florian deschamps. 22. accounting major. hannibal house. "you are absent of cause or excuse. so self-indulgent & self-referential, no audience could ever want you."Â penned by laurel.
Date: Saturday, 26th October, Evening
Location:Â The Forest for Camp Night
Availability:Â open
Camp Night turned out to be far more successful than Florian expected. The atmosphere in the academy following the failure of the back-to-school mixer and investigations had felt somewhat restrained, as if the students found it necessary to be more careful than usual. With the help of time, however, things must have fallen back naturally to how they used to be and all that was left in the past. The student body became keen again on the current events thrown by the school, which Florian could see now as the headcount grew larger and larger. He hoped there would be no shortage of cocoa for the evening.
 With a warm cup in hand, he maneuvered his way around the trees and the various clusters of people, sometimes stopping to chat with the people he knew. When he saw that he was about to empty his cup, he moved to the long tables where the hot beverage was being served. Then he noticed a shrub of purple flowers a few feet away. His course changed, and he walked towards the blossoms with fascination. He gazed at them with utmost attention for a while, entranced. Only when he heard a pair of shuffling feet behind him did he speak.
âDonât these look like lavender to you? I think theyâre lavender. Theyâd be perfect for tea,â he exclaimed proudly. âEither that, or itâs an entirely different plant and could potentially be poisonous...â he continued more thoughtfully, pursing his lips.
âI just took a quick look at them on my phone and apparently itâs these three, in no particular order:
Fly Me To The Moon by Frank Sinatra & Count Basie
Youâre Nobody âTil Somebody Loves You by Dean Martin
Chanel by Frank Ocean
Huh, I wasnât expecting to find these, but at the same time Iâm not surprised. Thatâs my mini playlist for you.â
{ OOC: I actually have a playlist made for Florian here if you guys wanna give it a listen! Although I will be making an official post on it later xx. }
If you could be anywhere else in the world right now, where would you be?
âThatâs easy -- anywhere with really good Mexican food! Itâs all I can think about lately. The person who gets to make this happen, I truly might marry.â
âSome people work best with a messy environment,â Isla pipes up, taking a sip of her coffee. Her mother was that way, which was a trait that drove her father a bit crazy. Isla can remember peeking into their bedroom from the doorway and being amazed at all of the little black lipstick tubes scattered across the vanity.Â
The brunette grins slightly at his comment, shaking her head at the boy. âOf course, between your messy room and aversion to studying, youâre on the brink of exile,â she teases, fixing him with an attempt at a firm stare. It was an expression that her twin often wore, but despite the similarities between the girls, she has a feeling that the firm stare is much less effective when she does it. Her mock seriousness doesnât last very long, and she laughs. âI was going to say, usually our study sessions only happen if youâre stocked up on caffeine and snacks.â Any attempts at studying that the two made were certainly an interesting affair. Isla would usually get halfway into an assignment before Florian would begin to get bored and try to gain her attention. She wouldnât complain, however; Florian was usually doing her a favor in finding something more exciting to do than spend all day in the library. She usually had more fun that way, anyway.
Clutching his chest with great exaggeration, he squeezed his eyes shut tight and withdrew his lips to expose his teeth, mimicking having received a blow to the chest. âThe agony... the pain... of rejection is... too much to bear,â he wailed in a childish manner. He didnât break character for a good few beats, letting the words hang for dramatic effect. Only when he heard Isla laugh did he peek with one eye. âHow else do you get the gears going in there otherwise?â he said, tapping an index finger on the sides of his temples.Â
With a brisk âBe back in a sec,â Florian got up and headed for the counter to finally purchase a drink. There were two people in the line before him, and when it was his turn, he gave his order and patiently waited beside the counter. He eyed the pastries and sandwiches behind the glass display meanwhile. After a momentâs ponder, and with a tilt of his head, he took a spot back in line. In one hand he held his chai latte, while his other hand balanced two saucers in its hold. He set the purchases down on Islaâs table with a triumphant voila, careful to only occupy his meager share of the wooden surface. âThe tuna turnovers are mine, and the blueberry cheesecake is yours. You arenât allergic to dairy, are you?â He blinked at Isla.
