(1937-11-05) A Nauseating Request
Details for A Nauseating Request
Summary: Leander loses his lunch… and gains a member of the Triwizard escort.
Date: November 5, 1937
Location: Potion's Classroom
Related: Hallowe'en Feast and Dance - 1937, Assembling an Entourage - Lucian

OOC Note: This is why you should never fail a Charms roll while trying to levitate a cauldron full of pure gross.

Potion's Classroom Hogwarts Castle

The Potions classroom is a windowless classroom with stone arches running along its walls holding up a low ceiling. Within each ach are shelves that hold glass jars with pickled animal remains, both Muggle and Magical. Under the shelves are cabinets that stand open during class times to give students access to all of the potion making materials they might need. The room itself is a big square filled with a double row of long tables with enough space for four or five students to have a cauldron set up and books open at each one. At the end of the room is a stone dais with a desk set upon it from which the Potions Master can survey the entirety of the room. During classes the entire room is illuminated by guttering torches and the burners underneath the students cauldron making for a rather gloomy atmosphere.

Even with classes done for the day, Ria has not yet called it quits and though the classroom has been cleared and all things stowed away one cauldron in the back remains active. Standard aprons would usually be the norm, but the Slytherin girl has somehow gotten her hands on a set that looks like the ones muggle surgeons wear. Mix that with a pair of goggles she's donned along with a shower cap looking thingy, and she really does looks like she's handling a scalpel. Only, she's stirring and she's got something ghastly brewing. Some potions are known to smell terrible, there's something about this one that just smells absolutely incorrect.

Leander is also finished with his classes. It's not unusual for him to put in extra work for studying, but for the past several days this habit has become even more pronounced with the advent of the oncoming Tournament. So it is that he bursts into the Potions class, bag slung across his shoulder. He closes the door before the smell hits him, then takes a few steps into the room and doubles over, nearly gagging. "By… Merlin's…" He reaches up and plugs his nose, his eyes watering even as they locate Ria. "That smells absolutely /foul/, Sykes."

Ria bites her lip nervously as she looks at her bubbling brew. Something about it certain isn't right, and Leander's loud arrival only makes her jump. Her eyes follow him from behind the goggle and with a frown she replies, "I dow it does. It's suppose to smell like dis." It sounds like she has a congestion, when really her nose as been pinned up because she can hardly stand the smell of it herself. "If you don't like it den leave," she says, turning around to grab a jar of dried snails from the supply closet. Taking a glove handful she tosses it into the cauldron and stirs vigorously, which only makes a cloud orange steam puff into her face. Tasting the horrible stench on her mouth, Ria can hardly stand it anymore, but she keeps stirring anyway like a stubborn mule.

"Sykes-!" Leander half-hisses the girl's name. He coughs and chokes some more, wandering across the Potions lab, and eventually ducks under a table. "I can't! My ingredients are in here - ugh!" The smell finally becomes too strong for him. He really shouldn't have eaten that pot pie during lunch. The boy stumbles over to the nearest garbage and retches, eventually pulling himself up so that he can glare at his Housemate with a considerable degree of malice.

Another puff rises into Ria's face, causing her to wheeze and dry-heave a bit as well. But she can't give up now! She must finish! Her arms shake while she stirs a bit weakly now, but suddenly she stops when she hears the sound of Leander tossing his cookies into a rubbish bin. And oh what a waste this moment was! She would have loved to stand there and savor the Fox boy in misery, but the idea of someone vomiting sends her over the top and she withdraws from her concoction and says, "Ugh! Merlin! Forget it! Forget it then!" A tap on the cauldron with her wand and the fire goes off. "Locomodor caudron." And either her pinned nose made her command unclear or the stench was getting to her. But her spell only makes the cauldron rise, move forward a few inches before dropping and spilling the ghastly contents all across the floor, splattering on tables, herself and even Leander.

Leander is slowly recovering himself - /slowly/. Even though the awful stench is still filling the air, he's already emptied the contents of his stomach into the bin, so he's able to handle it a bit better at this point. "About bloody time! I don't know what you did to that stuff, but it's-" BANG. The cauldron drops on to the floor and tumbles oover. A backsplash of thick greenish-brown gloop splats directly on to Leander's chest, while more lands on his shoes. He looks down, horrified, for several long seconds before he bends over the garbage again and proceeds to retch up food that he had for /breakfast/. "Orgh… SYK… auch…"

"EEEEEEEKKK!" Ria practically screams when the sludge spills everywhere, and she's quick to try and jump up on a table to avoid any contact with it on the floor, but it's too late. Even with her taking refuge atop of something, it's still all over her. On her apron (thank GOD not on her), on her face, on her perfect shoes. Ria's practically sobbing in distress, tears behind those now splattered on goggles while she sits there crying in what seems like agony as Leander regurgitates bits of his morning toast. It's those very chunks that set her over the edge and sobs turn into heaves which turn then into a serious threat. Quickly, she grabs an empty bucket and bends over to hurl as well. With her head still buried in the bucket, she swings her wand again when she's done, groaning, "Ugh…Scour…for the love of Merlin… Scourgify!" And like that the goop slowly but surely disappears, taking most of the stench away with it. Though it still lingers just a bit.

