2 Jan 2020, 06:09
Diffusing the Time Bomb
@Jack Burnett
[font=Segoe Print]It was a rather nasty turn of events, really.
Rafa had been set on quite a few things lately. Like keeping his grades up. Getting better at Quidditch. Keeping the peace. Definitely keeping the peace. Because, you see, that was one of the most difficult challenges for Rafa. People could be really intolerable, and while some people expressions their emotions with disappointment or sadness, Rafa settled his with unchecked anger. He was a bomb, ready to go off at the slightest ill movement. It was a learned habit, he was ashamed to admit, one that he’d picked up from his friends back in Buenas Aires. He’d been working hard to diffuse his fiery nature, but it was definitely harder than it looked. He should really ask someone for help, honestly. Did Hogwarts even have counselors? Or punching bags?
It was too true for comfort – he was rather the little delinquent these days. All fist and no wisdom. Oh, speaking, of wisdom, he really should have been working on extra credit on this fine New Year’s Eve. The hard truth was, he had been failing DADA and Astronomy for longer than he could remember. Hell, he was one bad grade away from a Troll in both classes. It would probably have been wise to get a few extra points on his homework, possibly go up a letter grade, generally capitalize on the free time than break gave you. It’d please his mom, that was for damn sure. She liked to see that her son was doing some good with his time.
[He had really longed to see her over the break. The whole family, hell. It was the best time of year for bonding and shenanigans, after all. But Merlin knew there was too much going on at Hogwarts, what with Lear’s sudden disappearance and Potter’s trial. It was wiser to stay, it pained him to admit, especially with the information that he and Jo had. Small sacrifices for the greater good, he supposed. Didn’t mean he couldn’t be disappointed.]
To his mother’s disappointment, there was no motivation in his little, eleven-year-old body that drove him to do something so studious. In fact, instead of doing his work, he had opted for the rebellious option, as per usual. Some of the Hufflepuffs were throwing a rave in the Rehearsal Room, in honor of the New Year, and he had been invited to go and celebrate. Exciting, right? He had thought so, too, but of course, he had gotten in the way of his own plans. It had only been one misfired word at Lian… or a few… okay, it had been a pretty graphic sentence, containing some of his favorite four-letter words. As a result, the crazy woman had given him a detention. He had been held back, though, and now he was going to be late for the New Year's party.
He had been counting the moments, too – the New Year would begin in 25 minutes. Wait, no, 23. That’s what his new watch told him, ever present on his wrist. The deadline was breathing down his neck ominously, giving him an anxious edge. He almost ran through the corridors – though, he feared he would lose his dignity if he were caught doing such an act. Instead, in the hopes of maintaining his dignity, he began to fast-walk through the halls at a steady pace, one thing in mind. I’ll make it in time, he reasoned, as long as I don’t get held up.
And, that’s when fate decided to fuck things up.
The bloody staircases had always been a problem. They had gotten him late to classes more times than he could count. And, really, he probably should have paid more attention to them during his hurry. But of the many things floating around his mind, caution was not of those present. Instead, he flew through the corridors, no mind to what was going on or who was around him. The stairs had been empty, inviting, even – he quickly started up the grand steps, his own steps light and consistent and a focused look painted on his face.
About that time, he heard a sickly shift – his heart must have plummeted to the first floor, a dreading look taking his features by storm. He paled quite a bit, his steps halting altogether. To his horror, the stairs had begun shifting mid-flight, going in the opposite direction of the rehearsal room. In fact, they seemed to be going straight for a lonely ledge, estranged from doors or escape routes.
“Fuck,” he muttered in a harsh whisper, his fist pounding firmly against the staircase rail, the way you would pound a desk. His blood was starting to boil in anger, for reasons too hard to explain. He didn’t feel like thinking, anyways. He needed to do something, get off this sinking ship of a staircase. Find out another route, one that would magically get him to the rehearsal room on time.
What was more, when he turned around, in hopes of finding his escape route, there he was. One of the people he hated most in the world. Jack fucking Burnett. Of all the people. Perhaps the universe was angry at him today, or perhaps it was karma getting back at him for all his sins. Whatever the case, it was severely testing his patience. He took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts, calm his mind, to no avail. This was uncharted territory now.
Happy New Year, ‘Bird.[/font]
[font=Segoe Print]It was a rather nasty turn of events, really.
Rafa had been set on quite a few things lately. Like keeping his grades up. Getting better at Quidditch. Keeping the peace. Definitely keeping the peace. Because, you see, that was one of the most difficult challenges for Rafa. People could be really intolerable, and while some people expressions their emotions with disappointment or sadness, Rafa settled his with unchecked anger. He was a bomb, ready to go off at the slightest ill movement. It was a learned habit, he was ashamed to admit, one that he’d picked up from his friends back in Buenas Aires. He’d been working hard to diffuse his fiery nature, but it was definitely harder than it looked. He should really ask someone for help, honestly. Did Hogwarts even have counselors? Or punching bags?
It was too true for comfort – he was rather the little delinquent these days. All fist and no wisdom. Oh, speaking, of wisdom, he really should have been working on extra credit on this fine New Year’s Eve. The hard truth was, he had been failing DADA and Astronomy for longer than he could remember. Hell, he was one bad grade away from a Troll in both classes. It would probably have been wise to get a few extra points on his homework, possibly go up a letter grade, generally capitalize on the free time than break gave you. It’d please his mom, that was for damn sure. She liked to see that her son was doing some good with his time.
[He had really longed to see her over the break. The whole family, hell. It was the best time of year for bonding and shenanigans, after all. But Merlin knew there was too much going on at Hogwarts, what with Lear’s sudden disappearance and Potter’s trial. It was wiser to stay, it pained him to admit, especially with the information that he and Jo had. Small sacrifices for the greater good, he supposed. Didn’t mean he couldn’t be disappointed.]
To his mother’s disappointment, there was no motivation in his little, eleven-year-old body that drove him to do something so studious. In fact, instead of doing his work, he had opted for the rebellious option, as per usual. Some of the Hufflepuffs were throwing a rave in the Rehearsal Room, in honor of the New Year, and he had been invited to go and celebrate. Exciting, right? He had thought so, too, but of course, he had gotten in the way of his own plans. It had only been one misfired word at Lian… or a few… okay, it had been a pretty graphic sentence, containing some of his favorite four-letter words. As a result, the crazy woman had given him a detention. He had been held back, though, and now he was going to be late for the New Year's party.
He had been counting the moments, too – the New Year would begin in 25 minutes. Wait, no, 23. That’s what his new watch told him, ever present on his wrist. The deadline was breathing down his neck ominously, giving him an anxious edge. He almost ran through the corridors – though, he feared he would lose his dignity if he were caught doing such an act. Instead, in the hopes of maintaining his dignity, he began to fast-walk through the halls at a steady pace, one thing in mind. I’ll make it in time, he reasoned, as long as I don’t get held up.
And, that’s when fate decided to fuck things up.
The bloody staircases had always been a problem. They had gotten him late to classes more times than he could count. And, really, he probably should have paid more attention to them during his hurry. But of the many things floating around his mind, caution was not of those present. Instead, he flew through the corridors, no mind to what was going on or who was around him. The stairs had been empty, inviting, even – he quickly started up the grand steps, his own steps light and consistent and a focused look painted on his face.
About that time, he heard a sickly shift – his heart must have plummeted to the first floor, a dreading look taking his features by storm. He paled quite a bit, his steps halting altogether. To his horror, the stairs had begun shifting mid-flight, going in the opposite direction of the rehearsal room. In fact, they seemed to be going straight for a lonely ledge, estranged from doors or escape routes.
“Fuck,” he muttered in a harsh whisper, his fist pounding firmly against the staircase rail, the way you would pound a desk. His blood was starting to boil in anger, for reasons too hard to explain. He didn’t feel like thinking, anyways. He needed to do something, get off this sinking ship of a staircase. Find out another route, one that would magically get him to the rehearsal room on time.
What was more, when he turned around, in hopes of finding his escape route, there he was. One of the people he hated most in the world. Jack fucking Burnett. Of all the people. Perhaps the universe was angry at him today, or perhaps it was karma getting back at him for all his sins. Whatever the case, it was severely testing his patience. He took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts, calm his mind, to no avail. This was uncharted territory now.
