you're no good for me;; lucien

[Brooklyn Mancini]

Brook blinked her eyes open slowly, before scrunching them shut again tightly. No. Not happening. She rolled over, her arm reaching out from under the mess of blankets that she had created while she slept to grope for the watch sitting on the bedside table. Cracking one eye open to actually look at what time it was. One of the things about sleeping down in the dungeons was that it was completely throwing off her circadian rhythms. Normally she was awake at the same time every morning, but down here where the sun couldn’t really penetrate the thick walls, it was harder to sense what time it was naturally. It was alway dark unless you turned the lights on. Great, she had slept through breakfast. Not the biggest deal in the grand scheme of things considering that she didn’t actually eat breakfast, but that meant that she had wasted hours that could have been spent doing useful things. She put the watch back down and rolled onto her back willing some motivation into getting up. She stretched languidly, one hand reaching up above her head and the other moving to press the back of her hand into her cheek to move up and rub her eyes. As soon as her hand applied pressure to her face, however, she winced and made a small noise of discomfort. Fuck. Oh, fuck, she had gotten into it with that kid last night. She groaned loudly in frustration.

She was absolutely not going to hide in her dormitory room all day, that was for sure. She had things to do, shit to get done as she would usually say. She would just not stay in the common room for any reason. That sounded like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. It wasn’t like she normally studied here anyway, she like the library. She made a face and nodded to herself like her logic was perfectly sound before sitting up and running her fingers through her hair to some degree. Probably would just put it up in a ponytail or something like that. Easy and out of her face for now. She slid out of bed and made her way into the bathroom, making a mental note that she needed to send her father a note about getting her slippers as her feet made contact with the cold stone floor. She looked in the mirror and cursed her pale skin and its tendency to bruise easily, running back to her trunk so that she could grab her makeup bag. It was cover-up time. Before going back in to fix her face, she picked out some random comfortable clothes that she could sit in for hours. Yoga pants were a gift from the gods. And they made her butt look great, well great-er anyway. She was just going to have to slather. That was how it was going to be.

After about five minutes, it was as good as it was going to get. Thankfully, there weren’t a lot of people who had stayed over the break so it wasn’t as though she was going to have to explain herself to anybody of importance today. Maybe her sister, but she doubted it. Ren was probably outside. If the sun was out, then Ren was out. Satisfied, she walked back out to her bed and stuffed everything she needed into her bag and threw it over her shoulders. She peeked her head around the corner of the doorway for a second before she rolled her eyes at herself. How old was she? She wasn’t going to sneak out of her bedroom. She walked out into the common area, albeit walking rather quickly and out through entrance into the hallway, heading in the direction of the library. She turned around the corner quickly, just trying to get to the library at this point. She had a certain amount of thing she wanted to get done before lunch and she was behind now since she hadn’t done anything last night. Now she had to both play catch up and get ahead. She was so busy thinking about the order of things that she wanted to get done that she stopped watching where she was going, only to nearly run directly into someone else coming around the corner. “Hey! You wanna watch where you’re-- oh fuck.” The one person she was trying not to see today.

[Lucien Maddock]

His head was pounding. Not like a normal hangover pounding, but a stay in bed and sweat out the toxins in an old school sweat lodge pounding. He would let somebody leech out his blood right about now. The throbbing in his head was normally a problem solved by nice, greasy sausage and runny eggs on toast with breakfast and a large, large amount of water. Normally. He had really gotten into it last night, he was going to throttle that Foster child. Lucien's hands worked deftly over the locks and knobs that comprised Silas' belongings. Most of which, were back at the boys house, where he was but some things were too delicate to be moved, and Silas was rifling through them right now, looking for that particular opaque jar that would have had everything turning up sunrise if he could just get it, into his nose. Any moment...as it was he had upended a couple of beds and rifled through just about everything Silas owned, as well as checked in the canopy pockets and under the floor boards. Nothing was to be found. If he could have seen straight, and kept his eyes open for long enough, he would have written the boy and demanded it to be sent instantly to his aide. Didn't care if Silas would have still been sleeping otherwise. He wanted, what he wanted and Silas had a duty to keep him happy. It was all that the whelp was worth anyway. Bitterly, he shouted in frustration, and the noise echoed in the larger space around him and he was forced to cover his ears as the pounding punished him for daring to speak above a whisper. He couldn't exactly go to the infirmary either. Grimacing, he staggered out of the room, snatching a pair of sunglasses from the first table he saw them on and left the door open behind him. He was the only one here, so why not.

