A sharp zap of electricity sparked between their fingers, Amycus’s hand jerking backward with a surprised little noise that firmly jogged him out of the routine of shaking hands and sharing the same carefully rehearsed pleasantries designed to convince people he knew what he was doing, his eyes wide as he teetered towards laughter before recovering. “A natural defence against Kerouac?” he offered with a bemused twitch of his lips, his fingers still tingling as they hovered at his side.
It felt a little bit like a warning, but Amycus wasn’t entirely certain what it was warning him about.
And he’d never really been good at absorbing compliments, the odd assembly of them he got in any given week usually batted aside with a clumsy sort of acknowledgement that Amelia wasn’t allowing. It was nice, if not more than a little confusing, his shoulders rising subconsciously as he rocked back on his heels. “Oh, well it’s not hard to care about philosophy,” at least not for him, though there were a great many students who he suspected would disagree, with a wry tilt of his head he awkwardly barrelled onward at the first glimpse of an opportunity to turn their conversation away from him, “Kant was — you know, a giant hypocrite, but he really does have some fascinating ideas about aesthetics and the sublime and—”
In the back of his head he could practically hear Alecto groan at him. Was he the Dawlish in his scenario? He thought, grimly, of the little pin stuck to the lapel of his blazer, emblazoned with I Kant Even that he’d seen multiple students sigh at the sight of and decided, perhaps, that he should change the subject. “I promised my sister I wouldn’t talk about Kant outside the classroom after what happened last year.“ Like most of his last time stories it had involved another loud debate with Prewett, the reminder of which spurred on the grim memory of their altercation at the activities fair, which was probably why he wasn’t quite paying enough attention to the bewildered squeak of Me? to find it more than passingly odd.
But Amelia had agreed and perhaps he wasn’t failing miserably at this whole socialising thing like he usually did. If she’d been ditched too, however unintentionally, then at the very least he wasn’t holding her up from her actual friends or partner or whoever she’d come with. He half-turned on his heel to orientate himself in the crowd, before picking a path through it towards the forbidden punch bowl, not entirely convinced that if he glanced back Amelia wouldn’t have disappeared into the crowd. He filled a second cup regardless, turning away from the little station and feeling mildly surprised to see that Amelia hadn’t ditched him as her next horror story for the next person she ran into.
The guy who wouldn’t stop rabbiting on about Kant.
“What do you think they put in the punch?” he asked, sniffing it suspiciously and getting only an overwhelming burn of alcohol, “I’ve never been able to figure it out but every year I keep coming back to it.”
“Obviously.” Amelia laughed nervously. Her cheeks pinkened in slight embarrassment at immediately hurting someone she was trying so hard to impress. That sharp zap of electricity between them signified something in Amelia’s mind. Whether it was something good or bad, was yet to be seen. A few cups of Longbottom punch down and Caradoc’s words of encouragement in the back of her mind, Amelia tried to reassure herself that it was a good omen. Trying to ignore the tittering nervousness she had been feeling and just relax. Amelia’s eyes momentarily fell to her empty cup before looking back up at Amycus, listening to him expand a bit more on Kant.
Honestly, she could listen to him talk forever. Despite her only half-hearted interest in philosophy, there were some things that were fascinating, if not a little confusing and long-winded. She would never deny someone the opportunity to talk about something they were really passionate about anyway. Lord knows, she had listened to Emmeline talk endlessly about Benjy Fenwick with a smile plastered on her face.
The question of what exactly happened last year was on the tip of tongue but Amycus was already turning on his heels to grab another drink. He might not want to elaborate on it anyway. Amelia was certain that, whatever it was, it had something to do with Fabian Prewett. Her own interaction with the man earlier in the night seemed to signify the two were at odds. She had heard it before but only as whispers between students and their coworkers. Fabian hadn’t really given her a satisfactory answer about why he hated Amycus so much, simply that he was evil and needed to be avoided. Amelia had tried her best to keep a straight face.
Amelia followed Amycus towards the punch bowl in silence as they weaved through hoards of their coworkers. Trying to avoid the eye of anyone who looked particularly chatty or the notorious karaoke Frank, who was liable to grab any unsuspecting coworker and force them into renditions of eighties power ballads. Not that it sounded too terrible, Amelia was just simply not drunk enough at this point. Refilling her own cup, she watched Amycus curiously, wracking her brain for another topic of conversation. Amelia was just about to open her mouth, thinking she might ask something about Amycus’s sister, when he beat her to it.
“Honestly?” Amelia snorted, “Who knows...All I taste are cherries and pineapple. There’s no telling what’s slipped in there.” Amelia was sure there was something highly suspect about that punch, it tasted too delicious to have any alcohol in it whatsoever. At her first party, she had indulged a bit too much. Not making a scene but she had definitely had a migraine the next morning. “It might not even be the Longbottoms liquoring it up? Maybe a third party sees fit to slip something in every year.”
A teasing, playful smirk crossed her face as she thought to ask how many parties Amycus had been to. Amelia knew he had worked here longer than she had. “Has Frank ever snagged you for karaoke?” she asked, “Or dancing?...He hasn’t cornered me yet.”