A small, confused laugh left her at Florianâs fumbling over his words, not having assumed that his surprise was anything other than the room, but now feeling self aware. Maggieâs hands smoothed out her dress, an attempt to try and find something to occupy herself with while trying to think of what to say. It wasnât easy, yet somehow it was. There was always going to be the fact that they both knew each other well before, but had drifted into what they were now. It was more uncertainty than she expected, questioning if she still knew his favorite color or food anymore before she realized none of it was important.Â
The last thing she expected was for him to turn around and ask her if she was alright. âOh!â Her eyebrows shot up before they knit together, her top and bottom lip pulled in between her teeth as she nodded a bit too vigorously. âMhmm, yeah. Iâm good. Just a.. long day.â Maggie wasnât sure heâd be able to see it was only half the truth, part of her hoped if he did, he wouldnât question it. He wouldnât have known she wasnât dancing at the moment, that secret reserved for few and far between. âNo the play was awesome. Did you enjoy it?â
Slowly he nodded, without taking his eyes off Maggie. Somehow, he could not shake off the feeling that he should try to ask further. Maybe it was the part of him that still expected things to be the way they used to be between them. But he decided against it. Another instance in which he wasnât sure if it was his place to ask. âI see. Well, it doesnât seem like it was for somebody else. They must have had a fun time having the dining hall all to themselves.â He turned away from her, sighing, a frown on his face.
It felt odd to him, given the circumstances, that the two of them were having what could be considered a friendly conversation, in the middle of the wreck covering all corners of the room. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, letting out a breathy laugh. âHow could I not? You know me, a lover of theater. Canât think of a more perfect Friday evening.â He let his head hang, hair falling onto his eyes. âAll kidding aside, I thought it was pretty good. Did you watch it with someone?â
Date: September 23, 2019
Time: 2-ish
Location: Starbucks
Availability: @floriandeschamps
Try as he might to rid himself of the uneasiness heâd been feeling the entire day, he couldnât. Daniel spent the day waiting for the time he could talk to Florian, but also dreading it all the same. His heart felt heavy, and his stomach churned as he thought of what could have possibly led the administration to think that Florian had anything to do with it. Granted, theyâd interrogated students who werenât responsible as well, but Daniel felt the guiltiest at the thought of Florian having to suffer what would have been the consequences to Danielâs actions. He tried to comfort himself that it was just an interrogationâ that it wasnât as if they were saying Florian did it. But he couldnât help how he felt anyway.
He sat by the table nearest the entrance. The on-campus Starbucks wasnât as packed as it usually was at this time in the afternoon, and Daniel was glad; he wanted to talk to Florian without too many people around. He had a bit of time before his last class for the day, and sent Florian a text to meet him at the coffee shop. As soon as Daniel saw him by the entryway, he straightened in his seat, right hand absentmindedly fiddling with the sleeve of his cup. âHey,â he said, as soon as they were of close proximity. âI heard what happened. Are you okay? How can they think you had anything to do with what happened to the dinning hall?â
Although he was definitely ruffled by the interrogation that had occurred in the morning, Florian did his best to deter it from dampening his mood. The accusation was rather far-fetched as far as he was concerned, and nothing linked him to the incident. And if it so happened that something did, it would hold no significant weight on his conscience since he truly was innocent. Florian tried to reassure himself with these thoughts, which had been swimming in his head since he left the Headmasterâs office.