It was off to the library he went. He was a smart fellow, despite the way that he tended to project himself, he could make himself something to fix this ache in the base of his skull. At least he knew where Silas kept all of his things, the ingredients to make just about anything really. Wasn't like Lucien couldn't pay for whatever he took. It was a slow, arduous walk to get to his target, the random students talking, the ghosts insisting on trying to pass through him. All of them, he hated everything in this castle today. Most days. Actually. Self important, worthless assholes. He moved softly, so that his shoes didn't make any sound on the polished floors and his hand kept finding it's way to rub at his temples, mentally cursing every beam of sunlight that he passed in the open windows. It was winter. There should be a petition for the sun to just, hide away for all of winter. That would be ideal. His pale skin would thank the sun for a small break, every now and then. His grooming ritual was tedious enough without having to factor in how much time it took for him to properly apply sunscreen, and layer it with fragrance so that he smelled perfectly like baked almonds at all times. Distinctive, but faint enough to appear natural. Took a lot of work to seem like he never paid it any attention whatsoever. Just get to the library, con his way into the restricted section for the book that he wanted, and get back to the dorm. Should have been simple.

Only whenever he rounded the corner, the very last face in existance that he wanted to see, was standing right there. Nearly running into him. Presumptious. Annoying. “Hey! You wanna watch where you’re-- oh fuck.” And of course she was going to run into him with his damp, slicked back hair and 'casual' clothing. Certainly, his clothing, even what he considered overly 'casual' cost more than most students would spend on the entirety of their wardrobes, but money meant almost nothing to him, he had far too much of it to think about it in any real sense. His eyes narrowed and he wrenched the glasses from his face, damn near hissed at her to make her go away. His lip curled and even though it was painful, he opened his eyes to see her properly, in all of her fire haired glory. “You,” his word bit, “You really should consider transferring back to the hole that you came from,”

[Brooklyn Mancini]

She looked up; she didn’t remember him being this tall last night. Why was he wearing sunglasses inside? Oh, oh he was hungover. She laughed internally. Good, he deserved it. He reached up to take off the sunglasses, but it was too late to save that bit of face. His lip curled and he was going to talk to her. Why were they going to interact today? Hadn’t last night been more than enough? She wanted to finish her Transfiguration essay that she intended to do last night. “You. You should really consider transferring back to the hole that you came from.” Her jaw set in anger as her eyes narrowed. Who the hell did he think he was? Alright then. If he was going to be that way, then she could just be a bitch back. That wasn’t an issue. “Oh, you mean the best wizarding school in America? I wish I could, then I wouldn’t have to deal with the likes of you.” She sneered at him, looking down her nose despite the height difference. The Mancini’s were hot shit at home and that wasn’t something that she was just going to forget overnight. She had had the best education that money could provide up until this point. The hole she came from. Please.

“Perhaps you should really consider finding some manners. Now step off.” This was exactly what she had been hoping to avoid by coming to the library this morning. She wanted to sit by herself and do her work. She didn’t really want to get into another fight, that just felt too ridiculous. And much too similar to her sister; that was Renata’s area, the physical. She couldn’t even count how many times she had pulled Ren off of someone else. Brook fought with words, that was where her strength was. And really, it was just unfair, she would probably beat the shit out of him. Wouldn’t want to embarrass him so thoroughly at least not with so few people in the castle anyway. Just because she didn’t usually fight didn’t mean that she couldn’t. Ladies didn’t start fights, but they could finish them. She looked him up and down once, keeping her face clearly unimpressed, before moving to step around him and continue into the library. She didn’t care enough right now. She had things to do; she was sure that he had his own things to do. If it bothered him so much, then he could follow her. It wasn’t like she was that hard to find, she was a creature of habit after all, and she was easily recognizable anyway.

