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So. About that rock thing.

Turns out they were right and it would wear off on its own.

And Rabastan is nursing a kind of fad hangover. As he wonders just how in the world a Milliways veteran succumbs to bar weird when he's supposed to know when it occurs and how to avoid it.

[If he ever sees a rock again it'll be too soon.]

Whiskey. Fireplace. Knitting.

Television tuned to 60s pop for noise [specialty music channels FTW].

And one wizard who'd rather talk about anything other than fads and pet rocks.

I'm sure he's amenable for socialising. :x

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The point, Autor, is this: you have someone you are interested in. You wouldn't be blushing or deflecting-with-babbling if you weren't interested in someone.

And if you are, then I'm glad for you. Moreso if it's mutual.

Autor slams his eyes shut and tries to make it look like he didn't. He inhales slowly through his nose, but it doesn't help his pinched expression. Nor does it help the raging fire on his skin.

The boy chooses his words very, very carefully.

"You make a great many assumptions," he says softly. "I shouldn't be surprised about that, I guess, but still."

For someone who has a fancy, you're being awfully defensive about it.

What do you think I'll do? Mock you for it?

He preens a bit. That feather just won't lie straight.

Seven years in a boarding school for witches and wizards, Autor. And while I was preoccupied with matters relating to family, it did not leave me blind to what my peers got up to. Crushes and fancies are to be expected when you're dealing with kids going through adolescence in a semi-confined space.

Spending time in Milliways is really not all that different.

"Of course you would," he says, raising a brow as if to imply, if there were someone.

The kid sits up and smoothes his hair. Not that it does much good in the light breeze. "'Has a fancy' is such an awful expression. And I'm not 'going through adolescence' in Milliways."

I'd have to age for that.

Tease? Yes. Mock? No. Good heavens, lad. I thought you knew me better than that!

Still fussing over his feather.

You're missing my point, Autor. My point is this: if you spend enough time in a space populated with other people, eventually you will find someone or several someones you want to spend more time with. That includes people you want something more than mere friendship from.

As for "has a fancy"? Would you prefer I use cruder language instead?

Autor lays his hands in his lap and raises a brow. "Yes, which absolutely explains the flood of crushes I have when I'm back home, studying at the academy," he says. His tone is surprisingly light, given how much sarcasm he packed into it.

"Half the town crammed together in single spot, wearing uniforms and struggling with adolescence at the same time," he says, and sniff. "It's a wonder we don't bring the walls down in our efforts to spend time together as friends and otherwise."

Did I say that, Autor? No. You said that. You are purposefully twisting what I say into something I did not say. Where did I say anything about tearing down walls to get at someone? Wanting to spend time with others for whatever reason means looking for opportunities to do so.

Honestly, Autor. Stop being difficult. And obtuse.

Unless you are such an outcast or a hermit in your world that you really do have no fucking clue how normal people even operate when it comes to socialising with those people they happen to like?

Oh, good, he's swearing, Autor thinks, and relaxes a bit. Rabastan's feathers are ruffled, literally and figuratively, so all is right in the world.

"Goodness," he says, shaking his head. "You worry about my eating, you worry about my sleep, and now you're worried about my potentially being a hermit. You are going to fret yourself right into an early grave, and I'll have to simply say, 'tsk, I did tell him so.'"

You being a hermit is hardly a thing I worry about. But I would think that a smart young man like yourself would have some idea of how people behave when they're around others.

I doubt you do. Otherwise you wouldn't imply that I'd mock you for fancying a young lass, when I told you more than once I was glad that you had found someone you liked.

He leans back on the carpet again, bending one knee. "And again with the assumptions. Do you have a quota to meet with those?"

Autor will neither confirm nor deny anything in this conversation.

Funny how you act so casual now, when before you were so scarlet I would be surprised if there was any blood left below your neck.

And now here you are, pretending that none of this has happened. As if I'm just making shit up to accuse you with.

You can act as if I'm too dumb to notice, but it's too late. I already have. And I know you do.

Horse is out of the barn, Autor.

"That might have been because you were talking about your relationship with Elea," he says as coolly as he can.

"You admitted yourself that you were guessing," he says, raising a brow. "I haven't heard any proof as to why you're so confident, and my cheeks turning red don't count. I have the unfortunate habit of blushing half the time women are mentioned in a conversation."

