fifthcurriculum | INTRO LOG

[I did not!

He straightens up, looking incredibly put out at that. Of course with a face like his, irritation makes him look more like a pissy kitten than anything, completely non-threatening.

It just happened, alright, I didn't have anything to do with it.

(not even funny anyway, what's his deal--)]

My deal is that I don't like telepaths. You tend to have trouble minding your own fucking business.

[It's not so much nasty as it is challenging - picking a fight.]

[--what, I didn't say...

Then realization hits and he huffs out a sigh, covering his face with one hand. Great, someone with a thing against telepaths, that's exactly who he wants to let thoughts slip to. He needs to try harder to exercise more control.

I try not to, okay? I just-- pick up on thoughts sometimes. It's like people think out loud and I end up getting it, I don't go looking for things.]

Oh christ. You can't even keep your own thoughts to yourself, you're nothing to worry about.

[He narrows his eyes then, considering the (really, really unfairly tall) boy more carefully.]

You're not new. I've seen you around.

[He looks like he's about to make some sort of rebuttal, but thinks better of it before he actually does. It's true, after all, protesting it isn't going to do him any good.

Been here for about a year, it came on a little late. I'm just- not all that social.

Ryan shrugs one shoulder, there. He's been too worried about trying to control his ability and do well in classes to actually attempt to have a social life-- there are acquaintances, sure, but nobody he really hangs out with.

I've seen you too, I think. How long for you?]

We've got telepaths on staff. [Just not getting specific because haha au.] And none of them can get you to shut that off in a year?

[When it's turned back on him, he affects a bored look.]

Going on my third year. They found me a little late. [Which may seem like a strange statement, since he's got the kind of face that obscures his true age. He looks like three years could be perfectly reasonable for a regular manifestation age.]

[(it's not that easy okay you try dealing with it-)

It's just a brief flicker of irritation, though, with no intentional comment following it up; instead, Ryan's peering at him curiously, trying to guess John's age. Results: inconclusive.

Late? How old are you, anyway?]

[He's just starting to chuckle at Ryan's frustration when the question comes through.

Wrong question, buddy.]

I'm seventeen. [It's his turn to look far more silly than dangerous in his irritation at the question.] They picked me up at fifteen. Manifested at twelve.

(--shit, he's older than me?)

[Ryan blinks, looking a little closer. Okay, okay, he gets why someone would be touchy about that (he can be that way about his own height), but... he just wouldn't have guessed seventeen.]

Sorry, just... a little hard to tell.

[He has an apology problem, evidently.]

What'd you manifest with?

[(Oh that's fucking unfair) gets shot right back, because why does this guy get all the height if he's younger? He just scowls even more deeply at the apology, but Ryan's question gives him a chance to get his own back.

Even if it'll probably mean trouble before school's even started. Ah well, bring it.

He slips a distinctive Zippo lighter out of his pocket and grins.]

Don't move.

[The lighter's open and lit with one deft gesture, and a moment later, a stream of fire is shooting straight at Ryan. Just before it can touch him, though, it veers off and hits the water in the fountain, sending up a massive jet of steam.]

Edited 2014-09-06 06:28 (UTC)

(Ohmygod--)

[That's all the verbal input there is. It comes with a wash of what feels like panic, his eyes wide at that sudden flash of fire, and despite being told not to move... how can he not.

Ryan's reflexes kick in, the warning completely forgotten-- but there's nowhere to really go to escape the stream of flame in the short timespan he has to react. What ends up happening is completely and utterly undignified: there's a panicked flail as he accidentally tips backward instead, toppling right into the fountain.

John gets a good view of long, skinny legs flailing for another moment as he panics more and tries to right himself, which... just ends in him falling completely in. He's going to be soaked.]

[John's nearly doubled over laughing by the end of the spectacle. Cackling.]

I told you not to move. You think I can just get away with roasting people around here?

[Then he steps forward, holding out a hand like maybe he's going to offer to help Ryan out, but just running his fingers through the water instead.]

At least it's warm now, right?

[Ryan is giving him the most unimpressed look he can possibly manage.

...given that his hair is soaked and he closely resembles some kind of wet poodle, well, it's not very effective.