She headed to a table in one of the corners, sitting her bag down on the table and pulling her papers out along with the book she had been working out of yesterday. Sitting down and organizing everything in front of her, taking up the majority of the table, she glanced towards the librarian, who wasn’t paying too much attention to her, before sliding off her moccasins and pulling her feet up to fold her legs underneath her. More comfortable this way. Now, where had she left off last night? She found her place and refreshed her memory briefly before leaning over the paper, focussing on what she was writing. She only had a few more paragraphs left on this assignment, then she was going to move on to Potions. She was so focussed on what she was doing that she forgot not to touch her face and leant her cheek on her hand for a moment. She made a low growling sound as she flinched away from the pressure of her hands on the sensitive flesh, her fingers moving to the skin to swipe at it lightly just to make sure she didn’t smear her cover-up away. Stupid boys. Stupid drunk boys and their stupid tempers.

[Lucien Maddock]

This was a perfect example of the sort of thing that he didn't want to be living through right about now. He didn't want to be standing here, letting anybody know that he was in pain. Much less her. He didn't want to be standing here at all. Even the dorm had been too loud – with the tapping against the floor to ceiling window and the swirling of the lake directly outside of it. The way that everything was somehow always tinted sea green whether he liked it or not. It wasn't the color that he needed to be seeing. He wanted to be in the library – in the restricted section where he was sure that he wasn't going to be bothered. Funny thing about the librarian – she tended not to really give a shit whenever the students weren't here en masse. Even if she did. He was light on his feet. She shouldn't have even know he was there. Though, if this horrible girl insisted on making a scene in the hallway...well, she had better not. He would give her more than a lash to her cheek. Another thing – that he didn't actually remember giving her but he had to. He knew it was from him. Had to be. Even just warning her away from him, the slight conversation was setting his teeth on edge. “Oh, you mean the best wizarding school in America? I wish I could, then I wouldn’t have to deal with the likes of you.” She said that like it was something to be proud of. Scoffing, was another mistake he just made. Too much movement, too many sounds. Everything hurt. “Best school in America? That's like picking the favorite lint in my pocket” his tone softer, which of course she was going to pick up on. Sadly, she didn't come across as totally moronic.

“Perhaps you should really consider finding some manners. Now step off.” Lucien's gaze shifted to his feet. Step off, of what? The ground? What a perfectly stupid thing to say. His brow pinched in momentary confusion, it must have been one of those stupid American sayings. Paired with his hangover, he really wasn't in the mood for such stupid things. He did have manners. He had perfect breeding, his family was in the highest rung of standing in all of the European pure blooded society. He had manners for those who deserved it. She wasn't one of them. He didn't care how distantly she was related to who – because he knew, of course he knew. He knew seven generations in any direction of every pure blooded family there was. It was required of him. He knew who she was, and he didn't care. Certainly not for her 'American' standards or thinking that she was better than she actually was. He could feel her eyes on him, even if he was a little too sluggish to follow them properly, but he could feel their gaze, her silent appraisal, and he absolutely felt it whenever she found him wanting. Him. Lucien Maddock. Wanting. He wanted for nothing. Ever. She should have been so damn lucky. Sodding headache needed to bugger off. Now. He could feel his canines baring themselves in a near hiss as she was past him, the door slamming shut behind her reverberating throughout the entire hallway and his hands curled into tight fists.

Lucien's shoe squeaked against the polished stone of the floor as he turned, bitter enough to follow her and knowing that he was going to end up splitting his damned head open at this point. He entered the library far more quietly than his temper would have liked, but he wasn't going to have that slam echoing in his brain a second time. Both hands behind him as he braced the door shut, and then pushing the sunglasses carefully back onto his face. Damn place didn't need to have giant windows on the entire side facing the grounds did it. This place, the whole damned castle was out to get him. He had to move through the aisles slowly, refusing to let his steps jar him any further, only to finally find her nestled between the stacks in the larger of the seating areas, happily taking up a whole table like she wasn't bothered in the slightest. Moving to the side of her, Lucien wrenched the book out from under her nose, very satisfied at the hiss she made for touching her face. With his finger between the pages he checked the spine of the book – no library sticker. This was her own text book. Grinning, he very carefully looked at her over the nose of his sunglasses – and tore a large chunk out of the pages.

