INTRO LOG

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[[Exactly what it says on the tin! This is just an initial log to sort of get things started and is largely freeform, open to (but not limited to):

-Meetings before classes start
-First day business
-Dorm shenanigans meetings
-First classes in progress
-or whatever the heck else you want to do for beginning-of-term things!

There's a CR meme up now for some initial planning if you like, or feel free to just hop in here.]]

Comments

[broil]

No, I was just hoping you'd pick one.

[Well-adjusted people aren't taken from their homes when their first memory is that of their unfamiliar families burnt to a crisp. Nice to see him laugh, though.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

You know the answer to both. Damn well. I wouldn't have had time for a normal, well-adjusted person anyway.

[Had. That ship sailed last year. No time left for you, Petre.]

[broil]

[Hope is the last to die, haven't you heard.]

You barely give me any time as it is. So what is it? What do I have to do? I wanna be friends, Johnny. Even the board wants us to be friends now! It's meant to be.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

You really have no idea, do you?

[He actually looks a bit stunned. Launch a concentrated campaign to smear him in the eyes of teachers who already thought he was a loose cannon, ask why they can't be friends. And this after conspiring on something and then relinquishing all blame to pin it on John.

He's got no clue.]

You're fucked up, man. [He rolls over again, closing his eyes.] Seriously fucked up.

[broil]

A freak among freaks?

[please say yes.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[Petre's lucky he's pretty much worn out John's rage at this point, because that word is one that could bring on actual murder. He's allowed to use it in jest, but having it directed at him in any way is one of the berserk buttons he honestly cannot control.

He's just tired, though. Tired of Petre and his war of attrition, of having no idea what Petre would actually consider victory.]

Don't ever call me a fucking freak again. [The anger's there, just audible - almost more intense for the softness of his voice.]

[broil]

[ooh, another sore spot.]

Why not? It's a joke.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Not to me.

[There it is - think outside of your own goddamn head a little and maybe friends will work. John asking for empathy is hypocritical as fuck, but he's as blind to his own weaknesses of character as Petre is.]

[broil]

You should lighten up. You'll be happier that way.

[he knows he's flawed. He just doesn't care.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[God, that actually gets to him. Because he presents himself as the one who gives no shits, not a one, and then his temper flares up and the shits go through the roof. Everyone thinks he's crazy and/or riddled with angst, rather than just laughing at this stupid school and all it stands for.

Seeing through him. Another annoying attribute to add to Petre's list.]

I'd be happier if you'd shut up once in a blue moon. [Weak, an almost childish comeback.] Not now, alright?

[broil]

But then I wouldn't be able to talk to you, Johnny. One of us has to.

[smiling, even if he's looking at the back of John's head.]

What's your problem with the word?

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[That's the idea, he thinks irritably, but Petre knows that. This whole thing is getting catty and childish. He sighs, rolling onto his back, and pulls his shoulders up to his ears for a moment before letting them drop. His whole body feels like it's knotted up since walking in here and seeing Petre, coiled for a strike he won't make.]

I'll talk, just not about that. Find something else.

[broil]

[to which he tilts his head and frowns in a very oh, come on manner.]

Don't make me do this the easy way.

[he'll use his power on you.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[His jaw sets again and he glares hard at the ceiling.]

I heard it a lot as a kid. [Which traces things back to his major hot-button issue.] A lot. Generally and then personally.

[broil]

[a pause. He toys with his fingers, something more deliberate than just fidgetting.]

Worse things they could've called you.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

It wasn't the intensity, it was the regularity. [Now he sits up, rolling his shoulders again and twisting to stretch his back. This isn't helping with the tension, and several small pops go off as he does it.] Situation. Context. A lot of things.

[broil]

[he wouldn't mind getting his hands on those shoulders. Seeing where skin covers muscle.]

They're behind you now. So treat it that way.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[He shoots another glare at Petre, but only because he's right. He should've let them go a long time ago, and usually pretends he does. Having this forced out of him is galling to say the least.

And if it were anyone else, he might not turn down that offer. Lugging the suitcase around didn't do wonders for his shoulder muscles either, one side of which he's now kneading with a scowl.]

Yeah. I know.

I'm not forgetting, though. Not until I can find them again and finish what I started.

[His eyes dart toward the bathroom door. Maybe a shower'll relax him, since the doors lock, thank god...]

[broil]

[that sounds ominous, so - obviously it interests Petre.]

I'm surprised they didn't stick you in therapy for that. Or do they just wan you to use your rage.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

I don't just walk around saying it.

[But he did. Which means it'll probably get around like - so to speak - wildfire now.]

I'm going for a shower. [He swings his legs around, gets up off the bed with one last stretch.] Do me a favour and be asleep when I come out.

[broil]

Our headmaster's the world's most powerful psychic. It's not like you have to.

[just saying. And then he perks up at the mention of a shower.]

Let me know if you need help. I get incredibly bored when I'm alone.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Then I guess he actually realizes it'll be no loss to the world too.

[Oh god, the look he gives Petre at that. It does give him an idea, though - he's got a power here that he's not using, doesn't he? Sure, it kind of creeps him out, but if he gets over that - it could be hilarious.

When he comes out of his shower, it's bare-chested with his hair hanging loose and damp over his forehead, a towel wrapped around his waist.

He's got his boxers on underneath, but does Petre need to know that?]

So much better. [He stands at the foot of Petre's bed and stretches more deliberately this time, turning one way and then the other, subtly watching for a reaction.]

[broil]

[A pause, as he glances at John and then scans him until his eyes are back on his features.

He hopes John knows he's smarter than that.]

Aw. Still no chest hair. No, wait - [He shifts, takes a closer look, hand hovering over John's body.] I think I see one. Two? Maybe even three. I need my glasses for this.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[This time, when he grabs Petre's hand and moves it away, it's an easier motion. Slow and deliberate, like with a child reaching for the cookie jar.]

Look as close as you want. It's all you're ever gonna get. Just call this taking pity.

[His hands play around the top of the towel, where it's tucked in, but don't remove it yet.]

And don't pretend you don't like it.

[broil]

[He tongues his cheek, bites his lower lip with the beginning of a laugh.]

Who's pretending?

[Not him. He leans back on the bed with both hands, shoulders inched up, legs crossed. His eyes glance at John's wandering hand, just briefly enough to be seen doing it.]

Fire boy thinks he's untouchable. A bit cliché, don't you think.