall appeal, especially if said stranger happened to be super cool or something. He certainly smirked like a super cool guy. of course, now that Frank thought about it, super jerky guys smirked like that too.

Hmm....

"I dunno,' she said, leaning back and tapping her lips, eying the guy, "I don't think I've seen you before, mysterious stranger,' she tapped her finger a few more times before templing them, tapping them against one another. "What makes you think you have the qualifications, hmm?" Not that they were all that strict at this point. Willing was pretty much the most necessary trait, with Male being a fairly distant second at this juncture. Not that Frank was gonna let on that she was starting to get desperate or something. People would think she was just weird.

[Samuel Demetrius Raiden]

He watched her inspect him, his eyes following her hands. He took his own head off his hands and dropped his arms to his side, taking his turn to inspect her. She was a little under-weight, maybe she was anorexic? No, she had been munching down on what appeared to be MREs. He wondered what he power was for a brief moment, figuring that her weight and appetite had something to do with it, or she could just really like MREs. Either way, she had caught his attention. 

She was then playing hard to get. It was rather amusing, and Sam definitely planned to play along. Mysterious. He can use this to his advantage. "Well that's just it," he paused to move his hands to the back of the chair, "I'm mysterious, what can be more fun than that?" He stared at her studying her facial features, "you could have the time of your life or," he shrugged a bit, "or I could be really creepy. But I guess you won't find out if you don't go with me." He stared at her with eyes that just screamed he was up for a challenge.

[Frank "Sunny" Laffont]

Frank kept staring for a while, pausing only to munch on the MREs. You'd think that the military would've made these things tastier for their poor troops, or that someone would've at least let Frank have some of the tastier ones. Oh well, she knew she needed to regain some of the way too much weight she'd lost. Chew, chew, stare, chew, chew.

Mysterious, was that fun... she tapped her chin with her fingers. "I dunno; it sounds like it might be a gamble. I mean, this is prom we're talking about. It's not like it comes around all that often. Plus, I totally didn't have it at my last school, on account of them being all British and stuff. they did have a really fancy winter formal though, but that was totally different. But I want prom to be good, which means," she pointed at the guy, 'a good date."

She held it for a few seconds, then reached down, flipping out what appeared to be an old "Bop-it." She held it out for him, her eyes narrowed. "Your first challenge," she said, speaking slowly and solemnly, adding a slow nod for even further emphasis.

[Samuel Demetrius Raiden]

Sam watched her as she chewed down on the nasty military food. She didn't seem to be enjoying it, but it was rather amusing to watch. Sam stared at her right back, looking straight into her eyes. He showed no fear, even though his anxiety started to roll in. Sam was soon entrenched in his own thoughts. 

'Why are you doing this? What did you think you'd get from this? She's gonna find out about... you know, and totally freak. You're so frickin' stupid! his brain screaming at him over in over. He was too busy in his own head to actually be listening to what she was saying. Something about a british formal or who cares. He snapped back in when she reached under the table. 'Right, focus, you can't give up now, man up.

His eyebrows peaked with interest as to what she was pulling out. His eyebrows along with his face twisted from interest to a, 'you got to be kidding me' look. He had very expressive eyebrows that's for sure. "A bop-it? Really?" Not that it'd be a problem. Sam was actually really good with a bop-it. When his dad was in the hospital, he played with it all the time. He then nodded, flipping the chair around normal, bringing one foot up so his knee was at shoulder level. Sam reached out and grabbed the toy from her, placing his right hand on the "twist it" knob, left on the "pull it", and the "bop it" button on his knee.  "So what, do I just go for as long as I can? or..." he asked, raising an eyebrow.

[Frank "Sunny" Laffont]

The eyebrow raising Frank was used to. she merely sat there, looking at him with expectation on her face. "Well, yeah, obviously I gotta test how coordinated and fun you are, and this seemed like the easiest way. I thought about doing a prom based obstacle course, but it sounded like a lotta work," Frank shrugged, as if the work was the weird part of that little sentence. She grinned at Sam, nodding and watching as he moved the bop-it around, at least demonstrating a fundamental understanding of what it did and its various uses. That wasn't really part of the test, but he definitely earned bonus points for that.

"Do what you feel is right, you must,' said Frank, croaking a little and sounding a bit like a fuzzy green midget muppet. She waved her hand and nodded solemnly. "More testing there will be to come, for much must be determined before acceptance is to come."

Frank nodded again, folding her hands in front of her, though keeping the MRE gripped in one. She shifted her grip on it to give it a little chew while she talked, what with the whole constantly eating thing still being very much a matter of necessity. She wanted to project the whole wise old person thing, and she figured that her new, super skinny, bod would probly help with that.