[Brooklyn Mancini]

She had settled herself into her work so quickly, that she didn’t hear the doors close a second time after her. They had closed too quietly to draw her attention. Once she was submerged in whatever she happened to be doing at the time, she tended to become a little oblivious. There was a reason that she would spend hours straight in the same spot and forget to pause for things like food. A reason that at the end of the day, Ren would do a final sweep of the library to make sure that she wasn’t still in here; and if she was, to make sure she was going back to her dorm. On top of that, she hadn’t heard the quiet footsteps come up alongside of her either. Should have been paying more attention; it was stupid not to be considering that there had been a chance he was going to follow her in here. Didn’t see the movement in her peripherals until the book she was skimming quickly wasn’t in front of her anymore. She blinked twice. “Motherfucker-” She jerked her head to the side to see him looking at the outside cover of her textbook. Why couldn’t they pretend to have not spoken? Why?

A grin stretched over his face and he looked over the top of his sunglasses. That didn’t feel like it was going to bode well for her in any way. After a few seconds pause, the sound of paper tearing greeted her ears as he tore a chunk of pages from her textbook. Son of a bitch. Son of a fucking bitch. Now she was a witch, it wasn’t as though a simple spell couldn’t fix the textbook. A little charm and the pages would be right back in the book. It was the principle, the disrespect behind the act that set her teeth on edge. Paying little heed to the level of her voice, because she just knew it was going to irritate him further. “You hateful little insect.” Because she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of being something more than a bug, something more than a tiny nuisance that could be squashed or swatted away. She twisted in her seat, her legs coming out from under her and slipping her shoes back on in the same movement. She turned to face him, standing up and taking the small step into his personal space. She reached out and grabbed onto her book, trying to pull it out of his hands, but he wasn’t letting go of it. She was practically growling in frustration at this point. “Okay, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this bullshit is not gonna fly with me. Give me my book back. Now.” Where was the librarian when they were needed?

[Lucien Maddock]

“You hateful little insect.” The confident smirk on his face strained. Clearly pained by the decibel of her voice. She was doing that on purpose, just making him a little more angry. On. Purpose. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had angered him so damn much. He knew that it wasn't even her, not really, but she was the outlet for everything that had been happening as of late. All of the events over the break, being sent home early from his home and being all alone in his dormitory. So, her calling him an insect was just giving him a reason to be even more horrible to her. She didn't know that she was giving him exactly what he needed. It wasn't that he would have ever felt poorly about how he was treating her, but he really didn't care now. The pages that he had torn out of her book fluttered down to floor forgotten as she reached out and latched back onto the book itself. Not that he had any intention of letting her have it. She looked like she was just about foaming out of the mouth. It was, minorly satisfying . Even with the horrible throbbing happening inside of his head. His temper didn't normally flow so freely, he really should reconsider this whole drinking thing, apparently.

He jolted back a little bit too quickly whenever she stood, inserting herself into his personal space. The sloshing of his brain within the confines of his skull was...very unpleasant. The jolt of her tugging against the bug again jarring his whole system once over. He could have hissed. Everything hurt. He wasn't used to pain like this. “Okay, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this bullshit is not gonna fly with me. Give me my book back. Now.” With a painful pull he flipped the thing over in his hands, looking at the blank pouch in the back of the book “Doesn't look like it belongs to you,” he tossed it in the direction of the table, just out of her easy reach...and that too, was far, far too loud for his liking. Behind the safety of his glasses, his eyes close for a long moment. “You're just the one who thinks that everything belongs to you, don't you?”