Daniel had texted him, he presumed, immediately after the news reached him. It was so like Daniel to be concerned, especially when it came to academic matters. Which, in Florianâs case, almost always was. Daniel rarely sought him out to have a go at him though; he was just a listening ear, who occasionally wanted to know about the clever details or would put in his two cents. The scolding was usually care of Vera. Florian saw Daniel right away upon entering the doors of the cafe. He smiled brightly to his friend then strode to his table, whistling a lively tune as he did.Â
âItâs all in a dayâs work, Daniel, my friend,â he shrugged, greeting Daniel with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. He positioned himself across from the other boy and placed both elbows on the table, his fingers interlocked. He shook his head with a soft, ironic chuckle. âI wish I knew. Seems like theyâre just taking shots in the dark. I wonder what itâs like to have dependable people running the school!â he remarked despairingly, loud enough for the customers nearby to turn their heads in his direction. He simply winked at them.Â
He regarded Daniel then with a faint curiosity. âI feel like I havenât seen you in a while, Daniel. Been busy, I assume?â
The person who greets her is among the few who Isla wouldnât hesitate to invite to join her, and at Florianâs warm reaction, she feels a bright grin spread across her face. âFlorian, itâs so lovely to see you,â she greets the boy, straightening up slightly in her seat. Tucking a strand of long brown hair back behind her ear, she laughs at his comment. âOh goodness, is your room a bit of a disaster, then?â One eyebrow is raised at the boy in playful interest, and she finds herself grateful for the interruption from her studying. Itâs only the first month of school, but already Isla finds herself spending the majority of her time studying and trying to select a theme for that termâs curation.Â
âOh no, itâs just me today.â Isla can tell what Florianâs asking, his relationship with the twins close enough that heâs aware they spend a great deal of time together. Reeseâs schedule, however, was rather packed on a Wednesday, so Isla usually spent the days on her own. âAre you just here for a coffee or were you planning on studying for a bit?âÂ
He laughed softly at her greeting. Florian was always delighted to see Isla, but he didnât feel the need to tell her that. ââA bit of a disasterâ is a kinder way of putting it,â he chuckled. That was only partially true. Years of his motherâs stern words about his tidiness definitely ingrained an appreciation for it in Florian. The housekeeping staff had been no excuse for him not to make his bed in the mornings. Objectively, his room in the academy could do with some tidying, but the disorganization was a system to him almost, and he always knew where to find things without having to look for them. Those who have seen the state of his room never made passive comments about the mess either, which he thought accounted for something. It was just simpler to make fun of his sloppiness with people since it seemed to be a general assumption about him, and he could see the humour in it.
âOkay then.â He took the seat and looked at Islaâs things on the table with curiosity. Somehow, he wasnât surprised to find her studying. It wasnât the only thing she did, but he couldnât help deeply associating her with it. âHm?â he lifted his gaze to hers. âIâm inclined to lie and say that Iâm here to study, just because you probably think poorly of me already, what with my hellish room,â he trailed off, a brow arched and his eyes dancing, as if waiting for her to oppose him. Realizing what he hadnât done yet, he said, âSpeaking of coffee, I actually havenât ordered yet.â
Wednesdays were probably Islaâs favorite day of the week. For third year students in the museum studies program, Wednesday afternoons were reserved for practical learning, which usually involved an equal balance of volunteering in local museums and independent study. Today was her off week, in which she was able to work on her own projects, which was why she was currently nestled into the back corner of the on-campus Starbucks with an iced coffee and way too many journals and books spread out in front of her.Â
The cafe around her is surprisingly busy for a Wednesday, but with Goldmund playing through her headphones, even the other students chatting around her donât prove to be much of a distraction. It isnât until she looks up and realizes that the seat across from her is one of the few left empty in the building that she realizes she should stop monopolizing the little table. âIâm sorry, let me clear away the mess,â she apologizes to the person in her periphery, straightening the journals and books into a neat little stack on her side of the table.Â
Raucous laughter erupted from both Florian and his Economics classmate, Charlie Rowe, as they made their way down the gravel path, towards the only modern establishment on school grounds. They were engaged in an enthusiastic conversation about their mutual friends, and the misfortunes that befell them the evening of the play. He had asked Florian about his being called to the Headmasterâs office, which was to be expected. The matter was dropped quickly, however, after Florian dismissed it as nothing but a misunderstanding, and to his relief Rowe did not press him further about it. âIâll see you around, Charlie. Thanks again for helping me on the assignment,â Florian bade him farewell, lightly slapping his arm. The two then parted ways just outside of Starbucks, Florian entering the glass doors while Charlie continued to walk the other way.
He would have headed straight to the counter to make his order if the place wasnât so busy. Worried about the absence of a vacant table, he scanned the heads of the customers, wanting to make sure that heâd have a seat before he got his drink. Spotting an unoccupied chair by a taken table, he strode to its direction with the plan of borrowing just the chair lest the stranger wasnât in the mood for company, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the table belonged to Isla. âIsla,â he beamed, even though he was already standing in front of her. He hoped he didnât sound as relieved as he thought. âPlease, itâs fine. The tableâs yours. And if thatâs what you consider a mess, I canât imagine what youâd think about my room. May I?â he gestured to the chair opposite her with eyebrows raised. âBut if itâs reserved for someone of course, no worries.â And by someone, he meant Reese.