Happy New Year, ‘Bird.[/font]
Last edited by Rafael Waincroft on 29 Jan 2020, 13:19, edited 3 times in total.
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
2 Jan 2020, 07:38
Diffusing the Time Bomb
The Slytherin was so stunned to see Rafael right there in front of him that for a few moments, he was rendered speechless. Also, he became briefly oblivious to the fact that he could finally escape the ledge he had been marooned on for the last half hour or so. Instead, Jack floundered a bit for words, his mouth opening and closing like a fish while his hazel eyes held the Gryffindor in their sights as if doing so could keep him from physically leaving.
A little while after their Secret Santa encounter, the Slytherin had thought it was about time he actually bucked up and apologized to Rafael. However, he quickly discovered that the Gryffindor was going out of his way to avoid him. He couldn't blame the guy; not after what Jack had done. Even so, he was determined to get his message across. Rafa could hate him all he wanted after Jack explained himself.
Try as he might, though, the redhead had had no success. The popular Gryffindor kept busy and despite the Slytherin's best efforts, it had all been to no avail. Hell, he'd even attempted to stake out the Quidditch Training Pitch on a rumor about the timing of a Gryffindor team member's practice, only to be nearly killed by a Bludger when that team member turned out to be the Team Captain Beater instead. After that near-death experience, Jack had been more wary about hunting Rafa down and his motivation had suffered.
And then fate had decided to drop the stubborn Chaser right into his lap. Of course, that very same fickle fate was also the reason that words had chosen that very moment to abandon the usually-talkative boy. Jack could only stare for several minutes as he tried to process the fact that the young man he had failed to run into, chase down, and even ambush was finally face-to-face with him.
"Ra - D'Spacito," he breathed at last, almost speaking the wrong name in his bewilderment. He preferred not to call people by their first names when he could help it as it implied an intimacy he was extremely careful to avoid. "You...we need to talk," Jack eventually managed to blurt.
@Rafael D'Spacito
A little while after their Secret Santa encounter, the Slytherin had thought it was about time he actually bucked up and apologized to Rafael. However, he quickly discovered that the Gryffindor was going out of his way to avoid him. He couldn't blame the guy; not after what Jack had done. Even so, he was determined to get his message across. Rafa could hate him all he wanted after Jack explained himself.
Try as he might, though, the redhead had had no success. The popular Gryffindor kept busy and despite the Slytherin's best efforts, it had all been to no avail. Hell, he'd even attempted to stake out the Quidditch Training Pitch on a rumor about the timing of a Gryffindor team member's practice, only to be nearly killed by a Bludger when that team member turned out to be the Team Captain Beater instead. After that near-death experience, Jack had been more wary about hunting Rafa down and his motivation had suffered.
And then fate had decided to drop the stubborn Chaser right into his lap. Of course, that very same fickle fate was also the reason that words had chosen that very moment to abandon the usually-talkative boy. Jack could only stare for several minutes as he tried to process the fact that the young man he had failed to run into, chase down, and even ambush was finally face-to-face with him.
"Ra - D'Spacito," he breathed at last, almost speaking the wrong name in his bewilderment. He preferred not to call people by their first names when he could help it as it implied an intimacy he was extremely careful to avoid. "You...we need to talk," Jack eventually managed to blurt.
@Rafael D'Spacito
PC: Jack Burnett | iNPC: Ginyami Midorimori
2 Jan 2020, 20:39
Diffusing the Time Bomb
@Jack Burnett
[font=Segoe Script]Whatever sick joke fate was playing on Rafa right now, it wasn’t fucking funny. He felt his impulsive side flaring, raring to do something he would surely regret – his sensible side, which had been evermore present during his stay at Hogwarts, was telling him to keep silent, and keep his head down, as he had been so graciously attempting lately. It wasn’t that he feared Jack, or anything – quite the contrary. He knew what he was capable of, and he would really hate to send the poor kid to the Hospital Wing. His anger really got out of control sometimes. Right now, his sensible side was gaining the upper hand, but only just. It was a doomed battle, too – it wouldn’t be long before something eventful happened, and he knew it.
"We need-" he laughed spitefully at Jack’s words. They didn’t need to do anything. Rafa had his own agenda, and he intended to maintain it. He didn’t have time for morons or sob stories, and neither did he have the patience to put up with them. Whatever Jack’s reasoning, Rafa really didn’t care all that much. "I don't owe you anything," he told the other boy, quite harshly. His frustration was hidden well, masked in aggravation and impassiveness. No, he had more important things to address. Like the Hufflepuff party.
His eyes flew around the small area, trying to find an escape – to no avail. The staircase had marooned him with the cause of his frustration. Fucking wonderful. "Je-Sus H. Christ,” he voiced, unbeknownst into the open air. “This is not happening.” He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath to control the flames licking in his stomach. He wasn’t going to have to put up with this. Anything but this kid. Whomping Willow, sure. Angry centaur, why not? Kyle DeRook’s bludgers, bring it on. Somehow, though, this seemed more ominous than all of those instances combined. No, he didn’t want to do this. Not one bit.
"I don't have any reason to talk to you," he justified aloud, sitting down on the edge of the landing. He settled with his feet swinging off the edge, his Transfigurations book in his lap. His hand was extremely sore already from his repetitious sentence writing, but he squandered the feeling down. Looking over his book, he tried to focus on the words, learn something, do anything but give this kid the time of day. Unfortunately, his mind had other ideas. The words were flying off the page again, and Rafa’s focus was deflected. Sighing, he bit his lip angrily. Did he really have to talk to this kid? Seriously? "I don't even want to fucking talk to you,” he said again, in justification to his actions. “You sociopath.”[/font]
[font=Segoe Script]Whatever sick joke fate was playing on Rafa right now, it wasn’t fucking funny. He felt his impulsive side flaring, raring to do something he would surely regret – his sensible side, which had been evermore present during his stay at Hogwarts, was telling him to keep silent, and keep his head down, as he had been so graciously attempting lately. It wasn’t that he feared Jack, or anything – quite the contrary. He knew what he was capable of, and he would really hate to send the poor kid to the Hospital Wing. His anger really got out of control sometimes. Right now, his sensible side was gaining the upper hand, but only just. It was a doomed battle, too – it wouldn’t be long before something eventful happened, and he knew it.
"We need-" he laughed spitefully at Jack’s words. They didn’t need to do anything. Rafa had his own agenda, and he intended to maintain it. He didn’t have time for morons or sob stories, and neither did he have the patience to put up with them. Whatever Jack’s reasoning, Rafa really didn’t care all that much. "I don't owe you anything," he told the other boy, quite harshly. His frustration was hidden well, masked in aggravation and impassiveness. No, he had more important things to address. Like the Hufflepuff party.
His eyes flew around the small area, trying to find an escape – to no avail. The staircase had marooned him with the cause of his frustration. Fucking wonderful. "Je-Sus H. Christ,” he voiced, unbeknownst into the open air. “This is not happening.” He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath to control the flames licking in his stomach. He wasn’t going to have to put up with this. Anything but this kid. Whomping Willow, sure. Angry centaur, why not? Kyle DeRook’s bludgers, bring it on. Somehow, though, this seemed more ominous than all of those instances combined. No, he didn’t want to do this. Not one bit.
"I don't have any reason to talk to you," he justified aloud, sitting down on the edge of the landing. He settled with his feet swinging off the edge, his Transfigurations book in his lap. His hand was extremely sore already from his repetitious sentence writing, but he squandered the feeling down. Looking over his book, he tried to focus on the words, learn something, do anything but give this kid the time of day. Unfortunately, his mind had other ideas. The words were flying off the page again, and Rafa’s focus was deflected. Sighing, he bit his lip angrily. Did he really have to talk to this kid? Seriously? "I don't even want to fucking talk to you,” he said again, in justification to his actions. “You sociopath.”[/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
3 Jan 2020, 14:25
Diffusing the Time Bomb
Rafael's spiteful laugh drew a sigh from the Slytherin. "Okay, that was poorly-worded," he conceded. "I need to talk to you. Please. And I know you don't owe me anything." His eyes slid away from the other boy. "I'm the one who owes you. I owe you an explanation and a lot more." But it was obvious that Rafa wanted none of it.