[Brooklyn Mancini]

She was satisfied by the way his smirk changed with the sound of her speaking. That meant she was being loud enough, good. Served him right. As she stood in his personal space, with her hands wrapped around the book, she wondered for a second why she had so quickly jumped into arm’s reach of him. He had shown last night that he had no issue cracking her across the face. It was as clear as the bruise on her cheek. And instead of staying a safe distance away and yelling at him or something equally safe she was standing close enough to get hit again. Though, he had been drunk; would he hit her while he was sober? She didn’t know this boy from Adam, didn’t know anything about him really, other than the fact that he was being an asshole. He wrenched the book from her hands and flipped it open to the back cover where the pouch that would hold the card for checking it out was. “Doesn’t look like it belongs to you.” She rolled her eyes at him. Well of course not, she wouldn’t spend so much time in the library if she owned the books. “Signed out in my name, so actually for the time being it does.” That was the way checking books out worked. You were responsible for them and, unfortunately, the damage done to them while they were taken out.

She was definitely going to have to fix that book before she returned it. She didn’t want to be fined, or worse not be able to check books out from the library anymore. She had only just gotten here, there was a whole other year after this one, and there were N.E.W.T.S to think about. He tossed it past her, back toward where she had been sitting before, but she couldn’t reach it from this side of the table. She was going to have to walk all the way around the table just to get the book. She sighed and pursed her lips, gritting her teeth. She hoped the sound of it hitting the surface of the table hurt his head just to spite him. "You’re just the one who thinks that everything belongs to you, don’t you?” She gritted her teeth and bent at the waist to pick up the pages that he had thrown on the ground. “You have no idea what I’m like.” From her position, she looked up towards his face for a moment. “The one who thinks everything belongs to you? Seems a bit more like you.” She straightened quickly and turned around to go back to her work. She wasn’t afraid to show him her back, she wanted to show him that he didn’t scare her, didn’t intimidate her, even with all his posturing. “Why don’t you go find somewhere dark and sleep off that need for sunglasses?”

[Lucien Maddock]

“Signed out in my name, so actually for the time being it does.” Good. Then she was responsible for the damage. He should just leave it now, let her deal with the mess how she wanted. He didn't want to be here, and with her standing this close to him, he was more aware of how much he really didn't want to be dealing with her. Not in this state. Not at all. Why had he even dragged himself into this room at all. His temper and his handover were not friends. He was tempted to push her, whenever she bent to pick up the pages, also tempted to knock them right out of her hands. “You have no idea what I’m like.” Right. He had no intention of getting to know her either. Didn't want to know what she was like, and was more than happy to think all of the horrible things about her all that he wanted. She knew nothing about him either, and he was happy to keep the both of them firmly within their ignorance. “The one who thinks everything belongs to you? Seems a bit more like you.” Lame. Very lame as far are retorts go. Repeating his own words back to him. Her hair flipping in his face as she turned, as if she were just going to get back to her work, and ignore his presence. It was a little alarming, that still, she wasn't reacting the way that she should have been, the way that all women tended to react to him. The way that reminded him just why it was that he avoided most women...and after meeting this harpy, he was going to be staying even farther away from them. She was horrible. “Why don’t you go find somewhere dark and sleep off that need for sunglasses?” Lifting the papers right back out of her hands he nodded, curt and mostly to himself as the gesture instantly resulted in pain all through his head, and down his spine.

Carefully, he put a crease in the pages, pulling them closer to his person and folding them again before stuffing the pages that she needed deep into his pockets, before reaching out and patting her on the top of her head. None too gently twice, like an animal “That's the first not totally useless thing that's left that hole in your face” he half smiled while taking a step backward and pushing his hands into his pockets, pushing those pages even deeper than they were before and turned toward the entrance of the library, his head was pounding, and she was irritating him, from her voice to the way that her hair looked.

[Brooklyn Mancini]

She really just wanted him to go away now. Leave her alone so that she could do some work and then they would deal with each other like adults at a later date. Or not, they didn’t even have to deal with each other at all if they didn’t want to; the castle was more than big enough to just ignore each other regardless of the fact that they were in the same house. He seemed to be just about as not in the mood as she was to be doing this. She held the papers in one hand as she shuffled her things on the table, waiting for him to leave before she retrieved her book and kept working. Then she felt the pages tugged back out of her hands and her head jerked back around. “The fuck? Give them-” Her words cut off as he folded them in half and then folded them again. “Don’t do that! Give them back!” She just wanted to break his sunglasses across his stupid, pretty face. Er, just stupid. His face was just stupid. He shoved the folded pages into his pocket. Great, fucking awesome. Ripped out of the book, folded up, and crinkled now. More things to fix when she got the pages back; not if, when because he wasn’t leaving with them that was for damn sure.