Growing up, Agata was surrounded by kickboxing and football devotees. It was an Almeidaâs culture and heritage to participate in such sports. Inherently, the Latin-American in her, grew to love kickboxing and football. They were paramount in her childhood; however, as Agata aged further, she wanted to do something she can call her own. She felt everything about being an Almeida was embedded in her already â to be a lawyer, to take over the law firm, and to play football competitively in school. There was hardly any space for individuality. That was, up until she found an interest in Tennis during a spring break at Monte Carlo. She was fascinated by how different it was to what she was groomed to like at a young age. The utter dissimilarity and challenge Tennis presented from kickboxing and football was why she chose to indulge in it during her years as an Astorian. She could easily be captain of the football team, and yet she found excitement as one of the lesser pre-eminent players of Astorâs Tennis company.
Donning an immaculate all-white ensemble, Agata was set on improving her skills at Tennis. The woman was dressed as if she was on her way to a professional match. Although Agata knew there was most likely no one to impress on the court â with the exception of the ever so supportive tennis ball machine â she believed in the power of dressing up to manifest success. It was an excuse that effectively made people nod in understanding to her over-the-top outfit tendencies. The bottom-line was, she felt better when sheâs put-together, and she felt that a Sunday alone on the court would save her from condemnatory eyes. The tennis court was quite a long way from Machiavelli, in fact, it was quite a long way from everything considering the sheer size of the stadium. As her warm-up, she alternated between walking and jogging towards her destination â bag over the shoulder, and the weight of the racket in her grasps.Â
She swung the racket upwards and let it rest against her shoulder as she staggered into the court, out-of-breath. Beads of sweat had already trickled down her face from the brisk warm-up. Just as she was about to take a breather, her gaze fell upon another person on the court. She knew who he was, because Veronica had spoken of him before. Even if she hadnât heard from Veronica, she would have known about Florian Deschamps one way or another. He was just that person on campus that everyone knew and, quite frankly, adored. She envied that. He belonged, while she did not. As he spoke, his tone was exuberant and simultaneously challenging. Agata raised an eyebrow. She simply couldnât resist even though she knew she could lose the match. âYour serve.â She replied, one corner of her lips had curled up into a smirk. She deposited her belongings on the bench then made her way towards the other side of the net. She proceeded to a stance, waiting for him to strike.
He cocked his head slightly to one side, an impressed expression on his face. âAlright then.â He admired her undaunted willingness. Her attractive sportswear too, he could not help but admire, for they conjured up images in his head of filled stadiums with well-dressed spectators captivated by sacred matches unfolding on the pristine grass courts of Wimbledon. Immediately, he wondered if he was in the presence of a professional. The thought added to his delight. He was always one for friendly competitions.Â
Florian was not a talented player by any means. It was years of practical experience and learned techniques that developed and honed his skills in the sport, not being blessed with natural gifts. That fact, which had once been disheartening, became a comfort to him. It proved that the manner at which he played was guided not by what he felt in his stomach or his unconcerned footing and swings of his racket, but by calculated decisions on his spins and precise returns to his opponent. Since his youthful days he had a passionate affair with tennis, one he was gladly faithful to, and it certainly helped his perseverance over the years.
Crossing the court to his position outside the painted borders, the grip of the racket pulsed in his hand as the ball bounced against its head as he did down dribbles. He ran on the spot. âHope youâve done your warm-ups,â he called out to her, his tone genuine but not absent of its playful challenge. It was bothering him now, like a loose tooth, that he was unable to identify the girl. Was she a member of the Tennis club? Surely, he had seen her around. But have they never exchanged formal introductions? Florian supposed that must have been so, otherwise he would not have forgotten her. He took pride in his ability to remember names and faces with ease.Â
Inhale. Exhale. Toss. Serve. The sound of the ball slicing across the net was heightened by the emptiness of the stadium. It made Florian smile. At last, he was playing. All his thoughts about anything but the game at hand: gone. He ran the length of the court in pursuit of the ball and prowled when he needed to, committed to keeping the ball up in the air before it made its second bounce. He wasnât after the point, or winning for that matter. He simply wanted to prolong their rally, to continue to engage his opponent in this blissful exchange. There was no questioning the spring in his heels as he waited for every return.
