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He landed straight across the path of one Miss Ylaine Taylor, level three, who looked none to pleased with this intrusion into her trajectory. "Excuse me," she said, but from her tone it was very clear that she had no intention of being polite. Whatever hope there might have been for forgiveness was completely destroyed by the look of pure, unadulterated disapproval in her eyes.

As prettily as she was dressed - with her frilly pink lace and silken white ribbons - there was no pleasantry of any kind directed at Fish. If anything, the girl in the pink dress with twin brown braids resting upon her shoulder looked like a threat. The "I'm going to tell the teacher" sort of threat, which was the worst kind on the schoolyard short of straight-up bully.

His charms had no effect. Ylaine's delicate mouth turned down at the corners even as her eyebrows shot up in interest for the opportunity to make someone's misery more equal her own. "Why should I?" she asked, striking the tone of terrorist negotiation, her mind on Emerson Thweatt and his gambling operation which had taught her to use everything and anything which might be perceived as a bargaining chip.

Ylaine brushed at the ruffles of her dress. "You might have hit me," she said. Extortion came so easily at this point. In poker parlance, it was now Fish's action.

Their eyes were nearly level -- Ylaine was only a very small bit taller -- which afforded Fish a good, clear view of exactly how much Ylaine did not care. "I should hope so. You might think twice about nearly crashing into me again and it will probably require an explanation." Unfortunately, giving that explanation was beginning to sound like a lot more effort than Ylaine was interested in expending. A simple tattle was one thing, an injury needing medical attention quite another. For the moment, though, she was content to stand there and wait to see how this would play out.

Ylaine sighed. This was now officially dull. Simply because she possessed all knowledge in the universe did not make her a walking encyclopedia, phone book, travel guide, or anything else for that matter. She stretched out her arm and pointed down the hallway. "You should take it to the hospital," she informed him. X-rays, casts, and the like were a bit beyond the scrapes-and-bruises nurse station located adjacent the school's administrative office, which was really only there to keep said scrapes and bruises from bogging down the hospital with minor schoolyard injuries.

Ylaine resisted the sudden urge to start swearing at the boy (an unfortunate consequence of the company she kept) and sighed again. If nothing else, maybe this could be used as an excuse to avoid her next class, History of Magic. It was one of the courses she took because she knew all the answers and it was an easy A. The fact that the teacher was exceptionally good-looking was an added bonus and explained why the rest of the girls in the class -- and a few of the boys -- were there. Ylaine sometimes wondered if any of the other girls in the class realized their teacher was also exceptionally gay.

As Ylaine was not quite so enamored with her teacher as the rest of the girls, she did not feel any particular need to show up for class. If she was late or missed it entirely, she had a good reason for it in Fish. "This way," she told him, and started off down the hall.

"Ylaine Taylor," said Ylaine simply. It occurred to her for the first time that this was not nearly illustrious enough. Perhaps she would put some thought into choosing a middle name tonight. Then she could drag out her introduction just a tiny bit longer, to remind others they were small and she was big. Perhaps not physically, but in other, more important ways.

She had nothing further to say beyond her name as she carefully plotted out the longest and most arduous path towards the hospital, avoiding spots where she suspected they might run into teachers. The school blueprint in Ylaine's head was proving immensely useful to her in this endeavor. After all, the longer she took, the more class she would miss, and she could always pretend she had gotten misdirected as an excuse if anyone pressed her. A complete lie, but her universe of knowledge was still a secret from the school, and it would work. Never mind that, as she walked along plotting and planning, poor Fish was languishing behind her.

"It's enooormous," Ylaine deadpanned drolly, which might have gotten her a laugh under less trying circumstances. They had just gone down a flight of stairs, but upon reaching the next stairwell, Ylaine decided to head up again. "Keep up or you'll get lost."