fandomhighdorms | 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.

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"So, what? You can recognize when someone's being an ass to you but can't recognize it in yourself?" he asked, shaking his head. "How selective of you, Arthur."

Beating up Hannibal seemed like a nicer idea by the minute, if he didn't have a point.

The insult was a bit much, though.

"Perhaps you should visit Camelot one day," Arthur said, "We'll see how far you make it."

"I don't see a need to visit Camelot," Hannibal retorted. "Especially when it'd give you some sort of authority over me."

Arthur gave him a look that implied that he knew exactly who the alpha male was in this conversation, and it wasn't Hannibal.

"Now who's passing judgement on one and not the other?"

"Please, like you don't throw your power around whenever I talk to you," Hannibal said. "Don't act so surprised when someone else does the same thing."

"That's presuming you have any power to throw around," he said, with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"I don't need to be a prince to have power," Hannibal said. "Fancy titles need not apply."

"I wasn't talking about titles," he said, smiling in a way that showed some teeth. He sat forward. "Although I'm sure I could think of one for you."

Now Arthur was just trying to deal with his crappy mood by taking it out on someone else, yes- Hannibal made such a ready target.

"Oooh, your words burn me," Hannibal said, doing a mock shake. His own mood was rearing its ugly head and it was much easier to be irrational and bitchy when the mood was already there. "How the women must swoon for you, Arthur. Threats of namecalling? How elementary of you, Arthur."

Arthur rose up out of his seat, stalking towards Hannibal with a predatory glint in his eyes.

"Now, now, Hannibal," he said, "I thought you found me charming. It's all right, I can understand the envy."

Hannibal didn't move from the spot he'd been standing on but forced an air of nonchalance and indifference into his stance.

"I was wrong," he said airily. "Can't judge a book by its cover, now can I? But, I'm sure you look yourself in the mirror and tell yourself how charming and how awesome you are every night before you brush your hair one hundred times with your special brush and go to bed in your silk sheets. Arthur, you almost sound like a manly girl."

Arthur pressed his hand to the side of the couch, a scant few inches away from Hannibal's head. He leaned his weight half into his hand with equal nonchalance.

"I'm afraid you may have me mistaken for someone else," he said, airily, infusing his own words with a slight undertone of threat. "But don't worry. I know how easily distractable you are."

"Oh, how harsh," Hannibal said, turning his face up towards Arthur and sticking out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "The princely one things I'm distractable. Let me go cry in my room, weep buckets and blow my nose in scented Kleenex."

He smiled at Arthur, slowly and widely, false cheer and brightness lighting every corner of his face.

"It's nice to know that you're as blind as I thought. I don't care who you are or were or what you do. You're insignificant to me."

"And here you," Arthur said, with a smirk that made him look a great deal like a panther, "are making the incredibly erroneous assumption that your opinion matters to me. But don't you cry your eyes out just jet, Hannibal." He leaned in. "I'm starting to think there's someone you wish you had some power over."

Edited 2009-03-03 17:35 (UTC)

"Is that what you think?" Hannibal asked, keeping his face right there, unwilling to move, to back down, to even blink. "What with your limited intelligence, I wasn't sure you thought past 'Me Arhur. Me want food now.' But, I guess I was wrong again. Sometimes, you know, it happens."

The smile he'd been wearing turned into a smug sort of smirk. "But, I don't think I have to wish it, Arthur, I think I do have power over someone. I think it's being evidenced right. Now."

In a way.

"Mm," Arthur said, "If that is so, then you're off worse than I am." He pushed in for one final personal space intrusion, hovering an inch away from his ear. "See, I'm not actually trying to prove anything to you. Nor do I have any fear about my intellect. In fact, I think I've wasted quite enough time on you."

He began to pull away.

"The only thing you'd have to prove to me," Hannibal said, whisper quiet even as Arthur pulled away, "was that you didn't have a dick the size of a twig. But, hey, look at that, there's my proof. It is."

When in a pissy mood, one says pissy things. C'est la vie.

He was gripped, for an instant, by the instinct to strike him. But that wouldn't do either of them any good- and if that wasn't a lesson Arthur had had to learn the hard way over the past year, he didn't know what was.

"Do you really think that will impress me?" he asked, his hand still on the couch, but the rest of him now far away. "Because I don't think we're quite close enough for you to be thinking of those regions."

Okay, he'd take his leave now that he had those last words out. He let go of the couch.

"Amazing comeback, Arthur," he said and smirked at him. "Grade A. You really got me there."

"No," Arthur said, thoughtfully, "I believe the idea was that I didn't. Have a good day, Hannibal."

He turned around.

Hannibal gave him a little salute but said nothing else.

Third Floor Common Room, Tuesday Afternoon

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