I filled out the application pretty smoothly, "Name? Jordan Evestone. D.O.B.? October 25th, 1998. Majors? Creative Writing, Drama Studies and History ...tudies." Everything else was just filler. I handed in the form and the guide gave me a key and showed me to my dorm, explaining about it. "The dorms are basically small apartments, y'see," he began, "They're built for two to three people. Yours is a two-bedroom, and your roommate's already unpacking." We stopped outside a door that read '36D', as. He would be down there about half an hour before re-emerging. Finally one day out of curiosity I followed him about half way down the stairs. From there you could clearly see the whole room, but still high enough to not be noticed. After stripping out of his football pants (he would already be shirtless, and barefoot) he would plop down on his bed, and cross his legs. Then it appeared that he would grab his dick, and then do something to it --- wasn't sure what, but there was a lot of movement. We took our rifles, canteens, extra ammunition clips, and lunch as we ran to find advantageous firing positions. We only moved a few yards closer to the mine, but our position was peppered by a rain of bullets. From the sound, they were all firing Mississippi Rifles, so there had to be at least 12 shooters. No less a number than that could keep up that volume of fire with that type of rifle.We were both hungry, so Abi dug out the burritos while I put up a slow token return fire. I wanted to eat. She said and we were out the door within minutes. Going by the concierges' desk, she picked up the phone and ordered room service. "Yes, 1 bottle champagne, 1 order vanilla ice cream, 1 side of strawberries, and can you do some chocolate syrup on the side? Thanks. Room 712." We got in the elevator like we didn't know each other. I stood to the back against the wall. She got in after me and pressed floor 7. There were other people in the elevator. Not crowded, but we were close. I.
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