Her feet carried her with purpose despite the lack of intention in her direction. She didnât really know what to do, there wasnât anything to really occupy her thoughts long enough to be worthwhile, she didnât have any class work to do, wasnât able to practice in the studio, or have some sort of task to complete. But Maggie thought that maybe if she started heading somewhere with a feeling of purpose something would come to her along the way.
She did not expect that thing to be a person. Her hyper-focus on trying to come up with something to do left her crashing into a taller figure, hands reaching out to grasp at them in an attempt to keep herself from falling back. However, his voice reached her ears before she had the chance to look up, Maggie instantly letting go of him and smoothing out her blouse with the immediate recognition. His words cause her eyebrows to knit together in confusion, if only for a moment. âHow good to see you.â A weak laugh left her when he chuckled, trying to equally brush the confusion that had crossed her face.Â
âYouâre fine, I was just umâŚâ Her words trailed off while she waved her hand around, a lame attempt to explain where she was going. She couldnât remember the last time the two of them had spoken or sat down like real friends. Maggie kicked herself internally for the old memories of butterflies that wanted her attention. âYou know⌠walking.â Oh my god. She smiled, trying to make herself seem less awkward. âSo howâve you been? Are you in like a rush to get anywhere?â
Despite his momentary sulkiness, his manners morphed him into something more agreeable, but his laughter was sincere when he heard her response. It suddenly tugged at his heart, the familiarity of Maggie, of what had been their friendship. She was still very much the Maggie he knew. It would have been so easy, Florian thought, to fall into old habits and conversations around each other. Easy, but foolish. He did not allow himself to dwell on them for too long. Although there still hung an awkwardness between them, a newfound confidence came over Florian, one that could only accompany a hearty release, putting his previous breakfast plight to the sidelines. âYeah? I feel bad for interrupting you then. Hard to find the time for leisurely walks nowadays,â he said in an attempt to keep things light between them, a boyish grin on his face.
While he understood that Maggie may have just been inquiring out of politeness, Florian was overcome by a sense of gratitude, warmth swelling in his chest. Perhaps it was the velocity of the feeling or the unconscious desire to spend the morning with valued company that prompted the next words that would come out of his mouth. âIâve been alright. I was just on my way to get something to eat. Would you maybe like to grab a cup of coffee or something? If you arenât busy right now, of course.âÂ
The rays of the sun shone in verticals through the tall windows of the Headmasterâs office, shading whatever the light touched a warm orange hue. A cup of tea poised on a saucer of the same colour sat on the gleaming surface of the great mahogany desk, and from it wafted the scents of citrus. The lighting coupled with the olfactory experience worked together to create a cozy ambiance in the room, which was a stark contrast to the demeanor of both the Headmaster and Arthur Astor. The former was seated behind his desk, an illustration of patronizing superiority, and whose features did not waver from indifference as if he was far above wasting a Monday to interrogate a bunch of neâer-do-wells. Founding father, Arthur Astor, remained on his feet. He stood a small distance behind the Headmaster in his perpetually creaseless suit, his glowering profile accentuated by the shadows cast by the windows. He had been facing them when Florian walked in, and only turned once he was settled across the desk from the two men. Arthur Astorâs stormy eyes now rested on the Deschamps boy. If people could emit coldness, Florian thought, they certainly would.Â
Where, exactly, were you the evening of the play?
âIn the Alpha Theater, Sir. That was, after all, where the play was being held. But if you want me to be more specific. I got dismissed from my last lecture at around 5:30, then I headed to my room in the Hannibal building afterwards to get some shut-eye and freshen up. Woke up shortly past 6, got ready, then arrived at the venue well before-- Sir? Yes, I was there for the entire play. Great performances, as expected. Iâd like to give the nod to the people responsible for the whole thing. It was definitely a level up from the predictable annual dinner. Tradition is tradition, but thatâs not an excuse for us to be living in the past.â
Is there anyone who can corroborate your story for you?