He watched the Gryffindor seek some way to leave, likely utilizing his Quidditch skills in an attempt to find an opening. Even so, Jack was well aware that the taller student was in no way afraid of him. From their first encounter, he recognized when Rafael was doing his best to restrain his own temper and strength. Jack recalled the brunet's body language when he had been telling Alex that he didn't fight girls. Furthermore, the redhead had learned to recognize when someone wanted to punch his lights out. He had riled enough bullies and antagonized enough people in general to know that much, at least.
"I don't have any reason to talk to you. I don't even want to fucking talk to you, you sociopath.”
A sociopath? Was he? The Slytherin's brows furrowed a moment, unsure of what to make of the term. Of course it had been meant as an insult, but while most insults and name-calling slid off Jack like water off a duck's back, the potential truth in that made it lodge in his mind with concern. He had always been fascinated with tricksters, the morally-ambiguous, amoral beings, and transcending the dualities of right and wrong, but did that really make him a sociopath? Was his conscience really so weak?
Maybe I wish it was, he thought with a touch of grim amusement. But if that was the case, would I really be so desperate to pay him back? It may not have been the standard set of morals that general society impressed upon its members, but Jack did pride himself on keeping to his own moral code.
"Okay, okay, don't talk to me, then," he said gently, putting up his palms and anxiously shifting from foot to foot as if attempting to soothe a pacing, man-eating tiger. "Just please hear me out. Once I'm done, after this, you never have to see me again. You can even deck me, if you want. I just..." He heaved another sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I just want to pay you back for what you did for me."
The shorter first-year took a deep breath. "I know I really upset you with that letter I wrote from Alex. I honestly didn't mean it. I was just playing what I thought was a harmless prank to try to get her off my back because she seemed a little nuts. I just didn't know how nuts until she really got mad and tried to use that spell on me." Hazel eyes sought brown ones. "I noticed you and that other Gryffindor girl both try to stop her. But that girl didn't know what I had done at that point. You did, but you still tried to stop her anyway."
He recalled Rafael's words of worry to Alex, asking her what if she had actually hit Jack with the spell that had backfired on her. Jack doubted Alex herself would have cared; she might even have thought it served Jack right. But Rafael, the truly innocent victim of the whole thing, had genuinely been worried about both the girl who had punched him and the boy who had duped them both. Even when he had been so angry only minutes before, the Gryffindor had set all that aside out of concern for his schoolmates, regardless of how little they may had deserved it. As much as he had really hated to admit it at that time, Rafael's behavior had really struck a chord with Jack.
He slid his hand across his face, feeling it burn with renewed shame at the memory of his own foolishness. "After that, I knew I had to repay you. I hate being indebted to people and that wasn't something I could ignore. I meant to try to pay you back by leaving at the Secret Santa event, but since I tried seeking you out after to talk, that kind of canceled that out. So," Jack said, dropping both arms to his sides as he faced his peer, "What would you have me do to return the favor? Keep away from you? Never talk to you again? Be your personal punching bag?" Drawing up a wry smile, he added, "I'd like to think I've become pretty decent at taking a few good hits. And I'm not a girl, either, so no problems there."
@Rafael D'Spacito
He watched the Gryffindor seek some way to leave, likely utilizing his Quidditch skills in an attempt to find an opening. Even so, Jack was well aware that the taller student was in no way afraid of him. From their first encounter, he recognized when Rafael was doing his best to restrain his own temper and strength. Jack recalled the brunet's body language when he had been telling Alex that he didn't fight girls. Furthermore, the redhead had learned to recognize when someone wanted to punch his lights out. He had riled enough bullies and antagonized enough people in general to know that much, at least.
"I don't have any reason to talk to you. I don't even want to fucking talk to you, you sociopath.”
A sociopath? Was he? The Slytherin's brows furrowed a moment, unsure of what to make of the term. Of course it had been meant as an insult, but while most insults and name-calling slid off Jack like water off a duck's back, the potential truth in that made it lodge in his mind with concern. He had always been fascinated with tricksters, the morally-ambiguous, amoral beings, and transcending the dualities of right and wrong, but did that really make him a sociopath? Was his conscience really so weak?
Maybe I wish it was, he thought with a touch of grim amusement. But if that was the case, would I really be so desperate to pay him back? It may not have been the standard set of morals that general society impressed upon its members, but Jack did pride himself on keeping to his own moral code.
"Okay, okay, don't talk to me, then," he said gently, putting up his palms and anxiously shifting from foot to foot as if attempting to soothe a pacing, man-eating tiger. "Just please hear me out. Once I'm done, after this, you never have to see me again. You can even deck me, if you want. I just..." He heaved another sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I just want to pay you back for what you did for me."
The shorter first-year took a deep breath. "I know I really upset you with that letter I wrote from Alex. I honestly didn't mean it. I was just playing what I thought was a harmless prank to try to get her off my back because she seemed a little nuts. I just didn't know how nuts until she really got mad and tried to use that spell on me." Hazel eyes sought brown ones. "I noticed you and that other Gryffindor girl both try to stop her. But that girl didn't know what I had done at that point. You did, but you still tried to stop her anyway."
He recalled Rafael's words of worry to Alex, asking her what if she had actually hit Jack with the spell that had backfired on her. Jack doubted Alex herself would have cared; she might even have thought it served Jack right. But Rafael, the truly innocent victim of the whole thing, had genuinely been worried about both the girl who had punched him and the boy who had duped them both. Even when he had been so angry only minutes before, the Gryffindor had set all that aside out of concern for his schoolmates, regardless of how little they may had deserved it. As much as he had really hated to admit it at that time, Rafael's behavior had really struck a chord with Jack.
He slid his hand across his face, feeling it burn with renewed shame at the memory of his own foolishness. "After that, I knew I had to repay you. I hate being indebted to people and that wasn't something I could ignore. I meant to try to pay you back by leaving at the Secret Santa event, but since I tried seeking you out after to talk, that kind of canceled that out. So," Jack said, dropping both arms to his sides as he faced his peer, "What would you have me do to return the favor? Keep away from you? Never talk to you again? Be your personal punching bag?" Drawing up a wry smile, he added, "I'd like to think I've become pretty decent at taking a few good hits. And I'm not a girl, either, so no problems there."
@Rafael D'Spacito
PC: Jack Burnett | iNPC: Ginyami Midorimori
4 Jan 2020, 07:02
Diffusing the Time Bomb
@Jack Burnett
[font=Segoe Print]"I need to talk to you. Please. And I know you don't owe me anything."
So the kid had some brains in that little head of his. That was at least good. Or bad, depending on how he used it – Jack seemed as if he would be dangerous with a good head on his shoulders. Well, more dangerous, anyways. The Slytherin wreaked enough havoc as it was, what with his loose tongue and lack of a conscience. (This was an assumption, of course). He was a loose cannon, and Rafa wasn’t exactly sure whether or not he could be harnessed. Leave it to the parents, he reasoned. It’s not my problem.
He still had no intention of giving the other boy any time of day – it wasn’t worth the energy or the frustration. He had better things to do than listen to some sappy apology. There were so many other good uses for his time. Speaking of time – he checked his watch with a breath of aggravation, ever growing. Seventeen minutes to 2020. Lovely. That spurred a pang of rage in his stomach, ever the reminder that he was here, stuck with his enemy, instead of ‘partying it up’ with the Hufflepuffs. To help relieve the feeling a bit, he allowed himself to say some words that his parents would be ashamed of hearing. They aren’t present, are they? His face was in a seemingly eternal state of grumpiness, his eyes holding an unimpressed look and his mouth in a loose frown.
He hadn’t even realized that Jack had started talking again – he had missed most of the Slytherin’s words, actually. "…you and that other Gryffindor girl both try to stop her. But that girl didn't know what I had done at that point. You did, but you still tried to stop her anyway."
Oh, he was going on about the Alex incident. To be expected. He had come to dish out apologies, after all, and there weren’t many other instances that he could think of that required an apology. Though, it seemed strange that he would be defending Rafa – no, that didn’t sit right at all. This kid should be defending himself, not giving Rafa firepower. It wasn’t any good, if he wished to stay angry at the kid. “That wasn’t a selfless thing,” he broke in rather bluntly, disrupting the Slytherin boy. “You really think someone with an actual conscience was going to let you get killed, or something? Are you fucking mental?” He almost laughed, a wry, cold sound. He held it in, though – there was no need to show Jack any amusement. It would only encourage him. Though, to be honest, all this ignoring was giving him a headache. It was really exhausting, a bit like baby-sitting. Jack was no baby – far from it, actually – but he did take some entertaining. It was something that Rafa really detested. “Would you just shut up?” he asked drily. “Your voice hurts my ears.”
