RP: the romeo & juliet syndrome [2011]

[lance]

Rodger Rigot after returning that day from Hogsmede, Rodger settled into his favorite chair in the library, the Common Room was too full for his liking, so he came here, usually one all for chatting and socializing, tonight he just wanted to read. His copy of "Grand Transfiguration, a Treatise" by L. U. Centio had arrived at the Hogsmede bookstore, and he'd picked it up that day. Sitting now in the library, reading by candlelight, it was times like these Rodger felt some inner peace. He slouched back a bit and reached into his cloak, pulling out a small flask of butterbeer and conjuring a mug with his wand. He poured a mug of it and tapped it with his wand to make it hot and foamy. He smiled and took a sip, the heat rushing down to his stomach and soon his whole body felt warm. He cracked open the book and turned to the first page.

Lansing had left Hogsmeade only hours ago, settling on running out to the Quidditch Pitch for a bit of practice under her belt. Though this seemed like the practical thing to do - it was simply to kill time, especially since she had no idea when the season even started, or when tryouts were even planning on being held. With a grunt, she didn't bother changing out of her robes as she moved through the castle onto her next destination - the library to catch up on some reading. With her brand new broom - the newest make ( what were they at now? firebolt one million? ) and the fastest lot they had - slung over her shoulder, her Quidditch robes dragged on the ground, sometimes leaving debris or mud in its wake. Upon entering the library, she quickly shuffled over to the bookshelf where she'd last stopped, picking up the book she had yet to finish before shuffling back over to the desk, and gently placing everything down. It was strange how despite how wind-whipped her hair was supposed to be, it seemed as perfect as ever, and as if nothing had ever touched it. She certainly hadn't, either. But nevertheless, upon getting situated and after sitting down, she looked around, only to notice a boy he'd seen earlier in the day - the one who smiled at her and turned his drink an odd color and apparently disgusting flavor. With a smile, she leaned over, her charming self decided to indulge in a little social life before the nerd inside her took over. "Hey, fancy seeing you here. Seems to run into each other often." Often was, of course, an overstatement. This was only the second time, though, given by how Lance eyed him up and down, she wouldn't mind a few more times.

Rodger Rigot looked up as Lance leaned next to him, he smiled, "Hello again, yes it does seem so, I do wish I had a chance to talk with you more before you hustled out rather abruptly." He gestured to the desk next to him, "If you'd like to pull up a seat you're welcome to. I've just settled in for some reading, and if you'd like, I can pour you a glass of butterbeer. Normally colored, I promise," he said to her with a grin. The girl looked a little dirty, but her hair was oddly untouched, some simple charm I'm sure, very easy, a first year could do it, he thought.

Lansing. Charm? Why, no. It was just how perfect Lance was. Only, not seriously. "Ah, yes. I did hustle out quite quickly. My apologies, but, I had a sudden urge to play Quidditch, I suppose. Or, at least practice." When he gestured to the seat next to him, she took up on his offer and waved her wand silently as everything shifted over to her new seat, including the book she'd just plucked from the shelf. His grin was reflected by her own, and she nodded lightly, and followed up by saying she would, indeed, love some Butterbeer. "As long as you don't hand me whatever vile thing you drank earlier." She gave a slight shiver before she ran her hand over the top of her head, as if making sure her hair was still perfect. "I'm Lansing, by the way. Lance is what everyone usually calls me. I'm a fifth year, up at Gryffindor tower." She seemed to give a proud smile - too bad Gryffindor was only her speed first year. Slytherin had seemed like a more accurate choice after the harmful turn of events.

Rodger Rigot nodded, and conjured a second mug for Lance. He opened his flask and poured her butterbeer. Taking his wand back out, he tapped it and watched as the drink heated up and foam began to form. "I'm Rodger, a fifth year as well," he said, pouring himself more butterbeer, "it's very nice to meet you." He heated his freshly poured drink and then looked at his flask, "Clever little creation this, my uncle gave it to me for my fourteenth birthday. You'd think it was a simple endless refill charm, but the real kicker is that it doesn't hold just butterbeer, pretty much whatever you put in here will then refill endlessly. Well, in theory... it seems to only work with drinks, I've been trying to get it to hold potions but to no avail." He then stopped and realized how nerdy he was being, then blushed, "There, uh, drink up," he said with an embarrassed grin.

