Liar, Liar PV Adam & Anatole Closed

Anatole had stared at the door to the Hospital Wing for a while. He had oddly studied every curve in the wood and the curve on the handle, yet his hands were too afraid to touch it. Max was in there.

It had been a few hours since his new...what would he call it... face? Sure, face. It had been a few hours since this new face had been admitted to the Hospital Wing. Surely, he was still chopped up, bloody, and miserable.

He supposed it was only a contribution to the feisty Gryffindor's "tough guy" mentality. If Anatole was to enter, he predicted that he would be there, still angered like an untamed beast, screaming something like 'Scram!' or even just a simple 'Get out.' through gritted teeth. Enough to make the normal Anatole scamper away with a terrible feeling in his gut.

It would've been the model thing to do to enter and check up on this new patient, but he kept doubting. In order to withstand a conversation without getting spit on (physically or verbally), he'd have to enter the braver self of him. The one who didn't think before he spoke; the one who never gave a care in the world. The self that always got him into trouble.

Smiling, Anatole had decided what he was to do. His small, tanned hand gripped the iron handle, opening it with a creak.

Taking a deep breath, Anatole smiled broadly, mindlessly remarking, "How's my favourite patient?"

Another tinge of regret flooded throughout his body. He was dying inside.

It felt strange to be on the other side of things in the hospital wing. For once, it was Adam doing the visiting, instead of lying in one of the hospital beds to recover. He was shooed to the side of the room and eventually out the door by the matron, and been forced to wait outside until he was admitted back in. Anatole had left for a bit, but now he had returned and slipped inside. Adam wasn't sure if the Gryffindor boy had saw him sitting in the corner, or if he had realized who it was. But now that he was through the door, Adam figured it was safe to follow.

He caught the tail end of Anatole's greeting as he slipped in, remaining a few paces behind the Gryffindor's back and waving to the newest patient in the room. He couldn't remember the boy's name, couldn't remember if he had ever said it. But regardless, he still looked pretty terrible after his fight, to put it bluntly. Adam couldn't guess as to why it had ever started in the first place. He still needed to find out exactly what James had meant when he had whispered that one word. Lying. Clearing his head, and his throat, Adam got the attention of the other two boys before asking, "Is anything too serious?"

Max was disappointed but not surprised when he heard one voice that was quickly followed by the clearing of a throat and then another. Yep, they'd both stuck around to speak to him. Maybe he should be touched that they'd come all this way and had now come to see how he was, but neither of them were really doing it out of the goodness of their hearts, were they? He cracked one eye, flicking it back and forth between the two boys and studying them for a moment now that his head was clearer. A Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw. At least there were no Hufflepuffs. Unfortunately, also no Slytherins. He closed his eye again.

"You must have a sad life if I'm your favourite patient," Max remarked, a small smirk finding its way onto his face. It was much easier to put on airs now that the worst of his injuries had been healed. "And no, it's nothing serious." Not as serious as it looked, anyways. His abdomen was a map of the colour purple, ranging from dark indigo to lighter violet, but that was just surface damage. The real things to be worried about were internal - a ruptured spleen, for example. That wouldn't be all too fun. Luckily, he knew from the quality of the pain that it was mostly superficial.

Opening both eyes now, he tilted his head to one side and pretended like he was lazily assessing them. Pretending to be lazy was much easier than showing how tired he really was, and how much it was taking out of him to grin through the low, steady throb in his stomach. "Why'd you guys come, anyway? There's much more exciting things to do at a magic school than visit some random kid."

Wrote this reply at midnight, excuse me if it doesn't make a lick of sense or wording, even. Adam knows the other reasons why this post might be lackluster.

It's funny how pathetic Max looked, lying in that bed, surely wishing he could be out of the mattress. Maybe it was a prison to him. He couldn't make anyone bloody unless they were like Anatole and Adam: in extremely close vicinity. This boy was grounded; he couldn't hurt them if he tried.

Well, from the looks of it, that earlier statement could have easily been wrong.

"I, um, I was actually," he had to channel the distant other side of him to say, "I was trying to make you feel good, since your life is clearly constant tragedy." Oh, the fancy wording came out again out of nowhere. "So I think you'd have the sad life on that end."

The slightly translucent white covers showed the extent of his beatings, and Anatole, never one for any sort of violence, sighed, trying to funnel it out of his brain. "Nothing too serious? I'm assuming you've seen worse?" His eyes wavered toward Adam. "And you?" Out of all people, Adam had to follow him? It really wasn't necessary, he already had one reason to try to act cool, he didn't need another.

"Well, I, uh, I..." It wouldn't flow as easy as earlier. He coughed a little, something getting in his throat to prevent him from finishing his sentence. Anatole just couldn't bring himself to say what would be obvious in that situation:

'I hope you feel better.'