âWell, letâs see... I was with Ms. Veronica Park throughout the whole play and Mr. Daniel Choi, although I didnât see him, was supposed to be with us. Yes, Ms. Park of Machiavelli House, but we lost each other while making our way to the East Wing. There I ran into a number of people. You wonât be asking to see the two of them, I hope. What would that say about the schoolâs administration, to be questioning such prime students?â
âIâm sorry, but you canât expect me to remember them all, Sir. Mr. Haldar, Mr. Wang, Ms. Kensington, and Ms. Kensington. Ms. Amano, and... Ms. Fitzgerald, I want to say, but that might have been a different night. A few of them vouched for me? How flattering. Oh, I wouldnât say Iâm popular, Sir. Itâs a small school; not that hard to know a lot of people.â
What did you do in response to the incident?
âWhat any other starving student did: sought dinner elsewhere. Mainly the mess hall, Sir. I was concerned at first of course, when I saw the dining hall, but the faculty and guards had everything under control and were making us leave the room. So I simply followed their instructions. It was late and I hadnât eaten anything all evening. And, well, it was pretty obvious that the promised dinner wouldnât be happening anymore.â
Did you witness anything worth noting during that evening?
âNo, Sir, I canât say I did. I wasnât aware that I had to be on my guard. It was supposed to be a night of entertainment and socializing. I did spot a couple of students carrying suspicious-looking metal flasks, but thatâs hardly of any concern to you right now, Iâm sure.â
Tell us everything you know about the Arsonists.
âMy guesses are as good as yours, Sir. They are very resourceful though, we gotta give them that. While I donât mean to be presumptuous, Sir, I understand that youâre looking into the students, but what about the faculty and the teachers? Whoever these âArsonistsâ are, they seem to know the ins and outs of the school very well. Might be worth looking into.â
âAnd with all due respect, Sir, Mr. Astor. This whole investigation is a little overdue. The Siobhan Dunne Hall, the vandalism, the robberies. Theyâve been going on long before what happened Friday night, but the administration did nothing. Not until things have escalated. Youâll have to forgive me, Sir, I guess I just donât see the point. I mean, why not just continue turning a blind eye? Youâve done it before.â
âIt was a pleasure, Sir. Mr. Astor. Iâm sorry I couldnât be of any more help. Have a good rest of your day.â
 Unlike him, Soren relied on his glare to ensure people stayed away from him. He could be nice, for sure, but at the same time, he would hate for someone to ruin his conversation with Florian. âI have to agree,â he nods, watching as more and more students entered the dining hall in waves, itching to get out of the place already. âSounds good, Iâm hungry for anything.â Soren quickly turns towards the exit, following suit, sighing as he realised that they were going to find a way to get out of the dining hall unscathed.
 He throws a cheeky grin at Florian as an idea pops into his head. âI heard from him that the pub in town is giving out free food and drinks,â Soren whispers to the nearest student, pointing to another student in the crowd, and watches as the message spread like wildfire around him. Luckily for Soren, it worked â the many students still vying to get in at the entrance, losing interest and leaving the hall, making space for them to walk through. For the rest still blocking them, Soren glowers at them, while saying one simple word âMove.â Then, he glanced back at Florian, a smile on his face once more, âLetâs go. Iâm starving.â
His manners ingrained within him, he led the way, not wanting to have Soren deal with the inconsiderate spectators. He muttered excuse meâs and pardonâs, always loud enough that he didnât have to say it twice for the bodies to divide. Just then, he heard his companion shuffle behind him. Without stopping in his advance, he turned his head to Soren with brows raised in a questioning look. Although only the tail-end of it, he managed to catch him withdrawing from an exchange with one of the nearby students. Narrowing his eyes in an act of dubiousness, the corners of his lips tilted mischievously. âWhat was that, pray tell?â
The two of them finally ended at the other end of the crowd. Florian busied himself with fixing his coat as they strode further away from the East Wing. âItâs quite troubling what happened back there. Do you think students are responsible?â
Kellan shook his head, checking the time on his wristwatch and glancing to the side. âI didnât, I was wrapping up some lab work,â he told Florian, smiling a little. âHe did call me earlier, though. Something about a wardrobe malfunction.â He and Daniel did talk about that one, at least. âOh, I saw him talking to Soren,â remembering it now, âfifteen⌠twenty minutes ago.â He gestured towards the far end of the hall, the last heâs seen the two. Then, his attention was on Florian once more. âMm, yes,â Kellan practically purred, letting his gaze wander over Florian again. âYour eyes, and the rest of you.â Thereâs no denying it. He appreciates beauty in every form, especially when itâs right in front of him.
