Brunnhold Cafeteria | Midday
"Did you hear that, Naul? He won't do it."
The freckled Anaxi grunted, not immediately looking up from the book he had in front of him instead of lunch. His friend finally elbowed him, causing the quiet boy to look up with a hiss, allowing the two other boys at the table to watch without meaning entirely to stare as his left eye blinked noticeably slower than his right when he rolled his gold-rimmed sea glass-colored eyes in impatience at their ridiculous conversation,
"Oh, please. The Hoxian again? Tocks, I'm not going to introduce you to her, so you two toffins are clocking on your own." The grumpy ginger flashed the blond across the table from him what could only be described as a brief, conspiratory grin, one side forming before the other, before he looked back down and began to take notes, dismissing himself from the inane and useless conversation.
"Ersehole." Mateo feigned offense, madly attempting to include Nauleth on their fun despite a weighty awareness that he had no interest. He knew the other boy knew Drezda Ecks, and as much as the auburn-haired student desperately wanted to talk to her—to flirt with her in his awkward way—he had no balls to do so.
He knew, however, that Rhys Valentin would do anything if he could just word it right. The tall towhead was either stupid or reckless or both, and ever since he'd started sitting with them instead of that Seventen's daughter all the clocking time, he'd been even less intelligent than usual. Poor Mateo was trapped between two wet blankets and he was desperate for some sunshine. He just was so awkward around attractive young ladies that he needed an in. He needed someone else to break the ice for him,
"Fine, you chroveshit." Mateo sighed, shifting in his seat and leaning forward on both elbows, "I'll do your clocking Static homework for two weeks and—aaannnnd—I dare you to go and make some of that cute conversation of yours you’re so clocking good at with her."
"Nah." Rhys glanced past the auburn-haired boys shoulder, his blue eyes studying the Hoxian features of the girl in question. She was much older than they were—three years!—though the young Valentin and her were contemporaries in the same form, both creeping closer to graduation. Even he had to admit she was pretty. Not that it mattered. He resisted the urge to let his gaze wander, to search the cafeteria for Charity's face in the crowd, for he'd tried to stop doing that, desperate to stop pining for a girl he already saw too much of in class but was no longer allowed to speak to.
Godsbedamned stop-clocking Captain of the Seventen.
Speaking of Seventen, he'd heard of the Hoxian's interests indirectly, vaguely aware of their mutual connection to the police force of Anaxas through conversation with those who were quite bent on recruiting him. He was more than convinced enough already, though is motivations were questionable at best—
The tall blond's fingers curled into the edges of his tray and his field sigiledsigiled (SIH-julled)(adj): a field that is tense with concentration; can sometimes give off a hot feeling or make the air feel thinner for a moment in his frustrated silence.
"I double dare you."
"No."
"I double dog dare you."
"What? Is that a wick thing? What does that even mean. Fuck you, no."
"I double do—"
"Gods, you two. Fine." Naul's tone was full of barely contained exasperation, not looking up, the meager shift in the inferior student's field catching his attention, Rhys a far less capable sorcerer than himself, "I'll do your clocking Static homework for two weeks and I double black dog dare you to get off your towheaded erse and smile your towheaded idiot smile until you charm her right out from under Mateo's noisy clocking nose."
"Done." Growled the blond, suddenly desperate to distract himself from the wandering, sad thoughts just a glimpse of platinum hair and violet eyes had caused him in a single moment. His chest tightened and he bit his lip, the anger he felt toward Damen D'Arthe simmering through the Perceptive mona in his field.
With that, the young Valentin didn't hesitate, didn't make eye contact, and almost didn't remember to drop his fork, standing immediately and running his hands over the handsome green of his Brunnhold uniform, aware that he never buttoned his collar and not giving a kenser's erse whether a professor saw him out of dress code or not. Instead, he strode with a false confidence—a handsomely convincing sort of bravado that he was known for (behind his back, of course)—toward the table the Hoxian in question was seated at, grinning warmly at the other girls, mostly Anaxi, though a Hessean from his form and a tall, albino Gioran who nearly rivaled his height also shared Drezda Ecks' table.
"Hello, ladies." he hummed by means of introduction, aware of the belikenssbelike (adj): having fields that are compatible or similar; unlikely to have conflict due to magical similarities of of his somewhat unimpressive field to the Hoxian girl's and unable to keep from smiling at the giggles and smirks from the others at the table. Perhaps none of them were actually sitting with Drezda so much as sitting with each other and she happened to be at the table. Or perhaps he was just reading too much into the scene, his overactive imagination and often too-analytical for his own good at the wrong time sort of mind getting away from and keeping him quiet for a second or two longer than was polite. Closer now, the young woman was so obviously disinterested before he said a single word, and yet, instead of intimidating the aspiring Seventen, it seemed to embolden him more, the welcome distraction warming his tone,
"Please excuse me, but do you have a moment, Miss Ecks?"