But he can get himself out just fine by himself, thank-you-very-much for not helping, John, and he manages to clamber out of the fountain and start trying to wring out his hair and clothes.]

You told me not to move and shot fire at me, what did you expect? That I wasn't going to freak out a little? I know you can't roast people here but you gotta give me more than a second to think about that, jesus.

That you had some balls? [He shrugs.] Not expected, though. Wondered. You really overshot all my expectations with that one.

[He squints up at the sky, shading his eyes.]

It's sunny out, too. Almost hot. You picked the perfect day for a swim.

[Okay, no, screw this. This guy is kind of a dick, and while he generally backs down from confrontation... well, usually people who start that put more effort into being intimidating. Making him want to avoid pushing his luck. Being an asshole is a bit of a different situation, and the continued prodding is just the last straw for his already-fraying patience.

So Ryan does what any mature teenager would do: when John turns his attention away to look up at the sky, he quickly leans down over the fountain again to sweep his arm through the water as vigorously as he can, aiming to splash John with as much of it as possible.]

[He hears the splash, but he's too late - by the time his head's turned back, he's too busy getting doused with water to retaliate in any way. It drenches his whole front, head to toe, and he glowers dangerously (from beneath the bangs now plastered to his forehead) as he flicks his lighter open again.]

I can still burn something if it's wet. Takes more concentration, but I can do it. And pal, you just made the punishment worth it.

So you can dish it out, but you can't take it without setting something on fire?

[He's trying not to just back right down at that threat, and despite his words, it shows in the way his shoulders hunch just enough to keep him from standing straight and his hands tuck into his pockets. Ryan's not at all experienced with actually trying to assert himself in this kind of situation.

And, as always, nerves mean less conscious control of what thoughts stay in his own head.]

(way to get yourself set on fire Ryan great plan, what's next, pissing off the rest of the school?)

[Lucky for him, it's that last thought that makes John shake his head and turn away.]

You're not even worth it. [He just pockets his lighter again and moves back to his spot in the sun, stretching out again.]

Dunno about you, but I'm gonna dry off.

[Hell no, he's going going in the school sopping wet to change his clothes. That would be a story, and not the kind he likes told about himself.]

[It worked out. He didn't take shit and nothing worse happened to him. (Of course, he doesn't know that it was that last unintentional thought, either.)

As far as he knows, it worked, and the little rush of adrenaline from that is nearly exhilarating. Ryan's grinning slightly after John's attention turns away from him, and there's no answer; he's too occupied with the idea that he did it, returning to his seat on the edge of the fountain juuust in case he actually does get dizzy off of this.

This all may or may not kick him in the ass later.

After a minute of silence, though, he can't help but push his luck:]

...is it just the telepathy thing?

I just like to fuck with people. [Totally honest, and once again delivered without looking back.] You pretty much scream "easy target."

So... being a dick just for the sake of it, not because you just don't like me.

[Which he doesn't really get the appeal of, honestly. If you're going to be an ass to people isn't it supposed to be more satisfying if you do that for a reason?]

[He shrugs at that.]

I don't even know you, man.

[Now that he's been hit back, he's considerably more casual about everything. No big deal. If he underplays the whole situation, it also underplays Ryan's tiny victory.]

You don't make much sense, y'know that?

[At least it's not personal. He can work with that, he guesses, and he's managing to relax a bit while he soaks up the sun.]

Of course I don't. Look at me, I'm responding to nothing. Anyone who doesn't know us probably thinks I'm nuts.

[Yeah, he's teasing Ryan, but it's not entirely unfriendly either. "Don't make much sense" is better than "loose cannon asshole," so maybe he'll work with it a little. See if this guy could be interesting.]

[It's the kind of teasing he actually doesn't mind, at least-- more at the situation than directly at himself-- and that gets a grin out of him, as well as a nearly-silent laugh.]

You get used to that.

[And after a moment's pause he adds, cautiously:]

But, uh, you don't have to. If you don't want to look like you're having half a conversation, I mean. Like I said, I don't dig, I just-- overhear things sometimes, so... if you thought at me it'd be pretty much the same.

[He's careful to keep his 'voice' neutral as possible-- he's not pushing for that, this doesn't bother him at all. Just offering, in case.]

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