He wasn’t exactly sure that Jack heard his words, however, as he had started talking somewhere along Rafa’s thought process. "What would you have me do to return the favor?” Jack asked him, strangely enough. “Keep away from you? Never talk to you again? Be your personal punching bag?” …what did he just say? “I'd like to think I've become pretty decent at taking a few go..”
Rafa couldn’t hear much more of the words Jack had said – his mind was buzzing. He felt as if he were on autopilot, his head running all the reset protocols and his dastard conscience taking the wheel. It was second-nature at this point – his only resignations towards decking Jack were responsibility, and the need for keeping the peace. Now that both of those had been stripped away, there were no barriers between him and the other boy. Jack would learn that really quick.
In answer to Jack’s offer, Rafael picked himself up, carefully avoiding the ominous landing edge. It was quite a long distance down, he realized – he wasn’t afraid of heights, but he had a healthy respect for them. Though, he pushed the thought out of his mind, focusing on the task at hand. Slowly but steadily, he rose to his full height – a staggering 5’4, and he was only eleven and a half. Taller than Jack, by six whole inches. Pretty impressive, if he did say so himself. He must have looked pretty fearsome then, too, his eyes burning with the fire in his stomach and his fists clenched, so much so that his knuckles were bone-white. He needn’t make a noise, and he had surely gotten his point across. Brace.
The first move happened in almost no time at all. His fist, once at his side, reared back at lightning speeds, and swung into Jack’s cheekbone at full force. The sheer momentum of it brought him a step forward, his teeth gritted in determination. He even exhaled, as his uncle had taught him. If Jack was going to give him an opportunity to wreak his revenge, he was sure as hell going to use it. But, little did Jack know, he would be doing more than getting hit. “Well, are you going to fight back, then?” Rafa asked, a challenging, dangerous sort of look on his face, almost begging Jack to protest. It wasn’t fun when they didn’t fight back – there was nothing entertaining or satisfying about one-way fights. “Chicken, or something?” Jack could take hits, sure, but so could any good fighter. On another note, throwing a good punch was one thing, but endurance was an entirely different level. Now, Rafa didn’t know his equations or facts all that well. But he did know a fight.
Jack was on his playing field now. He was going to pay for his sins, that was for damn sure. At least, if Rafa had anything to say about it.[/font]
[font=Segoe Print]"I need to talk to you. Please. And I know you don't owe me anything."
So the kid had some brains in that little head of his. That was at least good. Or bad, depending on how he used it – Jack seemed as if he would be dangerous with a good head on his shoulders. Well, more dangerous, anyways. The Slytherin wreaked enough havoc as it was, what with his loose tongue and lack of a conscience. (This was an assumption, of course). He was a loose cannon, and Rafa wasn’t exactly sure whether or not he could be harnessed. Leave it to the parents, he reasoned. It’s not my problem.
He still had no intention of giving the other boy any time of day – it wasn’t worth the energy or the frustration. He had better things to do than listen to some sappy apology. There were so many other good uses for his time. Speaking of time – he checked his watch with a breath of aggravation, ever growing. Seventeen minutes to 2020. Lovely. That spurred a pang of rage in his stomach, ever the reminder that he was here, stuck with his enemy, instead of ‘partying it up’ with the Hufflepuffs. To help relieve the feeling a bit, he allowed himself to say some words that his parents would be ashamed of hearing. They aren’t present, are they? His face was in a seemingly eternal state of grumpiness, his eyes holding an unimpressed look and his mouth in a loose frown.
He hadn’t even realized that Jack had started talking again – he had missed most of the Slytherin’s words, actually. "…you and that other Gryffindor girl both try to stop her. But that girl didn't know what I had done at that point. You did, but you still tried to stop her anyway."
Oh, he was going on about the Alex incident. To be expected. He had come to dish out apologies, after all, and there weren’t many other instances that he could think of that required an apology. Though, it seemed strange that he would be defending Rafa – no, that didn’t sit right at all. This kid should be defending himself, not giving Rafa firepower. It wasn’t any good, if he wished to stay angry at the kid. “That wasn’t a selfless thing,” he broke in rather bluntly, disrupting the Slytherin boy. “You really think someone with an actual conscience was going to let you get killed, or something? Are you fucking mental?” He almost laughed, a wry, cold sound. He held it in, though – there was no need to show Jack any amusement. It would only encourage him. Though, to be honest, all this ignoring was giving him a headache. It was really exhausting, a bit like baby-sitting. Jack was no baby – far from it, actually – but he did take some entertaining. It was something that Rafa really detested. “Would you just shut up?” he asked drily. “Your voice hurts my ears.”
He wasn’t exactly sure that Jack heard his words, however, as he had started talking somewhere along Rafa’s thought process. "What would you have me do to return the favor?” Jack asked him, strangely enough. “Keep away from you? Never talk to you again? Be your personal punching bag?” …what did he just say? “I'd like to think I've become pretty decent at taking a few go..”
Rafa couldn’t hear much more of the words Jack had said – his mind was buzzing. He felt as if he were on autopilot, his head running all the reset protocols and his dastard conscience taking the wheel. It was second-nature at this point – his only resignations towards decking Jack were responsibility, and the need for keeping the peace. Now that both of those had been stripped away, there were no barriers between him and the other boy. Jack would learn that really quick.
In answer to Jack’s offer, Rafael picked himself up, carefully avoiding the ominous landing edge. It was quite a long distance down, he realized – he wasn’t afraid of heights, but he had a healthy respect for them. Though, he pushed the thought out of his mind, focusing on the task at hand. Slowly but steadily, he rose to his full height – a staggering 5’4, and he was only eleven and a half. Taller than Jack, by six whole inches. Pretty impressive, if he did say so himself. He must have looked pretty fearsome then, too, his eyes burning with the fire in his stomach and his fists clenched, so much so that his knuckles were bone-white. He needn’t make a noise, and he had surely gotten his point across. Brace.
The first move happened in almost no time at all. His fist, once at his side, reared back at lightning speeds, and swung into Jack’s cheekbone at full force. The sheer momentum of it brought him a step forward, his teeth gritted in determination. He even exhaled, as his uncle had taught him. If Jack was going to give him an opportunity to wreak his revenge, he was sure as hell going to use it. But, little did Jack know, he would be doing more than getting hit. “Well, are you going to fight back, then?” Rafa asked, a challenging, dangerous sort of look on his face, almost begging Jack to protest. It wasn’t fun when they didn’t fight back – there was nothing entertaining or satisfying about one-way fights. “Chicken, or something?” Jack could take hits, sure, but so could any good fighter. On another note, throwing a good punch was one thing, but endurance was an entirely different level. Now, Rafa didn’t know his equations or facts all that well. But he did know a fight.
Jack was on his playing field now. He was going to pay for his sins, that was for damn sure. At least, if Rafa had anything to say about it.[/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
6 Jan 2020, 06:09
Diffusing the Time Bomb
When Jack had finished speaking, Rafael drew himself up, eyes blazing, causing the smaller boy to swallow hard. He knew what he'd just said, but he had a way of running his mouth when he was most nervous and it frequently got him into a lot of trouble. Not that he hadn't meant every word; he just wasn't looking forward to getting pummeled in an unceremonious, one-sided show of strength that he had no chance of winning whatsoever. And even if he could have, he wouldn't have planned on it. This was what he owed the boy who had tried to protect him.
I should have known he'd pick that option, with all the pent-up frustration in the lines of that tense body, he thought grimly to himself, wondering if the Gryffindor would think less of him if he closed his eyes. Well, at least after this, we can call things even. If I survive, that is. So much for welcoming in a new year.
He had just enough time to register the whiteness of Rafa's knuckles on those intimidating clenched fists before his own body instinctively shut his eyes and stiffened in order to brace itself for the inevitable blow. Jack felt his jaw rattle at the impact to his cheekbone, causing him to nearly bite his tongue. His torso pivoted in the direction he'd been hit, causing the rest of his body to follow after and shift so that he was falling to the ground on his side. The Slytherin put his hands out to catch himself, wincing at the force against the cuts from a prior injury on his still-healing palms. Fortunately, as he had turned away from his assailant during his fall, he didn't think Rafa had glimpsed his momentary expression of weakness.