He patted the top of her head rather forcefully, like she was dog or something equally degrading, and she jerked her head away from his hand. “Don’t fucking touch me.” Swinging her hand up towards his arms as though she were swatting at a fly that was buzzing around her head. Something annoying that just wouldn’t leave her alone, that she was just waiting for it land so that she could hit it with the textbook. “That’s the first not totally useless thing that’s left that hole in your face.” Well that was rude. He smiled at her, a little lopsided, like she was supposed to be charmed or something and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was probably wrinkling the pages of the book even further now, and took a step backward. “Give. Them. Back.” He turned around towards the entrance of the library. She stepped forward again, reaching out and grabbing his arm to stop him. Pulling on the arm in her grip, she jerk on it, to spin him back to face her again. “Oh, no. You don’t get to leave just yet.”

[Lucien Maddock]

“Give. Them. Back.” Such a juvenile little tactic. He knew that. Juvenile the way that he took the pages and hid them away from her and it was only partially for the fact that he was so very hungover. Partially because she was exceedingly easy to get a rise out of, even if it usually wasn't the effect that he was looking for but it was better than nothing. He just wished, that whenever the move he had been expecting, the grabbing of his arm and spinning him around hadn't put him so far off center. Hadn't left the room still spinning even though he had stopped moving after the slight adjustment to his direction. He wasn't inclined to give her back the things anyway. His jaw tensed. He wasn't going to be letting them go, she had to see that now. He was stubborn, headache or not. “Oh, no. You don’t get to leave just yet” His lip curled. “And why not? You'll just look for any reason at all to keep me here.” disdain dripping from the words as he wrenched from her grip, his brow knitting in a vain effort to keep the pain at bay. Food. Something disgusting and a nap, that was what was needed right about now. Then again...what he really needed right now was far outside of this castle. Don't think about him. That won't end well. Won't owl him, that would end poorly. Would seem...needy. Lucien wasn't needy. He couldn't even keep his thoughts untangled. Everything was a mess. His head was a mess, most of all. Foolish, entering into a confrontation without both feet on the ground. Stupid girl, for provoking him. Behind the glasses his eyes narrowed. She wasn't going to let him leave easily. “No. I'm keeping them.”

[Brooklyn Mancini]

He wrenched his arm from the grip her fingers had around his elbow. She hoped that her nails scratched him or something. “And why not? You’ll just look for any reason at all to keep me here.” Her eyes moved away from his face as she blinked a few times, in annoyance, to just over his shoulder. She didn’t even look directly at him as she spoke again, frustrated with exactly how ridiculous what he had just said was. She was absolutely not trying to keep him here. In fact, she was the one who suggested that he leave in the first place, before he had ripped the papers out of her hands. “Right, because I’m the one being difficult here.” Sardonic words, just falling from her mouth in return. She was the one who had decided that not just ignoring each other was the best course of action. She wondered for what must have been the tenth time so far, why she had even decided to get out of bed today. Could have still been in the covers, and probably finished with this stupid essay by now because she wouldn’t have been interrupted. “No. I’m keeping them.” Unacceptable. She had no doubt that was never going to see them again if he walked out with them. “No. You are not.” She took a step towards him, just starting to edge into his personal space, threatening. “Why are you being such a fucking asshole? Just give me back my shit and leave.” It was clear that he didn’t want to be here any more than she wanted to be having this conversation; so if he just gave her back what he had taken, then they both were going to get what they wanted, which, she assumed, was to not be in the same room with each other.