Lansing, upon learning his name, couldn't help but look him up and down once more while he was distracted by conjuring up and speaking about his uncle and his creation. Lance smiled appropriately and nodded, seemingly interested in whatever he was going on about. When her glass was full, she raised it as if to toast ( 'To Nerdism!' she would have said - it would have gotten a laugh ) but instead she swiftly moved the mug towards her mouth where she managed to drink all that was in the cup. Clearly exhausted from the Quidditch, though it didn't show in her eyes or her expression. Just her thirst. She placed the mug on the table, and at the sharp noise, she realized it was empty. Her eyes widened, slightly, shocked by her own need for hydration. "Wow, I uh, didn't realize how thirsty I was. I guess Quidditch really wears me out more than I thought." She rubbed the back of her neck earnestly, looked to Rodger and whispered a small 'thanks' before sliding her hand to open the book she'd plucked. She didn't know the title - honestly, it was a little too old for it to be readable on the cover or the spine, but she'd found it to be about dark arts, and naturally, it intrigued her.

Rodger Rigot nodded to her and returned to his book, silently chastising himself, Damn, he thought, now she thinks I'm some droll fool. He looked down at the page and continued to read, and awkward silence between them. For a few minutes there was a quiet turning of the pages. Before he worked up the nerve to speak to her again, "So, what, uh, are you reading?" Smooth Rodger, smooth. He thought.

Lansing snickered slightly - she was amused by the silence that overcame them. Lance wasn't usually one to let silence fall in conversation, but perhaps this had been a first. There was a first for everything, after all. "I'm reading up on Animagi," she swiftly lied, smiling to make him believe her. She was charming and suave ( hopefully ) and if she could, she'd get him to stop asking questions. Only because he'd asked her to sit here - and the fact that he was pretty attractive - did she sit here, opening reading about the Dark Arts right under his nose. She closed her book slowly, though, feeling rude for being absorbed in it before chuckling quietly. "I have a bad habit of reading up on things when I should be doing things like homework. I hate school work. Don't you?" She casually placed an elbow on the table as she turned sideways to face him, her face in her hand. He had her full attention now - no ifs, ands, or buts!

Rodger Rigot saw the game she was playing, and he wasn't about to surrender easily, he chuckled, "Haha, no, Ravenclaw, remember? 'Wit beyond measure' and all. See, now you have put me in an awkward positon, because I came here to read, and all you want to do is flirt. Which I am just not at all prepared for. I'm not wearing my flirting gloves, my flirting hairstyle, see I don't even have my Glasses of Attractiveness on. It's like you're trying to ambush me or something." He grinned and shut his own book, leaning back, "But be careful Lance, you're playing with a master." He chuckled again and gave he a wide-eyed smirk. Her move.

Lansing batted her eyes slightly as if trying to play innocent, though she smiled broadly, as if amused by the crime she was accused of. "Originally, I came here to read. My apologies for getting distracted by an attractive man with his nose stuck in a book." She shifted, slightly, her eyes never leaving him. "If I was truly prepared to flirt with you, I would have dressed much better than ratty Quidditch robes that see too much damage due to how often I practice. I would have cleaned my face a little too remove the dirt from falling off my broom when attempting to grab at the snitch. Therefore, sir, you have no right to simply say you weren't prepared, because, neither was I." She quirked a single brow, smirking, before speaking again after a short pause. "The sorting hat never does fail," she began, but quickly under her breath, she muttered something inaudible or too mumbled to understand, something about it being wrong only four years ago.

Rodger Rigot stood, play stretching, she was good. He turned to her with an every cocky grin and said, "Indeed it was, I, the dashing, handsome, intelligent Ravenclaw, and you, the ravishing, down to earth, street-smart Gryffindor. We're star-crossed lovers almost!" He laughed on the inside, he was just being melodramatic now, "But, at least our romance" he put a little extra flair into that one, "isn't storybook, else we'd both be dead in some dreary old chapel, each be crying how we both loved and lost or something like that. I was never good with romance novels." He chuckled and downed the last of his butterbeer. She was fun.

Lansing. Streetsmart - yeah, that was probably the best way to describe Lance. She looked up at him and laughed, leaning on the table with her hands locked together. "Sounds quite fabulous," she beamed, obviously amused by the idea. Though Lance had never dreamed of romances, dating, or relationships in general since her grandmother had died, it seemed to lift her a little more. "Storybook is a little too cliche` in my opinion. Plus, I don't think I could thrust a dagger from your waist into my heart over your dead body." Her time for her 'nerdism' to shine - the Shakespeare reference would hopefully go noticed by the supposedly booksmart Ravenclaw who she continued to watch with the utmost curiosity. Truly, he was amusing to talk with, the most amusing by far. Pity she hadn't dabbled into more conversation with him previously, but then would they be at this point now? No regrets, certainly.