[Samuel Demetrius Raiden]

Sam agreed that an obstacle course would be a lot more work with a nod. He pushed the main button against his knee until it got to the 'beat bop' setting and then pulled the 'pull it' knob. He followed along to the sounds with ease. Each sound that came from the bop it meant one of the three objects. To be honest, Sam was kind of surprised he remembered what each sound meant.

While he continued along to the noises, he looked up, meeting Frank's eyes. Really? Yoda? Because that's not over-used or anything. "So, if we're gonna go to prom, I'd like to know your name." he shrugged, not showing any sort of struggle as the bop-it decided to pick up speed. Sam stared at her, following her arm along to the MREs. "Are those even good?" he asked nodding his head towards the MREs, hands pre-occupied by the child's toy.

Sam turned his focus back to the game, as it was now at a speed he'd actually have to pay attention to. He started to get nervous as it got faster and faster to the point where he wasn't actually sure what his hands were doing. The game finished when he accidentally, 'twisted-it' when he was supposed to 'pull-it'. He sighed defeat and listened to the score sounds, counting quietly in his head. "462" he said simply.

[Frank "Sunny" Laffont]

"I didn't put my name on the poster thing?" said Frank, moving to look at it. She spent a few seconds staring, half-listening to the noises of the game and half-listening to her new date person. "I'm Frank though, Frank Cox, the Frank Cox, y'know, the super cool heiress chick who was totally held captive by the evil agents of SPECTRE and they're okay. The MRE thingies, that is, not SPECTRE, though there was this one agent guy who didn't seem too bad. He was this badass black guy and--"

And the machine let out a noise that Frank recognized all too well. She let out an "aww" then moved over to look, four six two. Frank nodded, appreciatively, "Not bad, not bad," she said. "Now, we need to do some identification exercises!"

She dove over to the table, rummaged around for a bit, and then pulled out a set of cue cards that she'd obviously spent some time doing. She adjusted them quickly before putting one up. It showed a picture of a grey cat frowning into the distance and looking, well, generally unhappy with his life and his existence. "What," said Frank, pausing and perhaps throwing on a bit of a British accent, "is this? And no, 'a cat' is not an acceptable answer."

[Samuel Demetrius Raiden]

Oh. There probably was a sign that said her name. He wasn't big on looking around for it though. His eyes were already damaged enough from the extremely sparkly signs. Frank, that's a name he heard before. This girl could eat almost anything. A girl after his own hear that's for sure. Well, definitely good because Sam wasn't very good at cooking. She had gone on a bit about Spectre. To be honest, the whole thing made him sick to his stomach. What kind of people would kidnap and torture children? No matter what they were like, that was horrible.

He rested the bop-it on the table. He turned his chair back around so he was straddling the back of it again. "Sam is my name by the way." he said simply, resting his hands on the back of the chair, and his chin on his hands. Sam watched as the girl dove under the table. She had some sort of cards, the looked to be of memes and other various internet things. Really, she was quizzing a single 18 year old boy who spent most of his adolescence on online schools.

This will be easy. She held up the cat that made it popular on the internet just by looking angry at all times. He did remember seeing something about how the cat was actually really nice. "Really?" he asked rhetorically, raising his eyebrows in disbelief, "that's grumpy cat." He was prepared that's for sure. This girl was the right amount of crazy for him. It was a match made in hell, to be honest.

[Frank "Sunny" Laffont]

"Sam," repeated Frank, considering. "Samank? Sarank? Fram? Hmm, that does not sound that appealing, that is gonna count against you," it was too, though Frank did realize that her name didn't exactly lend itself to that sort of thing very well, particularly since she was the girl and girls usually went second in that sort of thing. What she needed was another Jeremy. Jeremank sounded kinda cool.

But for now, there were memes to identify. "Correct,' said Frank, nodding and pursing her lips together, obviously at least somewhat pleased with his answer. Soon she'd be flipping through all the cards, which contained mostly popular memes. There was one or two obscure one, and one that was just a picture of Pinkie Pie the pony from MLP, because, well, Frank liked to show off pictures of that. She'd probably make him read her fanfiction next. The one where Pinkie Pie was selected as a companion for the tenth doctor was a work of pure genius, in her esteemed opinion.

[Samuel Demetrius Raiden]

Sam nodded, agreeing their names did not sound well together. "Framuel doesn't sound bad," he shrugged. He thought a bit more. Maybe his middle name would sound better with her name. He wouldn't mind going by his middle name. "We could go with my middle name," he paused mixing the names in his head, "Frametrius, or Demank." 

