(1938-02-13) Opening Gambit
Details for Opening Gambit
Summary: Medusa finally finds out something to use to her advantage with the Macmillan girl. Randy chooses between fight or flight.
Date: Wed Feb 13, 1938
Location: Ramparts, Hogwarts

It's a little after supper, the moon and stars have come out to play, and so has Randy. Well, presumably she's up on the ramparts because she sent an owl out? But really she's just there giving them all second hand smokers' coughs. She's gotten a bit bold, probably thinking most people would do their owling during the warmer day, and instead of tucked away in the corner out of view, she's leaning against the stone on her elbows, staring at the night sky as she flicks some ash away with a flick of her thumb. Every minute or so a gust rushes up between the spires so it's not exactly the most inviting area to loiter, a good reason to know charms.

Click. Click. Click. Medusa's heels click sharply against the flagstones as she makes her way between the crenellations, weaving just a little. Her movements are graceful, though, the weaving almost seeming as though there's a purpose to it, and she is known for being a good dancer. This talent doesn't carry over to song, apparently, as she's humming… really far out of key.

FUCK. Sheer fuck. That's Randy's reaction to the clicks, pulling in a deep drag. She /flicks/ the cigarette away. It bounces off the roof and rolls down to settle where two parts of the roof meet. FUCK. She scrambles for her wand to flick it at the butt to vanish it with a prayer that she hasn't started some sort of forest fire somewhere. She never really asked /how/ magic worked. She already knew. Jazz hands! However, afraid that she's in view of whomever, she panics a little. She holds the breath of smoke in instead of getting off the spell. She slips her wand away and hopes whoever it is will just pass to the tower, though she does sneak a glance.

The off-key humming ceases abruptly, and a lazy yet upper-class voice drawls, "Smoking on school grounds. Ten points from Gryffindor, or something." Medusa steps closer, one foot in front of the other, pausing with one hip cocked to the side, a hand resting on it. "Macmillan."

Now caught, and because it's humanly impossible to keep smoke in your lungs that long, Randy coughs out the smoke and takes a moment to clear her lungs. "It was a…" cough "charm. Kind of backfired." Yeah, a charm to light her ciggy. By now the wind has done its part to sweep the detritus of her crime away from the roof tops. After a moment of not even buying it herself, she shrugs, her lips quirking into a half smile, turning to face Medusa languidly as the girl steps closer, "You don't want one?"

Medusa's eyes are half-lidded, her expression similar to that of a lounging cat. "Magic outside of a study area without supervision of a Prefect or Professor. Ten more points." Not that she's in a position to take points, of course, but her lips quirk in a vague sort of smirk anyway. "I don't, particularly, but I'll split one with you." Because she's all about sharing.

And that gets a full blown smile out of Randy. She leans against the stone as she fishes out her pack. Eyes downward as she taps the end, "Well, you know I was never really one to keep Slytherin from winning," she teases, obviously referring to her ability rack up deductions. Pulling a cigarette from the pack, she deposits it back in her cloak and pulls out her wand. A pause, "I've already done the crime so…" might as well enjoy it! She flicks her wand and a small flame appears at the tip. Then she chokes up on the wand much like a Muggle would with a baseball bat, though still one handed. After starting it, she flicks out the flame and offers to Medusa. "What's got you out here?" she asks as she slips her wand back into her cloak.

The vague smirk sharpens to almost an actual expression at Randy's willingness to share. Medusa accepts the cigarette, taking a drag from it before offering it back, blowing out smoke. "Do I need a reason? Maybe I just wanted some air. It's musty in the dungeons, after all."

"Not really," Randy says with a shrug, pushing off the wall to grab the cigarette from Medusa. "But it is a little odd to go somewhere without a reason," she points out, two cigaretted fingers gesturing to Medusa for a beat…before pulling it back to her lips for a drag. She turns her head to blow it off to the side so as to avoid blasting Medusa in the face. "I wouldn't know, sitting in my ivory tower all these years. Though…dungeons. It makes you wonder about Salazar." She ashes the cigarette and offers it back to Medusa, though if the Slytherin reaches for it, she'll pull it out of her reach playfully.

"I have my reasons," Medusa assures the Gryffindor, still looking almost entirely bored. "I simply choose not to share them." The reference to an ivory tower earns a snort from the Slytherin, but that smirk turns up again when Randy wonders aloud about Salazar. "Oh, none of us wonder about Salazar. That's privileged information, though."