After Ria has managed to get the disgusting mess cleaned up, Leander /finally/ stops heaving for a moment. He breathes heavily into the garbage bin for a few more seconds, then leans back and yanks his wand out of the pocket of his robes and points it at himself. "Scourgify." That done, he totters weakly over to the door and shoves it open, then waves his wand again. "Ventus." A stiff breeze rolls into the room, then back out… from the hallway a good number of agonized and/or horrified cries emerge, and the Slytherin boy slams the door shut quickly before the source becomes too obvious. After staring at the closed door for a good while, he turns and glares at Ria, his lips twisted into a scowl. "That was extremely unpleasant."

And as the last disaster potion finally goes away, Ria pulls off her surgical wear and goggles then tosses them into a cauldron where they burst into flames after she says, "Incendio." It flickers and burns for a while until there's nothing left to consume and then subsequently dies down. Despite her panicky panting not too long ago, she's calmed down a bit now, taking slow, easy breaths as if she's savoring the clear air for the first time in years. "Indeed," she doesn't argue with that part, but with a slight frown she asserts, "It would have been fine if you knew how to mind your stomach." And she begins to clear up her work station, stacking books and putting away ingredients. "What're you doing in here anyhow?"

Leander arches his brows as the girl proceeds to burn the fouled equipment, though he makes no objections. Instead, he re-pockets his wand and brushes his clothes off, his dark eyes scanning the surface of his robes to make certain that there are no telltale splotches of gunk remaining. Eventually he looks back up and frowns. "I didn't have the benefit of a mask," he replies simply, then walks over to a table so that he can arrange his things. He doesn't look up at her when she questions him, just opens up his Potions book and begins to dig around in his rucksack. "Working. And I was told you were likely to be here."

Ria takes a deep inhale through her nostrils as a last sort of inspection. Stench free. That's good. "Rather unfortunate then. I hope you develop an iron stomach by the time they ship you off to the tournament. It wouldn't hurt to have one," she comments, counting up the number of dried toes left in the jar. She pauses to ponder on something a moment, before shaking her head. "If you were told that, then you should have picked another time to come around, hmm?" It's not to friendly how she says that. And she closes a couple books she has laid out before stacking them in a neat pile. "It's no matter. You can stay. I'm on my way out."

After extracting a few jars of his own along with a mortar and pestle from his sack, Leander begins to run his finger down the page of his Potions book. He opens one of the jars and flips a few shrivelled-looking worms of some sort into the mortar, then begins to grind them up. "I suppose it wouldn't. Then again, I won't be fouling up any potions badly enough to create that kind of stench." He doesn't look up, and doesn't smile - it makes it very difficult to tell whether that was a veiled insult, or just his usual bluntness. When the Prefect directs the cold words to him and makes to leave, he /still/ doesn't look up, merely continues his work with the blunt pestle… but there's a faint hint of derision in his voice when he speaks again: "Oh - very well. I heard there were a couple of Gryffindor students who are nearly as good as you at dark defense. I'm sure one of them will do."

But dear Ria of course takes that as insult, and rolling her eyes she picks up a few jars in her arms and carries them over to the supply closet. "For the millionth time, that's how it was supposed to be and I would have finished it just fine if you didn't burst in here vomiting like some bird who just found out she's knocked up." Bird? Even her slang is starting to sound like Lucian's. With some irritated roughness, she clacks the glass jars back onto their shelves. But his further insult causes her only to scoff while she cleans up, "Nearly but not as good." Then she suddenly pauses, turns around to face him. "What do you mean one of them 'will do'?"

"I see," Leander says. He's not prone to using sarcasm, but he makes the statement so flatly that it's plain he doesn't believe a word the girl's saying (though in truth he only has a vague idea about what 'knocking up' a 'bird' means). By the time she's finished putting things into the supply closet, he's finished up with grinding the worms into a powder. Said powder is transferred to a small vial, which he stoppers before starting on his next ingredient, which appears to be the exoskeletons of some large insects. These are a bit more difficult to mash down, and he grunts with exertion as he presses the rock pestle into the mortar hard enough to make a loud scraping noise. "I intend to select at least one person who's skilled at the subject to accompany me to Durmstrang, but obviously choosing someone who can't stand to be in the same classroom as me for half an hour would be unwise."

