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

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[His gaze shifts to the classroom door. Just blow it right off its hinges, or incinerate it right in its frame; leave nothing behind. His pupils are dilating, breath coming a bit quicker. The desks, the chairs, the shelves. Show them just what they get to deal with if they force this issue. Leaking out into the hallway, chasing down a few first years. He's endangering the students now, that can't be allowed.

Obviously, by this point, his focus is starting to slip. He's getting wrapped up in the destruction, the damage, the power, and poor Petre has lost his attention again because of it. This is like a trance, something religious or metaphysical or even sexual. All-encompassing. Visible in every part of him, the tension in his body and sick anticipation in his expression.]

[broil]

[All Petre does is snap his fingers, leaning over so it happens right in front of John's eyes.]

Wake up.

[And silence settles back in.]

You didn't answer me.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[His immediate reaction when he comes out of it is to whirl around and clock Petre right in the face. The eye, to be exact. It's one satisfying thing he can do, even if it's a remnant of a lost life, and it'll work out the lingering tension before he really does set the school on fire.

Ah. Yes. Much better.]

Promise. Cross my heart.

[broil]

[Another reaction! However painful, but it's a reaction. Did anybody see that? That's going to leave a mark.]

Fucking hell, John!

[So why is he still smiling? Sick fuck.]

What did I do now?

[ex_outofcontrol435]

You were there. When you're always around, you're an easy target. Or is that a part you didn't realize you were trying to sign up for?

[He's smiling right back. God, that felt good.]

[broil]

[he's laughing because it hurts, because John just fucked it up even more. One hand nursing his eye. Ow, ow, ow.]

At least you didn't ruin my clothes. But you're gonna pay for hurting the moneymaker.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

The moneymaker. [Dry, without inflection.] Don't be a pussy. Just take what you deserve for once.

[broil]

I'm getting you back for that, asshole.

[at least it wasn't his nose? He'd look awful with a broken nose.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

An asshole is exactly what you signed up for, too. You should start getting used to it. You didn't pick me because you thought I would back down.

[Fuck, there is something addictive about this. The constant challenge, the oneupmanship, even if his victories are usually smaller and more short-lived. He knows now that outright control of his actions won't happen because that's not at all satisfying for Petre, so the field has been levelled very slightly. And he's getting hooked.]

Let's see what you can do this time.

[broil]

You get front-seat tickets, John. Every time.

[Still covering his eye. Then he shows it to John, like he's the one friend who'll be honest.]

Is it red?

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[He leans in, examining his work closely.]

Oh yeah. Swollen, too. You're gonna have a shiner for sure.

[broil]

Shit. [he leans back, head tilted back up. God, Petre, it's not like you're bleeding.] I had a date.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[He's smiling, but oh, it's edged with uncertainty. That statement has the very strong feeling of a trap.]

A date. Really.

[broil]

He probably won't mind.

[You know him, John. He closes his eyes, nursing the bruise.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

If he's your type? He'll probably love it.

[What is this. Why did it come up, why is it still being discussed.]

[broil]

[SCOFF.]

He's a precious little wallflower. I might just play doctor-patient with him.

Wanna help? You be the nurse.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[Oh god, that's what it is. Another attempt to rope him in with someone else. Another angle. Does he ever get any new tricks?]

Guess my answer to that. Wild guess.

[broil]

It's the least you could do! Look at what you it.

[he points. Look at it!]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Best looking thing about you right now. [He snorts, then gives into actual laughter.]

[broil]

Kinky.

[but he feels sexy now, thanks for that.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[Shit, what did he just say about Petre's type probably liking it? He'd meant that as an insult, but he left himself wide open.

He does like having left a mark on Petre, though. A burn scar would be preferable, but this'll do. And he won't think about a single implication of that.]

Selective interpretation, too. [Except it's not so scornful this time, more like he's in on the joke. Because that's the best cover he can manage.]

[broil]

Isn't it for everyone?

[What are you even talking about, bro. But at least he's engaging? Make it fun enough and Petre might even pin the blame on someone - thing - else.

But they both know that won't happen.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

No. When someone says you look better with their fist in your face, that's not always a compliment. Sometimes it means they like hitting you.

[broil]

You know - that reminds me of a Portuguese expression.

[No one knows how, but Petre woke up knowing English, Cantonese and Portuguese. In addition to his mother language, Romanian.]

Quanto mais me bates, mais gosto the ti.

'The more you hit me, the more I like you'.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[He narrows his eyes at that, an eyebrow shooting up.]

You just made that up. On the spot.