The redhead didn't get up immediately, unsure if more was to come. Instead of another physical blow, though, a verbal taunt was next.
"Well, are you going to fight back, then?”
What was that look on his face? Did he actually want Jack to fight back? The Slytherin would have thought the opposite might have been true. Ah, but of course - Rafael probably liked to be honorable or whatever. What satisfaction could someone like him derive from simply beating on someone who didn't fight back? Wasn't chivalry one of Gryffindor's fabled traits?
"Chicken, or something?”
Well, if that's what he wanted, Jack owed it to him. But he had his own way of fighting.
"Am I a chicken? No. But am I 'something'? Yes." The redhead wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as he pushed himself back up onto his feet. "A coward, to be exact. I'm a self-preservationist."
Ow. He touched his cheek gingerly, adjusting his jaw to check the damage. That was going to leave a bruise for sure. He wasn't looking forward to explaining that one to his dorm mates, especially since it had been annoying enough relaying the story about how his hands had gotten cut up. Oh well; at least his mouth still worked which was all he really needed.
"Now, I'm not going to delude myself into thinking I have any chance against you in a physical fight," Jack wanted to make perfectly clear. "But you're a lot closer to that ledge than I am and I don't fancy the idea of being blamed for you falling to your death. You may prefer to solve all your problems with your fists, but I prefer other means." Allowing himself the smallest of smiles, he added, "What was that you said before? 'My voice hurts your ears'?"
Curling in a finger, he invited Rafa to come at him again. "If you want me to stop talking, you're going to have to find a way to shut me up yourself."
@Rafael D'Spacito
I should have known he'd pick that option, with all the pent-up frustration in the lines of that tense body, he thought grimly to himself, wondering if the Gryffindor would think less of him if he closed his eyes. Well, at least after this, we can call things even. If I survive, that is. So much for welcoming in a new year.
He had just enough time to register the whiteness of Rafa's knuckles on those intimidating clenched fists before his own body instinctively shut his eyes and stiffened in order to brace itself for the inevitable blow. Jack felt his jaw rattle at the impact to his cheekbone, causing him to nearly bite his tongue. His torso pivoted in the direction he'd been hit, causing the rest of his body to follow after and shift so that he was falling to the ground on his side. The Slytherin put his hands out to catch himself, wincing at the force against the cuts from a prior injury on his still-healing palms. Fortunately, as he had turned away from his assailant during his fall, he didn't think Rafa had glimpsed his momentary expression of weakness.
The redhead didn't get up immediately, unsure if more was to come. Instead of another physical blow, though, a verbal taunt was next.
"Well, are you going to fight back, then?”
What was that look on his face? Did he actually want Jack to fight back? The Slytherin would have thought the opposite might have been true. Ah, but of course - Rafael probably liked to be honorable or whatever. What satisfaction could someone like him derive from simply beating on someone who didn't fight back? Wasn't chivalry one of Gryffindor's fabled traits?
"Chicken, or something?”
Well, if that's what he wanted, Jack owed it to him. But he had his own way of fighting.
"Am I a chicken? No. But am I 'something'? Yes." The redhead wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as he pushed himself back up onto his feet. "A coward, to be exact. I'm a self-preservationist."
Ow. He touched his cheek gingerly, adjusting his jaw to check the damage. That was going to leave a bruise for sure. He wasn't looking forward to explaining that one to his dorm mates, especially since it had been annoying enough relaying the story about how his hands had gotten cut up. Oh well; at least his mouth still worked which was all he really needed.
"Now, I'm not going to delude myself into thinking I have any chance against you in a physical fight," Jack wanted to make perfectly clear. "But you're a lot closer to that ledge than I am and I don't fancy the idea of being blamed for you falling to your death. You may prefer to solve all your problems with your fists, but I prefer other means." Allowing himself the smallest of smiles, he added, "What was that you said before? 'My voice hurts your ears'?"
Curling in a finger, he invited Rafa to come at him again. "If you want me to stop talking, you're going to have to find a way to shut me up yourself."
@Rafael D'Spacito
PC: Jack Burnett | iNPC: Ginyami Midorimori
6 Jan 2020, 21:39
Diffusing the Time Bomb
@Jack Burnett
[font=Segoe Print]"If you want me to stop talking, you're going to have to find a way to shut me up yourself."
Jack was only further testing Rafa’s patience – quite frankly, he didn’t have any left in him. It had gone long ago, somewhere past minute 15 of the countdown to New Years Day. His anger was bubbling to more dangerous heights, flaring in ways that scared even him. He wasn’t supposed to be getting this angry – you should take a deep breath. Cool it, Raf, get it under control. He glared at the other boy, his eyes icy and cold. This is what he wants. For you to lose your cool. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Get a hold of yourself, dammit!
He listened to his thoughts, taking a deep breath to clear the red flames licking at the corner of his vision. He found that it cleared his mind quite a bit, the sirens finally visible past the heavy fog that once resided in his head. Now that he was thinking with more clarity, he noticed that Jack was standing in front of him, beckoning him forward with his finger. As if he were some kind of dog. The thought almost completely destroyed his calming thought process – he gritted his teeth, looking onward with dangerous eyes. It was true, he didn’t have any tact or self-control. But he did have one thing going for him – his acting.
Jack wouldn’t know this – it was a silent feature about him, one that you could only find by asking – but he was quite an excellent actor. You had to be, where he came from. The streets were shit, and one wrong look at someone could cost you all your money – or worse. He had learned how to control his features well, which not only helped him in protecting his belongings, but also hold his own in standoffs against scheming storeowners, and win the psychological end of fights. Getting in someone’s head could cost them the game, his old soccer coach’s words reverberated around his head. Don’t let them get in your head. Get in theirs.
And that was exactly what he intended to do. He strode forward, his steps sure, until he was directly in front of Jack. Grabbing the front of the boy’s shirt, he continued walking, eventually slamming the other boy against the wall of the landing. Though, you wouldn’t know what he had just done by his features – his face was gentle, a warm, easy smile on his face. “Well, that’s all good with me,” he told Jack in a perfectly cordial sort of way, as if he were bantering with a friend. “The self-preservation, I mean. But I will tell you this – if you don’t hurry and fight back, there won’t be a lot left to preserve.” Shrugging, the easy look ever on his face, he looked behind him – the landing’s edge was far away, at a good enough distance to be reasonably safe.
He glanced back at Jack, cocking his head to one side in a curious way. If he needed to, he could definitely shut the kid up. A good enough blow to the temple would do just that. Still, though, he was interested in seeing the other boy’s reactions - unless the kid was immune to 'plot twists', his sudden change was sure to get in his head. At least, he hoped. Though his anger was still bubbling inside, it had been smothered a bit by his acting – playing the part usually made him feel the part. And he was really starting to enjoy this, fighting with a clear mind. Though, he still held true to his values. Jack didn’t have know that.
His acting was starting to give way in the slightest, a playful grin showing through his eyes, in a blink-and-you’ll-miss it moment. It was gone in an instant, the easy, impartial look back. Still holding Jack up against the wall, his arm starting to grow tired, he smiled warmly. “Still want to 'preserve' yourself… coward?”[/font]
[font=Segoe Print]"If you want me to stop talking, you're going to have to find a way to shut me up yourself."
Jack was only further testing Rafa’s patience – quite frankly, he didn’t have any left in him. It had gone long ago, somewhere past minute 15 of the countdown to New Years Day. His anger was bubbling to more dangerous heights, flaring in ways that scared even him. He wasn’t supposed to be getting this angry – you should take a deep breath. Cool it, Raf, get it under control. He glared at the other boy, his eyes icy and cold. This is what he wants. For you to lose your cool. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Get a hold of yourself, dammit!
He listened to his thoughts, taking a deep breath to clear the red flames licking at the corner of his vision. He found that it cleared his mind quite a bit, the sirens finally visible past the heavy fog that once resided in his head. Now that he was thinking with more clarity, he noticed that Jack was standing in front of him, beckoning him forward with his finger. As if he were some kind of dog. The thought almost completely destroyed his calming thought process – he gritted his teeth, looking onward with dangerous eyes. It was true, he didn’t have any tact or self-control. But he did have one thing going for him – his acting.