Aaaand, second drag, nice save Randy. Bait doesn't work on the cold-blooded…snake that is. Noted. The Gryffindor wasn't really fishing for Medusa's reasons, so she isn't fazed by the lack of divulging. "Privileged?" Randy quirks a brow, this time just keeping the cigarette handy. If Medusa wants it, she can grab it. She's a big girl after all. "I don

Aaaand, second drag, nice save Randy. Bait doesn't work on the cold-blooded…snake that is. Noted. The Gryffindor wasn't really fishing for Medusa's reasons, so she isn't fazed by the lack of divulging. "Privileged?" Randy quirks a brow, this time just keeping the cigarette handy. If Medusa wants it, she can grab it. She's a big girl after all. "And I'm guessing I'm not one of the privileged." A shrug. "I guess I'll be doomed to spend my days wandering the dungeon of my imagination." She pauses to look out over the ramparts at nothing in particular. "Not bad," she judges said dungeon.

"I'm reasonably sure I didn't stutter, Macmillan." Medusa reaches out, faster than her lazy demeanor would lead anyone to suspect she's capable of, and snags the cigarette again, taking another drag. "Privileged. Therefore costly. I can hardly give out such secrets without some sort of recompense."

"Let me think about myself out loud for a moment," Randy says with a incorrigible smirk. When the cigarette is just…gone, she looks left, then right, not moving from her stance. Her eyes return to Medusa and the cigarette with a lazy smile. "What sort of recompense are we talking?" her chin raised a millimeter (because we're British, bitches!).

Medusa takes another drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the corner of her mouth before offering it back to Randy. "Oh, I'm willing to negotiate a price. Make me an offer." There are others in the school who are better at haggling, but few can trade the sorts of things that Medusa has access to.

Randy is quiet a moment, eyes squinting in thought and lips pursed slightly. She leans forward to snatch the cigarette from Medusa. "You know I don't really have that much to offer," she says, the whimsical lilt of her inflection pattern sapping out a little. However, it's hard to pull all the spunk out of the Gryffindor. The sparkle hasn't left her eyes, glittering in the moonlight, though her air softens a bit. "I've got the rest of my cigarettes, my wand…and my loyalty or my services," she says, her mind wandering to more creative offers as she tries to think of things Medusa doesn't possess already. "Then, my body," she says with a glint of mischief. It's unclear what she means by that, and the look in her eye isn't overtly lustful or anything. "Not all of those together mind you."

When Randy claims to have nothing to offer, Medusa says nothing. Her lips twitch when the Gryffindor starts listing what she does have, however, and she leans toward the other girl. "Not all of those together, no. You'd give over your loyalty for a handful of secrets?"

"The secrets would have to equal the price of my loyalty or surpass it," Randy tilts her head, voice lowered, "So no." When Medusa leans nearer, Randy unconsciously draws in a breath and holds it. "That'd be about as stupid as trading them for a can of magic sardines, so you'd have to make it well worth my while."

"Is that so?" Medusa leans close enough that her eyes can be seen to glimmer in the light from the cigarette. "Macmillan." Her lips twitch, and she asdresses Randy in a less formal fashion, "Randy. I'm a Malfoy. You honestly think I can't make it worth your while?"

Naturally, Randy locks eyes with the girl, but her gaze breaks away momentarily, falling to Medusa's lips for a moment before returning. She reaches up to rub the back of her neck a little with her free hand. "You'd have to make it worth /my/ while, not things you'd value. I doubt there's anything you can provide that /I'd/ be interested in. If you think otherwise, you're more than welcome to," beat, "Convince me," she says the last bit with quiet challenge.

According to rumor, locking gazes with the Malfoy girl is a good way to find oneself petrified or worse. Medusa herself does little to discourage this talk, and there's her habit of going around with her eyes half-closed that would seem to lend credence to it. Her lips twitch when Randy's gaze falls on them, and she leans closer. "I can provide a great deal, Randy. Make me an offer."

Gryffindors are known for their courage right? Randy's more known for her reckless impulsiveness. Cornered by the Slytherin, almost physically and definitely metaphorically, and probably the worst kind, Randy's breath becomes a little more shallow. Fight or flight. The question is whether Randy's continued quietness is one of prey or predator, slinking in the tall grass ready to pounce. For what seem like the longest moments, only the bite and whistle of the wind cut through the silence between them. Then the hunter strikes, quiet and swift, Randy closes the distance, possessed by the moment and that lazy stare. She slips her hand to Medusa's side and tries to kiss her. If there was any sure fire way that one could find themselves petrified…

Slytherins are known for their ambition, but the ambitions of Medusa Malfoy remain unknown to all and sundry. She is conniving, certainly, and cunning enough not to be taken in by Randy's ploy; she does nothing at all to break the silence, merely studying the other girl with half-lidded eyes. The lunge, when it comes, is met with the solidity of Medusa's frame, and the blonde hisses a word between her teeth just before allowing Randy's lips to meet her own. "Checkmate." She doesn't give the Gryffindor time to register her meaning, though, as she's pressing herself closer to the other girl, one hand catching Randy's hip, the other still held loose, for now.
Oh Randy heard it, and for a split second, she just doesn't care. But then the word hits her like a brick, and she breaks what she /can/ away. However, she doesn't leave Medusa's grasp, perhaps confused by it. It's that moment when one's heart leaps out their throat onto a pyre. Terror and outrage, yet enraptured by the touch, Randy can't move like prey caught by Nagini's stare. She does not give the Slytherin the benefit of the doubt, "What do you want?" she asks as if meaning to keep Medusa's mouth shut on this little slip. Her hand has not dropped either, as if in a standoff. Cagey Gryff.

