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Third Floor Common Room, Tuesday Afternoon

After completing his go at Gun Club, Arthur returned to the dorms only to realise he didn't much feel like dealing with Leto yet. He'd come up with a proper revenge later. Right now, he craved a chance to sit somewhere, to fight off the sense that was dawning in the wake of yesterday's upset. He sat, and idly considered the Teevee.

Maybe she's just afraid to lose a friend, Merlin had said, and while Arthur was not going to stretch as far as to call her that aloud, he had to admit that the expression on her face had... seemed...

It was easier, dealing with sorcerers, when all you did was distract Father and find them quick shelter elsewhere. Here, there was little escape from them. No matter what he did, they would remain, and the honest truth was that he bore them very little ill will.

Wasn't his father. He'd seen too much damage caused by it not to be wary, but...

Of course, that made him think of Liir. He wasn't going to let thought of his conduct around him make him cringe.

So he sat. Subdued. Thinking.

[[ open common room! ]]

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"Well, you know, you could have been meditating," he said, shrugging. "You could have been daydreaming. There are different reasons for being quiet."

"No one being present to talk to, for starters," he replied, lifting an eyebrow.

"Well, now there is," he said and wandered inside. "How's it going? Survived the cruise without a sunburn, I see."

"Very little escapes your notice, does it?" Arthur asked, dryly. "No hangovers, no sunburn. The way it should be."

"I'm so glad to see you're your usual pleasant self," Hannibal said, rolling his eyes. "How's Merlin?"

"Many hangovers and a sunburn." Arthur almost had a touch of cheer about it, even if it was but a slight ray of mocking light in the midst of... a lot of unpleasantness. "I think it's been a great lesson for him."

Edited 2009-03-03 13:50 (UTC)

"Avoid alcohol and wear SPF 1000," Hannibal supplied, snickering. "Poor guy. At least he got to come back to freaking snow. Talk about a sudden change. Unless you guys are used to the snow, of course."

Perhaps he could just talk about the weather around Leto for a few hours until Leto's head exploded. That might actually be fun, and take his mind off things.

"In winter, yes," Arthur said, thoughtfully, "Although it was summer when we left, so it's a bit of a leap."

British sense of understatement: firmly on.

Edited 2009-03-03 13:59 (UTC)

"Mmm. I prefer the warmer weather," he said and shook his head. "How's your arm?"

"Sun or rain," he agreed, "Snow gets dull."

Actually, Leto didn't like Hannibal much, either. Maybe find some way to spend time in the room talking to Hannibal about the weather while his roommate was around.

Although that might be going out of his way for a distraction too much (he could also bring Merlin; it'd make him laugh, no doubt, and after yesterday...).

After yesterday.

"Just about fighting trim," he said, attempting a stab at his usual pride and managing well.

Edited 2009-03-03 14:09 (UTC)

"Oh good, then maybe I'll be able to take you without feeling like I'm going to break you," he said, teasing tone and smile well in place. "I'd been worried."

"Hannibal," he said, with an involuntary laugh, "I think it's become clear that you couldn't break anything on me if you tried."

"Yeah, I could," he said, rolling his eyes good naturedly. "With a staff, no. Other means? Yes."

Hopefully. Maybe. Unless Arthur was some sort of modern day immortal.

"If that's a challenge," Arthur said, cocking his head, "You will lose."

Fighting Hannibal was different than the idea of fighting Priestly, which seemed a lot like beating up on a small, albeit loud, puppy. Of course, he'd also fought a sea creature for most of the morning...

It began to occur to him he was avoiding something.

He knew he'd probably lose but what the hell, he'd fucked up this whole week already, hadn't he?

"It's a statement," he said, treading softly for the time being. "No one can be good at everything. I think it's just a scientific impossibility."

Because he was a genius or something.

"And there are things I know that you don't."

"I imagine your knitting would far outstrip mine." Arthur's eyebrow lifted at him, in part in challenge, in part with authority.

"It would. I can knit a mean goddamn scarf," he said, all false pride. "But, hand to hand? I bet I could give a better match than I did with sticks. Staffs. Whatever."

Arthur shook his head. "Still eager to hit the dirt, I hear. Sure."

Hannibal wasn't so dumb as to think he'd knock Arthur on his ass but he was a lot more skilled with his hands than a clumsy stick.

"Friendly spar?" Hannibal asked, eyebrow up. "Can your arm take that?"

"Yes, Hannibal," he said. For the first time, some of his frustration seeped back in through a crack in the facade. "You might need your eyes checked if you're convinced I'm some sort of delicate waif."

The bandages were finally gone, and Arthur was going to take advantage of that if it killed him.

"I'm being courteous, ass," Hannibal said dryly. "You, obviously, don't require that sort of thing. Hurrah. I'll just be crude and rude to you from now on."

"Not much of a change, then."

"Pot meet the fucking kettle," he said. "You're one to talk."

"I am, actually." He wasn't, but that wasn't going to stop Arthur, even if his barbs weren't in quite the best condition today. "Decorum is another thing I've been trained in since birth."

It's just that some people didn't deserve it.

And most of the people who did were a bit dull.

"Your training's a bit off, then," Hannibal quipped. "I think I'd sooner see you with two heads and tail then you being nice to someone. And honestly, I'd be worrying if I saw you being nice to someone. Probably mean the island is turning upside down."

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