Jack wouldn’t know this – it was a silent feature about him, one that you could only find by asking – but he was quite an excellent actor. You had to be, where he came from. The streets were shit, and one wrong look at someone could cost you all your money – or worse. He had learned how to control his features well, which not only helped him in protecting his belongings, but also hold his own in standoffs against scheming storeowners, and win the psychological end of fights. Getting in someone’s head could cost them the game, his old soccer coach’s words reverberated around his head. Don’t let them get in your head. Get in theirs.
And that was exactly what he intended to do. He strode forward, his steps sure, until he was directly in front of Jack. Grabbing the front of the boy’s shirt, he continued walking, eventually slamming the other boy against the wall of the landing. Though, you wouldn’t know what he had just done by his features – his face was gentle, a warm, easy smile on his face. “Well, that’s all good with me,” he told Jack in a perfectly cordial sort of way, as if he were bantering with a friend. “The self-preservation, I mean. But I will tell you this – if you don’t hurry and fight back, there won’t be a lot left to preserve.” Shrugging, the easy look ever on his face, he looked behind him – the landing’s edge was far away, at a good enough distance to be reasonably safe.
He glanced back at Jack, cocking his head to one side in a curious way. If he needed to, he could definitely shut the kid up. A good enough blow to the temple would do just that. Still, though, he was interested in seeing the other boy’s reactions - unless the kid was immune to 'plot twists', his sudden change was sure to get in his head. At least, he hoped. Though his anger was still bubbling inside, it had been smothered a bit by his acting – playing the part usually made him feel the part. And he was really starting to enjoy this, fighting with a clear mind. Though, he still held true to his values. Jack didn’t have know that.
His acting was starting to give way in the slightest, a playful grin showing through his eyes, in a blink-and-you’ll-miss it moment. It was gone in an instant, the easy, impartial look back. Still holding Jack up against the wall, his arm starting to grow tired, he smiled warmly. “Still want to 'preserve' yourself… coward?”[/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
6 Jan 2020, 23:55
Diffusing the Time Bomb
One moment, the Gryffindor's gaze was frigid; the next, Jack felt as if he were being roasted alive with the flames in those eyes. Adrenaline surged through him since the blow to his face, but he could neither run, nor fight back; not in the conventional sense, anyway. Good job, Jack. You're antagonizing him again, he sighed at himself, wondering how it had once more come to this. Isn't this the exact opposite of what you were trying to do?
But this is what he wants, the Slytherin tried to reassure himself. Why else would he be holding back? I told him to have at it, but somehow, I'm still concious. That could only mean he doesn't want an easy victory; he wants a challenge. But how to give him one?
Before he could get a grip on his thoughts, the redhead caught sight of Rafael's countenance. It shocked him so thoroughly that he didn't even have the sense to resist as he was grabbed by the front of his clothing and shoved back against the landing wall, causing him to grimace slightly at the impact.
What? Wh-what's he doing?! The gentle warmth of that look was frighteningly disarming, completely mis-matching its wearer's actions. Jack was only absently aware of how his own face must have been flushing. Typically, the Slytherin prided himself on putting up a pretty good facade, but this turn of events had been far too unexpected for him to keep up his confident act. Furthermore, with Rafa's close proximity and his fist bunched up against Jack's shirt, there was little he could have done to hide the rapid beating of his adrenaline-pumping heart, nor the heat emenating off his anxious body.
All this time, he'd thought of the Quidditch player as some brawn-brained jock who preferred to reason things out with his fists instead of his head. But could he have been wrong? Had he underestimated his peer, as he knew was terribly dangerous to do? Jack had been so busy watching for and bracing himself to defend against Rafa's physical attacks that he hadn't even considered the other boy might have gone the psychological route. In all honesty, he hadn't even thought him capable of such a thing.
Forget giving him a challenge. He's giving me one, the Slytherin thought with a wild, reckless sort of excitement. There were so few students he'd met so far who had been able to incite such exhileration in him. Jack only thought it fair to return the favor by giving it his all. But he was cornered and desperate now, breathing hard as he fought to regain some semblance of composure.
"Well, that’s all good with me,” Rafael spoke with that alarmingly pleasant smile. "The self-preservation, I mean. But I will tell you this – if you don’t hurry and fight back, there won’t be a lot left to preserve.” The thinly-veiled threat, spoken with a very convincing manner of geniality, caused a shiver to run down Jack's spine. It embarrassed him to know that his opponent likely felt his reaction, still holding him captive as he was.
And yet, in order keep it together and regain his inner calm, there was only one thing the Slytherin had to remind himself of. Physical fights were one thing. But Rafa wanted to play mind games, now? Well, the brunet may have gained the advantage by having caught the redhead off-guard, but two could play at those. And it just so happened that mind games were Jack's favorite kind.
"Still want to 'preserve' yourself… coward?"
"There are many different kinds of fighting," the smaller boy lectured his captor, forcing a small, tight smile of his own. The plan he'd concocted might not have been the smartest idea, but if it resulted in his death, at least he wouldn't have had anything more to worry about after. "And sometimes the best form of defense is a good offense. Wouldn't you agree, Quidditch player?"
He glanced about briefly, as if for a clock (as well as any potential onlookers). "What time is it now? Shit, I really miss my watch. Oh well. I'm guessing it's about that time." Reaching out with a hand, he opened his fist at the last moment to grip the back of Rafael's neck in order to pull him even closer than they already were.
This is how you shut someone up.
"Happy New Year, ‘Bird."
Tilting the side of the Gryffindor's face, Jack moved to press his lips against the other boy's cheek.
@Rafael D'Spacito
But this is what he wants, the Slytherin tried to reassure himself. Why else would he be holding back? I told him to have at it, but somehow, I'm still concious. That could only mean he doesn't want an easy victory; he wants a challenge. But how to give him one?
Before he could get a grip on his thoughts, the redhead caught sight of Rafael's countenance. It shocked him so thoroughly that he didn't even have the sense to resist as he was grabbed by the front of his clothing and shoved back against the landing wall, causing him to grimace slightly at the impact.
What? Wh-what's he doing?! The gentle warmth of that look was frighteningly disarming, completely mis-matching its wearer's actions. Jack was only absently aware of how his own face must have been flushing. Typically, the Slytherin prided himself on putting up a pretty good facade, but this turn of events had been far too unexpected for him to keep up his confident act. Furthermore, with Rafa's close proximity and his fist bunched up against Jack's shirt, there was little he could have done to hide the rapid beating of his adrenaline-pumping heart, nor the heat emenating off his anxious body.
All this time, he'd thought of the Quidditch player as some brawn-brained jock who preferred to reason things out with his fists instead of his head. But could he have been wrong? Had he underestimated his peer, as he knew was terribly dangerous to do? Jack had been so busy watching for and bracing himself to defend against Rafa's physical attacks that he hadn't even considered the other boy might have gone the psychological route. In all honesty, he hadn't even thought him capable of such a thing.
Forget giving him a challenge. He's giving me one, the Slytherin thought with a wild, reckless sort of excitement. There were so few students he'd met so far who had been able to incite such exhileration in him. Jack only thought it fair to return the favor by giving it his all. But he was cornered and desperate now, breathing hard as he fought to regain some semblance of composure.
"Well, that’s all good with me,” Rafael spoke with that alarmingly pleasant smile. "The self-preservation, I mean. But I will tell you this – if you don’t hurry and fight back, there won’t be a lot left to preserve.” The thinly-veiled threat, spoken with a very convincing manner of geniality, caused a shiver to run down Jack's spine. It embarrassed him to know that his opponent likely felt his reaction, still holding him captive as he was.
And yet, in order keep it together and regain his inner calm, there was only one thing the Slytherin had to remind himself of. Physical fights were one thing. But Rafa wanted to play mind games, now? Well, the brunet may have gained the advantage by having caught the redhead off-guard, but two could play at those. And it just so happened that mind games were Jack's favorite kind.
"Still want to 'preserve' yourself… coward?"
"There are many different kinds of fighting," the smaller boy lectured his captor, forcing a small, tight smile of his own. The plan he'd concocted might not have been the smartest idea, but if it resulted in his death, at least he wouldn't have had anything more to worry about after. "And sometimes the best form of defense is a good offense. Wouldn't you agree, Quidditch player?"
He glanced about briefly, as if for a clock (as well as any potential onlookers). "What time is it now? Shit, I really miss my watch. Oh well. I'm guessing it's about that time." Reaching out with a hand, he opened his fist at the last moment to grip the back of Rafael's neck in order to pull him even closer than they already were.