[Lucien Maddock]

“Right, because I’m the one being difficult here.” Clearly. His expression had to say as much. That he felt that she was being fully uncooperative, and refusing to learn the lay of the land here, so to speak. She wasn't even in the same league as him and was insisting on pretending as such. As the Americans here tended to put it, she was in the 'Big Leagues' anything that she had thought in America as having sway here, they were wrong. Everything about them was wrong. Perhaps he was going a touch out of his way to make her even more miserable, but she had slighted him and that just simply couldn't stand. Never mind the events of these last few days had him in a particularly foul disposition. With all of the things at home – it had felt good to hit her. Horrible, he knew, for hitting a woman with so slight a provocation but he needed a whipping boy – and she was unfortunate enough to be it. From Silas – to his brother and now her...a distraction. Keeping her riled up was keeping him from thinking too much. From wondering as to the curse that his brother had seen fit to put on him, making his movements so constricted – the drinking had helped though. It was a sore shame that he wasn't one of those who was able to function while simultaneously piss drunk. He might, for the first time in his life, accept Joel's insistent offers and his over inflated pricing schemes.“No. You are not.” She could say what she wanted but fishing around in his pockets was out of the question. She couldn't stoop that low. And he would stop her if she tried. He didn't like being touched anyhow. Not really, certainly not by her.

She moved so easily into his personal space that he took a step backward without thinking. Didn't like to be that close to people. Besides, she was for all intents and purposes a perfect stranger. “Why are you being such a fucking asshole? Just give me back my shit and leave.” Why was he being a perfect asshole? For a few reasons. Because it was easy. Because it didn't require any thought whatsoever. Because he didn't like her and she had a weirdly shaped face. Because it made him feel better, to bring down a person he knew nothing about therefore wouldn't feel poorly about it in the slightest. Because her reactions – were predictable and that was nice. His brain didn't want to be working, it didn't want to think about last night, or the night before – or the void that was now filling his future and scaring the shit out of him. He didn't deal in uncertainty, he hadn't been raised that way and he should have known all of this was going to happen. He was being an asshole to her because he was weak. Because he was a coward and striking out at a woman who did nothing -truly- wrong, was cowardly and he had no other reason outside of that. His torso leaned forward just slightly despite the difference in their spacing. His eyes cold and harsh, lip curling into a sneer as he spoke. “No.”

[Brooklyn Mancini]

She would have smiled at the step he took backwards in reaction to her step forwards. It would have been funny to see him nearly falling over himself to keep space between them if she was any mood to find things amusing. And yet, he was leaning forward, just slightly across the gap between them that he had created. Her eyes drifted down to his sneering mouth. Did he have other facial expressions? “No.” Her eyes snapped back up to his eyes as her own lips thinned. That was it; she was officially done playing whatever little game that he was trying for here. She didn’t have any where near the patience necessary for this right now. She was still more than a little pissed off from last night, and he wanted to just keep pushing her buttons? Well, fine. They were about to start a new game now. One that involved a little more bleeding on his end and a little more strangling on her end. She looked away for a moment and exhaled forcefully through her nose in frustration. “Alright.” She looked back towards him, nodding just slightly. “Alright.” She pushed herself forward, propelling herself across the gap between the two of them. Her hands collided with his chest before the full force of her weight hit as well. He must have been worse off in the hangover department than he looked, and he looked pretty damn bad, because instead of just jarring him, she knocked him completely off balance.

He fell backwards, arms akimbo, and she didn’t have enough time to catch herself either, not entirely prepared for this to have turned into a full tackle, so she followed him down with a less than dignified noise. Scrambling to stay in control of the situation, she crawled a bit further up his person and reached for his neck. She sat up, her legs on either side of his chest, as she wrapped her fingers around his throat. His hands were squeezing at hers, pulling at her fingers. His blunted nails were just barely scratching at the skin of her hands and fingers as he tried to pull her hands away. She watched his mouth open and close a few times, “What was that? I’m sorry, I can’t quite hear you.” Now, she wondered if she could keep a hold of him with one hand, and reach back with the other. She was tall, so she had reach, so maybe. She adjusted the grip she had of her one hand before slipping the other out from under his hands that were still trying to pry hers off of him. Still watching him, she reached back behind her, feeling blindly for the pocket that he had shoved the pages to the book into. She felt the leather of his belt under her palm, so she was just short of reaching his pocket. That was frustrating. She turned her head just a tiny bit, and leaned back a fraction so that she could slide her hand just a little further back. In that moment that she took her eyes off of him, she felt him shift underneath her, and she realized what a mistake that was as the world around her flipped.