Ria is leaning against the doorway of he supply closet, a hand on her hip while she watches Leander with hawk like interest. Her jaw goes stiff and her eyes narrow as soon as she realizes what this whole situation is about. And it takes every last bit of effort to not groan out loud. This is it then. Is he going to make her grovel at his feet? She distrusts everything about this boy. So after standing there in silence for a few seconds, she quirks her brow, "Are you considering bringing me then? Is that what this is about? You want me to come as your dark arts consultant?" And there's the Ria everyone knows and loves, getting straight down to business with things.

"Yes," Leander returns, just as brass-tacks as the Prefect. He sets the mortar and pestle down for a moment so that he can look at her, hard, his dark brown eyes scanning her face as if he's looking for something. Suddenly he drops his usual brooding facade and allows his features to soften. "I want you to come along, Sykes. And I'm not interested in making you humiliate yourself, or asking you for something in return. But I don't want to have to contend with an enemy the whole time. I'm sure the trials will be difficult enough on their own." Well… that's almost true. He /does/ want something in return - to /not/ have to worry about the hostility of a House Prefect. There's only a slight hint of his usual calculating coldness in his gaze, though.

Ria hmms at the deal, arms now crossing while she holds her chin up with slight smugness. He wants her to come along does he? She can't blame him. She's good at what she does after all. Though as Leander searches her, she likewise evaluates the sincerity of his proposal with her eyes and ears as well. "Do you mean it then? No catches? No behind the door deals? No vows I have to make?" There's a special way she annunciates the that word. It's so distinct and heavily loaded, but only the two of them would know. Inhaling and then exhaling deeply, she considers the offer some more. Oh that's right! Ria almost forgot one important question: "Is Lucian also coming?" She says it as if she already knows Leander would be asking her fellow prefect.

Slowly, Leander shakes his head. "No. No vows or deals." He winces slightly at the way she pronounced that word, but doesn't say anything further. He steps out from behind the desk so that he can approach her, though he maintains a few feet of distance, his expression cautiously neutral. His head tilts slightly to one side when she asks about Lucian, but he doesn't look surprised. "Yes. I've already asked Proudmore to come as part of the escort." He hesitates for several seconds, then glances up sharply. "So. What's your answer?"

Ria remains glued to the closet door despite the way her eyes snakily follow him as he nears her. They scan him, top to bottom and bottom to top. The corner of her mouth crinkles into a half-frown of further evaluation. She's fairly certain he isn't lying though she can never be too sure. And so she spins around to shut the supply closet door behind her, turning only to look over her shoulder and nod. "I'll go. And I'll stay out of your hair," she simply answer. Only she will not be wearing one of Lois' knitted woolen sweaters of Leander's face if she can help it. But she will heavily consider a pair of Leander Fox Sox (the name is trademarked with the incorrect spelling) only because she's fond of warm feet. With a confident gait, she walks past Leander back to her table where she collects her things and prepares to go. "Is there anything else you need, Fox?"

"Very well, then," Leander responds in cool, even tones… though he also smiles just a little, and perhaps looks mildly relieved. He remains in place while Ria walks past him and begins to gather her equipment, though he turns in her direction when she seems about to go. His lips thin out. "No. Thank you for agreeing to come along." He doesn't go so far as to say he'll be /glad/ to have her there, though for an instant it looks as if he'll say something else… but he changes his mind. There'll be plenty of opportunities during the months to come.

"Mmhmm," Ria replies shortly. No 'your welcome.' No 'it's not a problem.' No 'thank you for inviting me.' Mostly because she firmly believes he owes her this invitation and besides, who else would he choose. She's Ria. Sykes. Turning over her shoulder to peer at Leander, she catches just a glimpse of his last expression. "Are you sure, Leander? We're here now. No one else around. It's best to get your mind clear," she offers, turning around to face him once more. And despite her offer of letting him freely speak his mind, her tone isn't the most inviting. She still remains distant and business-like.

Leander's lips curl down a little at Ria's lack of formality - it's not that he's particularly affected by her coldness, more that he simply considers it rude not to adhere to the proper social customs. He walks over back to his own small pile of things - only a table away from hers - and begins to remove a few more jars from his bag, though he's not planning on going anywhere just yet. At her question, he turns to her and stares cautiously. Perhaps it's her tone of voice which allows him to decide. "My mind is almost always clear. Good evening, Miss Sykes."

Ria tilts her head curiously at Leander, hands resting atop her books as if she's ready to pick up them at any second. One eye narrows suspiciously as if she doesn't believe that answer. However, she does choose to accept it. "Very well," her polished fingers pluck the books up with grace. "Good evening, Leander," she nods, highly pleased again with the way she's addressed as 'Miss Sykes.' A few light steps and she's out of the classroom, door closing quietly behind her. In the hall, she looks left then right to see if the coast is clear, and when she deems it is she punches her fist in the air with a triumphant 'Yes!' and walks back to the dungeons.

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