Adam looked between Anatole and Max -- because that was his name, Adam had remembered it out of the blue -- and shook his head. Were all Gryffindors really like this? He knew people said that Slytherins were the emotionless ones, but apparently that didn't stop the lions from covering up their feelings with reckless bravado and tough-guy jeers. "Guys. Can we be civil, please?" Adam asked, aware that it sounded more like a command than a question. Maybe it was better that way. Adam had a feeling he wasn't going to get very far with these two if he stuck to innocent questions, after all.

"Not very serious? Did you grow up with wolves? Your skin is the color of an eggplant." He stared Max down, refusing to let him get off easy with all of this. "And you know, Anatole, I've had my fair share of violence already. Maybe think about that next time we have a contest, huh?" Oof, that was probably too soon. He winked at Anatole to reassure the other boy that he was joking, and took a seat on the edge of Max's bed. He figured the injured Gryffindor would complain, so Adam didn't give him a chance. "Deal with it, bud. I'm not going anywhere for a while."

There was still one thing that was bothering Adam above all of the others, that thing that James had said before they'd broken the group up (and before he'd passed out). Liar. Who was a liar? Was it Max? What could he possibly have to lie about? "Alright, Max, I don't want to overwhelm you, but I do need to know what happened. I know I'm not a prefect, but just go with it, okay?" He tried to summon his inner Reed Wesley, since the Ravenclaw prefect had maintained an impressive amount of control when he and Adam had been hurt a few weeks earlier. "James said something about a liar before he passed out. Know anything about that?"

Looking between Anatole and Adam, Max wondered who was supposed to be good cop and who was bad cop. It didn't seem fair that they were both bad cop - that was bad form. Being attacked and outnumbered while he was injured was even worse form. Who did they think they were to come in here and interrogate him in the hospital? If this was the adult world, he'd be calling a lawyer right about now to get them out. Unfortunately, he wasn't an adult, so he'd just have to play the part of the interrogated, the lawyer, and the victim.

"My life? A tragedy? I'll have to remind my parents to order me a custom throne of gold to cry on when I get home." He couldn't figure this Anatole kid out. One minute he was acting tough and the next he didn't seem to know what to say. Which one was the lie? Maybe Anatole was playing both good and bad cop, which made it three quarters bad cop and... one quarter good cop... The metaphor was really spiraling out of hand.

He focused on Adam instead, cracking a yawn that brought tears to his eyes and mentally sending out 'leave' vibes. "I grew up with a roof over my head, food in my stomach, warmth in my room, and enough books to read that I learned that the worse it looks on the outside, the better it is on the inside. Bruises aren't a great indicator of how serious something is. Are you sure you're a Ravenclaw?" That jibe was well-deserved, in Max's opinion; he'd had to subtly shift his legs as far away from Adam as they could go and he'd worked up a sweat from the pain of moving. He only hoped he hadn't misjudged either of these boys - getting punched now wouldn't be any fun at all.

Adam's next question gave Max a pause, and a startled laugh burst from him that he quickly stifled so it wouldn't shake his body. "Seriously?" he asked, wondering if Adam was knocked in the head. He had to admit, he was a little weirded out by the way the Ravenclaw was talking. Didn't want to overwhelm him? This must be good cop routine. Max's eyes flickered warily to Anatole, wondering if the hitting would start next. They'd had a lot of time to plan while he was being tended to. "He clearly had a concussion and didn't know what he was saying. Do you think I'm the idiot-whisperer or something?"

Could Adam just leave? Anatole couldn’t quit wishing that he had gone with the girls to the other part of the wing to fix the Hufflepuff. But no, Adam just had to come along with him and end up here. It was also true that Max was hurt, and he really shouldn’t be here anyways, but look what his bravado had gotten him into now. He just had to impress people, hence he was here.

”Civil? Well,” Anatole cleared his throat, ”Who’s to say this little visit isn’t?” He wiped the evident sweat from his brow, not wanting to say this, but he felt like he was forced to. ”I-I’m not going to beat up someone who’s already in the hospital. It defeats the purpose.” He looked back at Adam, then looking back to Max hastily. ”Not like I’d want to kill you or anything. That would be weird.”

Anatole always hated saying Adam was right, and in this situation, it was no exception. His bolder self had taken over with an almost annoying sense of confidence. ”So...you’ve had enough of violence…? Guess we won’t duel anytime soon.” He brushed another bead off of his forehead. It was the truth, he never wanted to duel this supposed dueling machine. It would only lead to something worse. Anatole didn’t reply to Adam’s wink. Yeah, sure he was joking. ”Okay, I get you. We’re stuck together for a while.”

