The tall blond made acquaintances easily, a strangely gregarious creature who never met a stranger and had a smile that used to be hard to forget, though lately had just seemed largely forgotten. A bitterness replaced his friendliness, and while he couldn't see it himself, his glutton for punishment was simply an extension of his frustrated helplessness at a situation far out of his control.
This situation had quickly unraveled out of his control, too, but the boy from Elmonton simply wasn't one capable of backing down. Too many had tried to put him into a box that he no longer refused to fit, and the cold, uncomfortable retorts of the Hoxian felt just familiar enough, an underlying cruelty in her lack of emotion that reminded him of Captain D'Arthe just enough to be a trigger.
For what?
He didn't know, but he didn't care, either. Not any more.
"I'm not impaired." He huffed simply, not even deigning Drezda with a glare, licking dry lips at how her tone of voice made his skin crawl. He had nothing to prove and no audience to prove it to, but he kept walking, letting the Hoxian lead, hands shoved in the pockets of his green-dyed uniform, the indigo plant used to make the particular color probably from his fucking father's own farm.
That annoyed him further and his crystalline gaze snapped up at the young Ecks' commentary on his ego. He didn't care where they were going, and if Rhys had any ego at all, he didn't think it mattered any more, "Whole is generous. Sufficient is about right. I get by with what I have." He sniggered, unwilling to capitulate to her pithiness. He was prepared for punishment, while she obviously got off on being rude. To each their own.
This wasn't anything he could hope to succeed at, a duel, unless she brailed—
"Who do you mean? Nauleth? He wasn't distracted by a professor when he brailed. The backlash was definitely more personal in nature between Siordanti and the mona, but I wouldn't expect you to pay attention to every minor disfigurement that happens on campus here. Insult my perceived prowess all you want, but I'm quite comfortable with my monic relationship." He thumbed his nose at those words as if in emphasis, reaching for the buttons of his uniform coat as if preparing to take it off under the oppressive heat of Yaris' searing dryness,
"There probably isn't a point, you're right, but at the same time, I'm not just going to back down because you think I'm a waste of your time. I'm here now out of principle—just to piss you off. Nothing to gain. Nothing to lose. A good trouncing on my part, most likely. Maybe a trip to the infirmary for the ticks and tocks of it. What do I care? What else is new? Let's see if you've got as much magical ability as you do clocking ice in your chest."
Devil-may-care, Rhys Valentin shrugged his narrow shoulders and slipped free of his uniform coat, rolling up his sleeves with a methodical motion that implied he was a creature of habit when he allowed himself the time,
"You don't intimidate me, you know," He exhaled, still not looking up while he focused on the work of his fingers and crisp, green cloth, "Between the two of us, the only stain on the history of galdorkind will be erseholes with clocking ugly attitudes like yours. So, show me what a pathetic shit I am so you can go home dissatisfied, Miss Ecks."