âRight, PuckâI see it, mischievous fellow, yeah. Iâm more of a Merchant of Venice type,â Kellan provided, turning to look at the dining hall now, tilting his head. âMost likely Taco Bell or Subway,â he joked, trying to lighten up the situation. âIf itâs up to me, Iâd suggest that Thai place downtown. Their seafood pad thaiâs delicious, itâs always fresh.â He glanced at Florian. âIf itâs McDâs Iâm filing a complaint,â he added, chuckling.
He accepted the other boyâs response without a hint of doubt. Daniel was becoming quite difficult to catch lately. Florian scoffed. âYeah, his coat. If the man refuses to be caught dead appearing in public with a single hair out of place, I canât blame him,â he shrugged. He looked down in the direction Kellan had gestured towards, scanning the crowd in vain. He recalled that in the middle of the play, he had caught Vera speaking to someone. Had it been Daniel? Heartened by Kellanâs compliment, he stood taller, raising his chin, a sly smirk on his face. Even in times of considerate distress, he was still capable of indulging his vanity.
Florian made a face at the mention of fast-food substitutes. âHmm, not too far off from what I usually have on Friday nights,â he replied sarcastically. The crowd was thinning, he observed, as people dispersed throughout the room. All their talk about food reminded Florian that he should tend to his dinner plans lest heâd be going to bed ill-tempered and with an empty stomach. âIâd better go find Vera. Weâre supposed to be having dinner together. See you around?â He held out a hand for Kellan, giving him a brisk hug and pat on the back. âIf it is McDâs, save me a toy, alright?â He winked at Kellan.
âWeâre so silly, arenât we? Not expecting,â she trails off, still taking it all in. âThis. Whatever this is.â Thereâs a bit of disbelief in her voice, as if she canât quite make sense of what is in front of them. Their classmates had done something like this before, of course, and yet Isla still struggles to believe it has happened again. For a girl thatâs never even had a late notice on a library book, it is a lot to take in.
A soft expression appears on her face as she realizes what Florian is doing, and she steps into his previous spot with an appreciative smile. It is so like him, always looking out for her and Reese. âThank you,â Isla replies, grateful to not have to worry about cutting up her shoes. A smile tugs at her lips at Florianâs suggestion, and she nods. âI mean, it is certainly more appetizing than the soup which looks to haveâŚcigarette butts in it? Oh my.â Her hazel eyes widen, nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. âDining hall food sounds delicious, Florian. Youâre so right.â
He nodded solemnly, following her eyes to absorb what had become of the beloved dining hall. The people around them spoke in combinations of hushed voices and commanding exclamations; concerned, bewildered, disgruntled, and amused. Florian felt all those things too, some more in moderation than the rest. He especially felt a sense of alarm. There was a dark honour in the ability to successfully perform a defiant act right under the administrationâs noses. But at such grand a scale... what if somebody got hurt? Were the intentions of those responsible merely to make their presence known, or something far more sinister?
Although these thoughts swam in his head, when he faced Isla, he made his features one of animation for her sake. âAh, but I heard the main course is simply mouthwatering. Garnished with shreds of tapestry, with fine glass on the side. And the drinks are quite innovative. Not served in goblets, no, but poured all over the floor for equal distribution.â He chuckled at himself. âI could accompany you there, if you want? Iâm assuming you havenât eaten yet considering...â He wiggled his finger to the ceilings.