Thankfully, Adam got to the point that Anatole completely missed. What the hell did happen?

Brushing some hair out of his eyes, the tan boy peered back at the injured patient. He did look sick, in fact, he looked sick of having visitors. Something about him just screamed sleeping.

But there was something nudging Anatole to say. Maybe it was Adam’s presence, or to prove he was better, or to maybe stand a chance against this hard-hitter while he was down for the count. It wasn’t like there was anything else interesting in the castle for him. ”Well, I think you might be the idiot-whisper if you knocked the breath out of him like that!”

He squinted, looking nervously at Adam and giggling nervously. Did that joke work out? Probably not.

Gryffindors.

Why did they have to be so difficult? It was always violence, brash insults, or open threats. Anatole was acting like some weird macho man, which was strange enough to Adam already. What was it that was making him behave so awkwardly? Was it Max? Adam himself? Or was it just the stress of the fight? He was almost afraid to ask.

Max was a different problem entirely. From the minute Adam had known him -- which, albeit, had only been about an hour or so ago -- he'd been hostile and closed-off. He answered all of Adam's questions with other, harsher questions, and seemed totally unwilling to help with anything. Adam didn't like Max Avery, that much was certain. But it looked like he was going to have to put up with him for just a little longer.

Sighing at Anatole's joke, Adam looked over at him and shook his head. He appreciated that Anatole was trying to lighten the situation, but he was still devoted to getting answers from Max, and that was probably less likely to happen if he didn't have Anatole to back him up. Returning Max's annoyed stare, Adam tried to keep his voice somewhat civil while still answering his questions angrily. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you worked in this hospital, too. Please, tell me exactly how you knew that James had a concussion. You know, maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not Ravenclaw -- because I definitely would've seen something as clear as that concussion was, right, Max?"

Maybe this boy would have been tolerable if he hadn't been so judgmental. Adam would have been fine with the attacks on his House, the subtle digs taken at him and Anatole, even the annoyed expression that he regarded the entire situation with. But he couldn't stand the way that Max talked about James. For all of Max's contempt for the Hufflepuff boy, the fight was just as much Max's fault as it was James's. "I don't think that's how you should really be talking about James, do you? It takes two people to get into a fight, Max. Maybe he said some things that he shouldn't have, but I know that you definitely made mistakes, too. So yes, seriously. What could he have meant? And why am I starting to think that you're the liar he was referring to?" Adam glared into his eyes and waited for an answer. He couldn't wait to hear what Max had to say for himself.

This had to be the strangest conversation ever. Anatole kept switching back and forth from vaguely threatening to trying to break the tension, while Adam went completely on offense. Out of all the options he had, the one he decided he liked most was pulling the covers over his head and blocking this whole thing out until these boys, the pain, or both went away. Preferably both. Unfortunately, doing something so cowardly wasn't an option as an Avery or a Gryffindor. He instead chose to stare straight ahead with a heavy-lidded, fatigued look of defeat.

"Maybe you're right, maybe I am the idiot-whisperer if I'm wasting my time talking to you guys," he muttered so quiet he himself could barely hear it. Why was everyone in this school so confrontational? He'd never hone any skills of subtlety if everyone was this direct. Fingers digging into the pristine white of the covers was the only hint that he was beginning to get angry as his voice traded in some of the harshness for monotone.

"You're right too," he intoned, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug. "I'm sure people just pass out because they've been hit, not because the hitting did any damage to them. It makes perfect sense that he lost consciousness and was slurring his words because he just wanted to sleep for a bit." With that same flat affect, still refusing to look at either boy, he released the covers and brought both hands together in a slow, mocking clap. "Brilliant deduction."

It was a stall for time, of course. He could come up with a dozen different excuses about why James had said liar but ultimately none of them would be believable with the level of scrutiny he was under. So when he let his hands drop back down from the clapping, he decided to go another route entirely. "Mistakes were made in both parties, yes - getting physical wasn't something I planned on doing. And... I did lie. My mother wasn't sick, and James didn't call her any word." There, he was giving them both what they wanted. Not an excuse, but the truth.

He let out a long sigh, forcing his hands to rest lightly on the bed instead of curling up. "She lost a baby." Truth. "I was upset about it." Truth. Somewhat; he'd been upset for a day or two the couple of years ago she'd lost it. "Thinking about it makes me angry because I know why people say she lost it." Maybe sort of the truth if he stretched it. "James asked what may have been an innocent question about it, since it was common knowledge, but anyone asking anything like that rubs me the wrong way. I got angry and it escalated from there. I lied because it's embarrassing to have something like that affect you so much after so much time. I shouldn't have hit him, and I regret it. Happy?" Lie, lie, lie, but finishing it off with the truth. It was close enough.