Rodger Rigot was intrigued by this girl, most wizards and witches had no care for the muggle 'Bard'. But growing up in Stratford-Upon-Avon made it impossible to miss for any child, muggle or wizard. But enough time for pondering, she was on the offensive, he was not about to give in so easily, "Well of course not, I find daggers to gauche and archaic to carry around my waist. You'd have better luck finding one on the local muggle priest. But nontheless, the one tenent of our love I'd have to acquiesce on would be giant golden statues of us erected in the town square. Can you imagine it, me, depicted in solid gold, the only proven medium able to capture all my glory," he said with a wide hand gesture, he then looked back to her with a wry smirk, "of course, you'd be there too."

Lansing, being muggle-born, had of course learned of the Bard. It was only common knowledge when mingling into the London culture. She'd visited the Globe, seen plays, and knew very many references that barely anyone knew here in the wizarding world. It was fairly interesting, really. Her train of thought shattered when Rodger began speaking again - this time about statues of him made of pure gold. Amusing. Lance laughed at this idea, and quieted down slightly when he brought her back into the picture. "I don't think gold would do me justice, actually. I'd prefer something more grand, actually." Not really, but she seemed to be running along with the program. "You know, you seem to think pretty highly of herself." Although, she didn't say this in a dark tone to make it appear as though this was a bad thing - in fact, it sounded more like she was congratulating him. Perhaps she was just happy she'd found someone like herself.

Rodger Rigot smiled again, she almost had him, he'd let his wordplay get a little out of hand but he'd bring it back, "Of course," he said, thinking on the fly, "was I not wearing my nametag stating that I was a giant arrogant dong? I told myself to stop leaving the dormitories without it," he smiled and sat back down, "but it seems I have, ah well, what can you do, read, drink, flirt, and remember not to do it next time," he looked back at her and took his glasses off. He began to polish them and looked at her with his deep green eyes, "You know, even as a distorted blur, you're still the most attractive thing in the room,"

Lansing yawned in the silence after laughing about his nametag, quite heartily, until she couldn't hold back the yawn anymore. Checking the watch upon her right wrist, she read the time and shrugged - it was late, and curfew would probably be descending upon them shortly, but Lance got enough detentions that she cared not about yet another. She found them almost tempting now. Her smiled faded for a moment as she looked from the boom on the desk in front of her to the stuff next to her seat, just her broom and goggles she wore on occasion out to the pitch. His words caught her off guard and she looked up and back at him quickly, her smile faded, an almost serious look across her face. She seemed to almost slip out of her self until she realized what he'd said, and quickly, her smile slipped back into place and she ran a hand over her head, checking her hair once more. "Oh, geez, you're so flattering," she said, though not a single touch of color reached her cheeks, hinting at no blushing what-so-ever. It was as if she'd heard the compliment a million times over ( and knowing how she managed to squeeze compliments out of people she met, it wouldn't be surprising if that were the case ), and as if she'd had this reaction rehearsed so well it was flawless. "Truly, not carrying your nametag hasn't made you drift away from complimenting yourself to complimenting others, has it? A terrible tragedy if it's true." She frowned and stuck out her lowerlip, though her eyes danced.

Rodger Rigot stood again, stretching. He didn't want to be around when the prefects started patrolling. The Hufflepuff prefects in particular, were the worst. Maybe they were compensating for something. Yet all these thoughts were distracting him from the one thing bugging him, he'd never paid a wholly sincere compliment to someone like that, without playfulness. It even caught him off guard. He turned his back to her and spoke, melodramatically, "I fear it is, and who knows what words may come out of my mouth if I continue like this. The results could be," he whipped around, "dramatic." He paused for a second, and then burst into laughter. Even he was too much for himself.

Lansing, swiftly, behind Rodger's back, yawned again and tried to stifle it so it could at least be quiet. When he turned around, she had finished by then, and was still looking at him as if all her attention was placed upon him - the single entertainment she'd truly found for the day, aside from her darling snitch that she suddenly felt in her pocket, apparently forgetting about it all the time. She laughed at his words - dramatic indeed. Usually, anyone who complimented her left shortly after, unaware of her reaction, and then avoiding her for a good while in hope she'd forget. She felt like a veela, almost, and that made her bite her lower lip before she decided to pipe up again, standing to accompany him on the floor, though she didn't reach for her belongings as though she was planning to leave. "Rodger," she began, coughing lightly and sniffling. "I am afraid that if we continue to share the same company this fine evening for much longer, we'll both let something slip that certainly must not be said yet. Our romance has just blossomed and it has just turned spring, and we must save some of this young love for the future, dearest." She threw a hand up and placed the back of her hand on her forehead while the other hand clutched at her bosom. "Alas," she said quietly before opening her eyes, peeking, before falling back into her usual stance - arms on her hips and her weight thrown onto one leg, causing her waist to jut out in that one direction. She quirked a brow, awaiting his move. This was quite the entertaining game.