He turned his attention back to her flash cards. He listed most of them with ease. There were  a few he had to stop and think about, but he got them in the end. Then there was one that wasn't a meme, Pinkie Pie from My Little Pony. To be honest, he was a little disappointed in himself that he got it so quickly. He decided that it was because it was all over the internet rather than his actual knowledge of the show to make him feel better about himself.

[Frank "Sunny" Laffont]

"Framuel?" Frank repeated, working her lips a bit, obviously testing the word out. "It does have some potential, maybe. Samueank doesn't sound too bad either, if kinda like some kinda strange dish made with a lot of spice and junk. Pretty sure I've eaten something like that before, anyway, flash cards!"

And he did pretty good at them too. Frank was pleasantly surprised to hear him naming the pony correctly. Well, maybe not quite pleasantly as suspiciously. There wasn't a whole lot about Samuel that spoke of Brony, but perhaps he buried it deep. For all Frank knew, he had Rainbow Dash boxers and a secret chest containing various pony figurines that he brushed on the regular or something. Appearances could be deceiving, at least, overall.

The card test ended and Frank set it aside carefully, pausing to adjust them. "So far, you're doing quite well," she said, putting on a decent British accent while she did so. "you demonstrated great reflexes in the whole Bop-it challenge, and you clearly have some knowledge of what's really important in life," Frank paused for a moment, then leaned forward, "I'm talking about the Internet of course. One of our basic needs. Buuuut," she leaned back, templing her fingers for a moment, tapping them, "there's at least two more key skills required of every good date. I'm not gonna test on one, because kissing random dudes could totally wreck my rep. But the other is verrrah important."

So important that Frank felt it necessary to pause, mostly for dramatic effect. She tapped her fingers against one another a few times, then finally spoke. "You need to compose a poem. About me. Innnnn," she looked at her wrist, which had nothing even remotely resembling a watch, "about five minutes. Go,' she then popped her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands, staring up at him with sort of dreamy intensity that teenage girls gawked at dreamboats, or at least, the way they gawked in comedies or cartoons, which was obviously where Frank got at least half of her life lessons.

[Samuel Demetrius Raiden]

Sam groaned, jokingly, when she mentioned there were at least two more skills to discover. A smile peaked on his lips as he waited expectantly for the next 'task'. His eyes narrowed on her when she began to talk. A poem, in five minutes? Okay. That shouldn't be too hard. He raised his head from his hands. He tapped his fingers from one hand against the other while he moved into thought. He had the first few lines down. Sam had an idea for the second part, but he was all about accuracy.

He looked directly at her, and suddenly, his pupils almost encompassed his entire eyes. The sound around him became silent. He cherished the sudden silence for a moment before scanning her skin for blemishes, even minute ones. Surprisingly, she only had about one, and that wasn't even noticeable to the normal eye. His pupils shrank back to normal as the bustle of the cafeteria returned to his ears. He winced a bit at the sudden loudness. He was prepared to give his poem. Sam straightened up and cleared his throat.

"Frank, shall I compare thee to a bulimic competitive food eater.
Thou art so hungry
Skin, so clear and clean,
you could be a blank sheet of paper.
aaaaand that's all I got." 

He shrugged. He wasn't the best with words, that's for sure. Sam really only had that bit planned out and with 5 minutes to work on it, he didn't think it was horrible. He dropped his arms to his side and watched her for a reaction.

[Frank "Sunny" Laffont]

Frank listened intently while Sam recited his poetry, her eyes on him. She tapped her finger while she did, humming a little to herself. When she spoke again, it was in a faux British accent that actually sounded pretty darn close to the real thing (obviously something that Frank had practiced and put a little work and effort into).

"Well, it's meter and rhythm were a bit off, and the rhymes were virtually nonexistent. Nobody wants to be compared to bulimia either: that's just not sexy. Still, you absolutely," Frank extended her hand, all fingers splayed, and tapped the table, "absolutely nailed the ending, which pretty well brings it all together."

Frank nodded a few more times, again looking the guy over. He'd done pretty darn well on the tests overall, and it wasn't like she had a whole lot in the way of options. He did look a little not masculine, but Frank supposed that she could deal with that if he was going to be awesome. "Right, you totally pass. I gotta admit, that's mostly because for some reason, there's not a lot of competition. So we'll totally meet up and hit prom, but, like, I've got loads of friends there, so I might end up taking off and bugging them. Plus, I'm totally gonna win prom princess, which means a date with a prince. Just wanted to make sure you knew," she pointed at him, then nodded a few more times before crossing her arms over her chest, obviously wanting to hear his reaction to her final judgment.