She brightens. "That'd be great, thanks! Assuming I haven't figured something else out by then– I probably don't have time to do anything this weekend after this evening until Sunday?"

"Sunday works for me!"

"Great! Thank you so much! I'll- go put him in the fridge for now, be back in a bit?"

"Uh, alright."

"Thanks! See you later!" Ava says, taking her bag off in the direction of the dorms.

"See you," she says, then kind of awkwardly nods her head and wanders off.

She doesn't feel like going back to the dorms quite yet, though, so she hovers between trying to stay at the - party? not really, 'gathering' might be better - and going for a walk. (Ugh, she'll have to try getting into the woods soon, being around this many people's becoming increasingly grating, and her skin's been itching lately like it doesn't fit the way it wants to).

The gathering is starting to get louder and more active, even though people have started to leave:

The girls with friendship bracelets have escalated their argument to a duel with marshmallow skewers, with buns still impaled on the ends. The one in boots stage-yells for the one with glasses to take back her words, and is laughingly refused.

Harold is watching in vague disapproval as a group, made up mostly of people in makeshift funeral clothes holding cups of punch, cheers on a freshman as he stuffs what must at least be the fourth marshmallow into his mouth.

Some students are quickly tossing pieces of charcoal back and forth; from their yelps, one or two pieces were recently in the grills.

One of the math students is refilling the nearly-empty punch bowl with the remaining bottle of soda while her friend loudly complains that it will ruin the flavor. The other bottle, empty, sits on the ground next to a full trash can.

....Yeah, nope.

She starts awkwardly sidling out.

Nobody stops her. One of the students jogs over to the trashcan, to incorporate kicking the soda bottle into the charcoal-catching game, to shouts of approval.

Yup, leaving for that walk. There's a few quiet streets she knows, ones with just enough trees to make her homesick, but it's the best she can get when her mind is jittering like this.

It is in fact quiet, and not quite too chilly for a walk to be pleasant.

She'll walk until she's exhausted, then, hoping to purge out some of this antsy feeling.

It gets the rest of the way dark, and the air grows chilly, and then cold, and her breath starts to fog.

This is nice.

She slowly meanders back.

The gathering seems to be over. There's trash on the ground, but the tables, charcoal, and food and drink supplies are gone and the grills have been closed up. Nobody else is there.

Well, she'll pick up some trash, since she doesn't really feel like going completely to bed yet, and then head up.

The trash is not unexpectedly gross, aside from a pile of partially-chewed marshmallows. Nobody interrupts her on her way.

And then sweet, glorious sleep.

(She wakes feeling even worse mentally, wanting to vanish, wanting no one to look at her or talk to her or use her damn name, she hates it right now, hates everything about her body, wants to burst out of her skin and be other.)

Fortunately, it's the beginning of the weekend, so she is free to respond to this feeling as she pleases!

Which is finding someone with a car and exercising her 'surviving in the wilderness for two days' ability.

Which is a lot easier with backpacks and ready meals and not being eight.

(She claims she's section hiking. She'll make it to the pickup place on time, but first she's going to hide in a tree and not talk to anyone for a bit.)

A short-haired aspiring search-and-rescue member with a soft voice is delighted to borrow a van to drop her off, after making sure she knows about local hazards, and has emergency numbers and list of numbers to get picked up again if she needs it.

Camping in a tree it is.

The weather is reasonably nice for this late in October. The leaves of deciduous trees are mostly colorful. A standard spread of wildlife is around, occasionally fleeing upon noticing her.

Good.

Mal, meanwhile, is not having a particularly good time.