[Lucien Maddock]

Despite knowing better – there was something about this brat that brought out his childish side. Would blame it on being hungover – the lack of control that he was affording his face in this day. Wouldn't at all give any credit to the events of the past few days or even pause to consider that he was in any way emotionally vulnerable on he subject. Was hungover. His head was in a great deal of pain – and she was provoking him. She would get, whatever it was that came her way, and that was that. She should have known better, given who she was speaking to and the fact that she had to know of him even if she was stupid enough to be pretending not to care. Little bitch was just in the wrong place, at the very wrong time. “Alright.” No, that wasn't the reaction that he was looking for here. Wanted something a touch more intimidated. American sluts. All of them with their death wishes. “Alright.” Redundant little harpy, needed to find another sodding word before he hit her. Should be doing the smart thing here – and turning around, and walking the hell away. Was in a good deal of trouble as it was at home – didn't need to be making it worse by getting into fights with females at school. Much less having his brother find out that this was how he was conducting himself. Wasn't – expecting her to launch her thick body toward him like that. Lucien's arms windmilling out beside and behind him stupidly. Didn't like appearing graceless – his vision still not steady enough from the night before to realize at first that he was falling. Being toppled over backward and his body colliding harshly with the floor. More bruises and an even more wounded ego. Had tackled him. Knocked the breath right out of his chest, body ringing at the points of impact with the floor. Elbows and backs of his hips jarred – hit the back of his head on the hard floor a touch too firmly. Little black dots hitting the corners of his vision. Teeth grinding together as he forced his eyes open. Shouldn't have allowed that to happen. Ought to be ashamed of himself. Knew how to dislodge little bitches like this and was still – stuck, waiting for his vision to align with itself. Spinning. When it stopped – she should be very, very worried. Didn't care that she was female, or what status her blood got her in certain parts of the world – who her family was. Didn't care at all. Just wanted to split that ugly little neck open. She was crushing him. Couldn't drag air properly into his body. Thighs scooting higher on his body and just when he was raking in a rattled breath – her hands were at his throat.

Hands. At his throat.

Arrogant bitch. Thought that she could touch him? Could just do whatever she wanted? No, no, that wasn't how this worked. Firm pressure, Lucien's arms snapping up on pure reflex to hook the tips of his fingers under her grip. Bruising, could feel it. Knew that this wasn't how to handle being choked. Knew the proper moves to dislodge her – how to move his arm – where to put his thumb on her body to make her incapable of continuing, and was drunk enough, head hurt enough, not to think past his bodies natural reflexes. Should have had those trained right out as well – more things to get him into trouble it would seem. Jaw working to unclench and suck air further into his body. “What was that? I’m sorry, I can’t quite hear you.” Of course. Arrogant twat. Her grip around his neck shifting – her weight redistributing to backward to reach for what seemed to be his pocket – those folded up, torn out pages that he had taken from her earlier, and had tucked away. No way in hell. Didn't matter that they were just slips of paper. Didn't matter that they were useless and worth nothing whatsoever. Not it was the principal of the thing. The fuck was she grabbing for. She hadn't watched anything had she – all feeling up on him like that. No, didn't think so. It was his jacket pocket – sodding slag. Teeth grinding together as those eyes shifted off of him. Hand leaving the purchase he had on her own and arm lifting to tuck his elbow down over her arm and twisted, forcing her arm away from his body and used that sideways leverage to rotate their bodies. Flipped so that his knees were on either side of her navel – pinned her down to the ground with his body weight. Didn't seem to high and mighty now did she? Hand catching one of her wrists as she moved to hit him, his other hand lifting to slap her square across the cheek. Couldn't seem, to get words out of his injured throat. Hurt – felt near like sandpaper just breathing. “B-itch,” he wheezed, transferring her captured wrist to his other hand, to slap her on the other side.