Of course that's what the cause of it was, he says with pure scepticism. Of course you always blush at the subject of women.

That's why you turn scarlet whenever we discuss Mia or some other lady.

Right?

Pause.

You can come up with an explanation for why you turned red. But I'd love to hear why someone as neatly articulate as yourself suddenly acts like he was hit with a babbling charm during his flustered efforts to misdirect others from something he doesn't want them to know about.

Pause.

For someone who insists that he hasn't found someone he likes a lot, you sure put in an awful lot of effort into your denials.

"Mia's different," he says, and he actually does flush a little, but it's nothing like the inferno he was hit with before. "She's... She's kind and a mother.

"This isn't effort," he says, scoffing. "And I wasn't babbling."

Do you blush whenever you meet Milliways' female population? Every time? Then I guess Mia would be "different".

Ugh. That feather. So misbehaved. Now it's plucked. Ow. But better it be removed than have it compromise his aerodynamics.

And sure you weren't babbling. You always talk as if you're on speed. All the time.

Augh. Autor's still not sure what thread of logic Rabastan followed to get to this conclusion, but he's getting a little annoyed. He is kind of amused that it took him this long to hate this topic.

"I said half the time, didn't I?" he says, and cracks his knuckles. "You don't even have teeth and you're sinking them into this for no reason. For heaven's sake, had I realized you were so tenacious, I shouldn't have let you land."

He shakes out his hands, readying himself. It's going to be the only warning Rabastan has when he takes off in that carpet of his, slicing through the air at a fast clip.

You know, if I was wrong about this, a good response might be "No, Rabastan. I don't currently fancy anyone. Sorry", and this topic would've been over fifteen minutes ago.

When things speed up, he hunkers down. No way is he going to be given a literal blowing off here.

Autor sighs into the wind. He loops once around the lake--because why waste the momentum?--and then coaxes the carpet to slow down with a few feather-light touches.

"This conversation should have never started," he says, closing his eyes. "And I still have no idea where you got these ideas."

And then, because he's grumpy, he mutters under his breath: "Fancy is such a stupid word."

Too late now, lad, and I think I already told you where I got them. Unless you have some inexplicable need to have me repeat myself?

Pause.

"Fancy" is a perfectly fine word. And given how much of a prude you are, it's respectful to both of you.

Edited 2013-04-27 07:09 (UTC)

Autor adjusts his glasses. "Oh, no," he says, as dry as a windswept desert, "you'd never repeat yourself.

"'Fancy' is a terrible word in this context. And it's inaccurate, besides," he says, squinting at the sun reflecting off of the water. "I don't simply fancy her; I loathe her."

And then there's also... Hm.

Oh so this is more than just a fancy it involves other emotions too?

You can hear the smirk in his voice.

Well well. This is news. Didn't think you were capable of having feelings of any kind for anyone, lad.

"Wait, what? What?" Autor says, thoroughly shocked. "You don't think I'm capable of hating someone? Really? Of course I have that ability. We all do."

The boy is severely discombobulated, as he tends to be too often in the presence of this wizard.

"I'm not meant to be around people."

Shame that you don't get a say in whether or not you want to be around people. Because you're here. In Milliways. With other people.

Now. Maybe this is news for someone like you, someone who is only capable of feeling about as many emotions as he has fingers on his left hand, but there's more than just love or hate that can be felt towards other people.

You'll find that out soon enough. And who knows? Maybe your emotional range will expand to include the fingers on your right hand too.

Autor never does anything as undignified as flop. No, the way he spreads out on the carpet is more of a controlled fall. It's graceful, having nothing to do with gangly limbs and enough angles to fill out a protractor.

Might want to get out of his way, Rabastan.

He also doesn't sigh. Not really.

"I don't need a lecture on my stunted emotional range right now, please, and thank you," he says, dangling his legs over the side. "Do you not ever get tired of haranguing me about that?"

Rabastan has already fluttered to the opposite end of the carpet.

I'll pencil you in to talk about it next Friday at half three?"

More of that smirk tone.

So. Tell me about this young lady that you're so interested in. I don't imagine you go around hating just anyone. Even your fancies. So she must be someone extra-special.