From: babalon	Date: January 26th, 2011 05:38 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"It's a little too late for you, don't you think?" Emilie yawned, going back to her work. Who the hell did this kid think he was? She did her best to look bored.

Maybe he wouldn't want to talk to her anymore.

	From: jake_frost	Date: January 26th, 2011 05:51 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Jake had to laugh at that; she wanted to get rid of him. Well, good luck, sister!

“Nope, not late at all!”, he replied, in an overly perky voice. “Don’t go worrying about me, babe, I’m a big boy!” He reached down and adjusted himself with his free hand as he detailed the flames on Icarus’ wings.

	From: babalon	Date: January 26th, 2011 06:08 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"I'm not worried," Emilie said blandly, pulling a fine detail brush from her kit and wetting the tip with some water. "I'm calling you an ass."

She just couldn't help arguing, could she? Maybe it would help if she found her headphones and started listening to some music. She pondered this briefly, digging through her bag to see if she could find them.

	From: jake_frost	Date: January 26th, 2011 06:30 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Oh, please! She had no sense of humor and behaved like a sore-assed bear, Jake mused, No wonder she got on so well with the serial killer.

“You should worry”, Jake replied calmly, as he painted, “You don’t even know me and you’re acting like a total bitch…”, he switched to a finer brush, “…I think you need to go to the infirmary and get that pole removed from your ass.”

	From: babalon	Date: January 26th, 2011 07:04 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"Excuse me?" Emilie snapped, turning sharply to face him. She was shaking a little as she spoke, her fist clenched around her paintbrush.

"I should worry? Me? I think you had best be shutting the fuck up and backing the fuck off, or I will cut off that tiny little dick you're so proud of and feed it to you."

	From: jake_frost	Date: January 26th, 2011 07:49 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Now the violence, he sighed, inwardly.

“Did I stutter?”, Jake replied, “Seriously, you really don’t play well with others, do you?”

Knitting his brows, Jake shook his head and shrugged, “You know what? Threats are boring. If I bothered you by trying to be friendly, I’m sorry. You just work over there and I’ll work over here and we can each pretend we’re alone, okay?”

He turned his back to her and continued to paint, then, as an afterthought, half turned his head and warned, “I’m obligated to warn you, that I’m a 2nd degree black belt”, he shrugged, “I don’t hit girls, but I will defend myself.”

	From: babalon	Date: January 27th, 2011 04:02 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"Uhhhuh," Emilie snerked, his threat quickly dissolving at the introduction of his knowledge in the Martial Arts. Threats were boring? Hypocritical much, eh?

"And I'm obligated to warn you-- You're a fucking retard." Threatening physical prowess against a witch? What a fucking amateur.

She returned to sifting through her things, looking for her headphones. Maybe she really could drown him out. Either way, he was talking in circles and she did not like it in the slightest.

	From: jake_frost	Date: January 27th, 2011 05:40 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Jake laughed at Emilie’s retort, not even turning to face her. He continued to work on his painting and sighed aloud to himself, “It’s like talking to a fucking 3rd grader.”

Why had he even bothered to follow her in here? All that he’d learned was that she was rude, belligerent and antisocial; he had already heard that from several sources. It did tell him that this Ciaran must be a true deviant to be able to connect with her enough to have sex. Jake’s mind didn’t even want to go there.

	From: babalon	Date: January 27th, 2011 07:06 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Emilie had done a fairly well controlling her temper, she thought. On a worse day, she would have thrown a pot of paint at his head, hexed him, or already thrown a punch.

Today? She was practically a saint.

Well, until now.

Warnings had been issued but he kept pressing and kept fucking snarking. He'd started this conversation, if he took offense it was his problem.

She didn't even remember drawing her wand, but it was there in her hand and before she could stop herself before the spell tumbled from her lips like a reflex.

"Expulso!"

	From: jake_frost	Date: January 27th, 2011 08:17 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Jake was working on the details of Icarus’ sandal, trying to forget Emilie and her pitbull-like behavior; he had just moved to dab at the paint on his palette when he heard her cry out the spell…

”Expulso!”

Before he could react, Jake was blown backwards by a concussive blast of energy; his painting had exploded into, what seemed like, millions of pieces and was raining down on his head like confetti, where he sat, stunned, on the floor.

Jake sat for a moment, holding his paintbrush and palette, covered in the remains of his painting. Then, finally coming to his senses, he turned and looked at Emilie, “Are you out of your fucking mind?”, he growled, throwing down his palette and brush and brushing himself off, “You could be expelled for doing that shit!”

	From: babalon	Date: January 27th, 2011 09:12 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"Let's get one thing clear, asshole," Emilie hissed, her eyes narrow. "You are never to fucking speak to me, address me, or even fucking look at me. Got it?"

She gathered her things in a rush and threw her bag over her shoulder. She already started walking toward the exit, giving him a wide berth.

"Or next time, it will be your fucking head."

	From: jake_frost	Date: January 27th, 2011 09:38 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Jake hated fighting and it seemed this girl made a life out of it; he would have no problem following her directions. He wasn’t even mad at her, at this point; he was just tired of her. “Fine, whatever...not like I’m that desperate”, he sighed, waving her off.

When Emilie stomped towards the door, Jake was relieved to see her go. He wondered what had happened in her life to make her such a hateful person.

When Emilie threw back the threat at him, as she left, he just let it go. If she wanted to believe he’d let her blow up his head, more power to her. Blowing air out of his mouth in a frustrated sigh, Jake pulled out his wand and looked around the room, “What a mess!”, he grumbled. Flourishing his wand slightly, he intoned, “Tergeo art room.” He moved against the wall and watched as all of the minute pieces of canvas whirled off of the floor and any other surface they had blown onto and emptied themselves into a waste basket, the easel righted itself and the spots of paint he’d gotten on the floor wiped clean. “Excellent!”, he beamed.