#anywhere

He gives her an appraising glance, eyes hidden, trying to gauge her tone, and then he gives a hint of a smirk. "Thank you." Apparently choosing to take it as a compliment.

"So... those things prefer tall people. I'll hunch"

"Well, there were the mosquitos last week - they want, y'know, the green glowy stuff, right?"

"Toxic waste? Ectoplasm?" He twitches a bit, rubbing a hand against his arm as though he can feel the skeeters there.

"Magic? Like the fire?"

"Ah." He snaps his fingers, the loudest sound he's made so far. "You mean Glam. Juice. Darkspark. The good stuff." A moment eyeing her, and then he clarifies. "Glamour, y'know?"

She nods. "Yeah. That stuff. It's still... " She wavers her hand. "New."

"If they're biting for that, better keep your flyswatter ready." Eyes flicking over towards her halberd. "Worse than malaria, running out of juice."

"Yeah, was told that. And too much is bad, too. So... screwed either way, I guess."

"There's tunnel at the end of the light"

"I'd rather deal with too much. Better than the alternative." A glance at the blackboard, and a shake of his head. "English class and grammatical rules, forever, and ever..."

"I guess?" She hitches her backpack higher, halberd shifting with it. "You can zone out if you try. That's what I usually do."

"Oh. Let me have your phone numbers." He holds out a slender, long fingered hand, offering his own device, on the contacts screen. "Don't worry. I won't send anything weird."

"Uh, and the exciting stories and poetry.. blah"

Shifty eyes. "You can't call but you can text, yeah? I'm not supposed to have it."

"Not much of a conversationalist." He responds, deadpan.

"Okay." She fishes out a trackphone and checks before rattling off the number.

He glances at it, adding a name to the contact then clicking to the next screen, and requesting the same from Eden.

"I'm not supposed to ever.." She hands hers over

Once he has the numbers, they almost immediately get a buzz from a number. It's a text with an attachment - a somewhat fuzzy picture of a sour-faced old lady, apparently mid-harague at an unamused looking store employee. Sam will recognize the nasty woman from the other day at the mall.

Eden blinks, "of the fruit of the lemon thou shalt not eat."

"It's that Autumn Hag from the other day." He says by way of explanation to the pooka. "Send it on to anyone you know. I mean, if you want." A shrug, uncaring. "Let them to know watch out for her, or light a bag of dog stuff on her porch and ring the bell, or whatever you want."

"Bell book and candle, got it."

"Isn't that the occult shop down past Main? Bell, Brooke and Crandall."

"That's it? She's just some old dried up bitch..."

"Some dried up old bitch who almost sapped your friend dry. Some people are just so.... boring, that they kill that spark in you. Don't get near them. Or if you do, set me in your will first. I can hawk that flyswatter for a newer phone. I wanted the new GigaPixel, anyways."

His tone quiet and matter-of-fact, his expression somber.

"But I still don't u-..." She cuts off, scowling. "Right. Whatever."

"Makes me appreciate Mrs. Brindlekook"

"I like reading, you know. But classes like this?" He gestures at the smudged chalkboard. "They're going to dissect every word, pick apart the grammar, make you focus on the boringest bits - enough to make you want to just throw it out the window, and give up ever staring at another piece of paper again." He clutches his backpack close - apparently he does not, in fact, want to give up his books. "Saps the fun right out of things. Kills the interesting parts. It's Anathema. Someday you'll feel it, and understand. But I wouldn't recommend going looking for the experience."

The pooka frowns at something.

"Who's that?" A glance to the pooka. (Unless it's a teacher or someone at the school he might know?)

OOC A swap of their teacher's name 🙂 BIC: "I was just thinking, how sad it is we're in her class and all undone and stuff." humph "She must really suck in her plan to destroy us."

"Dunno. Reading usually sucks. You have to work so much.... don't see why we gotta spend so much time on it. Nobody reads books."

Eden gapes, "No one... Harry Potter is like, superold and still the best lure into El Diablo's magicks I've read in a long long time."

He gives a shrug. "I didn't say it was a good analogy. Want a speech? Get a Satyr. Lunchtime now." He glances into his bag, frowning at the contents. "Maybe the mystery meat will be edible."

"Those are okay movies, sure."

Eden mutters "Jesus sniffled a touch."

"What? They were. I like superheroes better."

"Tolkien did it better." He responds back at Eden, but then relents with, "But the concepts were cool, even if quidditch makes no sense."

Her forked tongue slithers out then, "Well, sometimes you can't appreciate superman until you've read him in his original Shakespeare. "

"ooo if the sorting hat hadn't put me in Slytherian I'd..." A sigh "See you guys later."

"I guess we'd be housemates, then. 10 points to us." Watching her go, then glancing to Dagmar with a shrug. "Haven't seen her around - your friend. She alright? Not Sylvia, the other one."

"I saw the lord of the rings, too. I liked those."

"Siv's doing okay. She's grounded, though."

And the pooka slithers..uhmwalks off

"For getting waylaid by an old and crusty?" He blinks, and looks offended. "Tough folks."

"Bye?" As Eden goes.

"And nah - other stuff, with the rain. They keep her close at home."

"Oh. Didn't hear about that." He tilts his head, curious, as he starts towards the door, now that the hallways have cleared out a bit. "Wouldn't think they'd be afraid she'd wash out with the floods. Pretty much tall enough to wade through it."