If Randy was under the impression that she was the predator here, Medusa's going to quickly disabuse her of that notion. Her fingers curl, tugging the Gryffindor closer, and her other hand lifts, her fingers brushing Randy's cheek. "I want many things," she murmurs, her steely eyes glittering. "Loyalty, for a start. Name your price."

Randy's cheek is slightly flushed and warm to the touch, despite the cold. "Loyalty in what?" she all but whispers, but her tone by no means timid. Her expression is plain save for a slight crease in her brow, indicating a shadow of doubt in the situation. "I never bargain for what I want," at least, not what's on her mind right now. "My loyalty isn't for sale. It's earned." Her expression melts into something a little forceably detached. "Sorry."

"Good girl." Medusa's tone carries the weight of approval when Randy refuses her, and she leans in to brush her lips against the other girl's again. "If it was so easily come by, it wouldn't be worth having." One finger taps against Randy's cheek. "Service, then. Provided you wish to continue?"

Randy keeps her ground in her posture and positioning, but she does indulge. She breathes in the scent of the other girl. At the brush with the Slytherin, her lips just barely part, but it's an unconscious small gesture, simply her body reacting to the circumstance. "Yes." Yet curiosity killed the cat…much? "What kind of service?" Randy always wants to know the deal before it's made, she wants to see Medusa's cards. And then the rigidity of her frame starts to flow as if there's only so much it can hold. She's still holding Medusa's stare, prideful, challenging, amused. Her hand begins to slide behind Medusa, to the small of her back.

Medusa's scent is masked by cigarette smoke, but beneath it there's a whiff of sandalwood and cinnamon with a hint of the mustiness that comes from spending too much time in a dungeon. "No idea," she breathes, her lips barely parted from Randy's. "Favors owed? Terms to be discussed… later." One finger still taps gently against Randy's cheek, the other curled on the Gryffindor's hip.

"Fine," Randy says, knowing full well this is a dangerous proposition, but the look in her eye suggests she /likes/ to play with fire. With that one word, she draws Medusa to her abruptly, surprisingly strong for her physique. She has forgotten where they are, or is very aware. Either way, there's a blaze deep in her eyes, oddly commanding and almost regal, very unlike the Randy that shows herself to the world. She has her pride, but she knows where the power lies in the moment. Her free hand reaches up to Medusa's hair, threading her fingers through…an intimate yet precarious gesture since they don't leave, like the next move in the dance of a slow motion battle, if the battleground were their bodies.

A most dangerous game, but Medusa plays it well and almost always comes out the winner. Such as now, for instance, when she resists just long enough to remind Randy that she can, and that this scenario is of her design. She sways against the Gryffindor, the hand on the girl's cheek moving back to stroke her hair, and her lips curve in a smirk. "Your move."

Randy doesn't seem fazed by the show of control, perhaps it's just the stroke of her own ego that really concerns her. A grin curls its way onto her lips at the resistance and the moonlight dances in her eyes, glittering and ethereal. She ends up being much more gentle in this go round, eyes open for signals of resistance. Besides, you never look away from another animal. It's like asking to be devoured….Wait.

There's something very serpentine in Medusa's expression, and she presses boldly against the other girl, her knee lifting to nudge against Randy's thigh. "Tick-tock, Randy," she breathes. There's only so long before they're bound to be discovered, after all, and she has every intention of not being here when that moment should arrive.

And there's only so long until curfew as well. This produces an annoyed and frustrated groan from the Gryffindor. "Bloody hell," she says. "I should get going. I can't afford to get caught," she mentions, her hand sliding from Medusa's hair. She tries to slide out away from Medusa and slip past, her vicinity to Medusa quite close. "Don't think I owe you any favors…yet," she says with a smirk.

Medusa finds Randy's behavior quite fascinating, and watches her retreat quite intently. "Mmm. Not yet. It's only a matter of time, though." She's confident that she'll get what she wants, one way or another. "Have a good evening, Macmillan."

"Evening," the Macmillan says with a single wave of her hand as she's walking away, her other hand in her pocket, sparing not a single glance back towards the Slytherin girl. "We'll see," she calls out after slipping just inside the castle. Her hair is slightly mussed, but it's not like full on mussed.

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