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 Posted: Wed Feb 03, 2010 8:26 pm
"What are you gonna do for them? Hrmmm?"
Demy waved the glasses, dancing back the same amount of steps Simon had taken towards him. Oh this was fun, so so fun. Yeah, eventually he'd give back the glasses...but that didn't stop him from toying with the poor kid first.
"I mean really, you wouldn't even -dance- with me..and now you want a favor? Not cool dude, not cool at all...if you had danced then I woulda handed them right over! Sucks, huh? Maaaaaybe next time you won't be such a stick in the muuuud~!"
Demy was already annoying. That squeaky voice and way of dragging things out was already comparable to fingernails on a chalkboard. But doing so in a -singsong voice- was perhaps infinitely worse.
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Posted: Thu Feb 04, 2010 8:45 am
It was infinitely worse. The awful noise Demy was shaping into words was worse than Warne's sound-barrier-breaking overenthusiastic cheers, worse than someone holding a microphone up close to a speaker. Part of the withering, scant remains of Simon's dignity was dying today, and it looked as though his eardrums were going to help to see it off.
And poor Simon had already squandered his ration of courage for the day trying to ask for his glasses back. So for a moment he just miserably stared at the dancing boy with his sad algae-green eyes, before gritting his teeth and asking, his voice almost inaudibly quiet, "W-w-would you still give them back if..." and he swallowed, and fidgeted, feeling entirely distressed -- "if I d-d-d-danced like you asked m-me to?"
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Posted: Sat Feb 06, 2010 9:21 am
"Yep!"
The answer was thrown out quickly, but hey it really didn't take him long to think. It wasn't like he actually -wanted- these glasses or anything, and if he could get the other to dance to return them rather than return them for free? Hell -yes- he was taking that opportunity.
"You dance dude and they're all yours. Besides, it's fun! You'll liiiiiike it. Cmon cmon dance!"
Demy danced by, giving the poor miserable excuse for a student a quick poke to the chest before moving out of range again. Really, he didn't -mean- to be so annoying.
He just was.
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 2:18 pm
Oh god. Oh dear god, this was uncomfortable, it was right up there with getting dragged into the bushes by Elzo so they could transform or talk about senshi business (there were some very unfriendly rumors around Hillworth about how and why Elzo liked to drag Simon into the bushes at odd hours of the day and night). It was... really, extremely unpleasant. Simon once again entertained the thought of just letting Demy keep the glasses, but then he wouldn't be able to read the whiteboards as well and his grades would suffer for it.
So, feeling entirely, horrendously awkward, the boy broke into a moonwalk across the aisles, and hoped that would be enough.
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Posted: Mon Feb 15, 2010 10:40 am
"DUDE why were you holding back on me? You got moves man, you shoulda danced with me AGES ago!"
And by ages he meant something like five minutes ago. But who was counting?
"Maaaan I'd make you dance more but if you can't -see- then you're likely to bump into one of the shelves and then books would fly -everywhere- and then we'd get in trouble and there'd be no more dancing. And this would suck, like...a lot dude, so here ya go!"
Dancing right up to the other, Demy held out the pair of glasses for him to take. Amazingly he didn't yank them back when reached for, he honestly just wanted to give them back.
See Simon? He wasn't so bad.
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Posted: Sun Feb 28, 2010 7:37 am
But he was. He was so bad. Simon was still wearing his trademark look of muted horror at Demy, still dancing, as the glasses were finally returned to him. It took him a few seconds to actually take them. Either he disbelieved that the other boy was actually giving them back, or feared that at some point during Demy's possession of them they had been sprayed with some kind of dancer toxin.
At any rate, he carefully put them back on, looking awkwardly back up at Demy. Who was still dancing at him.
Grinning. Dancing.
Twirling like some modern Tarantella lunatic. Yammering about something or other in his nails-on-chalkboard voice.
Thankfully, the large doors to the library were right behind him -- he took an experimental step backward, then another, put his hand on the handle. Seeing or hearing no protest, he slowly, gingerly opened the door.
Crept behind it.
And bolted straight back to his dorm, which was empty and had the benefit of a door that could be locked.
[FIN]
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