This is how you shut someone up.
"Happy New Year, ‘Bird."
Tilting the side of the Gryffindor's face, Jack moved to press his lips against the other boy's cheek.
@Rafael D'Spacito
PC: Jack Burnett | iNPC: Ginyami Midorimori
8 Jan 2020, 03:14
Diffusing the Time Bomb
@Jack Burnett
[font=Segoe Print]"Happy New Year, ‘Bird."
Now, Rafa had been around Jack enough to know that the guy was pretty crazy. The way he thought was different to everyone else he knew at Hogwarts. He had a talent for mischief, a tendency towards trouble, a mouth that spat cleverness and stupidity all at once. He was a pretty confusing guy sometimes, but after a while of being in his presence, you would hope to get the right idea about him. That’s what Rafa had thought, at least – however, he had sorely misjudged the guy. Because, whatever the Slytherin was, he was definitely not a coward. The guy had some stones on him, that was for sure. Rafa wasn’t even sure he would be bold enough to pull a move like that, in fact. The guy really takes self-preservationist to another level.
Jack’s counter attack had taken him by total surprise – he had completely taken advantage of Rafa’s occupied arms. Before Rafa could even realize what was going on, Jack had tilted his head sideways, exposing his cheek – and then, he had gone for the kill. It must have been a rather funny sight, actually – at first, Rafa hadn’t actually realized what Jack was going to do. The idea of the Slytherin trying to kiss him seemed too outrageous, and had been immediately dismissed. He hadn’t actually taken the action for what it really was until the actual contact was made. At the feeling of Jack’s lips against his cheek, he completely panicked – he shoved the kid off of him, his face scrunched up in shock and revolt. His steps stumbled backwards just a bit, putting a safe distance between him and the crazy Slytherin. His heart was racing, the confusion and disgust ever-present on his features.
He hadn’t realized how perverse the action of ‘kissing’ could be until that moment. Sure, they hadn’t actually….well... But, you wouldn’t be able to tell by the look on Rafa’s face. He was utterly embarrassed, his cheeks heated up red and his face taking on the most disgusted look it was possible to muster. His revolt was short-lived, however, as the reality of the situation hit him right then. Completely out of the blue, his anger had returned full-force, the red in his cheeks consuming his whole face. He could feel himself pushing the red zone, his fists clenched again, the pressure in his chest only building. How dare he. He still wasn’t really sure how to react still, given that the shock hadn’t exactly worn off yet. He was a mess of emotions, the result evident for Jack to see.
It took a moment for the shock to finally wear off – at first, he was absolutely sure he was going to throw Jack off the landing, or do something completely outrageous. Though, in the midst of the raging fire in his stomach, a thought occurred to him. He got in your head. Shake it off, it’s what he wants. He got in your head, and it worked. The anger was soon replaced with disappointment, his face clearing up slowly. He looked down somewhere past Jack’s shoes, biting his lip in thought. Perhaps he had had the upper hand, but Jack had quite proverbially swept it from right under his feet. It was humiliating to admit, but Jack had won.
With that realization, his disappointment made a final transformation. It had dissipated, giving way to an ever-growing feeling of impressment. It felt strange, having lost something that felt so familiar to him. But Jack had thrown the rule-book – Rafa supposed it was fair. It gave him a pang of respect for the other guy, a small seed. “I really judged you wrong,” he said, a wry smile playing on his lips. He crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side slightly, as if examining the other boy. “You aren’t a coward. Just a moron. You do know I’m going to have to hit you twice as hard now?”
He was grinning quite a bit now – he would deal with the blow to his ego later, sift through those feelings a different time. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but something was different with his feelings regarding Jack. Perhaps he found himself amused by Jack’s strange victory, or maybe he was still in shock. Or maybe something completely different. Whatever the case, he stepped forward, putting his hands in his pockets. “Where were you planning to go with that, exactly?” he raised his eyebrow wonderingly – seemingly enough, it seemed as if he had put the boxing gloves up. For the moment. Right now, he was more interested in seeming exactly what was going through Jack’s mind during such a ridiculous turn of events. “Just a ploy to get me off my game?” What he didn’t say was, that was pretty impressive. You’re definitely not who I thought you were.
[/font]
[font=Segoe Print]"Happy New Year, ‘Bird."
Now, Rafa had been around Jack enough to know that the guy was pretty crazy. The way he thought was different to everyone else he knew at Hogwarts. He had a talent for mischief, a tendency towards trouble, a mouth that spat cleverness and stupidity all at once. He was a pretty confusing guy sometimes, but after a while of being in his presence, you would hope to get the right idea about him. That’s what Rafa had thought, at least – however, he had sorely misjudged the guy. Because, whatever the Slytherin was, he was definitely not a coward. The guy had some stones on him, that was for sure. Rafa wasn’t even sure he would be bold enough to pull a move like that, in fact. The guy really takes self-preservationist to another level.
Jack’s counter attack had taken him by total surprise – he had completely taken advantage of Rafa’s occupied arms. Before Rafa could even realize what was going on, Jack had tilted his head sideways, exposing his cheek – and then, he had gone for the kill. It must have been a rather funny sight, actually – at first, Rafa hadn’t actually realized what Jack was going to do. The idea of the Slytherin trying to kiss him seemed too outrageous, and had been immediately dismissed. He hadn’t actually taken the action for what it really was until the actual contact was made. At the feeling of Jack’s lips against his cheek, he completely panicked – he shoved the kid off of him, his face scrunched up in shock and revolt. His steps stumbled backwards just a bit, putting a safe distance between him and the crazy Slytherin. His heart was racing, the confusion and disgust ever-present on his features.
He hadn’t realized how perverse the action of ‘kissing’ could be until that moment. Sure, they hadn’t actually….well... But, you wouldn’t be able to tell by the look on Rafa’s face. He was utterly embarrassed, his cheeks heated up red and his face taking on the most disgusted look it was possible to muster. His revolt was short-lived, however, as the reality of the situation hit him right then. Completely out of the blue, his anger had returned full-force, the red in his cheeks consuming his whole face. He could feel himself pushing the red zone, his fists clenched again, the pressure in his chest only building. How dare he. He still wasn’t really sure how to react still, given that the shock hadn’t exactly worn off yet. He was a mess of emotions, the result evident for Jack to see.
It took a moment for the shock to finally wear off – at first, he was absolutely sure he was going to throw Jack off the landing, or do something completely outrageous. Though, in the midst of the raging fire in his stomach, a thought occurred to him. He got in your head. Shake it off, it’s what he wants. He got in your head, and it worked. The anger was soon replaced with disappointment, his face clearing up slowly. He looked down somewhere past Jack’s shoes, biting his lip in thought. Perhaps he had had the upper hand, but Jack had quite proverbially swept it from right under his feet. It was humiliating to admit, but Jack had won.
With that realization, his disappointment made a final transformation. It had dissipated, giving way to an ever-growing feeling of impressment. It felt strange, having lost something that felt so familiar to him. But Jack had thrown the rule-book – Rafa supposed it was fair. It gave him a pang of respect for the other guy, a small seed. “I really judged you wrong,” he said, a wry smile playing on his lips. He crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side slightly, as if examining the other boy. “You aren’t a coward. Just a moron. You do know I’m going to have to hit you twice as hard now?”
He was grinning quite a bit now – he would deal with the blow to his ego later, sift through those feelings a different time. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but something was different with his feelings regarding Jack. Perhaps he found himself amused by Jack’s strange victory, or maybe he was still in shock. Or maybe something completely different. Whatever the case, he stepped forward, putting his hands in his pockets. “Where were you planning to go with that, exactly?” he raised his eyebrow wonderingly – seemingly enough, it seemed as if he had put the boxing gloves up. For the moment. Right now, he was more interested in seeming exactly what was going through Jack’s mind during such a ridiculous turn of events. “Just a ploy to get me off my game?” What he didn’t say was, that was pretty impressive. You’re definitely not who I thought you were.
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I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
9 Jan 2020, 03:25
Diffusing the Time Bomb
In theory, it had all been so simple. A kiss wasn't rocket science. Sure, maybe the Slytherin hadn't so much as given a thought to the gesture other than for his family prior to that moment. But that was probably why his plan soon seemed to go so horribly, terribly wrong.