After everyone made their appearance back at the theater, Maggie sat on the ground in the adjacent hall, ankles crossed, hands folded in her lap over the schoolâs version of a playbill. She let her feelings sit and sort themselves out, knowing sheâd have to keep it together until she had a chance to be alone or talk to Daniel. There was no rush to get to the dining hall after the crowd filtered out of the theater, already knowing what was there awaiting their arrival. When she finally got up, her feet carried her slowly, the natural resting-concerned-pouty-face Kellan said she had coming into play, as she peered into the room.Â
She was about to take a step forward to look over the other studentâs shoulders when a hand grasped her arm. A momentary feeling of fear filled her before she heard the person speak. Florian. Maggieâs stomach twisted with unease, not really sure how to approach him anymore. She took a step to the side, gently detaching herself from him. âUm⌠thanks. Are you uhm.. are you okay?â Â
When Maggie met his gaze, he felt a rush of relief that he had stopped her just in time. But it was short-lived, for an air of awkwardness hovered between them instantaneously. It was almost palpable. He let her move away from his grasp, afraid that if he dropped his hand he would do so too quickly, which would do nothing to help matters. âYeah. Iâm just a little surprised,â he admitted. He ran a hand through his hair before slipping it into his pocket. âBy the dining hall, of course!â He amended hastily with widened eyes. âNot by you.â
He paused for a second, contemplating his next words, and speaking them carefully, âAre you alright? You look a little upset.â He was hesitant, unsure of whether he still had the right to ask that of her or not. âItâs not the play, is it?â He searched her eyes, genuinely concerned.
Kellan was used to this. It was akin to clockwork. Arriving at the scene, seeing the nasty handiwork before him. The scale of the damage itself, he made a low whistle then, making small talk with some younger studentsâwho wouldâve done this, all the effort from the hired hands and kitchen staff. He even saw the provost, ashen and shocked. The urge to finger-gun the esteemed academic officer was great, yet Kellan refrained from doing so. Instead, he walked past the older man, gave him a solemn nod. A group of students asked him if heâs seen the vandalism in the restrooms, and while it was easy to say why yes, youâre looking at the culprit, he shrugged a shoulder. Told them sure did, nasty, eh? Then, they asked if he could take a selfie with themâoh yeah, SSDD, Kellan thought as he smiled for the camera. Same shit, different day. Making a move to casually leave the premises, and maybe have a smoke before bed, he walked past a few people. His gaze landed on a particular broken bottle, heâs sure it was the port wine he chugged down a while agoâ
Then, someone bumped into him, hard, and before Kellan had the opportunity to suss the pissant, possibly indoctrinate them to southpaw when someone else grasped his arm. Fucking hell, the profanity nearly slipping past his lips, stopping himself in time to see, âFlorian, heyâthanks. All by your lonesome?â Lowering his gaze, the tips of his dress shoes bumping on a few shards. âTheyâre not my favorite pair, no worries,â added Kellan, finally giving Florian a once-over. âNew suit?â He couldnât help but ask. Thatâs right, he hasnât seen the other until now. âHow was the rest of the play? I had to leave due to, you know,â he playfully whistled, making animated motions with his hand. It wasnât the first time heâs sat and immediately booked it during an event, certainly wouldnât be the last, too. âI was told that the dessert selection was eclectic. Shame, really.â
Why hadnât he realized that the person standing nearby was Kellan? He would have identified his friendâs tall, slender figure and long, flowy locks anywhere. Perhaps it was the shock at seeing the ruined dining hall, or it may simply have been the unusualness of seeing the Haldar boy at what was, essentially, a school gathering. Nonetheless, Florian blinked dumbly, having not expected to run into Kellan. âWasnât at first. But Daniel and Vera are now...â he pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, âelsewhere.â He regarded Kellan, in his dark vest and unbuttoned coat, hair pulled back and kept neat in a man bun. The man knew how to dress for the occasion, Florian admirably noted. âIn fact, I havenât seen Daniel all night. Was he not in the room before you left?â he inquired, brows furrowed. He wasnât one for bothering others about peopleâs whereabouts, being of the opinion that it was graceless to do so considering how nosy it made one seem. But he hoped Kellan would excuse his behaviour for the moment. If he wanted to know what had happened to Daniel, Florian figured his roommate was his best bet.
Dropping his eyes to his suit, he answered, âWhy, yes! The colour really compliments my eyes, no?â The jovial tone of his voice made him sound a little too dramatic than the situation called for. âIâm not surprised,â he chuckled. âIâd say you didnât miss much, but I enjoyed it. Iâve always identified myself with Robin Goodfellow,â he mused. He turned to face the disaster before them, and tried not to think about how exquisite the setting must have been earlier when the kitchen staff completed their preparations. All that hard work, and nothing to make show of it. âIt truly is,â he sighed heavily. âHow do you suppose the faculty will go about feeding hundreds of empty stomachs now?â