Rodger Rigot was taken aback for a moment, but he hid it well, for a moment he thought she was professing love for someone she just met, but this was a game that he was prepared to play as always, "This can be no trick! For, hark, I say she loves me!" he added with great emphasis, "My heart quickens, and ours shall beat as one, for our love is like the ocean, boundless and lively!" he was trying to think of other sappy metaphors, yet his mind was failing him, then best to fall back on the age old fourth wall, "Our love is like a second thing which is equally as good!"

Lansing hesitated to respond - if she kept this up, she might think he would be serious while she alone knew she was joking. Although, the joking could only go so far before she would, in fact, get confused, strut over, and plant one on him. The images flashed in front of her eyes with no feeling associated with them, but she blinked slowly to rid of the images, though not quite yet ( just a few more seconds - yes, let's run through that again ). This time, she couldn't stifle the yawn at all, for as she went to talk, she was overcome by it. She placed a hand over her open mouth and held it there for a while before the yawn subsided. She rubbed at her eyes and smiled slightly at her library companion, seeming slightly embarrassed as color touched her pale cheeks. "My apologies. seemed my conversation with you has worn me out. Don't mind me, though. It appears I can only take so much romance in one night."

Rodger Rigot knew the fire was fading, so best do capture it and save it for a rainy day, he sat down and poured himself a third butterbeer, this time taking it ice cold. It soothed him. He sat down, opened his book to the place where he left off, content with his lot, to do some reading. He turned back and smiled at her, "Don't worry about it. Though curfew is coming around soon, and when restless our head boy likes to patrol these halls. He gets particularly nasty with curfew breakers. Don't ask me why." He gave a calm smile at her and turned back to his book, what a fun night this is.

Lansing seemed almost shocked he'd quit so easily - her eyes watched him as he moved back to the desk and her mouth was open slightly to easily display the shock that indeed rattled her. Only when she ran a thumb over her chin did she realize her lower jaw had dropped slightly, and she closed it quickly, hopefully before he noticed. She felt bad leaving him - although they were already near the Ravenclaw common room, she couldn't help but feel that leaving him for the slaughter by a ferocious Head Boy, by the sounds of it, was absolutely horrible. But, she was probably barely able to walk herself, and thus she moved towards the desk she was at earlier, grabbed the book upon the top, and shuffled slowly back to the bookshelf it belonged to. The seconds dragged by. After a trip that shouldn't have taken that long but did, she returned to gather up her broom and goggles before leaving for the Gryffindor common room - ugh, it seemed so far away. Although, before she'd leave, she placed a muddied foot upon the seat, her torso leaning forward as she slung her broom over one shoulder while the free arm held her up against her raised knee. "I appreciate the company and hospitality, Rodger," she said with a smile and darkening eyes. "Perhaps we'll run into each other again. It seems whatever runs fate or what have you, they seem to make us cross paths, anyways." She seemed to lose her eloquence as the moments passed, and it made more color flood to her cheeks. She raised a hand and rubbed it over her face, pretending to rub her eyes, though feeling the warmth on her cheeks. Great.

Rodger Rigot he smiled as he saw the color rise in her cheeks, he chuckled to himself. He'd put this girl in a right spot hadn't he? He cocked his head to the side and a mischievous smile adorned his face. "If you really want to make it back to the Gryffindor common room quickly, go out these doors and to the right. There should be a painting of a stone statue, gazing out, stare at it until it moves and tell it I sent you, it should open up a shortcut to just a couple halls away from the tower. Careful though, he can be a little irritable. Remember, make sure it knows you saw it move, you may have to insist a little, he's a stubborn old bugger."

Lansing laughed slightly, running her hand over her face, moving from top to bottom in another weak attempt to wake her up. "Gladly," she said casually, waving a hand as if this was no feat whatsoever. Only, she didn't move at all. She looked at Rodger with a serious face for a moment before chuckling, break out into another smile. "Or, at least I'd gladly do it if I wasn't about to forget what you just told me by the time I walk out those doors." She lowered her ring finger and pinky as her middle and forefinger pointed at the doors out of the library. "Though I appreciate the hint, dearest Rodger, I'll go the difficult way. At least that way I know I'll at least make it to the common room." She shook her head slightly but stopped to yawn, her hand once again clapping over her mouth.

Rodger Rigot stood. Wanting to keep the fire going, not douse it with the ice cold waters of uncomfortableness, decided to cut the cord, as it were. He turned and walked to the door, saying as he strolled, "M'lady, I must say it has been fun, but as I may have mentioned before the Ravenclaw head boy is particularly fond of embarrassing jinxes, so I do believe I shall head back to the common room before being on the receiving end of one of them. But, as for our sparring, let's just call it a draw." He took his book and conjured away the two mugs. Heaving open one of the large doors, he turned, winked at Lance, and headed out.