For all initial intents and purposes, the move had worked. The Gryffindor seemed stunned long enough for his captive to deliver the kiss to his cheek, after which he shoved the other first-year away as if Jack had burned him. Jack had gotten free and miraculously seemed none the worse for it. At least until he saw the look on Rafael's face.
From his place on the ground where he'd fallen after being pushed away, the redhead peered up at the Quidditch player to regard him. Revulsion and disgust marred the handsome Argentinian's features as he took a few shaky steps back from his opponent. Most people might have considered the situation an overwhelming victory. Jack might have if Rafa were like any of the other bullies he'd antagonized before for fun. But Rafa was no bully. And Jack's heart rate hadn't slowed down since the other boy had fixed him with that gentle, dangerously deceiving smile.
"Wow...I'm not that bad at it, am I?" he tried to joke with a weak, forced laugh. Somehow, though, his heart wasn't in it. It was too busy trying to leap out of his throat. "I know I've only had my parents to practice on, but still - it was just on the cheek." Despite his words, the Slytherin knew well that it was likely the person rather than the technique that had earned Rafa's abhorrence.
To his great shock and dismay, he found he couldn't bring himself to look Rafa in the face anymore. Judging by the heat of his own face, Jack guessed his complexion was beet red and that wasn't a feature he could conceal with a change of expression.
What the hell happened?! Am I dying? Was this what a heart attack felt like? Had he had a curse placed on him? Whatever the case, Rafa hadn't appeared to notice yet - preoccupied with his own torrent of emotions as he was - so it was all Jack could do to pretend it wasn't happening. Just keep your head down. He couldn't even savor the gradual metamorphosis that the Gryffindor's expressions were going through; not while he himself seemed to be experiencing something similar.
His chest tightened and his stomach was doing flip-flops while he continued to breathe harder than ever. No matter how many times he swallowed, the knot in his throat wouldn't go down. How was he supposed to maintain his composure, inside or out, if his body wouldn't settle down? He had to get a grip, and quickly - before Rafael did.
"I really judged you wrong."
The other boy's words informed Jack that his time was up. The brunet had returned to his senses first; enough to speak civilly. Jack, normally so ready to engage in conversation of any kind, was left scrambling for a coherent response with which to reply. He found none as he felt intense brown eyes on him.
"You aren't a coward. Just a moron. You do know I’m going to have to hit you twice as hard now?"
Jack opened his mouth to speak. Say something. Anything! A handful of words had found their way to the tip of his tongue but were forgotten when the Slytherin made the mistake of meeting Rafa's gaze and catching sight of his grin. The Gryffindor took a step forward once more, closing the distance he had just put between them a few minutes prior. No, no, no! You're making it worse!
"Where were you planning to go with that, exactly?"
Without thinking, Jack recoiled slightly, only to remember that even on the floor, he was backed up against a wall. He grit his teeth and put a hand up against it, using the solid structure to support his suddenly weak knees.
"Just a ploy to get me off my game?"
Enough was enough. He couldn't just pretend his current state had all been a result of the earlier blow to the face, especially not after he had claimed to be good at taking hits. He had to put his facade back up, even if only a semblance of it, or Rafa would have realized just how vulnerable he was right then. That kiss had evidently cost Jack more than he had expected to lose.
"Yeah...a ploy," he uttered, reverting his gaze to the ground as he continued to lean against the wall. All his heavy breathing was starting to make him feel a tad light-headed. "You seemed to want a challenge. But...I made sure it was only on the cheek. Y'know...so you wouldn't get in trouble. With your boyfriend." He waved a hand. "Not that he has to find out...but just in case."
In spite of his best efforts, Jack's grin was feeble and he was getting dizzy. He just had to last until the staircase got back and Rafael left. That had to be soon, right? Why wouldn't his heart rate go down? Closing his eyes, he tried to take deep breaths to stop the room from spinning. His stomach was making him feel nauseous.
"I'm sorry," he murmured finally, slipping back down the wall to crouch near the floor. "I think something's wrong with me. I'm weak, but I'm not usually this weak, I swear." Jack contrived another sheepish, brittle laugh. "Can we, um...can we continue at a later date? Please?"
@Rafael D'Spacito
For all initial intents and purposes, the move had worked. The Gryffindor seemed stunned long enough for his captive to deliver the kiss to his cheek, after which he shoved the other first-year away as if Jack had burned him. Jack had gotten free and miraculously seemed none the worse for it. At least until he saw the look on Rafael's face.
From his place on the ground where he'd fallen after being pushed away, the redhead peered up at the Quidditch player to regard him. Revulsion and disgust marred the handsome Argentinian's features as he took a few shaky steps back from his opponent. Most people might have considered the situation an overwhelming victory. Jack might have if Rafa were like any of the other bullies he'd antagonized before for fun. But Rafa was no bully. And Jack's heart rate hadn't slowed down since the other boy had fixed him with that gentle, dangerously deceiving smile.
"Wow...I'm not that bad at it, am I?" he tried to joke with a weak, forced laugh. Somehow, though, his heart wasn't in it. It was too busy trying to leap out of his throat. "I know I've only had my parents to practice on, but still - it was just on the cheek." Despite his words, the Slytherin knew well that it was likely the person rather than the technique that had earned Rafa's abhorrence.
To his great shock and dismay, he found he couldn't bring himself to look Rafa in the face anymore. Judging by the heat of his own face, Jack guessed his complexion was beet red and that wasn't a feature he could conceal with a change of expression.
What the hell happened?! Am I dying? Was this what a heart attack felt like? Had he had a curse placed on him? Whatever the case, Rafa hadn't appeared to notice yet - preoccupied with his own torrent of emotions as he was - so it was all Jack could do to pretend it wasn't happening. Just keep your head down. He couldn't even savor the gradual metamorphosis that the Gryffindor's expressions were going through; not while he himself seemed to be experiencing something similar.
His chest tightened and his stomach was doing flip-flops while he continued to breathe harder than ever. No matter how many times he swallowed, the knot in his throat wouldn't go down. How was he supposed to maintain his composure, inside or out, if his body wouldn't settle down? He had to get a grip, and quickly - before Rafael did.
"I really judged you wrong."
The other boy's words informed Jack that his time was up. The brunet had returned to his senses first; enough to speak civilly. Jack, normally so ready to engage in conversation of any kind, was left scrambling for a coherent response with which to reply. He found none as he felt intense brown eyes on him.
"You aren't a coward. Just a moron. You do know I’m going to have to hit you twice as hard now?"
Jack opened his mouth to speak. Say something. Anything! A handful of words had found their way to the tip of his tongue but were forgotten when the Slytherin made the mistake of meeting Rafa's gaze and catching sight of his grin. The Gryffindor took a step forward once more, closing the distance he had just put between them a few minutes prior. No, no, no! You're making it worse!
"Where were you planning to go with that, exactly?"
Without thinking, Jack recoiled slightly, only to remember that even on the floor, he was backed up against a wall. He grit his teeth and put a hand up against it, using the solid structure to support his suddenly weak knees.
"Just a ploy to get me off my game?"
Enough was enough. He couldn't just pretend his current state had all been a result of the earlier blow to the face, especially not after he had claimed to be good at taking hits. He had to put his facade back up, even if only a semblance of it, or Rafa would have realized just how vulnerable he was right then. That kiss had evidently cost Jack more than he had expected to lose.
"Yeah...a ploy," he uttered, reverting his gaze to the ground as he continued to lean against the wall. All his heavy breathing was starting to make him feel a tad light-headed. "You seemed to want a challenge. But...I made sure it was only on the cheek. Y'know...so you wouldn't get in trouble. With your boyfriend." He waved a hand. "Not that he has to find out...but just in case."
In spite of his best efforts, Jack's grin was feeble and he was getting dizzy. He just had to last until the staircase got back and Rafael left. That had to be soon, right? Why wouldn't his heart rate go down? Closing his eyes, he tried to take deep breaths to stop the room from spinning. His stomach was making him feel nauseous.
"I'm sorry," he murmured finally, slipping back down the wall to crouch near the floor. "I think something's wrong with me. I'm weak, but I'm not usually this weak, I swear." Jack contrived another sheepish, brittle laugh. "Can we, um...can we continue at a later date? Please?"
@Rafael D'Spacito
PC: Jack Burnett | iNPC: Ginyami Midorimori