ax_main | Felix & Pete - Making Friends and Irritating People (backdated, Feb 25)

Felix tries to help a fellow student with his essay and ends up baiting Pete Wisdom into losing his temper. This is how social relationships with peers are supposed to go, right?

Since settling in to a more normal routine at the school, Felix was often found in one or another of the classrooms even when he was not actually in that class. The gaps in his education were piecemeal and unpredictable, but he was already chafing against the pace of his Communications class. Only the fact that he still wrote his assignments out longhand kept him working at the speed of the other third-year students. It was because he was taking extra time to write an essay with a pen on lined paper that he had lingered in the classroom until well into the fourth-year Communications class, sitting and scratching away quietly in the back. One ear, metaphorically speaking, was on the course content itself while he worked.

Felix paused at the end of his writing, and straightened, re-buttoning the cuffs of the boldly colorful paisley print shirt he was wearing. Nearby, a rumpled-looking student seemed to be writing something similar on a computer screen. Screens were very interesting to Felix, and he leant back in his seat, skimming the work over the other boy's shoulder. His brow arched; there were at least half a dozen errors right in front of his face. Abhorrent.

"It's whom," came a faintly irritated voice from behind Pete. The words were lightly spoken and clipped, like someone had once heard Received Pronunciation and then diluted it in America for a few decades. "And your adjectives are out of order. Origin precedes purpose."

"Don't remember asking your opinion, mate," Pete grumbled as he scowled at the screen. Adjectives. Had he used adjectives? With that question hanging about in the back of his mind, he glanced back to see who it was. "Also? The Queen might say "whom" on the telly, but I'm not sure anyone else has since the 1900s."

The boy looking back at him arched the red brow over his blue eye. His other was an odd amber, and seemed somehow more amused, where the blue was cool and calculating. A tumble of dark red curls cascaded over his forehead. "We haven't got a Queen," said the boy, reasonably. "However, we have someone who cares about 'whom' a very great deal." A tip of his head indicated the front of the classroom, where Dr. McCoy was discussing the work with another student.

Pete didn't recognize the ginger with the mismatched eyes. He couldn't directly argue about his calling upon the blue furred doctor as an example, though, so instead he shrugged. "Read too much Dickens or something. Or maybe it's the dye he uses on is fur soaking into his brain." He raised his eyebrows. "Also, "we" still have a queen. Not sure where you're from? But I'm visiting here, not becoming a card carrying Yank."

"Good grammar knows no nationality," said the red-haired boy, crisply. "And regardless to whom you pledge your allegiance, I presume you want good marks in your classes. It doesn't matter if you speak that way or not. It matters that the person grading your essay does." To Felix, it only made sense. One played to the expectations of those who could help one further oneself.

"Yeah, here's the thing? Really don't care what grade Professor Furball puts on my report card," Pete pointed out, then frowned. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Felix," the redhead answered promptly, then added before the rumpled young man could say it, "not that my name means anything to you, I'm sure. I'm a recent arrival. Who, if I may be so bold, are you?" Felix rested his elbows on the desk, laced his fingers, and cradled his chin there, blinking at Pete attentively.

And that wasn't seriously off at all, was it? Pete quirked an eyebrow. "Wisdom. Pete Wisdom. So what, upon arrival you immediately decided to take up the position of Grammar Police or something?"

Felix caught the slightest hint of question and discomfort in Wisdom, and latched on to it immediately. "I can't express concern for the academic success of my fellow students? Especially the fetching ones," he added, flicking the briefest of appraising gazes up and down Pete's form.

Pete caught the look and snorted. "Yeaaah, right. First off? I don't much care about my academic success; I've been out of school the last year already, I'm just here because I was sent. Second? Bets is the fetching half of the team, not me."

At this point, Felix could not help himself. He forgot about good sense and manners and simply wanted to keep pushing. "I'm sure you must realize I don't have the first idea who that is, but if she's a she, then I'm deeply disinterested." He studied Pete a moment longer, then asked, "Very well, you don't care about schooling. Is there anything you don't roll those pretty blue eyes at?"

"Not a bloody thing. Well established character trait, ask anyone." Or anyone he'd ever spoken to around here, which limited the number drastically. A thought occurred to Pete and he smirked. He wasn't sure what this guy's game was, but he could have some fun with it and kill two birds with one stone. "But if it's pretty blue eyes you're after, I can hook you up with Bets' brother's number."

Felix's brows lifted, and he appeared quite amused at this attempt. "Well, I suppose if you're all interchangeable, that can't hurt. How is the brother's grammar?"

"There's a "Lord" that comes before his name, so its safe to say it's better than mine," Pete observed. "Not at all sure about the interchangeable bit, but Bets is a fit bird. Stands to reason her twin would be, too." Even if he was a total wanker.

Felix barely heard most of what Peter explained, assuming it would be as offensive as everything else he'd said. It was the very first bit that made him tilt his head curiously. He glanced toward the front of the room to see if the instructor was annoyed with him yet, then leaned forward. "You spend time with nobility?" Felix asked, with interest.

Pete snorted. "Not if I can help it."

"Isn't a Lord's sister generally a Lady?" Felix asked, clearly expecting that it was so, and that everybody knew it.

"Well, yeah, but Bets doesn't count," Pete protested. "She works for a living."

"So it's her usefulness that legitimizes her in your eyes," Felix observed. "How I do hope she properly appreciates the gift of your approval."

"Look, you bloody thesaurus," Pete snapped, turning to glare at him. "I don't give a damn what you say about me, but you leave Bets out of it. She's worth at least a hundred of her brother, and probably a few thousand of me."

It was like Felix's eyes illuminated the moment he saw that he'd tripped Pete's temper. His expression didn't really change from mildly bored interest, but there was a sharpening in his focus and intent. Indeed, Felix looked terribly satisfied, all of a sudden. He reached to sweep up his pens and paper into a neat little pile. "I simply can't wait to meet her and tell her just that," he said brightly. "I'd best leave you to your essay."

"Whatever." Pete wasn't sure what was making the annoying ginger look so smug, but if it had anything to do with badgering Bets, the guy deserved what it was going to bring him. He turned his attention to the page he'd been typing, and added "Wanker," under his breath. If the guy was still around to hear it? He didn't have a problem with that, either.